Sunday

It’s warming up a bit, so we’re almost at the freezing point; I woke up this morning to a white world — it was a brief moment of whiteout.  It started out being very cold: -27C, and is warming up throughout the day. It’s been snowing again for most of the evening, and tomorrow will be another cold day, then a thaw… freeze, thaw, freeze, slip slide, cold and wet… Nothing in this is encouraging me to go outside for any length of time, so I am cocooning extensively, with a small black dog who is often stretched out on my lap (tummy, chest, feet) with his tiny arms uplifted for petting.  Don is the alternate position for Jerry, and he’s getting bored since all his sports are on a break this week.  I joked that he’ll be forced to watch my shows instead, so he’s trying to keep himself busy (rather than have to watch fantasy or cozy mysteries 😂)

My tummy is settling down, finally.  I was able to eat some solids yesterday and today, and they stayed in, although I did still have the burning and discomfort that happens when I eat.  I begin to understand what Auntie Jeanne was dealing with when she said that she was becoming afraid to eat… I’m not quite there, but I know what it’s like when I’m looking at food and I can just feel the burning starting even before I start putting food in my mouth!  I started with drinking the broth from wonton soups (thanks to Don for buying a few that are in the fridge)  then I worked up to eating the mushrooms and greens then to wontons (too far!) Then I tried some rice, which was OK.  Today I had some toast, and I struggled a bit with it.  But solid food is gradually being reintroduced, and the meds are working so it’s all going the right way.  I’m still having these huge waves of exhaustion, where I’ll be sitting in my chair doing something, then suddenly realize that I’m missing time.  I fall asleep on myself and it’s hard to stay awake; at least I’m able to sleep at night, but waking up is a challenge.  I’d probably stay in bed longer if not for Jerry, who wants to be up and doing early in the day!  I feel a little guilty about sleeping in the afternoon; the legacy of Auntie Ming who often said, “the sun must never find you in bed.” It’s silly, but it’s also ingrained, so daytime naps are not easy.

The following is my opinion, and not targeted at anyone.

Canada has a law for medical assistance in dying (MAiD) which allows people who are critically ill to request help in ending their lives.  It’s been in the news again lately because there’s a new provision that delays implementation of a subset of rules.  Briefly, though, I’m not a supporter of this legislation.  The wonderful thing about being in Canada is that even though I could access this type of service, I’m under no obligation to do so.  In fact, part of my advance care directives states that nobody is to raise that topic with me, to the point that when someone on my ward requested general information, I had a nurse come talk to me to cover their conversation.  I’ve  read opinion pieces written by people who have opted for this, or their family members, who gush on about the “beauty “ of death, and the “wonder” of choice.   I have friends and relatives who are strongly supportive of this, and who have said that in my place they’d have picked a date to end their lives.  For myself, I plan on hanging around as long as possible, spreading sweetness and light (or irritation and annoyance) and generally being a blot on the landscape.  

You all know that I sometimes have low moments where I’m scared that the cancer is back and growing rapidly.  Every pain, twinge, scan or change sends me into those spirals, and I’ve probably driven my doctors and support team nuts when I can’t calm down and I need them to reassure me.  I’ve relied heavily on a couple of priests also, to help.  I know, intellectually, that nobody gets out alive, and that the time will come when all the reassurance in the world won’t relieve my fears.  But in all of that, I’ve never wanted to “pick a date.”  Part of that is my religious beliefs — I consider that life is sacred from birth to natural death, and there are very few exceptions to that rule.  Part of it is that I consider that choosing a date to die is quitting and a form of cowardice.  I did say that this is my opinion, and I apologize for offending anyone, but that’s just how I feel.  That being said, if someone told me that they were opting to end their lives, I would verify that they had received appropriate counselling, and I would grieve them.  I doubt that I’d join in the “death party” that seems to be a part of all the stories.  It’s their lives, their choices, and that’s for them to sort out.  For myself, no, thanks.  I’ll wait until my body has reached the end of its endurance.  I will make use of palliative care, as I believe that provides the level of care and dignity that’s appropriate, rather than exiting.  

The reasons that this came up were, well, first, it was in the news because of the change in the laws.  Then someone in a thoughtless moment asked me if I ever worried about “becoming a burden” to Don and my family.  Finally, there were some stories of people who had sought help being referred to MAiD, and the insensitive person (who has since been blocked) asked if I’d ever considered it.  I don’t spend a lot of time moping or worrying, nor do I spend a lot of time wishing away life.  Given those details, it’s incomprehensible to me to even consider exiting early.  I’m more likely to edit my friends list than think about sadness.  Having said all of that, I’m just reiterating my core belief that I’m here because I have some work that only I can do, and I plan to milk it as long as I can!

My role at the moment is to be a good dog bed… so I’m off to do that; and to bug Don, who’s looking far too comfortable 😈.  Good night!