The Book of Me

Today is Election Day!  Today I will pick who will make the decisions in the City in which I live and choose to raise my family. Today, I will vote for change. Like most things, experience makes you better  - practice makes perfect right? Not in municipal politics. Experience in politics does stand for something, but not what it should. Too much experience on a City Council can make a councillor too comfortable, too involved in politicking to see clearly on issues that are affecting their fellow residents. Their judgments become clouded  with too many opinions and inside information to make the best choice. Although they may not admit it - or even recognize it - biases are made and that open-mindedness that they likely ran on in the first place has diminished. Sometimes, common sense and the pure innocence of a well-rounded and well-researched newbie can yield the best solution. What do we have to lose? Everyone is going to make mistakes. If the same council were re-electe

Tiny voices, bright faces and joyful laughter filled the playroom by 8 a.m. The teens had their video games, the toddlers had their trains and for a moment all looked right in the world. Except all of these kids were bald. All of these kids had lines and walked or crawled with IV poles attached. All of these kids have cancer.  This busy playroom is at a Children's Hospital where week after week kids of all ages come to get chemotherapy treatment.  The children play together - some too young to even understand the bond they share from their experience with this disease. And the parents - they smile, they laugh and support one another.  Today, I was back in this clinic with Xavier awaiting his lumbar puncture. It has been four years since we have been there. Time has helped me forget. But, as much as I want to forget the devastating diagnosis and everything that followed, I fondly remembered the strength and kindness within those four walls of the oncology clinic. 

No one wants to see their child hurt. But when you have a child with a serious medical condition, seeing your child in pain can often be a frequent occurrence. Physical pain is one thing - emotional suffering is another- one I had little experience with until recently. (Yes, I am struggling, so that's why I am writing!) When Xavier was initially diagnosed and treated for brain cancer, he was a baby. He couldn't talk, express his feelings or even remember the trauma he suffered. Now, he is older, smarter and more thoughtful - yet too young to understand. About a month ago we started to see a change in Xavier. He was different. His sleep patterns changed, he was lethargic and other symptoms arose that concerned us. An MRI was immediately scheduled, followed by appointments with multiple doctors. A lumbar puncture has now been scheduled. I am not concerned they will find more cancer. I am not worried there is anything physically wrong. What has me scared and heart broken i

Doctors were elated with Xavier's post-surgery MRI! You could see the surgeons' excitement as they talked about the "excellent" results. They admitted that at first they were unsure whether the surgery was the best option at this time and gave us only a chance that it could work. Today, Dr. Singh said Xavier has made her month. "It was definitely the right thing to do!" In two months, the surgery accomplished what neurosurgeons suspected would happen in six or more months. The three large cysts that had formed in his spinal cord due to a blockage of fluid in his brain, had almost disappeared. They have shrunk beyond what both surgeons expected. And the best part was that I got to see these amazing results! Rarely do we see the actual MRI images, but rather just take the doctors word on what they saw. But today, doctors were so pumped by the drastic changes in the images they had to show me. It was amazing. In plain sight, I could see the lar

Someday the human race as we know it will not exist. As proven through time, history has a tendancy of repeating itself. Simply put, we haven't always existed so at some point we too will become extinct. I recently watched an intriguing documentary about the earth, its formation and evolution through time. The science of our universe as depicted in the series 'Cosmos' is fascinating - even if regurgitated information from grade school geography and science. The show strives to bring the relevance of the past to the future and how we continue to be affected. http://www.cosmosontv.com/ http://www.sltrib.com/sltrib/entertainment2/57608648-223/cosmos-fox-science-sunday.html.csp It definately got me excited about science and the fact it airs on Fox and produced by Family Guy's Seth McFarlane does not make it any less credible. After watching, I questioned life as we see it today... and how that in billions of years from now the world will be a very different pla

It's a place I wish didn't have to exist. For that to happen, it would mean no child would ever get sick or need surgery requiring them to stay in a hospital. It would mean no childhood cancer, no trauma and no life-threatening diseases. Unfortunately that is not reality. But the silver lining in a world of childhood illness is a place called Ronald McDonald House. These homes away from home are like a dose of medicine to relieve - even a little - the painful hours, days and months families endure while a child  is in hospital with a serious injury or illness. RMH also "helps give sick children what they need most - their families." I know this is true... because I have stayed there. That's why I am supporting McHappy Day to raise money for RMH. RMH Hamilton was my home in 2010 and again this March. Both were positive experiences that left me feeling grateful and appreciative of the people who make these homes happen. This place is close to our

What we can learn from a child: Simple, but easily forgotten lessons 1. Appreciate the little things. 2. Don't overthink things. 3. Live in the present. 4. Less is sometimes more. 5. Don't be afraid to trust. Each of these things I learned from Xavier. His strength and innocence before, during and after surgery showed me once again how precious the mind of a child is. Thank you.

Today I met a cop turned doctor who is aiming to revolutionize cold case investigations and a woman whose research is helping catch killers. I learned about murders across Canada and a killer who evaded justice for decades after being presumed dead. And I learned how important social sciences can be in bringing more than fossils to the surface -- but also suspects. That's what I call a good day! Meeting fascinating people, visiting interesting places and most importantly, learning so many new things is the life of a journalist -- or at least the parts I miss most about my former career. I have been out of the biz now for three years, but every time I get a chance to relive my former life I take it. My life as a freelancer has taken off again and I am once again loving the chance to interview and write. Crime was my beat and is still my interest today. It makes seeing my byline again, now for a law enforcement magazine, is even more invigorating. I like to find out how p

The worst is over. Those words are like the soothing sound of a steady rainfall on a warm summers eve. After almost two weeks of anxiety and fear of Xavier's brain surgery, I can finally relax. It is over and he is doing amazing. This almost 5 year old kid has been through more than I have with 26 years on him. And still, he smiles, laughs and plays his little heart out. Not even a week after surgeons opened him up again, removed scar tissue in the 4th ventricle of his brain and took out a vertebrae in his spine, Xavier is walking, talking and just being a kid again. This past week has been a roller coaster of emotions, but above all has once again shown me how strong my little boy is ... and how strong I can be when I have to. There were moments when I thought I couldn't do this again - spend nights at his bedside in hospital, watch him suffer and see his painful scars. But with so many amazing people around me, and the extraordinary care by doctors and nurses at McMast

Today my mind is working against me. We are two days away from Xavier's surgery and I find myself thinking about all the what ifs. This painstaking process (and yes it's a process of digesting and accepting what we are going through) is consuming me with horrifying thoughts and vivid images of what could happen while Xavier is on the operating table...again. What if something goes wrong? What if the worst happens? My logical self says this is not worth thinking about. It will never happen. Or we'll cross that bridge when we get there. But that fear monster inside me argues... how do you know? I never thought it would be our child who got cancer. But it happened. So I need to prepare myself, so I can deal with it. (I am a control freak, can you tell?) These thoughts pass through my mind as I watch the most recent developments in the missing Mayalysian plane: how many of those passengers passed off the routine safety messages, tuned out the instructions because in th

As our family anxiously awaits Xavier's surgery date, we are struggling with the range of emotions associated with another hospital stay. Unfortunately, the sad and most stressful part of it all is the feeling of having to rush back to work. Not because we want to, but because we have to. Even with the latest addition to Employment Insurance for parents caring for critically ill child, it is restrictive and difficult to qualify (like most programs to get money from the government). And it is only up to 55% of our wage (although I would take what I can get). Then there is Short Term Disability through work. Again, very challenging to get and the constant inference from the insurer is almost not worth the effort of applying. Plus, it is not my disability. It is my son's. I am not sick. However, I could argue the emotional toll it has on my psyche affects my productivity at work. And the last option: to use up all of my sick days, all of my vacation days and all of my leui

My little superhero will have yet another chance to show off his super strength with a second brain surgery scheduled for this month. Doctors informed us earlier this week that all of his symptoms are related to the fluid-filled cysts growing in his spinal cord. The cause: an obstruction in the flow of CSF in his head, primarily (or at least neurosurgeons suspect) in the area of his previous surgery. It has been 4 years since he was opened up and a large cancerous tumour was removed from the back of his brain. But the memories and emotions of that initial surgery still feel like it was yesterday. However, this latest news is not all bad. In fact there is a lot of positive. First and foremost, it is NOT the cancer or any regrowth of the remaining tumour tissue left on his brainstem. He is still CANCER FREE (that sounds so good to say!) Secondly, the surgery is routine. Albeit there will be an increased risk because the area has previously been operated on, but the surgeon is f

Up until about 2:30 today, I was calm. It was then that I had a conversation with the nurse from Xavier's endocrine clinic about some symptoms he has been having. For days now he has been complaining about a headache - most of them first thing in the morning. Of course my first thought is the worst, given his history, this would only be a natural reaction. Pushing that thought aside to avoid jumping to conclusions, I pondered what else could be causing him these headaches. I tested his blood sugars a couple mornings with my tester and found his sugars seemed a bit low to my standards. So, I told myself, thats all it was. Still cautious, I sent my concerns to his team of doctors at McMaster. He has an MRI tomorrow, so no worries. Until today when the nurse said his sugars were ok for a child his age and the headaches were concerning - especially since having gone back on the growth hormone. I told her we have an appointment with his endocrinologist next month: "That

 "I wish I was in heaven...then at least then I could watch over my sister and her little girl," Cassie wrote. No one knew her pain, nor did they ever ask. She was too young to understand. Only the lined pages of her journal listened to her. Page after page she poured her little heart out as she watched her troubled sister fall apart. Her sister was being abused by her husband. He never allowed her to visit the family. And on the odd occasion when she had (with him of course), it was brief and she was never able to do so freely. Sometimes she had bruises. Other times scratches and scars on her wrists from her own attempts at numbing her reality. Other times, it appeared as if she hadn't slept or showered in weeks. Her mangy brown hair hung over her palish sullen face. Cassie could see the shame, the self-doubt and fear in her sisters eyes. Cassie may have been young, but the innocence of a child can see through many masks a person may wear. "I miss my siste

It's 9 p.m. and here I sit on my bed with a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough (I shouldn't be eating anything past supper), and self-reflecting. (In other words, making myself feel sorry for myself.) I am reading through my old diaries...  again. And 15 years ago, I was doing this very same thing. Except it was with a bowl of President's Choice chocolate fudge crackle ice cream and with a pen and paper (not my laptop). And I didn't have a flashing blue light from my Smartphone distracting me as I wrote. It is March 10, 1998 and I write: As the snow swirls around  I gaze upon the beaming sun My mind wanders upon thoughts Thoughts I've never ventured and some I may never want to Others very deep and misunderstanding I only feel challenged as to what to do next No tears are shed from serious, sad thoughts Nor smiles for grateful elations I will wait and wait to feel something...anything  I love how my entries are riddled with poetry. And even th

A random excerpt:  July 5, 1997 Dear Shawn (yes I have names for my diaries) "Here I sit on a hard cement block, but it is the most beautiful place in the world right now as I write in my diary. I am on the beach, the sun is setting and the waves are gently rolling in. Maybe it's the place, or m aybe it's just being away from the everyday life back home, but I feel at peace here. Last night I fell asleep so fast. It was the best sleep I have had in a long time, despite it being in a cabin with 6 other girls and God only knows how many creepy crawlies. The night was silent. The sky was black. The only sound was the calming rhythm of the waves along the Lake Erie shoreline. It was there that I slipped away." After that entry I found several poems written in a foreign handwriting. Not mine, but that of Geoff Hunt, a counsellor at Camp Oneida. (I am glad he signed his name there because I never would have known that) He wrote: If I knew what I want, Surel

UPDATE ADDED Help for teen moms hard to find   I was happy to see this article about a woman taking the initiative to break the cycle of teen pregnancy. ( http://www.woodstocksentinelreview.com/2013/04/26/woodstock-nurse-aims-to-aid-teen-moms ) For as long as I've lived in Woodstock, I have heard about and seen all the teen moms pushing their babies in strollers down Dundas Street. (Don't tell me you haven't ... it goes along with all the shirtless men in Market Square as soon as temperature rise).   It's not a phenomenon in the Friendly City (although maybe our teens are getting a bit too friendly too soon here), but teen moms (parents) are everywhere. But what I discovered recently in my quest to help a young mom suffering from depression, is that her options for help are limited. She is too old for youth programs (19), but still very much a child. With no job, a one-year-old at home, and only a high school education, she feels stuck, isolated, alone a

What did Health Canada expect? A few bad apples in the friendly city of Woodstock are giving a bad name to legitimate medicinal marjuana grow-ops after an explosion detroyed a home known to have a licence to produce pot. Four people have been charged with drug offences following the fire on Alberta Ave last weekend. While still unconfirmed, the house was a legal grow-op. (I believe authorities are withholding this fact to use as evidence in the case.) http://www.woodstocksentinelreview.com/2014/02/13/four-arrested-in-connection-with-woodstock-house-fire Under the licence to grow marijuana for medicinal puposes: "A person is eligible to be issued a designated-person production licence only if the person is an individual who ordinarily resides in Canada and who ( a ) has reached 18 years of age; and ( b ) has not been found guilty, as as adult, within the 10 years preceding the application , of (i) a designated drug offence, or (ii) an offence committed outside C

In just 3 minutes and 52 seconds, her life fell apart. 26 years of life shattered into millions of sharp little daggers into a heap on that cold hospital floor. Her long blond hair fell over her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her hands cupped her red swollen eyes and quickly overflowed with tears. Forever burned in her mind, were the surgeons words: “The tumour is wrapped around his brainstem. There is nothing more we can do to help him.” Her body shuddered in shock. At that moment the world around her was silenced. Nothing existed but the pain that was ripping her apart from the inside out. Slowly tearing every organ, every fibre and every hair into pieces. “Cassie, Cassie,” her husband cried. 1 year earlier Her name was Cassie McIntyre. A household name in the City of Woodsro. Cassie was a journalist for the local newspaper, The Sentinel-Review. She covered the crime beat, chasing ambulances and fire trucks and hanging around the courthouse. A fearless b

Ever since I learned how to write, I have been writing. I am not a professional, nor do I pretend to be. I am not an English major or a published author. I wrote the news for years (almost 10 if you count my years at my college newspaper). But the benefit of writing for me is not for money; it's for pleasure. Writing makes me feel good. Since I was 10 years old I kept a diary. I wrote down my thoughts, my daily activities and everything in between. It was my stress relief - how I figured shit out. I can trace every low point in my life to a time when I stopped writing for pleasure. Pen to a paper, fingers to a keyboard, I have to write. My sanity depends on it. So, here I go. I intend on writing about my life, about stories I have swirling around in my head. And maybe share some excerpts from my diaries as a child. If no one reads this, that's fine. It's not for anyone else but me. But if they do, that's ok too. If I can bring a tear, a laugh or a smile to someone e