Reflections2017

One Ear Man has no right ear. It was lost to cancer over a year ago. If anyone asks, he is still recovering and is in adjustment mode. He is getting used to his new reality. In all aspects, the One Ear Man appears physically normal. If you see him on the street, you would not give him a second glance. He looks like Everyman. The doctor who performed the surgery did an excellent job in the opinion of those who offer one. Also, the One Ear Man always looks like he needs a haircut. So where his right ear used to be is sufficiently concealed. On this particular humid summer morning, he finds himself on the 55 heading downtown. The bus is quite empty since it is past the busy time when people are getting themselves to work.  One of the things that the One Ear Man is discovering is that with very limited left ear hearing, he can virtually ‘tune out’ the world and be comforted only by his thoughts. All too often this is a good thing. For he has always prided himself by being a ‘deep thi...

  The clock keeps ticking.

  It is hard to believe that it has been 12 months since my life-altering operation (2 June 2017). But it has. As I sit here in the Waiting Room anticipating the calling of my name, I cannot help but reflect on 'the good, the bad and yes, the ugly' over this time in my life.   The most positive aspect was finding a Cancer Buddy. She, along with her reflective spouse is of great benefit in providing the encouragement I need when my morale requires a boost or a simple kick in the back end!   Like this morning. I could not help but text my Cancer Buddy and communicate that I was experiencing a 'bump in the road.' She immediately sensed my frame-of-mind through my subtext. Soon good tidings flowed from her heart. My Cancer Buddy is wonderful. Every cancer survivor should have one. Nobody can quite understand like someone who is going through what you are personally feeling. 'Been there, done that' is not merely a tagline. They speak the same language.   ‘Empathy...

Balloons are for lively, happy times!   As I patronaged a big-chain grocery store the other day, I noticed in the flower and plant section, clusters of balloons all pumped full of air and bobbing around because of the warm air coming from a nearby ceiling duct. They were all so colourful, swaying this way and that in the air. Some spelled out Happy Birthday. Others showed Happy Faces. Each was interesting because of their movements. They were all shapes and sized and seemed full of life. Balloons are for happy times!   Unlike the balloons, some things move so slowly that it does not dawn on you that they are moving at all. Such usually happens in grade school during the latter days of June. I sense this is happening to me with hearing loss. It is a long-term battle. Still, losing one's hearing is like maple tree sap moves in February can be seen as a positive. Moving so slowly gives me the time needed to correctly understand that I was losing one of my senses and prepares...

Within the last two-weeks, I was asked for a favour and write on an impending book on cancer by someone I know very well. I agreed. I am choosing an Abstract of Brian's Story . An Abstract offers a sense of what the work is about without labouring and thereby discouraging the reader who first lays eyes on it, perhaps in a bookstore. In other words, what is the heart of the book? Brian's Story is not a medical book. Instead, it deals with a full range of human emotions after experiencing the diagnosis of head and shoulder cancer, through the operation and radiation therapy to recovery. Above all else, the text is very personal. It tells the story of a regular joe who used to carry a black tin lunchbox around, along with a pocket protector and a slide ruler when such items were fashionable. In this tale, he is not yet at the end of the journey. He has not been declared cancer free by the medical establishment. The best evidence suggests that declaration can be made only after...

Some call it a stream of consciousness .   I think that I overthink.   Sitting by the window staring out at nothing really on this predawn day, the monster I have been calling Doubt is back! This time it seems worse than ever. My scheduled head and neck scan are merely days away. Maybe that is why the monster has returned. This, the second scan, like the first that started my journey along the road with melanoma will reveal whether or not all of the cancer cells have indeed been all destroyed. Or perhaps they have not.   They have. I mean why have the cancer cells not been entirely eradicated from my body? Cancer has been treated for over a hundred years. The medical knowledge base along with the technology on this disease has grown exponentially. There is no question.   And yet…   And yet the sun shines on both sides of my face does it not? Of course, it does. Why should the right side of my head contract this disease and not the left? I have no answer....

       Some of the ideas and words were provided by LH in text messages; a breast cancer survivor and my “cancer buddy.” Without her, my fight with head and neck cancer would be so much more difficult.        I am well into the 7th month of living with head and neck cancer. Currently, I am awaiting a CSAN, followed by a consultation with my surgeon. With everything that has happened with my health during the seven months, two things are apparent. First, there is the need to have a “cancer buddy.” Second, you must decide that with cancer, you are in for the long-haul. Both are critical in fighting and destroying this disease.         Cancer is such a despicable disease. It is sneaky. It invades unsuspectedly and works at destroying DNA quietly, usually with no fanfare. It is difficult to detect until it shows itself because you are not looking for it. In my case it was a lump on my right ear th...