What’s a nice guy like me doing with Cancer?
Hi everyone my name is Peter and I have Cancer, to be more specific I have Stage 3/4 Bladder Cancer. 
So why do this? Write a blog about cancer, especially ‘my cancer’ that is a question that many have asked me, why share what is probably going to be really hard to do and maybe at time hard to follow. The straight answer is I’m primarily doing this for me but as you find out more about me as we go on I’m not a completely self-centered moron and I truly hope that some of what I share with helps someone else then that for sure will be a bonus. Some clarification before we proceed, I’m not pissed off about having Cancer anymore, I was but fortunately, some weeks before I started this blog I did all the crying and wall punching (not really!) that I felt was necessary or expected for someone that is given that news. Cancer can be very private, I kept my feeling to myself and suffered for it, it’s bad enough having friggin cancer but not reach out to for help, be it emotional or physical, is just stupid so I don’t do that anymore.
Some rules about how we proceed on this journey,
- I will not lie to you EVER…
- If I am having a crappy day I will tell you – sorry somedays cancer isn’t fun.
- If you don’t like what I write, sorry, go watch YouTube or check out Facebook.
- You can comment on all the articles, I will not edit any comments unless you are being a complete dick
- I live in Toronto Canada but I’m from the UK originally consequently I have a dry sense of humor that borders on sarcasm. If I find humor in things that upset you that is not my intention. Laughing, ‘often at myself’ has gotten me through many prior downtimes.
- I am not a writer – so if the odd period turns up in the wrong place I’m sorry. I edit on the fly.
- There are two amazing women in my life who I will mention one is my partner Divina and my daughter Julie, everyone else will be identified as Jo or St and Ma, just the first 2 letters of there name just to protect their privacy.
So that’s it really, that’s why I started this and hope to continue to the end of this journey wherever it may take us, there will be tears, humor but above all I want this to be an experience that I for one would not want to miss.
The latest article
What an experience (PG14 for images)
Where do I start?
Well, I’m back home, missing a few bit’s and pieces but I’m home and it’s time for an update. My operation at Sunnybrook Health Science Center was scheduled at 8:00 on the 14th of this month. Right off the bat, there was 3-hour hold up, seems our health system is so congested that once they operate they have to find somewhere to put you, so if there are no rooms at the inn then the operations can’t proceed. They must have kicked someone out because at 11:00 they wheeled me in.
I want you to breathe deeply and exhale…
I guess this is the best part of having an operation, not the losing control but the part of acceptance that your life is now in someone else hands. I liken anesthetic to going to sleep in your own bed, you fall asleep, next thing you know you’re awake unless you dream or toss and turn you could be dead, I guess that’s why when someone passes away in their sleep people say they went peacefully. I digress, next thing I’m aware of is people calling my name Peter, Peter PETER, and I’m back. Everything is fuzzy but I’m alive. My surgeon came to see me tells me everything went better than expected, the bladder was removed and there was no spreading of cancer and biopsy showed no further disease.
How about that for good news readers…
Off to the 6th Floor, we go
Room 201 bed 3 – seems Sunnybrooks definition of semi-private is three to a room (men/women) private which I didn’t qualify for is taken now by patients with infectious diseases. My roommates are a lady partially awake for the days and a guy who didn’t stop complaining for the next 4 days. Trying to recover is bad enough but having someone in your room that wants to order everyone around is not good for your digestion – speaking of digestion I hadn’t eaten for 43 days by now and the start me on fluids, Fruit juice and jello became the basis for my diet for a while.
Peace at last, peace at last…
Comatose lady moves out followed hours later by loud rude man, replaced by a poor guy in a fully comatose state who needs almost constant attention and a retired Scotsman who was good for a laugh and made the balance of my days in the hospital almost bearable.
Discharge day
I’m free, I’m having trouble walking but I’m free. Divina go gets the car as I hobble out to cool fresh air that I haven’t experienced for a week.
What did I learn?
- I found out that if this operation and the following care had been in the US it would have cost upwards of $450,000 even with a 10% deductible that’s 45 grand out of my pocket, probably more like 20% deductible given my age.
- Putting your life and day-to-day needs in the hands of health professionals isn’t easy, especially someone like me that likes to be in control sp ‘handing it over’ and accepting was good for me
- Some patients can be ungrateful assholes
- That I have so many friends who visited me and or checked in to see if needed anything.
- It is almost impossible to get comfortable in a hospital
- The new rodes they have don’t leave your butt hanging out like they used to.
- There are always people worse off than me.
- Hospitals can be a crazy place, noise. people rushing back and forth the constant ‘beep-beep’ of the machines and few places to hide to get away from it all.
In closing, it was an interesting experience – am I cancer free NO… Can I wear one of those T-shirts that say I kicked cancer’s butt and won! NO.. But with faith and you people,e I feel there is a chance I’m getting a little closer – One Day at a Time
Peter
PS: I may just go a fly a kite tomorrow…
Previous articles
No Results Found
The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.