Sleepless in Cote St. Luc

Today holds special meaning for us. I suppose that is last night was spent in fitful sleeplessness. The first dose of chemo will go down this evening, marking the start of another journey (a new leg, at the very least). May he face no detours along the way. Here's to a smooth ride for my courageous, loving partner.

Today I broached the subject head on: "Are you afraid?" He answered, "Why should I be? It will be fine, and stop worrying. You won't kill me!" I'm still reeling from discovering myself as a 'repeat offender.'

Gilly spent the better part of his day weeding his garden paradise. Our cordless phone kept ringing with calls from well wishers, offering support as readies himself for the next phase.

Gilly sat on the balcony to chat each time I beckoned him to the phone. After each call, he stood up and announced, "The work won't get done by itself," and energetically returned to his labour of love.

May the sun continue to shine on him and may his garden bless him with the promise of May flowers over the next 6 weeks.

A rude awakening

The sun continues to shine on this late and relatively uneventful Saturday afternoon. We are preparing to have dinner at Randee and Jeff’s.

Only one small discomfort arose at mid-day: Gilly complained of a strange taste in his mouth with an uneasy stomach. After following my suggestion to drink water to flush whatever may be bothering him out of his system, he felt progressively better. Could it have been something he ate? Perhaps one of the medications he is now on combined with a particular food? I will document what he ate last night and this morning to see if a pattern emerges. For now, all is well. He’s been puttering in and around the house ever since, quite content. He had lunch later on with no unsettling reaction.

He really finds his new glasses a significant improvement over his old ones, even without the prism (which he could put on if needed). This time, they are adjusted for reading, and it is a special type of lens made by Nike or Nikon, I forget which. He obviously needed a modified prescription.

Oh yes, the only exciting tale relates to our wagger extraordinaire, Liylah. We left her outside while heading to Reno for supplies today, because she seemed so content in the sunshine and Yaron was home (sleeping, as only 17 year olds can do on such a marvelous afternoon). We left her tied up. She obviously took matters into her own jowls. She ate away at a very thick rope and set herself free. Yaron was awakened by the doorbell. Our neighbour, canine in hand, was kind enough to return our precious hound. Close call. We may have to rename her Houdini!

Liylah has a lovely bunch of coconuts

The gang is here for the pivotal game of the season. Yes, you guessed it, instead of spectating, I am blogging. I only watch matches involving my son. I served the snacks, took some shots and disappeared into my office to document the daily interest stories. I hear hoots and hollers from down below as the score reaches 2 to 1 (for Carolina). At least it won't be a shut out.

Now it's 2 all!!

As you can see, Gilly has temporarily given up his throne to his #1 son, the life of the party. Gilly is thriving on the excitement.

Funny anecdote: A couple of days ago I was lounging in the living room, sipping on my heavenly morning cup of coffee. I love this new spot for my morning constitution (since the brick wall went up, I soak up the view from the kitchen, dining room , living room connection). I reached over to pet Liylah, as her bed sits right next to the couch. I had to do a double take. She was sleeping with a coconut! Auntie Ruth had brought it over last Friday with grapes, strawberries and papaya for Shabbat dinner. We hadn't cracked it open yet. so she absconded with it and, by the looks of things, adopted it as her baby. I roared with laughter.

Gilly had a wonderful day today. He thoroughly enjoyed lunch with our friend Trudy (a special person to us both. She is solely responsible for the shidach between Gilly and myself. What foresight, dear Trudy).

He tried on a brand new pair of glasses this afternoon, and was rather pleased with what he was able to see.

A beautiful, sunny day, visits with friends, a brief Shabbat dinner to make way for hockey; what could be bad?

The dance of anger

Some days just don’t jive as well as others. We had such a morning, but luckily our lunch date put us back on track. It started off early this morning; I looked at Dr. Garoufalis’ prescription and the third item was familiar; we filled the order for Stemetil last week. I knew I had to solve the mystery later today. I thought they prescribed anti-seizure medication, but it was not there. Sherlock was on the case.

I dropped Gilly at the Jewish and went to park. I asked him where to meet, since Sheryl had taken him to the last mask ordeal a few weeks back. He told me the second floor. As soon as I entered the hospital, I asked where the final fittings for a radiation mask would take place and was directed downstairs to the basement. Gilly was nowhere to be found. I searched the second floor, but he had found his way down to the basement by then. We took different routes. Got some exercise, and his plan to give me the slip failed.

While Gilly was taken in for the final fitting, I had a chance to meet Vigit You, his nurse. So lovely. Very astute and efficiently thorough in her approach. I told her about the rash Gilly developed after the last CT scan (after the mask building). She insisted that I remember to mention his reaction to the dye (Isovue-300) each and every time he goes for a test where they use the term ‘contrast.’ He may or may not be allergic, but they will not take a chance.

I brought up the episode he had on Sunday evening. I wondered what a seizure might look like (because Maria the nurse said perhaps he was having one), and what should I do next time. She was very alarmed, and stated emphatically that if he refuses to cooperate, call 911. He may have been having a stroke. Who knows at this point?

She provided me with symptoms of different types of seizures, which jogged my memory of First Aid courses I’d taken over the years. The review was useful and I’m now better prepared. Why did I not recall this information at the time? Fear took over, perhaps.

Vigit later called Gilly into her office and sternly informed him of what she told me to do next time I am concerned. She begged him to cooperate with me from here on in. He grinned and agreed to her request. Until next time….!

I mentioned the discrepancy with the prescription, and I questioned why there is prescription for anti-seizure medication if Maria believed he may have had one. She asked us to wait a while, and went to investigate further. Gilly became quite agitated at this point, annoyed with me for extending our stay. I cannot say I blame him, but the bird was in hand and I wasn’t giving up until I had firm answers.

She located Dr. Sultanem, who prescribed the anti-seizure medication and also admitted that he should be examined by a neurologist. He has thus far not been seen by one. Dr. Mohr is a neurosurgeon, and Dr. Wise is a neuro-ophthalmologist (the spell check insists there’s an ‘l’ in there. New to me. Guess I’ve been spelling it incorrectly up to now). Perhaps a new specialist will join the troupe??? I found out later that afternoon that only a neurologist or neurosurgeon would prescribe Dilantin.

Gilly was visibly annoyed at the length of time we ended up in the waiting room because of my question(s). I was ticked off at him, because I perceived him as a negative force working against my good intentions. I was getting fed up with his ‘high eyes’ when I attempted to explain the importance of my questions. Again, he accused me, “You dramatize everything.”

The Dance of Anger. Anger is often a symptom of unmet needs. This morning, I felt angered by Gilly’s reactions to my persistence. He seemingly considered my input as ‘meddling.’ I needed him to show appreciation for my efforts as his loving advocate; to believe that I’m not purposefully making his life miserable. In fact, I’m trying with every fiber of my being to preserve it.

I was honest, and spoke my piece. I admitted that I need his support too. it works both ways. He immediately accepted my expression of anger as legitimate, and empathized with my frustration. I was able to regain my composure. We met Sharon and Rosanne for lunch, and left feeling much lighter. Good food and great friends; a healing combination.

So, here’s Gilly medication list: Zofran as an anti-nausea one half hour before Temodal, once every evening beginning Sunday: Stemetil as needed (which was the item Dr. Goufalis had on the list that I questioned. It turned out to be an error, by the way, but no biggy. Dr. Kavan simply forgot he had already asked us to get it): Decadron (a steroid) to reduce and / or prevent swelling (maybe both. I’m not 100% sure) is now taken twice daily. It also helps to reduce nausea, I was told this afternoon: To counteract the stomach ulcers which conceivably may be caused by Decadron, he takes Panteloc once daily: Three times a day, he has Dilantin, the anti-seizure medication. And let’s not forget the Folic acid once a day for the Vitamin deficiency. So the pill dispenser is full to the brim and very colourful. Gilly repeatedly questions, “Why am I taking all these pills again?”

While placing the pills in the dispenser, I noticed that there was an R2 in the top right hand corner of the empty anti-seizure medication bottle from a few weeks back. On the new bottle, I saw R 3. It clicked; Hello! R means repeat!!! Could I have put Gilly at risk for the last few weeks by not repeating his anti-seizure medication? I never noticed that symbol before, and so I did not get the pharmacy to repeat it. The Decadron was slowly tapered (they told me that specifically), but I was under the assumption that when the anti-seizure pills were done, they were done. I’m not sure we can afford too many more 'lessons learned'. What an error! I’ll lose sleep over that one tonight, I assure you.

Does this man have a right to be angry? How could he not feel like blowing his top? But he really doesn’t. He’s sweet and gentle, forgiving and loving. We chalked today up as experience, and lapped up Randee’s delectable stir fry. It was a happy ending to a stressful day.

The doctor is out

Todays’ visit to Dr. Kavan wasn’t too “productive” (Gilly supplied the term, and continued…). “Until he showed up… when he did, you were not there to ask all the questions you wanted to ask. Therefore, it was not a successful day.”

To explain, Dr. Kavan was not even in the building until more than an hour past our appointment time. Upon our arrival, Dr. Garoufalis asked abut Gilly’s current condition and proceeded to complete a neurological examination. She apologetically sent us back to the waiting room to await the head hauncho’s return. I did not waste a second of time; I started to grade some papers, until it occurred to me that we could be using this time even more effectively. I stopped Dr. Garoufalis in the hallway and reminded her that Maria, the medical oncology nurse was supposed to meet us today. I suggested this might be an excellent time for the meeting to take place. Less than a moment later, we were ushered into Maria’s office.

I asked many questions about the medications he will start taking this Sunday and requested specifics about diet. I also supplied information on Gilly’s status. Mr. Positivity tends to answer “Great” to everything, which is very optimistic. This is crucial to his recovery, but not all that informative.

I have noticed a bizarre pattern; I have more to tell the medical ‘people’ than they do us. When I mentioned last Sunday’s episode, Maria guessed that he may have had a mild seizure. She asked about the anti-seizure medication and took careful note when I said that he was no longer on it. Gilly insists there’s no way he had a seizure, but the theory makes a lot of sense to me. It is a common risk associated with his condition.

I had to leave before Dr. Kavan showed up. I felt badly, but Gilly insisted I not miss teaching my class. I had not cancelled it nor used up another one of my lifelines thinking I’d make it back in time (I always use ‘call a friend’ when I’m stuck. ‘Polling the audience’ doesn’t quite cut it). Another lesson learned. I left Gilly some taxi money and drove white knuckled back to the college on the other side of town. I arrived with 20 seconds to spare. Phew!

Very little information was dispensed in my absence. A new prescription was written for some meds. Maria had explained earlier that during the radiation / chemo experience, there will be increased swelling, beginning around the 4th week and tapering a couple of months later, so the anti-swelling and anti-seizure medications become necessary again.

Tomorrow we begin with an appetizer of B12, and move onto dinner and theatre (the masked man strikes again, followed by lunch with Rosanne and Sharon if time permits). Is it Thursday again already?

Switching gears

Thank heavens for Super Sheryl! Not sure if my head is on straight, but we somehow made it through the day unscathed. My bolts are beginning to loosen as the final countdown to the big day begins; 5 days to take off.

I was at work, minding my own business, when I received a call from Gilly mid morning informing me that Dr. Mohr's office called. They need him at the Jewsih at 3:00 for an MRI; a space suddenly became available. A wrench was thrown into the works; without warning I had to switch gears.

Who ya gonna call? Ghost busters? Nah!!! Our cherished friend Sheryl didn't hesitate to drop him off at the Jewish so as to allow me do 3 more hours of work and avoid my falling hopelessly behind. I left work a few hours later to pick Gilly up, drive him home, and zoom back to the office to finish my day (which included an evening meeting). So needless to say, I'm kinda dizzy and ready for bed.

We hope to have results from the MRI soon. If not tomorrow, then we'll ask on Thursday, since we'll be there for the final mask fitting. Tomorrow it's off to Dr. Kavan in the middle of another work day. I feel like a double agent.

Drama Queen

Gilly awoke after a 14 hour sleep feeling fit as a fiddle (well, everything is relative these days). He stirred only once (to get himself a plate of apple crisp). Otherwise, he snored peacefully all night, obviously needing sleep in a big way.

If you ask, he will tell you point blank, “My wife likes to dramatize things.” Perhaps, but he had me going big time! They used to call me Sarah Heartburn, but in this case there was a legitimate cause for concern. When I read him the blog posting, he admitted that all was true, so who’s kidding who?

I went into work slightly later than originally planned so as to ensure Gilly could manage alone. I reached Janet at the Jewish in between meetings, and found out that Gilly’s final mask fitting is scheduled for Thursday. His first radiation session will take pace on Monday, May 1st. He’ll start the Temodal on Sunday evening.

We are all anxious to get this journey on the road. To be honest, I’m riddled with anxieties about the whole ordeal; the fine details that need to be managed throughout, the potential risks, making sure he maintains a proper diet when I'm not in the house...all sorts of who knows what. We are about to embark on an unfamiliar path. We have been given a map, and I plan to follow it very carefully.

Gilly will become susceptible to colds and so on during the course of treatment (at certain points especially), and this can be potentially dangerous. He must not be in contact with anyone who has a cold or any sort of virus or infection from this point on. This is one way to help him remain as healthy as possible. No matter how much you adore the man, no more kissing! Nurse Vigit’s orders.

I arrived home at 5:00 to find an unusually excitable Liylah. I gingerly crept downstairs so as not to wake Gilly. He usually naps at this hour in his favourite chair. Much to my surprise, the lazy boy was vacant. I scurried about the house calling his name, hoping he hadn’t fallen somewhere (which could explain Liylah’s change in behaviour) but he did not appear to be home (more dramatizing, I guess Gilly would say).

I called him on his cell, and I was thrilled to discover that he was still out with Freddy. Lunch had extended into a trip to Freddy’s office, and they were on their way home. What a great day it was. Freddy and Gilly entered the house moments later with tales of Gilly fixing Freddy’s car. Like the good old days.

April showers bring may flowers

Cross-country skiing is one of my favourite sports. There's nothing more exhilarating than soaking up Birch Point scenery, careening through mountain trails.

Climbing the hills is grueling, but well worth the effort. The view from the top is spectacular. The descents are a bit steep for me (more so these days). Sometimes, my skis move faster than my heart can take, and I freeze up (having nothing to do with the wintry temperature).

Our family has embarked on a journey through a challenging cross-country ski trail.

This morning, Gilly cheerfully greeted me with a reminder that we need milk. He was preparing for a visit from Jacques (sp?) and Chad, and wanted to ensure that there would be appropriate fixings for coffee, according to everyone's taste.

I returned from shopping to find Gilly on the doorstep with a welcoming smile plastered across his face, welcoming Jacques who had just arrived. He called out through the pouring rain to ask if I needed help with my packages.

I left for my mom's, pleased to see Gilly holding court with his two guests, immersed in discussions of pumps and whatnots down in the Bahamas. Chad and Jacques had recently returned from Freeport, doing the work Gilly has done many times in the past, but could not do this time around. Gilly was on a high; at the peak of his day. This was at 2:15.

The trip downhill was steep. Jacques said it came upon him all of a sudden. He stumbled up the stairs at about 5:00, just as I walked through the front door. The gentlemen bid Gilly a fond farewell laced with apparent concern. I surveyed the situation with growing apprehension.

The look in Gilly's eyes seemed unusual. I wondered if he could be dehydrated (don't ask me why), so I offered him water. He drank some. Next, I guessed he was hungry (no surprise; I'm a Jewish mother), so I offered some food. He could barely hold the spoon as he painstakingly chewed on some pineapple. The right side of his body was not functioning up to current par. I sat, holding my heart in my hands, petrified, feeling as though I had crashed right into a tree on my way down the hill.

My usual instinct kicked in; I implored him to go to the hospital. I even considered dragging him against his will. He laughed at me, slurring his words, assuring me that he's absolutely fine. He admitted that I do not often see him like this, but it happens, and then he recovers. I convinced him to lie down, and he finally agreed to rest in bed. I sat and watched him, trying to make conversation (He used to be an amazing conversationalist, but I have to take the initiative these days; role reversal).

Eventually, he confessed that it frightens him when I wear a worried expression. "You look like you think I'm going to die or something." His comment opened the door to a greater understanding of his experience. I silently vowed to work on toning down my reactions.

He's now fast asleep. I hear his strength returning by virtue of the change in his breathing; on his way up to the next peak. Our last visit to Dr. Wise was a real eye opener (forgot to use this pun the other day; so perfect); rainy days can be tough.

Too bad the meteorologist predicts we will not see much sun (if any) until Thursday. The only consolation is that all this rain is probably nourishing our Magnolia tree towards its annual peak.

Status quo

Gilly spent a quiet, yet pleasant day at home today. I had some much needed exercise. We had a delicious dinner with friends, and we're tucked in for the night (8:48 P.M. Life has changed, but we are still smiling!).

Shabbat Shalom Chaverim

A common term for a person born is Israel is a ‘sabra.’ For those unfamiliar the symbolism, a sabra is the fruit of a cactus that grows in Israel. They are very prickly, but once you manage to get past the prickles to the fruit within, you can taste their sweetness. Gilly has always been the quintessential sabra. Recently, he seems to have totally lost his prickles. They simply trickled to the ground. It happened gradually upon his most recent return from Africa. I find this fascinating. I would have imagined the total opposite reaction, considering the discomforts he has to contend with.

Gilly spent the day in one of his favourite places; his garden; his pride and joy. He watered the plants and trimmed the bushes; something he has always enjoyed with every fiber of his being, but has not engaged in until today. He sounded strong each time I called home for my barometer reading.

We held Shabbat dinner at our home with the Blauer clan, speckled with caring phone calls and visits from thoughtful friends and family. I was pleased to muster up the energy to initiate the gathering. I may not have managed to get such a delicious dinner of on the table if not for loads of help and offerings from the entire family. My heart is as full as our bellies.

The week, on the whole, passed us by without incident. I have 2 days ahead of me to spend with Gilly. We’re booked to spend Saturday night with our devoted friends. We are thankful for our support system. It’s working overtime.

The making of a canadian quilt

Have you ever seen the movie “The Making of an American Quilt”? I’m not 100% sure of the title, but I love that movie. My favourite part is when a woman, in anger, throws dishes at her boyfriend or husband (I forget which). My reaction to this scene, being fond of creating mosaic doodads, was “What a waste. I could make some beautiful pieces with all those broken treasures.” I have trouble allowing anything to go to waste. The next scene finds the woman who threw the plates artistically attaching the fragments to her wall.

All day long, the image of a quilt in relation to the blog has been passing through my mind. Each square is designed and sewn together by a persons with at least one thing in common; an interest in Gilly’s welfare, and that of his family. We are connected to family and friends and they to us, and oftentimes they become connected to one another. The reciprocal nature of the experience is astounding. I send out information (checked over by the main character first) and so many send us feedback. Readers are able to meet one another and begin conversations on the same page, I am told. They feel up to date and a part of our lives. Knowing this makes the effort worthwhile on so many levels. The everexpanding quilt keeps us warm and protected.

We went to see Dr. Wise today. Gilly explained that his eyesight changes throughout the day, but for the most part, he finds his vision deteriorating. Dr. Wise explained that many variables may affect how one functions neurologically (time of day, lighting, hormonal shifts, season…etc.). For Gilly, of course, it is rather disconcerting; he has periods during which his eyesight is really very poor, especially close-up.

After a thorough examination, Gilly left the office with yet another prescription. His original glasses are totally useless, and he now requires a prism for the other eye as well. Dr. Wise suggested having the prisms set permanently into the lens at this point (I believe he used the term ‘to grind them into the lens’). Gilly adamantly disagreed with the plan, which took me aback. Dr. Wise understood, and voiced that Gilly is a positive thinker. He believes that if they are not permanently attached, he may not need them one day.

I asked if this could be true. “Who knows?” was the reply. He made it clear to us that although the treatment is not being touted as curative, it may in fact reduce the swelling that tends to surround this type of tumour, and in doing so, may relieve the symptoms related to eyesight. Perhaps this information had been provided before, but it was made crystal clear for us today.

We’re on a weird schedule today. Gilly is enjoying his afternoon nap (it is 7:23 P.M. – the blog time is off, by the way, folks). He got off to a late start, so I’m allowing him his rest.

I realized a few moments ago that I left potatoes boiling on the stove for a LONG time. I left the blog on hold and went to mash them (yummy, my favourite, and Noam’s too; new twist this time, Noam. Wait ‘til you taste them!). Gilly heard me and awoke, asking, “When are we eating?” I answered, “Whenever you’re ready to start the Bar-B-Q. So good night all. I’ll be having my nap right after dinner.

Thursdays are the best. We are together all day long!!!!

To life, to life, l'chaim

Liylah doesn’t stink anymore, Stacey; just the regular dog breath she has had since Day One with the Schwagers. She continues to bring us all great joy and an abundance of hair to vacuum. What an amazing creature.

I called home today at noon to touch base with Gilly and find out how his day was going. In true Gilly form, he exuberantly answered, “Great!” I was relieved to hear the positive tone return to his voice. “Barb and Dave were here, and then Sheryl. I just came back from walking the dog.” Gilly acts as my barometer for how well I am able to cope at work, so you can imagine how the rest of my day went; “Great!”

It’s hard to deal with so many disturbing neurological symptoms, but Gilly very rarely complains. He offers a smile to anyone who speaks to him, whether in person or over the telephone.

We celebrated my mom’s 75th birthday this evening. Joey and Susie hosted a family gathering. We appreciate every opportunity to celebrate these days. Her father, Bobby, and my mother actually share a birthday. I forgot my digital camera, so here’s a photo of Grandma Shirley and Noam on Gilly’s most recent birthday. Yom Huledet Sameach, mom. L’Chaim!

Oh, and you too Marvin. Oops, I missed it. I've never been great at remembering dates.

May the treatments begin!

I reached Janet at the JGH this morning. Apparently Gilly should be starting treatment near the beginning of May. Dr. Sultanem is out of town until Thursday. He is the one who puts the wheels in motion. Early next week, Gilly should have the final markings for radiation done. He can begin receiving radiation late next week or the week after. She let me know that Dr. Kavan called just before me to ask what is taking so long. I was wondering how she knew my name and the whole story as soon as I called. It’s nice to know that he’s plugging for us.

Brad Kerzner from the CLSC arrived for his scheduled home visit today. This was arranged in response to a plea I made long ago for Gilly to receive whatever support the community has to offer. We met the social worker there over a month ago when Gilly had his stitches out, and I asked what was available in terms of professional help to assist Gilly in dealing with his circumstance on an emotional level.

Brad’s 9:30 A.M. visit was a follow-up to my initial request. Unfortunately, he called a few weeks back when I wasn’t home, so Gilly went ahead and made the appointment, not realizing the impact of my teaching schedule.

Gilly claims to like the guy, and believes he will be able to help. When I asked for some details, the information was vague. He made an appointment for May 11th for Brad to meet me (a Thursday; he now knows to ask for this magic non-teaching day). I asked, “Why does Brad want to meet me?” Gilly replied, “He wants to help you.” I reiterated what I told the original social worker both in person and on the phone (she called back again just to be sure): I said, “I want help for you, Gil. I can access this sort of support at Vanier if need be. I will rest easy if you have what you need.” He quietly answered, “I need you to have help.” How can I refuse the guy? I decided to stop balking at the idea and take whatever I can get.

I asked, “What did you do today? Were you outside? It was a magnificent day.” He said, “Yes. I walked the dog. We spent time together outside. I find it tires me out. I have trouble walking because my right leg drags. I just didn’t feel like doing much. I was feeling kind of yucky. I really can’t see either” I asked if being alone all day had something to do with it. He claims it did not. But I am a detective, so I probed further. “What was the best part of your day?” He answered, “The later part.” I asked why, knowing the answer, but still having to hear it: “Because you are here now.”

After reading the blog to Gilly, he insisted that being at home alone does not bother him. He siad leave that part in, because we did discuss it that way, but it really doesn't bother me. He wants you all to know that. It is his right side that gives him trouble, whether alone or not.

Perhaps it is only my guilt at leaving him for many hours on end that generates what Gilly sees as a skewed perspective. What a powerful emotion. My children would probably say I send it out (The famous Jewish guilt torture) even better than I receive it. Can't help it; it's home grown.

I finish teaching duties around mid-May or so. Then I can mange to do much of my work from home until June when I have an official break for the summer. CAN’T WAIT!!!

School days cometh

First thing this morning I called the hospital to ask where Gilly stands on the waiting list. Janet, the person in charge of the radio-oncology ‘list’ is still enjoying her long weekend. I’ll have to attempt to squeeze a phone call in tomorrow at some point during my packed work schedule. After a 5 day break, there’s much to be done and so little time to do it.

These days, it seems I need a can opener to make space / time for the many details I have to attend to outside of ‘what’s normal.’ I made a valiant attempt to catch up on all my school work today, in between all sorts of interruptions (many pleasant ones, I might add, like calls from special friends and family). This is not to say that I am in any way behind in my work. It is just that I am more comfortable being ahead of the game; ready for anything that may get thrown my way. I’m the opposite of a procrastinator, but often, our current life circumstance forces me to resemble one.

While dining with Susie, Joey and the boys last evening, I mentioned to Noam that I have not read a book since Gilly was diagnosed. Normally, I take out a stack of books from the library, and have one on hand in each room of the house. I pick them up whenever I have spare time, and follow several stories at once. For weeks, I have been nursing a book of short stories by Sholom Aleheim. Joey mused aloud, “Reading short stories seems to mirror your life at the moment.” Touché, mon frere. A short story grows out of each day’s events. I cannot plan ahead; there’s no telling what the plot will be tomorrow. One day at a time,

Since Gilly’s spill last Thursday, he has had only good days, and he seems to have gradually improved. He’s sure the fall knocked some sense into him. He smiles easily, at the littlest provocation, and when he does, colourful rays of sunlight peek through the clouds. He stood in the kitchen this morning taking stock of his sweet, hairy companion. “We’re so lucky,” he marveled. Imagine him saying something like that! I replied, “I’m lucky to have you, you’re lucky to have me, and we’re lucky to have our children, and last but not least our dog.” “You’re so right,” he agreed.

Goodnight, kind folks. It’s a school night, after all.

Leaving on a jet plane

There was a tearful farewell at P.E. Trudeau airport this afternoon. The visit zipped by in a flash. Living so far away from family, especially at a time like this, plays havoc with emotions. Saying goodbye is never easy, but at a time like this, it is excrutiating.

Gilly gave Gittit his word that he would return to Israel to spend time with her children, because he was unable to do so in January when he passed through on his return trip from Malawi. Time was short and he was unquestionably not himself while in Israel. Gittit recalls his hands shaking while holding his cup of coffee. I am amazed that he traveled across the continent of Africa, and back home through Europe, all the while enduring tremendous discomfort and neurological malfunctioning as a result of the build up of fluid in his brain. Knowing Gilly, he’ll surely give it his all to make good on his promise to Gittit. What an astounding force this man is!

We moved from the departure gate to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions for Temodal and the accompanying medications used to ward off nausea, etc. We were given the final verdict late last week that Gilly is not eligible for the study, so we had to ensure that the medication would be ready for take-off; the first dose must be taken the evening before radiation commences.

When will the treatments begin? This, as I’ve told umpteen people who’ve asked, is the million dollar question. Maria, the oncology nurse at the Neuro, advised us to call the radiation department at the Jewish on Monday to find out where we stand on the list. We plan to follow-up tomorrow morning.

If need be, we’ll bring out the heavy artillery and twist a few arms. Sounds violent, doesn’t it? I usually wait in line patiently for my turn. I believe that good things come to those who wait. BUT, when Gilly’s health is at stake, I have no qualms about putting up my dukes to fight the system. We have a few Jokers in our hand, so it may not get ugly. The Barnoff in me expects peaceful resolution. My Blauer side fuels my assertiveness.

We are feeling warm after a Bar-B-Q at Joey and Susie’s. We attach great importance to the love, friendship and support we receive these days; Gilly, Tamara, Yaron and I cherish the show of kindness, compassion and all loving gestures that come our way.

Special thanks to Anita for her hospitality, even during her absence!

Shave and a haircut

Loop appeared, razor in hand, to shave Yaron’s head in the image of his father. Now I am living with two Chatichim (chatich is a hunk; my favourite new word of the month, picked up in an arena of all places).




Gilly enjoyed Jeff, Matthew and Jason’s late afternoon tales of their recent visit to the promised land.

The Schwager clan spent much of their day raiding the fridge; it looks as if there’s no end to leftovers. Tamara and Grandma Shirley turned up to assist, but the job is still unfinished.

Gilly is tired, yet content. He has settled into his lazy boy to watch the hockey game (4 to 3, but not for us, he reports).

Let them eat lemon sponge cake

Believe it or not, we had enough space in our bellies to partake in a post seder eat-a-thon. Lisa arrived with Doreen and Jamie at around noon, and between us we managed to throw together a mouthwatering smorgasbord of delectable leftovers. Liylah lapped up some of the attention. A hefty helping landed on Gilly’s plate too, not to mention the rest of us.

Four fair weather cyclists arrived at our doorstep just in time for Hampstead’s newest budding photographer to exercise her talent (photo above coutesy of Rachel Friedman). Nitai, June, Michal and Rachie made a short pit stop at our home; enough time to get a taste of Auntie Ruth’s lemon sponge cake. Not sure if it’s Madam Benoit’s (I doubt she celebrated Pesach), but we now have 2 in line for the recipe.

Gittit and I sent Gilly and Sema off for a rest and took Liylah for her daily squirrel hunt. We topped off the day with dinner on Prince Arthur. Tamara, Max and Yaron brought plenty of life and joy to our table.

We discovered a sad truth when we returned home; Liylah admires Auntie Ruth’s baking as much as the rest of us humans do. Luckily, there were only tiny morsels left for her to steal off the counter. Gotta remember that she’s way taller than Butterscotch ever was. She’s a real counter cruiser. Can't say we were not warned.

Gilly is in his element in the presence of friends and family; a genuine people person. Although he tires easily, he perks up as soon as folks arrive. He is enjoying his Israeli connections immensely, and the Torontians special trip in put the icing on the cake (Kosher for Pesach, of course). The only draw back is that Sema has not been well. We hope she has a restful night and manages to kick her stubborn cold and cough.

Connections

Today was the polar opposite of yesterday. Gilly woke up with his signature smile and from that moment on I knew he had slept on the right side of the bed. I am so grateful for days like this. It pleases me beyond measure to see him experience a resurgence of energy.

I helped Grandma Shirley prepare for tonight's royal banquet (as Noam calls it). Although I did considerably less than usual (nothing in fact), I'm sure that my presence was as appreciated as always. Just being together during holiday preparations feels right; us women folk have always done so, and I hope we continue biz a hundert un tzvantzik. Susie, Tamara and Auntie Ruth are the gals who really deserve credit for helping Grandma create a seder extraordinaire. I lounged on Grandma's grand divan, and reconnected with Auntie Kayla over the telephone. Meanwhile, Susie and Grandma stuffed the turkey.

I thoroughly enjoyed shooting the breeze with my sister-in-law (the Israeli connection) this afternoon, something I rarely have the opportunity to do. We have so much in common. I wish we could live closer to one another.

Safta Sema stayed back to nurse a cold and fever. Feel better (says Noam). We hope to find her in better condition to greet Doreen and Jamie when they arrive tomorrow for a specially planned visit to Montreal.

My sister-in-law Susie (the Canadian connection) led tonight's proceedings to hysterical proportions. Great fun was had by all. I documented snipet's of the events on film for posterity (in honour of Grandpa Haskell).

A box of matzo, a jug of wine and thou

Gittit, Gilly and Tamara put together a beautiful seder table while Yaron and I spent the day in the salt mines and Sema sweated out her fever.

Never before have I hosted a seder in my home without assuming the role of chief cook and bottle washer. It was weird. I am eternally grateful to my devoted clan, not to mention my special friend Randee who delivered her now famous Passover mandel broit. Phyllis, thanks for the spring bouquet.

Gittit led the proceedings, and we all participated. She noted how different families celebrate the same holiday with their own unique traditions. We've had very few seders together due to the tremendous distance between us. We spent the evening creating new memories. I had my wine glass confiscated after one 1/2 glasses. Fatigue is a powerful ingredient, don't you know.

Our day got off to a less than favourable start. Gilly did not feel 'normal' this morning. His awoke with swollen eyelids, and a noticeably absent smile. Good thing Gittit was around; I would have felt torn going off to work and leaving him alone.

Later on in the morning, Gittit heard a thump. Gilly had fallen while taking a shower, hitting his head and side. When I called at noon to check on the day's events, I was surprised to find them lunching at Lafleur's instead of cooking up a storm. Gilly informed me of his tumble, and I immediately asked if he had fallen on his shunt. I was shaken to find he had indeed. I urged him to go have it checked out at the hospital. His refusal came as no surprise; the dance is familiar, but I don't like the steps.

There went my afternoon. I could not wait to get home and see him with my own eyes. I had to survive the rest of my work day, so I distractedly went through the motions.

In the meantime, back at the ranch, Gittit suggested they try the neat science experiment she found yesterday on our smelly hound. Liylah was quite patient with the whole ordeal, but the stench of skunk still lingered. They reasoned that it must be Liylah's bed, and decided to put it through the washing machine. They neglected to remove the cover from the foam mattress, and so a flood in the laundry room was the unfortunate result. This balagan (one of my favourite Gittit-isms) kept them busy for the better part of the afternoon. It's a wonder that they found time to prepare the soup and home made knaidelach a la Gittit.

We are all looking forward to an uneventful Thursday, and another seder at Grandma Shirley's. Kadima!

Another Blog? Ma nishtanah ha layla ha ze?

Title: Inspired by Sema

I discovered the can of tomato juice on the kitchen table this morning with barely 1/2 cup was missing. "I think she was supposed to take a bath in it, Gilly. You didn't use enough." I announced in a somewhat accusatory tone. "She was turning pink," he groaned. "We used enough, trust me." Famous last words!

Various over the counter / houndeopathic alternatives have been suggested: Cathy Mott, my look alike, recommends baby shampoo and / or a product called something like Skunk-off (I forget the exact name). Gittit googled and uncovered a remedy reminiscent of those cool volcano eruptions my children used to love experimenting with (baking soda, 3% peroxide and water).

Gilly and Gittit hit the Cavendish Mall to stock up on supplies, only to arrive home to find that the pungent odour had dissipated. Even Grandma Shirley with her champion nose gave Liylah her sniff of approval.

We went out for Chinese food this evening (our last chametz hurrah). Upon return, we opened the door and immediately detected the familiar, unwelcome scent floating towards us. Tomorrow may turn out to be more of a wash day adventure than the cook-a-than previously planned. I better get the charoset ready tonight or we'll never make it across the sea.

Gittit swiftly bid us a good night. Next out, my one and only. He nestled into his delicious brown leather lazy boy, leaned over to pet his canine friend, and drifted off to sleep uttering, "She's such a good dog, even though she stinks." One thing I know for sure: I have enough jobs, thank you very much. Washing this gazunte hundt is most definitely not MY job. I'm planning to make up for last night's uneasy slumber as soon as I 'publish post.' Oops, maybe the charoset can wait until day break.

I spent today in a less fretful state than usual, knowing that Gilly would be in loving hands for the entire day; never alone. I'm quite certain that my husband's mind was equally at ease, assuming I'd be able to relax and simply do my job, worry free.

Gittit and Gilly dropped me at work and picked me up at my final destination so that they would have wheels to take them on who knows what kind of adventures. I seized the opportunity to travel from one day care to the next on foot. I supervise fieldwork students in 3 different locations in the same basic neighbourhood. To drive from one to the other is a snap; my leisurely stroll stretched out over 45 minutes. It was a decadent move on my part; oh so very pleasant. The extra time it took was extravagant according to current Cindy standards. I stole what felt like uninterruptible time to think, stretch my legs and soak up the sun on a magnificent spring day.

I will try to fit outdoor jaunts of this nature into my work day schedule more often. It does me the world of good, yet I rarely grant myself this sort of gift these days. I gave up my swimming and fitness classes when medical appointments took precedence. Recently, control over my own time has slipped from my grasp. Now that I've tasted the apple, I remember how badly I need exercise and alone time for meditation.

So Gilly, get those roller blade wheels greased please. Watch out St. Laurent residents; stopping on a dime was never my forte. Thanks for reminding me that I love to roller blade, Gittit. I may look ridiculous (and my children will attest to this), but it sure is exhilarating.

My seder cup may not remain half full tomorrow evening. I hear Eliyahou is back in town.

Matzo ball soup for the soul

Each day I ponder over why I continue to blog (a modern e-verb!) amidst all that I have sitting on my plate. Unquestionably, I'm intrinsically drawn to the task. I have a few theories on what motivates me to tap my fingertips across the keyboard every evening:

I seem to enjoy and probably need to use this venue for airing my thoughts, expressing my emotions and discussing our family's life altering experience. This electronic journal leaves ample room for poetic license, which allows me the chance to flex my creative impulses (not nearly as messy as mosaic art).

I feel responsible to report all the confounding facts as accurately as humanly possible and in a timely fashion. This provides caring, interested family, friends and colleagues the luxury of up to date information. I feel empowered with the capacity to reach out to family and friends, no matter how near or far, literally across continents.

When readers respond to postings (through blog comments, emails, phone calls or visits), with a vow to hold Gilly forever in their prayers, we are touched beyond measure. So many positive vibes directed towards my precious life partner. Like chicken soup; surely it can't hurt!

Blog readers have taken the time to share their appreciation for the part I play in this bizarre, yet potent form of communication; it warms my heart and feeds my soul.

Thanks for caring, and taking the time to remain informed in this manner. I find it comforting and unobtrusive.

Gilly spent the first part of today waiting with eager anticipation for his sister, Gittit and mother, Sema to arrive in Montreal. My heart was in the right place, but I had my head on backwards. I carefully rearranged this week's Monday seminar schedule so as to act as Gilly's chauffeur at 10:15 this morning. Anita, Sema's cousin called on Saturday to discuss pick up plans, and generously offered her services. I proudly announced that I have the morning free and will gladly escort Gilly to the airport. She asked, "Why the morning? They're coming in at 3:00 P.M." Stressed these days? Me?? Why would you think that? Thankfully, Anita was available to drive in my stead.

We enjoyed an international Schwager family dinner this evening, but the stench nearly killed those with a sense of smell (my olfactory nerve doesn't function well, thankfully). Liylah seems to have had some sort of altercation with a skunk. Never a dull moment on Palmer Avenue. Gilly and Yaron showered Liylah with tomato juice right after dinner. Word has it that the juice bath didn't make a bit of difference (lucky for me, I wouldn't know). Deep breath, Cindy; you're the one who suggested the dog in the first place! Good thing the Schwager clan is familiar with animal antics, otherwise they'd high tail it out of here. The Blauer of the bunch, however, is not amused.

Pesach is just around the corner; matzo balls are in the making in kitchens across the world. Chag Sameach to you and yours.

More on that score

Hockey took up the better part of the day and now, at 10:30 P.M. (blog time) my 2 men are still either at the arena or on the road. This morning was a success. I've yet to hear tonight's score.

Gilly reapplied his prism tis morning for close-ups. He removed them for distance, watching the game from the stands. It seems to help for now. Still juggling...

Can't win 'em all

While Liylah waited at home, climbing the walls with anticipation,















the Canucks lost their match 4-1. Yaron (#97) scored the team's one and only goal, so the trip out to Ile Bizard (thanks for the correct spelling, Judy) was more than worthwhile.



You can see the naches written all over Gilly's signature grin! Joey is visible in the background.

We spent what little was left of our day doing household chores and receiving a few special guests (Aviyam and Michal followed by Auntie Bea).

Gilly changed his specs numerous times as the day unfolded, but to no avail. He brought 2 pairs with him to the arena, and repeatedly replaced one with the other. He did this same thing on the way to Toronto a couple of months ago, before we knew why. He had 3 or 4 pairs in different pockets, and kept trying to find the most comfortable situation, but never did succeed.

This is a man who blows me away when I think of how he expertly adapts to new situations. He has travelled the world to inspect, rebuild, test and whatever else he does to engines of the locomotive variety and other sorts of machinery, like generators. Each time he enters a new situation, he meticulously studies the environment. In no time he begins to adopt the habits, customs and even lingo of the natives. He has that knack; sort of like a chameleon. When we arrived in Malawi this summer, he totally floored me by hopping off the plane after 2 days of travel, and dashing off to work for whatever was left of the day. His driver was on vacation, so he took the vehicle and drove ( and being on the wrong side of the road was the easy part, let me tell you). I know he will learn to adapt to his new 'sight' when his eyes settle into a more consistent 'seeing' pattern.

Tomorrow, he's off to Beauharnois for the next tournament, a hop, skip and a shlepp away. I'm staying home this time to get a jump start on a week of grading papers, planning new assignments, and clearing off Gittit's bed!

Yaron released me from hockey mom duty by saying, "Mom, you really don't have to come. My regular season is over, so this doesn't mean as much to me." He immediately checked back to ensure I understood correctly by adding, "It's not that you being there doesn't mean as much to me, just the game itself." The apple doesn't fall far, does it? He's as kind and loving as his father (and sister for that matter). It was an important distinction to make in his estimation.

Let's make one thing perfectly clear (please!)

Yaron wanted to know how much time he had to lounge in bed this morning, so he called out the daily question, "Mom, can you give me a lift to the Metro this morning?" My reply came from the living room, "Sure, I'll be going to work for nine." Gilly was in the kitchen, preparing my coffee at the time (a labour of love I have enjoyed being the recipient of for 24 years now). I heard him cry out, "Now that's what I love to hear!" I was not sure what he was referring to, so I questioned him. He said, "That makes me feel fargenigan." "What are you talking about?" I asked. He explained, "I love when he gets a lift to the Metro. It makes me feel wonderful."

I never realized until yesterday that this small deed means so much to Gilly. I'm quite certain I know why, though; giving Yaron a ride was a favour he often did. He does not want his son to have any less than he had before. I will have to step into Gilly's kindhearted shoes for the meantime (although they're kind of large; I'm not so nice as he, to be honest. I figure Yaron's young and can take a bus, for goodness sake, especially on days when I do not have to be at Vanier for 9:00. But if it means so much to Gill, how can I refuse this guy with a huge heart and a tender spot for his offspring?)

Gilly enjoyed a leisurely lunch with Anita and Bernie today, catered by Snowdon Deli. It was yummy ( I nibbled on the leftovers while making dinner, so I can tell you first hand).

A few more rows of bricks adorn the wall (this time on the kitchen side), so production is still in motion.

Canucks tied last night, and lost 3 to 2 this evening. They're still in the running, so it's off to Ile Bizarre (spelling?) tomorrow afternoon. A new tournament is in the making, so Gittit and Sema may get a chilly reception on Monday evening (pack your gutkes, desert mamas; some arenas are downright frigid).

Again, Gilly's eyesight has shifted since yesterday. I cannot grasp if this is an improvement or a step back. He claims to see better, but his glasses are no longer right for him. I'm banking on him being correct; easier to fix glasses (although this cannot be a daily or weekly habit, so we may have to wait it out a bit). I guess his vision may continue to fluctuate over the next year or so, which is why Dr. Wise plans to see him monthly.

He found it hard to watch the game tonight. I wondered out loud about his plans for attending tomorrow's match (I abhor watching him suffer), but he answered affirmatively without the least bit of hesitation. What a trouper this man is.

He just entered the room asking if I remember where he put his old glasses. I directed him to the living room. He returned to report that they are much better than his new ones. So for the meantime, he seems content.

Again, I received the "very nice" rating for tonight's posting (from the subject himself), so I'll publish this post with 2 final words:

Shabbat Shalom

Brick by brick

Or, for you baby boomers, how about "Thick as a brick"?

Nothing extraordinary occurred today. That's not necessarily a bad or a good thing; just reality. Our lives cannot be dramatic at every turn (tanks G-d!). Don't know how those soap opera writers keep churning that gook out. There's enough real life drama out there to keep us busy.

I asked Gilly to describe his day. He shrugged, and replied, "Just a normal work day." He cut some bricks and attached them to the wall. I derived tremendous pleasure simply by watching him. What a fantabulous feeling to do my work at the dining room table while he got down to some serious brick laying. He puttered about for hours, measuring and cutting, trying the fit, making adjustments and so on. He moved up and down the staircase effortlessly. Not too many bricks landed up adhered to the wall, but those that did were placed with intricate precision. When the eyes work, the man hardly rests!

It was a special day for us both; no doctor appointments, no teaching; we had the pleasure of each other's company, at least within calling distance, all day long. The best things in life are so simple.

Gilly was bent on driving Yaron to the Metro this morning. "It's really not fair," he complained. "I never give him a lift anymore." I had spoken to my mother last night who portrayed Dr. Kavan's response on Gilly's driving question in a slightly different light, so I was careful not to encourage him to make the journey at the helm. I nonchalantly asked. "Would it be O.K. then if I drive him, and you and Liylah come along so we can stop at the hardware store?" "Sure," he agreed. "I just want him to have a lift." I heaved an internal sigh of relief. I was sure there would be a battle, but apparently he had no ulterior motive. He just wanted to give his kid a break.

Tonight the round robin matches commence, so we're off to Dollard; prouder spectators you can never find (I bet all you hockey parents think that!).

By the way, Gilly asks me to read each posting, and daily (or nightly) he gives me the seal of approval to click on 'Publish Post.' "Very nice," he commends me each time he hears what I've written.

Driving Miss Cindy

Today's visit to Dr. Kavan, courtesy of Grandma Shirley was somewhat but not entirely revealing of what lies ahead. All the questions I asked my mom and Gilly to pose were asked. We have no alternative but to take what information is thrown our way, and remain on top of our game, waiting in the stands for the rest of the news to follow.

Gilly had the usual quick neurological examination and he confidently reported that he "passed in flying colours." Apparently, he will continue to be followed by Dr. Kavan through the Neuro (Gilly was given the option today, and he chose wisely). He continues to work on twisting the rules a bit so as to permit Gilly to be a study participant. We should know the final answer on this matter by Tuesday. It doesn't make a huge difference, but cost to some extent is at stake, and the follow-up as a study participant may be more thorough. Regardless, the plan is still Temodal (chemo) and radiation. I am relieved to have a couple of the blanks filled in.

We continue to await the actual starting date for treatment; this will be determined by the Jewish (last we heard, it would be one and 1/2 to 2 weeks, so I'm guessing not before the middle of Pesach).

Early this morning I gingerly suggested to Gilly that he check with Dr. Kavan about driving while receiving treatment. I left it up to Gilly's discretion, so as not to infringe on his rights; I chose not to add the question to the journal that would be handed to my mother for the purposes of documenting Dr. Kavan's answers. It was just a quiet discussion between me and Gilly.

I must say, my husband pleasantly surprised me. I did not expect him to broach the topic because he was so high on yesterday's news. It would have been tough for anyone to lay this new sense of freedom back down on the line. But Gilly put his ego aside and pragmatically put forth the question. Dr. Kavan said that there is no law against it, but he does not suggest it, and in his country, it would be against the law.

So I tentatively asked, "Will you listen to his suggestion?" Gilly immediately responded, "Absolutely!" We celebrated by having Gilly drive me and Liylah for her appointment at the vet's (a few blocks away).

I asked him to describe the experience to you all: "It felt like a sixteen year old getting his license for the first time. And I promise not to drive around town just for the sake of driving; only in an emergency I will drive, or if I have to. Even now."

I asked, "You think it's better if I drive? Even now?" "I wouldn't say better, but it's wiser," he replied. Until I get my 100% release from the doctor to drive, I won't drive. I don't have my 100% balance and that makes a big difference."

I found his driving to be carefully executed, although a bit slower than usual (which is a good thing!!!). He seemed self-assured, saying that driving was automatic (excuse the pun); something he could never forget how to do.

It seems that Driving Miss Cindy will be put on hold for another couple of months at least. I may have to give up bread again (but never chocolate! I need some sort of vice).

Gilly, you demonstrate patience, acceptance, strength, love of life, appreciation, devotion, diligence and much, much more. We are in awe.

Seeing is believing

Title: by Gilly himself.

Warning: Today's posting does have a happy ending!

Last night, I fell to the bottom of the bumpy roller coaster ride we seem to be on; you know that dip when your heart lands in your mouth? We've had our share of ups and downs, and we've all been strong, but last night I couldn't shake that churning sensation in my chest where my heart lies. I had an unsettled feeling that grew gradually into silent tears. I desperately tried to hold back so as not to upset this man who is being ever so brave and accepting of his lot. I broke the promise I made to myself; there's just so much one can contain before the pressure forces a crack in the foundation.

This happened late at night, after watching Gilly make his way up the stairs teetering from side to side. He had had a lonely day at home while the rest of us were at work. He was fed up with his eyes and revealed how difficult it was to walk up that flight of stairs with his right leg refusing to cooperate. I couldn't control myself any longer (I tend to be one of those 'alone' criers; closet cases). I began to weep. Gilly begged me not to cry, and assured me he'd be fine. I composed myself and lay quietly as he listened to the 11:00 o'clock news for awhile before drifting off to sleep. I listened to him breath and silently prayed for the treatments to start, so that his symptoms could perhaps be arrested; controlled somehow.

Gilly jumped out of bed promptly at 6:25, 5 minutes before the alarm. This had been Gilly's habit in yesteryear, but not of late. He made coffee and hurried me out the door by 7:30, calling Sheryl on the way to pick him up after his eye doctor appointment. He looked at me and innocently questioned me. "Why do you seem so tense?" I patiently (he may use a different adjective) explained to him that I have an 8:30 food lab this morning (I teach a class called Nutrition for Children) and was unaware of the 8:00 appointment on Sherbrooke near Green until I got home at dinner time. I did not have a chance to plan ahead for the latish (and by this I mean 'not early) arrival. I am not one of those teachers who likes to appear just as the class starts. I had groceries to unpack, a lab report assignment to photocopy...What can I tell you? My life is on wheels!

So we parted ways at 7:56 and we both managed to arrive at our destinations on time.

I called home after class to discover a new man, or in actuality, my Gilly (as I once knew him) back in town! He cheerfully explained that his eyes have improved and the prisms are no longer necessary. He was having trouble seeing because the prism overlay had to be removed. Once Dr. Wise peeled it off, he realized that his eyes had indeed adjusted somehow, due, I suppose, to the prisms. Now I wasn't there with my special book to take notes and share the pearls of wisdom that spewed from the doctor's mouth, but, as Gilly says, seeing is believing. He is flying high!!!

Then Gilly reported that Dr. Wise gave him the go ahead to drive. Well, this could be so. He's no longer on anti-seizure medication, and he says he can see straight. Thankfully, Gilly is being prudent, and has not yet demanded the keys. "We'll see how it goes," he said.

I could not wait to get home and squeeze him tight. What a wonderful development to the ongoing saga. We put on some Eagles, and danced as we cooked up a delicious dinner together, something we used to do every evening when we first got married. He made his famous "Seven Minutes Potatoes" a la Sema's recipe (I think), and he's calling me to the table now, so adios amigos. Enjoy your evening. Mine's a sure bet!!

Sight is worth a thousand words

Thank heaven for little girls (and 21 year olds too)

I spent the day at work today, so I have not much to report on Gilly's day, but I'll share what I know:

He called Dr. Wise this morning and managed to get an appointment for 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. He is concerened about the apparent deterioration of his eyesight over the last few days. Let's hope it's just a matter of making a minor adjustment.

Tamara arrived at our home this afternoon after her work day. She enjoys spending time with us while doing her laundry. It's more pleasant than treking up and downstairs with a huge pocket of change to do it in her apartment building. We love the fact that we can help, and selfishly eat up the opportunity to have her home with us, albeit temporarily. She chatted it up with Gilly for awhile while folding and sorting, then called me at work to ask if she could get dinner ready. With a sigh of relief, I gave her the necessary details. She whipped up a scrumptious looking supper in a flash, using the ingredients I had set aside, adding a dash of her own creativity imagination, then took Liylah for a walk. She brings a breath of fresh air into our home everytime she visits!

It was a quiet day on Palmer; Gilly says he napped for a few hours after changing the blade on Yaron's hockey stick. This task took about an hour and a half because the blade that needed to be replaced was stuck. I suppose Liylah had a snooze too.

I'll fill you in on the results of Gilly's appointment with Dr. Wise tomorrow. Until then, Bon Appetite.

Happiness is

Photos courtesy of Marvin Zigman. Thanks Marv!

I woke up, rather bleary eyed, and wandered down the hall to the bathroom (always my early morning pit stop). There was Gilly, crouched in front of the throne, with screw driver in hand. Happiness is waking up to a familiar sight.

Gilly's rash is much improved today. Forcing lots of water down his throat seems to have paid off. Happiness is Gilly feeling better.

After fixing the toilet seat, Gilly decided to vacuum the house. Happiness is a house free of dog hair for the 30 seconds it takes to re-accumulate (another Cindy word, I think). Happiness is a husband feeling strong enough to vacuum a relatively large house, and being self-motivated to do so.

Yaron took his dad and Liylah for a drive to Play it Again Sports to purchase a new hockey stick. Happiness is spending time with family; doing everyday things together, and appreciating those moments.

Sharon and Rosanne came by to drag me out for a walk on this beautiful sunny day, headache and all. Marvin and Gilly took a leisurely stroll with Liylah (see photos). Happiness is sharing fresh air and good times with friends on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon.

Gilly and I sat on the couch together and reviewed the day. "Today was a good one for you, eh Gill?" "Yes," he replied, "it sure it was." "Let's go out and finish raking the grass," I enthusiastically suggested (we had started this chore yesterday just before the rain came down. Gilly slept the rest of the day, evening and night away). "Let's not exaggerate, Cindy, " he answered with a grin. "I said it was a good day, not a great one." His eyes are beginning to bother him again. He feels they have worsened over the past few days. Happiness is communicating honestly.

We arrived in Kirkland right on time for tonight's big game. Yaron called Tamara on her cell to say he forgot his helmet. Happiness is having an amazing brother Joe offer to drive all the way back to Cote St. Luc for it. We returned 45 minutes later (Auntie Ruth, Grandma Shirley, Tamara, Gilly, Joey and myself) just in time to witness Yaron and Aaron's team win the semi-finals (or finals, I'm still not sure). Go Canucks!!

Happiness is all around us; sometimes we have to look carefully for it, because it may be camouflaged. Let's find it, and celebrate it whenever we can.

A rash decision

Sorry Gittit. I forgot the title we decided on this afternoon. You'll have to remind me.

Gilly partied last night with the boys 'til after 11:00, and it meant a great deal to him. He was missed at Yaron's game (4 to 2 for the 'good guys' as Joey says), but he'll appear tomorrow evening for the BIG one. If we win, we move onto the round robin stage (I believe this means that the winners from the different districts play for the coveted medal). [Can you tell I know nothing about hockey? I still don't know what off-side really means, and have trouble keeping track of Yaron since he changed from a distinct blue to an ordinary black helmet. But I'm there for him regardless].

Gilly developed a rash overnight, I'm guessing as a reaction to the dye they injected yesterday for the CT scan / mask fitting. I wanted to take him in to emergency to have it checked, but not surprisingly, he balked at my suggestion.

He had a sleepless night with an itchy rash and sore legs. He drank some water in the wee hours of the morning, and felt reportedly 'much better.' He had been advised to drink plenty of water for 48 hours after scan, so as to flush the dye out of his kidneys, and so I tried to 'water' him in small increments all day long. He was not all that cooperative; he's got a mind of his own. The fact that he can think and decide for himself is a gift we must be thankful for; I hesitate to deprive him of making his own choices. I am as persistent as he is, though, so, so never fear my loyal readers, I'm doing all I can to promote his good health while still allowing him his dignity.

I find it rather disturbing that when he had the dye at the Montreal General last week, they never mentioned anything about drinking water to flush the dye out. Did they forget, or was it mentioned this time because he had the same procedure twice over an eight day span??? It's scary to think that such an important piece of information may have been left out.

I wonder if he developed the rash because he had the dye twice within a relatively short period of time??? Or is the rash due to something totally different?? Where's Dr. House when you need him?

Today, Sheryl filled me in on all that she had written in our event filled 'medical journal.' She explained that at first, Gilly was not too impressed with the way the people at the Jewish handled him while fitting him for his mask. He felt that they jostled him around too much. At the Montreal General, they had his head pinned down, but at the Jewish, he had to struggle to remain perfectly still. However, when all was said and done, he found the Jewish, overall, to be more 'haimishe' (no spell check in the world would allow this spelling, but hey, I spell it as I hear it) and the equipment to be state of the art. He's quite comfortable receiving treatment at this facility.

Gilly and Sheryl were told that Dr. Sultanen would be Gilly's radio-oncologist, which I fully expected, because Dr. Souhami works out of the Montreal General and the Neuro. But the question as to whether or not Dr. Kavan will see him through the Jewish or the Neuro remains unanswered. Our appointment on Wednesday at 9:30 should shed some light on the matter.

I want to be 1000% (yes, the extra zero is there on purpose) sure that Gilly's protocol will, in the end, include the Temodal. Brijit You, the radio-oncology nurse was unaware of the plan for the combined treatment, and Dr. Sultanem did not mention this aspect at all to Sheryl and Gilly. The drug is costly (an understatement), so I do not want to fill the prescription until I know. They've done a few switcheroos already, so I anxiously await confirmation, and not without trepidation. My health plan covers most of it, but even so...I'm skeptical as to whether or not they will do what they said they would:

First he was eligible for the study, then apparently not based on the fine print, then maybe at Dr. Kavan's insistence he would be accepted, then for sure not, according to Sultanen. When he called to tell me this news, I told Dr. Sultanen that we chose the Souhami / Kavan team at the Neuro (based on Kavan's recommendation). We were sent to the General for the mask, and then we took a detour to the Jewish for the mask because there was no room at the General, and were told that Sultanem was to be Gilly's doctor. I fear we're on a bit of a merry-go-round and I'm getting dizzy. Hopefully, we'll have some definite answers this week, and we can forge ahead and do what needs to be done.

The other information that Gilly and Sheryl received centered around diet and basic body protection. For example, he was advised to have protein at every meal, eat a balanced diet and wear a hat outdoors during and for the first year after treatment. The protein is no problem, and Gilly's appetite has been fantastic so far. I love to cook almost as much as I love to feed (especially those people I treasure), and so I know we can follow these orders. But Gilly has never worn a hat in all the years I've known him. Sometimes, I think that 'danger is his business.' He likes to laugh in the face of adversity and challenge the stars. So if you see him outdoors without a hat, please feel free to remind him that he's missing his chapeau, and if that doesn't work, just tattle tale.