Happy Thanksgiving in Canada

Terry spent a few days in Chemainus Health Centre last week to give Ron, her full-time caregiver, and the kids a bit of a break and to give her a few days away from home. I suspect Ron spent much of his "break" cleaning house, as his first e-mail after dropping her off asked where to find dump stickers. Several friends made their way to visit while she was there: Hans and Freda from almost-next-door came twice and brought a pumpkin chess cake, Genevieve from Quaker meeting, her good friend Irv, Sophie, and of course Ron and the kids did come to visit, too, as well as others I don't know about.

As her cancer progresses, Terry needs more and more care and cannot take care of herself at this point. Her mind grows tired easily which means that visits and conversations are limited to a half-hour before she gets confused as fatigue takes over. She spends some time imagining the work she had planned involving conserving even more land and a Providence Farm community home idea for homeless and disabled people - and sometimes forgets that she is no longer working on that project.

Most of this I hear from letters from friends and from updates from Ron since I have been waging my own small war against a late diagnosis of Lyme disease which became apparent during the stresses - both physical and emotional - of two trips and a prolonged stay in the strange and uncharted territories of Cobble Hill, BC. Needless to say, my own small discomforts are put into clear perspective when viewed from the side of Terry's bed.

Is she in pain? The first few months after receiving her shunt (which ended the many-month's long headache) Terry did not have specific pain. Radiation to her brain did cause considerable discomfort, but other than that, there was not any pain from the cancer. Now, almost nine months after her diagnosis, she does ask for pain medication to help her sleep.

Terry's many friends from Vancouver Island often wonder what they can do, how to reach out and help, though most have known her only a short time and do not feel they are close to her. Terry's close friends who have known her many years, decades of close friendship, are thousands of miles away and often (myself included here) wish she were closer so that we might go for a few days or a week at a time to help out. The distance involved, and the added complexities of getting to an island, as well as international border crossing, requires considerable planning, time and money just for the travel itself. Terry chose her new home to be in a distant land - a decision that has had a profound effect on her end-of-life care: free medical care of excellent quality, but too far to be surrounded by friends and family. Her one full-time caregiver is the father of her children and her former husband, a man of rare courage and extraordinary willingness and desire to be there for Terry and the kids even after their divorce. I cannot begin to imagine how hard this must be for him - physically exhausting and emotionally draining - and he also a newcomer without close friends to call on.

On that cheerful note, I go to help prepare a lobster dinner for my husband's former wife and their kids. As Terry's life closes bit by bit, our lives continue without pause. Rather than stop us from enjoying our own lives, let us open our eyes and be thankful for each day we have. Not one of us knows how many we have left.