Scleroderma, more appropriately, Diffuse Scleroderma was the first. It’s a hardening or thickening of the skin and other organs caused by an over production of collagen. Normally something that the rest of society craves more of, this increase in collagen affects the amount of blood and oxygen that gets carried to the rest of the body. My Uncle S. was diagnosed years ago and has had a huge battle against this persistent stalker. In and out of the hospital with his wife, kids, and grandkids by his side encouraging him and giving him the determination to fight for the right to live.
His lungs got it. His oxygen tank became his new best friend and took claim by his side even when he continued on with his joys of life; strapping the tank next to him on the quad and heading out into the backcountry, a smile plastered on his face.
We recently received the news that he was finally going to get his lung transplant. The biggest obstacle was transferring him from the small hospital where he was residing for a short time, to a much larger, more equipped facility. Up in the air he went, only to come back a short 40 mins later, landing in ICU. He’s been there ever since while family members from one end of Canada to the other all wondered, questioned, hoped and prayed that someway, somehow, it would all pan out. A Facebook group was started where 366 members posted their anticipations and desires.
I received a call today from one of my Aunts where the news wasn’t what we; I had hoped. The most difficult decision was made that one of the strongest people I know, wasn’t strong enough to make the trip. Not strong enough to have surgery. Not strong enough to stay in ICU. And barely strong enough to make the trip down the hall to a private room.
It’s strange not being there and only hearing snippets from family members passing around the snippets of information they hear. Trying to weed out the what’s, the when’s and why’s. The last I heard, he’s holding on for his sons. The one by his side, the other on his way. The last I heard, he said he’s “okay”; “not afraid”; “ready”.
The Uncle that I have always loved and looked up to, the man that was so broad and rugged, the one that can hardly speak without losing breath, is much stronger than his physical body is letting us believe. A man that is “okay” has incredible courage and power, faith and vigor. He has come to peace.
Even though I am saddened by the news I received today, I know that if he says he’s “okay” then I believe him. I, however, am not.
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It is not only Uncle S. that is engaged in a war against his own body, but another strong man, another man that I love and have always admired, Uncle E. His battle? Cancer.
His cancer is determined to get the best of him. It was diagnosed only a short while ago with aggressive treatments of chemo, radiation and surgery following. New stem cells were added and the outlook was good but his comfort level wasn’t. Pain and discomfort emerged amongst the day to day living with this toxin plaguing his system. A birthday gift in the form of a CT scan showed two more masses. Two masses that toy with the surgeons; RISK is their game and the doctors are losing.
A timeline was given with options of pain relief. They can reduce the speed of the cancer but not it’s monstrous effects. More radiation and more frustration. Family that is torn between provinces, between battles, between the need for comfort, empathy, love, and prayers. Two sisters both dealing with devastating news about the men in their lives, their husbands. Children, nieces, nephews, cousins, siblings, parents all trying to come together and reach out to one another.
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It wasn’t but two weeks ago when we received yet another call. This time is was Glen’s Uncle. Cancer struck again. It put its filthy claws into another good man. At the end of this week, he will have surgery with aggressive chemo and radiation treatments to follow. A hard working farmer than never let a day go by without being in the field, or a fellow go by without a need being met, now stuck in the city’s cancer unit imagining the smell of the golden harvest and the big blue skies.
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It’s my Parents’ anniversary today. A day that is filled with memories of a commitment to love clouded over with sour news. In a bittersweet way, an oxymoron at best, a day that reminds me of marriages has me thinking of funerals where it is these two gatherings that demonstrate the importance of love and family.
Even though I am saddened by the news of today and the past few weeks, it is encouraging to see the outpouring of so much support towards these 3 men and their wives that stand beside them, holding them up and gently guiding their fall from what they lived to what they live now.
“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.” – Mahatma Gandhi
I still hope for a miracle of sorts, an end to suffering, a chance at life, a cure. I hope like millions of others that have had bad news today. Just know that I’m there with you. I’m here doing what I can, telling my story and encouraging those that can, to do what you can. Pray. Hope. Educate. Donate.
Take care of yourselves,
Goodnight.
