December 18, Bear's Den

My friends, can we, in our current circumstance, accept that a homecoming could coincide with an anniversary by mere accident?  We prefer trust, rather, that invisible hands are involved, the same mad yet generous hands, no doubt, that brought Angela and I together so many years ago.  Could we let this moment pass then without due ceremony?  My friends, we did our best.

Angela is home.  We met with the surgeon on Thursday after her last of 25 radiation treatments.  We talked with him, only briefly, about surgery.  Sure, not much has improved since we saw him five weeks ago, but, as he emphasized, not much is worse.  He said that he has seen many things in his time.  He has seen these kinds of tumours wait for many weeks after radiation to show signs of response, and then go on to completely remit.  True, only time will tell, but, shutting his eyes and shaking his head, he was quick to dismiss the idea of surgery now.  The hazards, he says, are not worth the potential benefits as long as things are stable and there is still a chance that other treatments will work.  And as for the hole the tumour will hopefully leave in Angela's spine?  Well, we don't know.  The surgeon has seen very big holes fill in with "solid enough" scar tissue to keep the spine stable, while in other cases comparatively smaller holes create "problems".  How often the surgeon, in his experience, has seen this rather than that, we could not gather.  Time will tell.  Angela is prepared to do whatever she has to, so, for now, she will be patient.  Invisible hands are at work.  The surgeon's hands will wait.

We were helped, in our humble celebration this weekend, by our good friends Terry, Catherine, and Lou who arrived to our barn shaped home last night as though to Bethlehem.  They brought with them wonderful gifts that included a Christmas cake, sparkling champagne, and, carved out of stone, a dancing polar bear.  While we honour invisible hands, we are mindful as well of how much our life together, Angela's and mine, has been shaped by visible hands too.  Very much in our thoughts this weekend is my father who returned to Winnipeg yesterday morning after a month of trustworthy and careful attention to our home, our animals, and us.  Among other things my father left with us an orchid plant which, wonderfully, comes with the instruction to feed it three ice cubes once per week.  How happy we will be if we can turn ice into life all winter!

This afternoon Rocky and I shared in Angela's fatigue.  Soon after our friends departed this morning we were all asleep, she on the couch, Rocky and I on the floor in front of the fire.  It seems all I managed to do today, before writing this, is sleep, and, at timely intervals, add logs to the fire.  We held on for the celebration, now we rest.  The bear remains tired.  Her paws remain clumsy.  But she is swallowing food better already, and, so importantly, she is back in her den.

I am very happy not to be driving to Kingston tomorrow morning.  We will return to Kingston sometime in January to meet the oncologist and discuss chemotherapy.  Hopefully we won't see the surgeon again before two months.   In the meantime we remain so grateful to all our friends who have sent the warmest thoughts and messages to us in these times.  From near and from far, through invisible hands, we are moved by your thoughts.  We will be in touch.