10,000 Thank Yous

     Meghan and I are still vibrating from the energy that was emanating from the Canadian Corps Legion Hall in Toronto on Saturday night. Unbelieveable. About 250 people showed up to show their support for us and our families and let cancer know in no uncertain terms that it's not welcome here, there, or anywhere else. While we weren't able to be there ourselves, we got some vivid descriptions and photos that have helped us picture it.

Some of the crowd

     The 1970s style 2-floor venue was perfect, complete with QEII portraits, hooked rugs and some straggler legionnaires.  Stu Henderson, Dave Marshall, and Ian and Simone of $100 thoroughly entertained the crowd with their mix of Neil Young covers, and Canadian rock, folk and country originals. The wood-paneled building was populated by people from every page of Meg and my histories as individuals and a couple, as well as by those who were there just to support the cause. 

 

Dave and Stu setting up

Ian and Simone entertaining the crowd

     A staggering amount of money was raised through donated silent auction items, t-shirt sales, and cover charges. These contributions will allow us to navigate this uncertain time with peace and security, and words can't express the overwhelming gratitude that we feel. It is earth-shakingly humbling. We feel so lucky to be able to focus almost exclusively on my healing and the development of our brand new family for the next little while. We also hope that stability comes soon, and look forward to the opportunity to reciprocate some of the compassionate kindess that has been shown to us back to the community at large. We're not sure what that will look like yet, but we will be sure to keep you all posted as it develops.

A sample of some of the generously donated auction items 

    For now, all we can say is thank you, thank you, thank you. Over the past few months, the world seems to have revealed itself to us as a place of such beauty. People have truly shown their best, most altruistic sides to us, and it's been an absolutely cathartic experience. There are horrible, scary things that lurk in dark corners some days, but the light from those around us seems to keep them cowering there. And of course, any day now, a brand new brilliance will shine on our world and those dark things won't know what to do with themselves.

     They've been mentioned before, but many thanks need to go to the organizers of the SMASH IT! benefit. The amount of work and effort that people put into this event was truly unbelieveable. My brother Shawn and Brianna's sister Meghan helped with many of the logistics, and huge love goes out to them. The SMASH IT! Website should be updated at some point soon with some photos. There are too many silent auction donators to list here, but the items were unique, creative, and from my understanding, completely sold out by the end of the evening. Special mention should be made of Mitch Newbold, one of Meghan's father's business partners who really rose to the occasion and gathered an incredible bounty of valuable items.

     Of course, any part of this evening would not have been possible without the lovely Katie Ross and Claire Slocombe. Katie and Claire are both friends of ours from years back, and any communication we've had about the event has made it clear that these two poured their hearts and souls into making sure this party was going to be a success. They are two very special women in our lives, and I don't know if or how we'll ever be able to let them know how much this has meant to us.

The lovely Katie and Claire

     We wish we could have been there. With all of those worlds colliding, it sounded like some pretty amazing energy was created, and we're still feeling it rippling across the country. Yesterday I had my tenth radiation treatment out of my scheduled twenty - halfway there! My hair started to fall out yesterday, so I think it's back to the closely cropped look for a while, but otherwise, I'm still feeling good.  Meg is looking and feeling great, and my brother Mike arrives tomorrow, so we've got a second hand on deck just in case. . .

     The next little while should be a buzzing time, and we're so excited for the birth and for our families to arrive. Now let's get through these next couple months, and get home, where the other morning it apparently looked like this:

Now that's motivation. . . 

Thanks for your continued support, love, and communication. We'll be in touch again soon. xo Mark and Megs.

Sugar Mountain

     Where to begin? I suppose you won't allow me to apologize for the lag between posts, but I'll do it anyways.Truth be told, I've been feeling so good that we've been out and about enjoying Vancouver, getting ready for the new arrival, and just generally making hay while the sun shines (and the rain pours). Mind you, much of this energy and enthusiasm is a result of a steroid medication that I'm on and currently weaning off of, and side effects from my radiation treatments should start slowing me down a bit soon (more on that later).

At the Capilano Suspension Bridge

     Meghan's Aunt Marg was just out here for a great visit, and she got to take advantage of my ravenous appetite and boundless energy by helping us enjoy some of Vancouver's most beautiful walks and most delicious food. She's a special person to us, and it was great to share this time and space with her. We're lucky to have people like her around, and to be going through this in a place where you can walk through gorgeous Old Growth Doug Fir forests in solitude in the afternoon and then enjoy one of the best meals of your life only a few kilometers away later that evening.

Marg and Meghan on the trails in the UBC Endowment lands 

Tojo's Sushi. Unbelievable.

      Our final night with Marg we got an  invitation from the infamous Dr. Joseph Ragaz and his partner Fiona Robertson to attend a great night put on by the Vancouver International Mountain Film Festival. It was really nice to spend some social time with these two people who have been such incredible supports for us out here. They've been like family to us, and we can't thank them enough.

Joseph and Fiona

     My radiation treatments are going really well. I have appointments every day, but they last a total of six minutes. I get in the room, lie down on the table, and the technicians pin my head down onto the table using the mask, (not as bad as it sounds) making sure that I'm comfortable. They then direct the radiation beam at my head, aligning a series of custom cut lead plates designed to protect areas they don't want to radiate with marks on the mask and lasers in the room. They then leave the room, turn the radiation on for about 20 seconds, re-enter, switch the beam to the other side and switch the lead plates, leave the room again, and give me another 20 second shot of healing energy. That's it. See you tomorrow. The efficiency of the process continues to amaze me. So far, I've had no sign of side effects, and I'm feeling good. My hair should start to fall out sometime next week, and I may experience headaches, nausea, and fatigue, but the treatments affect different people in different ways. It's very likely that I'll experience a high degree of fatigue a few weeks from now (just in time for the baby!)

     Meghan is doing great. She had her weekly checkup yesterday, and all is looking good. Our energy levels are on basically opposite trajectories, but it's nice for me to feel like I can take care of her for a little while. She needs rest more, and sometimes can't keep up with my steroid-fuelled, list-motivated pace these days, but we do our best to help eachother out. I can't say enough how she impresses me every day with her strength. We have our fears together and the clouds of uncertainty that are always overhead, and those always need to be recognized, but together, we're able to handle them with honesty, patience, and  some degree of peace.

 

Meg in relax mode - knitting for the baby

    Our next few weeks will likely be some of the most exciting, terrifying, busiest, and dramatic of our lives. My brother Mike arrives here in Vancouver on the 9th,  Meghan's parents arrive on the 14th, the baby is due on the 18th, and my final radiation treatment coincides with my parents' arrival on the 21st. What a Christmas it will be.

    Thanks to all of you for your ongoing kind words and thoughts of support and encouragement. They really mean a lot to us, and will continue to do so over the next little while. Thank you also for reading this blog. It gives us an outlet to talk about what we're going through, and it helps to know that people are listening. As I wean off of this steroid, side effects from my treatments likely settle in, and the end of this stage of active treatment comes to a close, positivity may be more difficult to maintain at such a high level. On the other hand, with the birth of our new baby, the energy around our families being with us at this incredible time, and the feelings that we feel directed at us from across this country, it's just somehow impossible to think that we can fail at this. I suppose I just want to offer reassurance that no matter what comes down the road, and regardless of possible changes in tone, that we'll be doing OK. This vortex of emotions is a complicated thing that doesn't really seem to make sense at any time, but  really, it's all just part of going through something like this. And as I've written before, there have been some truly beautiful things that have emerged from this muck.

     Like the SMASH IT! Benefit taking place this Saturday, December 5th at the Canadian Corps Legion in Toronto for example. So many people have put so much work into and contributed so much to this event, and it hasn't even taken place yet. Again, a huge thanks to all of the silent auction donators, musicians, and organizers. We will be there in spirit, (and briefly on video), but I wish we could be in that room. Much love to you all. If you're able to make it to Toronto on Saturday, here's a little something to get you primed, and that website again with more information: SMASH IT! Website

On a more technical note, our "recent comments" section seems to have stopped working - but we still always love to hear from you! Hopefully we'll get it fixed soon. . .

And Away We Go

Radiation. Not baby.

After a series of informative appointments and meetings yesterday, we learned lots more about my upcoming radiation regime, and we're all ready to go. Yesterday I was fitted with a custom plastic mesh mould that will hold my head in precise placement for each treatment so that the radiation can be directed exactly where it needs to go. It looks like something out of Tron. After a CT scan to help plan the treatment, we met with our Radiation Oncologist Dr. Parsons in the afternoon. She explained that I'll be getting 3500 centigrays of Whole Brain Radiation treatments over 20 cycles. The treatments will take place once a day, Monday to Friday, and they were able to schedule me in for my first appointment today. The decision on this treatment plan was made by an entire team of specialists, based on the premise that we want to Smash this thing, that I'm young and healthy with a good brain, and that with all of you and a baby on our side, my system will be able to handle this treatment. So we're going for it.

Meg in the waiting room, handling the paperwork (as usual)

The treatment today was no sweat. The entire thing took about ten minutes, and the radiation was only directed at me for about two minutes (about a minute on each side). The treatment unit, (like just about everything at the BCCA) is very well run and designed, and the technicians and support staff, (like just about everyone at the BCCA) are incredibly courteous, efficient, and friendly. They allowed Meg in the room to watch the setup, explained the whole process, and generally made the whole thing very comfortable. In general, it was a bit of a sci-fi experience, with the air momentarily being filled with an electric blue light and an ozone smell. Maybe there was something in the room with me, and I'll develop some kind of Spidey powers.

"The mask"

"The machine"

I should feel OK for now, and then within a couple of weeks, I'll lose most of my hair, and likely experience nausea, headaches, fatigue etc for a while. The cost of a cure. So off we go. With the current schedule, I should have my final radiation treatment on Monday, December 21st, three days after the baby's due date, four days before Christmas, and the day that my parents arrive. We like things dramatic around here. As I write this, Meg's whipping up a batch of her famous Caribou spaghetti sauce, and all thus feels right with the world. We can't thank all of you enough for your continued thoughts and messages. Let's get this done.

The beautiful wife, the beautiful life, the beautiful strife

Look at this picture:

     This is what my life looks and feels like right now. Sure, there's some resemblance to a Korean movie poster (I made Meg hold the flowers), but I can't help but look at this picture and feel at peace. Meg and I are a month away from the birth of our first child, and we have had the past week or so to really focus on that fact, focus on each other, and soak up the love from across the country.

     The recent shift in treatment direction came as a bit of a shock, but really what it is is the next step in the process of beating this disease, and something that we should have prepared ourselves a bit better for. My chemo did a good part of its job, and there is confidence that the radiation should continue the work. We're in very good hands under the care of Medical Oncologist Dr. Laurie Sehn,  Neuro-Oncologist Dr. Brian Thiessen, Radiation Oncologist Dr. Christina Parsons, and a team of radiation therapists that is apparently one of the best in the country. I have my first appointment with the radiation team on Monday morning. I'll be fitted with a mask that will help keep my head in exactly the same place for each treatment, I'll have a series of scans to help plan exactly where and how the treatments will be directed, and we'll have any questions answered about the upcoming weeks. It was originally mentioned that I'd likely get anywhere from 10 - 15 treatments which involve one hour daily appointments and no overnight hospital stays. It sounds like my first actual radiation treatment will be on Thursday. I'll be undergoing what they call Whole Brain Radiation. With the diffuse nature if Primary CNS Lymphoma, this whole brain technique has the best chance of taking care of all of the nasty cells.

     Short term side effects should include some fatigue, nausea, headache, etc, but apparently most people handle it OK. Real fatigue should set in about 2-4 weeks from my first treatment, and should make caring for a newborn an interesting challenge. Long term side effects (10+ years from now) could include some detriment on concentration, etc, but we've been told that age and health are really on our side, and that maintaining good vascular health will help keep me sharp as a whip. 
  
     We're ready for this. Like I said earlier, we've had the past week or so to really focus on each other, and it's been a nice time to realize what we have, and what we have coming to us. Really, it's made us realize that this is just what life is. People go through things every day all across the world, we're going through something now, and that's what life is. We're lucky enough to be surrounded by such a shell of love and support and to have this blossom of hope that squirms under my hand at night and reminds me that life is still beautiful.

     We're now really preparing our lives for the arrival of the baby, and for visitors (and helpers) at Christmastime. Timing wise, it all works out quite well. Meg's amazing Aunt Marg arrives on Thursday and will be around until the 2nd which will be great while we adjust to treatment. We'll then have another week or so on our own, and my brother Mike plans on arriving in Vancouver sometime around the 11th. Meg's parents show up a few days later, the baby's due on the 18th, I should finish my radiation at almost exactly that time, and then my parents arrive on the 21st. The amount of positive energy in the air should be electric.

     Furthermore to all of this, we've learned of a SMASH IT! fundraiser taking place at a Legion Hall in downtown Toronto on December 5. You can find more information about that here. I wish we could be there too. The music should be fantastic, it sounds like there are some great silent auction items, and who doesn't like a Legion Hall?  Huge, huge thanks to all organizers of this event, particularly Claire Slocombe, Katie Ross, my brother Shawn, and Meg's sister Brianna. Additional thanks to musical talents Dave Marshall, Stu Henderson, and the One Hundred Dollars Duet, Ian Russell and Simone Schmidt. You can find links to all of their music on the fundraiser webpage.

     Meg is doing amazingly well. She's the strongest, most amazing woman I've ever encountered. We both have low energy levels and limitations on our capacities to deal with the complexities of life in Vancouver sometimes, but usually all it takes is a quick glance at eachother to know that everything's going to be OK.

    So that's it for now. We really appreciate the continued contact and support. We're constantly overwhelmed by the feeling that at all times, somewhere, people have our backs. We can't tell you how valuable that is. Take care of eachother, and know that we are doing the same.

Settling In

It is a grey, wet, rainy Vancouver day today. I think this is just what November looks like here, people from Vancouver seem to carry on their way as per usual. I find the rain miserable and would take snow over this any day. We are doing alright. Taking this last step in stride, doing everything we can to make the news settle in a comfortable spot within us. It is coming. Certainly the last ten days have shaken us but we are still us and so we know we can deal with it and make the best of it. Speaking of making the best of it, one fantastic part about changing from chemo to radiation is no more time in the hospital. We have been eating out a lot, going for walks and checking out parts of Vancouver that we haven't seen yet. On the whole Mark is feeling really good, and his appetite has returned to heroic form (cheers steroids) which makes meal time much more enjoyable for everyone.

We are starting to realize that we are actually going to have a baby and we are getting more prepared for that. There's even a cradle in our room - how strange is that? We are pretty pumped about it, but there are times when all we can do is laugh about the amount of unknowns and question marks floating around in the very near future. It's funny, right? Laughing is the only thing to do, right?

There's room for a baby in there somewhere

We have made progress on getting what we need to comprehend and deal with the next step. We have a new oncologist whom Mark and I are both really excited about, our counsellor at the BCCA has remained a huge support and advocate for us, we are connected with a radiologist who is known to be very skilled and at the top of the game, and then of course there is Dr. Joseph who is like a guardian angel for us. Having an oncologist, with 30 years experience, call you at home at 10 in the evening just to make sure you are feeling o.k., and then inviting you to his house for tea and a meeting to make sure any questions or worries are settled sure makes us feel incredibly lucky and well looked after. Did I mention the furnished comfortable apartment we are renting belongs to Dr. Joseph and his lovely wife Fiona too? Amazing. We will be getting more details on the radiation and the schedule for the upcoming weeks on Monday or Tuesday this week. We will keep you posted.

My best bud Sarah has been here with us for the past week and while challenging for her I am sure, it has been a real treat for both Mark and I to have her with us. She is laid back, open and compassionate and is super easy for both of us to be around. Plus as I type right now, she is making us an apple pie.

If baking cures cancer (which I suspect it might) then we are miles ahead after Sarah's visit.

Finally, this week has been filled with many emails and posts of support and encouragement and it has boosted us in a way that can't be described. It is amazing to feel that web of support and it is growing to places we did not know. We have heard from old friends, friends of friends and friends of relatives and we are genuinely touched that people are following our story and let us know they are thinking of us. Thank you.

Yay friends (and family too).

A left turn. . .

  Well it's been quite a week. Our visit to Whitehorse wasn't quite as expected. We arrived home on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday morning, I had some symptoms that put me in the hospital until Friday afternoon. We flew back to Vancouver on Saturday. Since our arrival back here, our world has once again been turned upside down. I had a contrast dye MRI on Monday that doctors were hoping to use to monitor the progress of my treatment. We checked back into the BCCA for my sixth round of treatment yesterday (Tuesday), and after much waiting, miscommunications from doctors, and confusion, we learned that based on my latest MRI, the oncologists have decided to switch tacks and my treatment focus. The latest scan shows that the major tumour that was operated on in August has in fact now grown in size and is proving to be resistant to the Methotrexate Chemotherapy. As far as they can tell, the rest of my lesions/tumours have disappeared, and have most likely entirely succumbed to the chemo. That is not to say that there may not be a few lymphoma cells remaining scattered throughout my brain.
  The next step, then, involves stopping my chemo regime entirely, and starting intensive low-dose radiation therapy focusing on my entire brain, with the goal of killing of the rest of the largest lesion and any other remaining cells. The best case scenario is that this treatment will start soon, last a short time (likely 5 short appointments a week for 2-3 weeks), cure the cancer forever, leave me feeling relatively OK, and include no long-term side-effects. There are probabilities of all of these good things happening, but again, based on my age, general health, and basic differences from most CNS lymphoma patients, it's hard to make any predictions on what those probabilities are. Lymphoma apparently generally reacts well to radiotherapy, but of course because of the nature and location of the disease in my body, there are also distinct possibilities that A) the disease could resurface within the next 2 years, and B) that radiating my brain could cause long-term side effects such as concentration/memory problems, etc (these would likely show up in the next 2 years also).
  All this is not good news, but really, probably the reality that we've been avoiding mentally for some time. The fact is that this disease will be with us for some time, and we just need to keep our chins up and keep fighting. It's a bit tough for us right now because we don't really have a life to hold on to: our move back to Whitehorse was sort of a new beginning, but at the moment, we're in a bit of limbo. Our lives are scattered from the Yukon to BC to Ontario, and it sort of feels like we've got nowhere to really call home at the moment. The only place that does feel that way right now exists within all of you. It's been so great to keep hearing from all of you so continuously, and if I could make one request, it's that you take a brief minute to let us know that you're still helping us smash through this mess. It's amazing the power that we feel from a quick blog comment or email. All those hands around us sure make us feel strong. Another source of strength is the continued growth of the newest member of team Smash, and Meg and the baby are holding up really well. We're starting to make more concrete plans in terms of the baby's arrival, and we've got several appointments over the next few weeks to help us prepare for that exciting time.
  Our next few days will help us set our sights on the next turn in this road. We've got a Young Adults Cancer Network group support meeting tonight, an appointment with our counsellor at the BCCA on Thursday, and a meeting with Dr. Joseph Ragaz, our oncologist/guardian angel on Friday. The planning for my radiation therapy should be complete by next week, and we should know a lot more about what that will look like soon. We'll keep you posted.
  Finally, we've also recently learned about a benefit/fundraiser being put on in Toronto by family and old friends on December 5. If you're at all interested, you can check out the event website at http://www.moderncommunications.ca/smashatoa/. It should be a night of great music, good times, t-shirt sales, silent auction items, and plenty of smashy vibes. We hope everyone is doing well. We're still going to beat this thing. It's just going to take a couple of days to shift gears mentally and get ready for the next stage. We'll see you down the road.

Some sense of home: A walk by the Yukon River

  

Dearest Carl - we miss you buddy

     

'Horseward Bound

   Looks like both Meg and I were up in the night, but at different times. So you get a double post today:

   A brief update - round five is now history as we were discharged yesterday afternoon. A tougher round than some, but we got through it alright. Vancouver apparently loves its fireworks on halloween, and we got a great view from the rooftop patio at night. We're headed to Whitehorse today for a last visit while doctors will still let Meg fly. We now have a cradle in our apartment, and it's mind-boggling to think that before the year is out, we'll have brand new person in our lives who will occupy that now-quiet, now-empty space. Meg is doing great, and her energy and strength amaze me every day. Our visit home will be brief, and we plan on laying low for most of it. We'd like to spend some time at our house, take the dog for a few walks, and recoup after this past week. Winter has apparently now hit Whitehorse with temperatures in the minus double digits and a good foot of snow already on the ground. It will be nice to get a bit of winter in before returning here to balmy, wet Vancouver.
  Treatment goes on as treatments will. Our oncologist, who was due to have a baby about two weeks before Meg, decided to welcome her new son a little early, so we're now in a bit of limbo waiting to be reassigned to someone else. Again, my care is based on a team approach, so this bit of news shouldn't significantly affect how things proceed from here on in, but it's still a change that we'll have to get used to. I'm scheduled for another MRI in about a week, and that one should let us know quite clearly how things are going. My brother Shawn was here for all of last week, and like the rest of our visitors, was a big help fetching food, and keeping us entertained.
  I've been trying to catch up on some emails over the past couple of days, and my apologies if I haven't gotten to you yet. Some days are easier than others. OK - thanks for keeping in touch, and for your continued support.

Round five - check

Hi Everyone
Just a quickie to let you know that round five is now complete. Not the best one, not the worst either. Fairly un-noteworthy which I'll take at this point. Mark started feeling better on Friday night and we spent the weekend reading, watching movies and waiting for the green light to head home on Monday. This morning we are headed to our real home (Whitehorse) where a fresh foot of snow awaits us. The plan is to have no plans and to do our best to rest as much as possible.
We will be 'off-line' up there, but will post a full update once we return on Saturday. ** For those wondering but too embarrassed to ask, the Yukon is certainly 'on-line', we just don't have internet at our house right now. So have a nice week and we promise to do the same!
Since I like blogs with pictures, I thought I would post these oldies but goodies.

One of Mark's favourites.

One of my favourites.

The Triple Threat

For those thinking about it, Mark and I are all H1N1 juiced up. We have been told being pregnant, immuno compromized or living in Vancouver puts you at the highest risk. We score points in every category! I was half expecting someone to show up at our place on Monday morning to poke us. Never happened. In the end Mark had his shots on Monday and I had mine yesterday, as long as we avoid the germs for the next week to ten days we will be in the clear. Since this started, I've never washed my hands so much in my life so I am not too worried.
Mark is doing alright this round, tough start but he seems to be coming around. He has discovered that sleeping through the more miserable days is the best strategy, and he is very committed to that. He slept about 16-18 hours on Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm bored, but agree it is the best way to avoid the bad parts.
We are hoping to get home to Whitehorse next week. It will be great to have a taste of winter, see the animals and take part in some R&R Yukon style. Not too much news to report, just enjoyed our best week off from treatment and we're feeling good.
I am short of photos so will include this image Mark's brother Shawn (who is visiting right now) sent us.

That's me on the right!

More good news

Where to begin? The past two weeks has seen us soaring back to great heights. Meg's last update filled you in on the new member of our team, Finley, and in addition to this great event, we also got a few other pieces of good news. Firstly, I've been feeling great since my last treatment. Our time in hospital was much easier for round four. Some anti-nausea medication helped me eat a lot better, and since getting out, my appetite has returned to pre-treatment levels. While still in hospital, I got a call from the coordinator of the Natural Resources Law Enforcement college program I took last year at Fleming College in Ontario. His name is Mark, and he let me know that this year's class had organized a fundraising "Smash It" pub in honour of Meg and I. I don't know if most of you remember what it was like to be in college or university, but I do, and the amount of money they raised was especially impressive considering the usually minor amount of wiggle room in the average student's budget. A silent auction and the sale of "Smash it" T-shirts helped raise the funds. Cheers.

NRLE Pub at Fleming College

Our doctor provided us with some information during the last treatment that we took with cautious optimism. My latest MRI shows that all of my smaller tumours are now "Unmeasurable". The chemo seems to be doing its job. The larger tumour that was operated on when this all began now measures at 1.2 cm. Without a comparable MRI to compare this latest one to, it's hard to say what exactly is happening to this tumour, but we're hoping that it's going the way of the others. My next MRI is scheduled for November 9th, and we'll be able to compare the images to my most recent scan. Keep your fingers crossed for us.

Another piece of great news that we received last week came from up North. I got a call from the Yukon Department of Environment offering me a Conservation Officer position based out of Whitehorse. I interviewed for this position when we were back home a few weeks ago. It's a term position that will last seven months, and they'd like me to start sometime in the new year, whenever my treatments are finished and I feel ready to go back to work. This is a job that I've been working towards for the last few years, and I feel extremely lucky and grateful that it's worked out the way it has. I'll need to see all of your fishing licenses please.

The past week has been a great balance of activity and rest. After getting out of hospital, we settled back into the apartment for a couple of days before picking up our friend Shawn from the airport and heading out to do some fishing on the beautiful Vedder River, about an hour from Vancouver. It felt amazingly good to walk on some uneven ground, get a little wet, and focus on something as simple as a foam float for the day. No salmon were to be had, and rain blew out the river making it unfishable on our second day, but getting out of town, good company, and our second dose of real fall made it a trip to remember. Meg and I said goodbye to Shawn on Friday, and I got the chance to watch the Leafs and Canucks play here in Vancouver with an old friend of my brother's on Saturday. Who knew that Vancouverites hated Toronto so much?

 

Shawn in pursuit of Coho

Meg's eye on her float

Nice legs, buddy. . .

Maybe it's the rain. Our day today was spent watching it teem down outside our apartment, catching up on some sleep, and getting back in touch with family and friends (we're doing our best!). My brother Shawn arrives on Monday and will be here to help us out during treatment number five. Thank goodness for family and friends. Our hope is to make one last visit to Whitehorse next week before Meg's pregnancy hits the magic 36-week-no-fly mark. Then it's the homestretch for both of us. Both Meg and the baby are doing great. The little one keeps kicking it's morse code messages of love. I'm halfway there folks - thanks for all of your continued support.

Add one more to the list of supporters

It has been a great week around these parts. We have had a lot of cause for celebration which we sure like to do. Firstly my sister Brianna gave birth to the third in her brood - a 9 pound baby boy named Finley Markus (the Markus part comes from his two uncle Marks - one of which you are all acquainted with). Here he is . . .

Finley Markus Holt

I am hoping to best Brianna's time of 4 hours birth start to finish. Is that naive? Also, doesn't he look a bit like a Doozer from Fraggle Rock? Mark and I are pretty proud Aunts and Uncles and to prove this, we thought we might show you some photos of the four other nieces and nephews we have. I know this may not be what you come here for but please indulge me - some Mark news is to follow.

Callum Holt (on his first day of school this fall)

Maren Holt (she's 2.5 years old and full of spunk)

Avery Adkins (she's 3.75 years old, bright and fun)

McKinley Adkins (he's almost 2, he's fun and tough and will bite you if you are not careful)

The four of them

Now, back to life in Vancouver. We were discharged from hospital on Monday following the week in / week out routine. Round four of chemo was much, much better then the previous round which I was more than excited about. We were bracing ourselves for the cumulative effect of chemo because that seemed to be the track we were on, each round much worse than the last. This pattern changed drastically in round four where Mark had one bad day and the rest were alright. He even ate food! Seamus (our latest man-servant/guest) was great at cooking for us and bringing us any and everything we needed and wanted. We noticed Mark is tending towards the bland, beige foods, some of his favourites were Finnish pancakes (hi Lakehead folks), perogies, and chicken soup. We were able to do walks everyday and his nausea and fatigue while present were not non-stop. Since being out of the hospital we have been out and about in Vancouver - even going to a movie last night.

Our good friend Shawn is on his way here from Dawson City today to take Mark fishing this week to some 'secret BC fishing holes'. I may join in too, but it will be weather, fishing wader, and fishing rod dependent. Either way, a trip out of town will be fantastic and good for the mind and body. That's all I've got for now. Hope everyone is well, thanks for checking in and keeping in touch.

My brother Seamus and our friends' (Dave and Jenn) little girl Sadie

Round 4

Seamus here, long time reader, first time blogger. I have flown in from the UK to give Mark and Meghan a hand during chemo round four. I arrived just in time for Thanksgiving and luckily Mark had turned a corner on the day of my arrival, feeling much better after a tough round three. We had a nice Thanksgiving dinner but I'm not too sure about "Thanksgiving", I could think of a few other terms but this is a family blog so I won't mention them.

After a couple of nice days together seeing some of the Vancouver sites round four started proper on this Tuesday. Mark got off to a slow start as he didn't feel too well on the second day but with the help of some anti-nauseous pills the last couple of days have been pretty good. I think the work on his jab and weave after round three has helped with round four as well. We're hoping Mark will be discharged on Sunday in good time for his friend Shawn's visit on Wednesday. Mark and Shawn plan on doing some fishing
near Vancouver between rounds and I wouldn't be surprised if Meghan joined them at some point as well.

It is relieving to see that Mark and Meg are well looked after here Vancouver. The facilities and care are excellent and they have a great apartment close to the cancer agency that is incredibly convenient. It is a lousy situation but at least they have an excellent setup at the BCCA and easy access to most everything they need.

Keep Smashing!

Seamus

Thanksgiving Dinner




















Commence Smashing.
Biohazard Mark!

Things to be thankful for. . .

#1 Our trip to Whitehorse.

  Going home for a week was a well needed boost for mind, body, and soul. We managed to hit my favourite week of the year while we were there. Fall lasts about three weeks in the Yukon, and we were there for its very peak. Light seemed to shine from inside the aspen leaves and the air seemed full of health itself. It was a busy week, with a full day of job interviews, a three day trip into the bush and an overnighter in hospital for me, and a week full of house organization, visiting, and nursing for Meg. The job interviews were challenging, but a nice way to concentrate on the future. My hunting trip with friends Shawn, Pete, and Simon was a return to normalcy that was really the highlight of my last couple of months: we got to watch a young girzzly defending a gutpile, saw a trophy elk, and got to really breathe in the essence of a place that I was wondering when I would see next. The boys treated me (necessarily) like the old man at camp, basically putting a blanket and a rifle across my knees and fighting with eachother to help me out as much as they could. No moose was to be had, but was that really the point this time around?  We spent three days at Mayo Lake in Northern Yukon at Shawn's trapping cabin, and I felt more at home than I have in months. My final night on the Lake, Shawn treated me to a "bush hot tub". With the waves pounding on the beach below, Shawn built a hot fire under an elevated cast iron tub that he keeps for the purpose. I spent a good hour sipping a "near beer" under a dark sky, soaking in the health of the previous days. Getting back to Whitehorse was a bit of a shock back to reality, since my Vancouver oncologist had contacted Meg asking us to get to the hospital for some intravenous hydration. My second round of chemo was for some reason pretty hard on my kidneys, and keeping well hydrated has become essential to my recovery from the treatments. After an overnight stay in hospital receiving saline solution, I got to spend our final day in Whitehorse at home, visiting briefly with some friends, and getting ready for our return to Vancouver. As our plane took off from the Whitehorse airport, and the sun hit the aspens one last time, it became clear that we weren't yet finished on the road that's been laid out before us. We hope to go back for another visit in early November, shortly before doctors won't allow Meg (at 8 months pregnant then) to fly.

 
Simon listening for the elusive beast. . . 

 
Mayo Lake on a still day

 
The boys glassing a hillside 

 
The cabin

 
The Yukon hot tub (the plywood protects yer butt from the heat!)

#2 The return of my appetite.

 I'm not going to lie to you here. My last two rounds of chemo have been rough compared to my first one, and unfortunately, seem to be getting progressively so. We're hoping to prove that trend wrong this coming Tuesday. As Meg mentioned in her last post, eating and drinking became somewhat of a chore during round three, and it was hard for her and my parents to watch me turn my head away from bowl after plate after mug of food and drink. We got through it OK, and my appetite is now back. Today is my first day of feeling relatively OK since treatment, and although we were considering a trip to Victoria to visit friends for Thanksgiving, in the end, we decided a restful weekend here in Vancouver might be a better idea. My parents were here for about a week, and it was good for them to see what my treatments look like, despite the appetite struggles and some general malaise on my part.

#3 Our support system.

 It seems we are never alone here on this road. My parents took over from Meg's last week, and were a great help to Meg and I while we stayed at the BCCA. It's always great to have people around who want to do whatever they can to make things easier. Our trip to Whitehorse also reminded us of the work that all of our friends and neighbours are doing up there for us, and we continue to receive love and support from our world in the form of emails, blog comments, cards, and packages every day. We also continue to feel your thoughts and prayers, good vibes, and of course, that kicking baby. Meg's brother Seamus is the latest supporter to make the journey here (all the way from the UK), and he'll be spending the week with us here while I undergo my fourth cycle of treatment.

My parents on a day out

#4 Shrinking tumours.

  It looks like my treatments are working - it's difficult to say how well until we get the results from my most recent and detailed MRI which happened on Friday - but it looks like the Methotrexate is doing a good smashy job. Some tumours appear to have disappeared, others are getting smaller, and some look like they've stayed relatively stable. We'll get to those in the next few rounds (tell your friends, tumours. . .)

#5 A healthy, loving wife and baby.

  The doctor says Meg's pregnancy is "textbook". All measurements and tests are about as normal as they can be, and Meg is feeling great. The baby is moving around like crazy, and I get to feel little kicks and punches and waves hello every day. For both of us, the realization came this week that Meg will at some point relatively soon become pretty uncomfortable. The focus has been so squarely on me for the past little while that sometimes we forget that we will soon become a pair of patients. Christmas should be interesting. Until then though,  I can't say enough how well Meg has taken care of me. It can't be easy watching someone you love in this situation, but like with most things, Meg has handled this with grace, humour, and beautiful strength. She makes me meals, keeps track of my medications, stands up to my doctors, wrangles guests, takes care of "real world" business, schedules appointments, makes sure that I get out and exercise, and does it all with glowing love, uncharacertistic patience, and a crackling wit that still never lets me take myself too seriously. I'm a lucky man.  

She treats me right. . . 

All in all, we've settled into some kind of treatment routine: one week in, one week out, with some appointments scattered throughout. As I've said, I seem to be feeling a bit worse as time goes on, but here's hoping that that plateaus sometime soon. We hope everyone enjoys their Thanksgivings wherever they may be, and know that we'll be thinking of you here in (still balmy) Vancouver. Love the people you're with.

The Vicious Cycle

Some of the deliciousness awaiting Mark, I only give them
to one at a time in hopes they will seem more appetizing.

So, when you feel so poorly, that eating and drinking is a big struggle and at times impossible... but you know that you need to eat and drink to feel better - what do you do? Also, when you are the wife of someone who has basically stopped consuming, and you know consuming is super important for healing - how do you push enough to encourage, but not so much that you are a nag?
These are the questions we are struggling with on round 3 of Chemo. Who would have ever thought that watching Mark eat 10 grapes would be cause for celebration? Since for 8.5 years before now he has finished the food off of my plate before heading to the kitchen for thirds, certainly not I.
So far we have tried water, carbonated water, water with lemon, a variety of teas, smoothies, ginger ale, and homemade energy drinks. For snacks: arrowroots, oats, applesauce, fruits, yogurt, soups, noodles, toast, crackers, and more I am sure. If anyone has any other magic suggestions - please send them my way.
This round has carried out much the same as the last as far as levels and kidney functioning goes. It has looked a bit different because Mark is sleeping a lot more and is struggling with food and beverage intake so much. This is all very reasonable and not too concerning to the doctors and nurses who have seen it so many times before. It sounds like his appetite will come back to him at some time between treatments - but it gets a bit tricky now that we are basically one week in hospital, one week out.
Mark had a CT scan and a MRI this week and both had good results. They were not able to use contrast dye for either test because of Mark's kidney levels, and the "before" tests they are comparing the results with did use dye, so it is a bit tricky. Our oncologist let us know the tumours are shrinking and she liked what she was seeing in the scans. She wants to do one more MRI when Mark is better able to take the dye (apologies to those of you who have had to wait 6 months to get your knees MRIed, 3 in a month hardly seems fair - also, thanks for paying your taxes everyone, I've never loved Canada so much).
Basically things are going as they should be and we haven't really had any unpleasant suprises. We have learned that this is what we are hoping for. Overall, it feels like things are going pretty well. We have a very thorough doctor (a self-described "obsessive compulsive"), Mark is not experiencing anything that is unreasonable under the circumstances, I am sleeping and eating well and am back to knitting, which means we have returned to some level of normalcy. Our moods are good, although there is admittedly a bit of a drop off of cheeriness towards the end of our time in hospital. We try to keep the "why don't you try this?", "why don't you back off?" dialogue light and that works (for the most part). The thing is, our good life is worth putting up with all of this bad stuff anyhow, and it is pretty easy to keep that perspective.

Since I am short of photos right now, I thought I would show what it is like where we are at.

Here's the view from the balcony and some of the rooms here. Vancouver is amazing.

This is the balcony that our room looks out on, it's large and handy to have.

Here is the family room which is also great to have access to. It has been all cleared out as part of preparations for H1N1, a bit of a sad reminder of the flu season ahead.