Weird and normal

I've got to say - it has been a bit weird and normal around our place since my recent diagnosis. I got quickly referred by my surgeon to the new patient radiation oncology clinic at the Juravinski Cancer Centre in Hamilton. It was kind of weird to go there again, as I worked there for more than 15 years in cancer research. It was also kind of normal, as so many people I saw were quite familiar to me - including my radiation oncologist. Being on a first name basis really does help.

Back to the Cancer Centre in a different capacity

During the rad onc appointment, we decided to skip ahead and get prepared for radiation treatment, even though we have not yet decided if that is the right direction to go. The main decision will be made once we know more from the pathology reports still to be received as to what type of treatment might be the best in my case.

At some point in the last few weeks I realized that what made me feel better and feel almost normal was to, quite literally, try to do normal things. I did go back to work periodically during the state of shock period, and my friends at the university gave me a proper Health Sciences sweater (I am always cold now) plus a stuffed thyroid! Receiving a thyroid was weird, but somehow felt like the most normal thing to me. It was the best thyroid I have ever received!

Not long after, my older brother from Winnipeg drove (yes, drove) out to see us for a few days. Below is one evening when we decided to drink up the last few drops from a bottle of Mirabelle schnapps made in the 1980s by our landlady (from the early 1960s) in France. I picked it up in 1995 when Wendy and I visited her and we still had a little of it remaining.  Karl was even able to come with us to a medical oncologist (also on a first name basis) appointment to lend his support. I think the reality of the situation was quite clear after that appointment. We did come to the conclusion that there is no cure for this type of cancer, so we are going to do our best to find something that will slow it down and give me more time with those who are important to me. The appointment was also useful to hear of all the options that may be available to me - something that we really couldn't grasp right after the initial diagnosis.

Eric and Karl drinking the last drops

Our son, Adam, came down from North Bay the same day that his uncle headed back to Manitoba (they didn't get a chance to see each other). Adam brought a bunch of colleagues from his college to go to the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum. He needed a few extra bodies to get the group rate, so myself and Sally (PhD student who lives with us) decided to go along. It was great to get a private tour of the museum, and it definitely felt more normal than weird. That evening we also had a family meeting to be able to hear what everyone was feeling and what was important to each of us as this process unfolds. The meeting was difficult to do, but well worth the effort and the tears.

I decided that just going to work was not enough for me, so I started doing teaching again. I have done multiple lectures since then, even with my paralyzed vocal cords, and it felt very normal to be in front of the students again.

It did feel a little weird when the warm (and noisy) reaction of the students to seeing me walk in the room hit me. I just had to take a selfie in one of the classes! That was probably the most weird part of my day, but it felt great!

As I write this, all of my classes are over for the term, and Wendy and I are looking forward to our Caribbean cruise starting next weekend. However, we have to wade through all the medical appointments next week before we can go. I did have a CT scan this past week to check whether I have any other targets elsewhere (never thought I would ever do that with a smile). We expect to get the results of that plus more pathology results next week to help us make the right decisions as I begin fighting this disease. We won't start anything until we get back - and that decision was a little of my stubbornness coming through.

I had many people tell me in that last few weeks that they are happy to see that I am so positive about things. The strange thing is that I don't think that is particularly weird for me, it is normal. When I thought about it more, I believe that I am almost always positive about things. My positive outlook is actually quite normal for me, so there is no big change from before cancer. I am just being me, and that is likely another bit of my stubbornness being expressed. Weird would be if I was always falling apart and was either sad or angry all the time. Yes, I do fall apart, although less frequently every day. Though all that is coming my way, I am determined to always be conscious of the fact that I want to still be me.

Here is my philosophical view at this point in my journey. To me, being miserable is just plain weird. I truly don't know if being so positive about things will help to prolong my life, but it damn well will make what time I have left a lot more enjoyable.

Cheers!
Eric