Addressing Parliament (Sort Of)

“Compassion is not religious business, it is human business, it is not luxury, it is essential for our own peace and mental stability, it is essential for human survival.” - Dalai Lama

A couple of weeks ago I was contacted by an old friend, Harry van Bommel about speaking at a Round Table meeting hosted by Michelle Simson, Member of Parliament for Scarborough Southwest. Michelle Simson heads up the Parliamentary Committee on Palliative and Compassionate Care. Those Members of Parliament who make up the committee have been hosting Round Table meetings across the country to hear the voices of Canadians who wish to say something about palliative and compassionate care in this country. Most of those who have spoken are members of health agencies or are health care professionals. I wasn't sure what I could contribute to the dialogue, but I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to speak to a Parliamentary Committee so I accepted the invitation. This morning I made my presentation.

The Round Table was held at the Warden Woods Community Centre at Warden, south of St. Clair. There weren't a lot of people there but about thirty community members attended. Each round table speaker was granted twelve minutes in which to make a presentation. There were two separate groups. The first was comprised of health care workers and agency staff. The second, in which I was a member, was comprised of people who were addressing compassionate and palliative care issues from a more personal perspective. All presentations were recorded for submission to the committee and the recording will become a part of the Parliamentary record.

I was the second speaker in my group which started with a woman speaking about her experience as the mother of a fifteen year old son who committed suicide. She was very brave. As she became more emotional in her presentation, I watched the faces in the room. Most everyone was crying. I was trying hard to keep myself in check and trying hard to figure out a way to support her as she struggled to keep going. She gave us all a great deal to think about. When she was finished, it was my turn. I spoke of my experiences as a patient who dealt with breast cancer, my perceptions of the business challenges in dealing with critically ill workers and our need for sustainable funding in running Willow. Twelve minutes went by in a flash. I was followed by a dentist who spoke of the need for compassionate dental care for the aged and then a woman who talked about her experience in watching her elderly parents die. The last speaker on our panel was Harry. He was, as usual, brilliant. Harry has written a whole lot of books, many of them on the topic of palliative care. I could have listened to him all day.

I feel very honoured to have been a part of this day. If I could figure out how, I would attach a copy of my presentation to this blog but I haven't got a clue. So if you want to see it, just ask and I'll email you a copy. I understand that the photographs taken this morning should be posted on Michelle Simson's website this afternoon. If you are interested you can see them at www.michellesimsonmp.ca

All Treats, No Tricks

When witches go riding,
and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers,
‘tis near Halloween.
~Author Unknown

My Halloween treat came today - a couple of hours spent with Jacob. He has been terribly busy these past couple of weeks, completely tied up with mid-term tests and assignments. Nonetheless, he did agree to find a couple of hours this afternoon to share lunch and a chat.

Before I hit the 401, I stopped at the grocery store to supplement the treats and gifts I had already packed into my car. I had earlier bought some Halloween candy for him to eat - a yard of licorice, gummy brains and candy covered sunflower seeds. While at the grocery store, I picked up a box of chocolate bars he could distribute to the neighbourhood kids on Halloween night, a large box of sushi for his dinner tonight, some souvlaki pork steaks, apple juice, rice crispy treats, soup and a crate of clementine oranges. He was very pleased. I gave him the small gifts we brought for him from New York and the mail that has been piling up for him since Thanksgiving.

We went to Montana's for lunch and sat in the bar. Though not really hungry, I ordered a large lunch after Jacob suggested that he would eat whatever I did not, if not at the restaurant but as a snack late tonight. He told me he has been working until three o'clock every morning and has finally taken up drinking coffee in order to function in the eight thirty classes that start his every school day. He is exhausted but can't stop now. He has two mid-term tests and seven major assignments due next week. His last mid-term test is on November 9, he just has to hang on until then. He is young. He'll manage.

After lunch we stopped at the Metro store for a few additional supplies - a few more boxes of Halloween treats for Sunday, a few bottles of Coke, a birthday cake and candles for one of his roommates who turned nineteen today but who will be writing a mid-term until eight thirty tonight and another first thing tomorrow morning. It's a lousy way to spend a milestone birthday, but at least there will be some acknowledgment of her special day.

I dropped him off and though I tried, I didn't do as good a job at hiding my tears as I usually do. Oh well. Misty eyes are hardly the worst thing. At least there were no great wracking sobs.

A Sad Day for Toronto

"The problem with political jokes is they get elected." ~Henry Cate, VII

Since six minutes after eight o'clock I've been trying not to toss my dinner. That was the moment CTV declared Rob Ford the winner in the Toronto mayoral election. I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach.

What does it say about a city of three million people that would choose a red-necked buffoon as it's mayor? This man, who is now our mayor stood up in front of our city of immigrants, the most multi-cultural city in the world, and stated that he wanted to bar immigrants from moving into the city. This man denied he had been arrested for driving under the influence and possession of marijuana until the Toronto Star showed the proof. Then he claimed he had simply forgotten about the problem. Scary. This man presented a financial plan that every analyst said was extremely flawed and implausible. And yet, tonight he became our mayor.

George Smitherman's fate was sealed yesterday when unknown persons funded an ad campaign on a Tamil radio program suggesting that Tamils should not vote for him because he is gay. At the same time, posters were being put up in Islamic areas suggesting that Muslims should not vote for him either as homosexuality is an affront to Allah. The radio station pulled the ads and the posters were taken down. But every news report last night featured the smear as the lead story. Mission accomplished. Every homophobic bigot who didn't know George Smitherman is a gay man, now knew. And that was the end of George.

Rob Ford will make Mel Lastman look like a gentle diplomat. The rest of the country won't laugh at us because we called in the army to clear the snow. They will laugh at us because a red-necked clown will be at the helm of the largest city in the country. God help us.

A Changing Landscape

"Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. "
--Stanley Horowitz

When we left for New York last week, the ravine was crimson. The shock of red leaves outshone all the rest of the colours in the ravine. When we returned, the red leaves had all fallen. What was left was an expanse of gold. I enjoyed the tremendous beauty of that golden ravine all day yesterday. I didn't realize it would last such a short time. This morning, the leaves that are left, are no longer golden. They are a brilliant orange. Simply stunning.

I expect there are few days left to enjoy this autumn view. Each breeze brings a shower of falling leaves past my window. I know the beauty of this season will be replaced by the beauty of the next. Still, I wish I could hang on to this one for a little longer.

I've been remembering the morning that the leaves unfurled last spring when I was driven to capturing the wonder of the ravine in a creation of green pearls. I thought about doing the same yesterday in something with a golden hue but I don't have stones in my inventory that serve as a good reflection of a golden ravine. Today will be different. I do have some strands of orange pearls that will work as a perfect reflection of this day's wonder.

A Nibble of the Big Apple

“They say life's what happens when you're busy making other plans. But sometimes in New York, life is what happens when you're waiting for a table.”
- Sarah Jessica Parker

Merv and I returned this afternoon from a long weekend in New York where we had a lot of fun engaging in a small sampling of the enormous buffet the city offers. Our 4:15 flight on Thursday afternoon left a little later than scheduled and we flew straight through a storm. The flight was less than comfortable. When we landed the pilot said, "Well folks, the flight wasn't pretty but at least I got you here safely." It certainly wasn't pretty. Upon arriving at La Guardia, we waited more than thirty minutes for a cab into the city and we crawled the whole way through a steady, though not heavy rain, arriving at our hotel at 7:20, just forty minutes until the curtain rose on Chicago which we had tickets for that night. The front desk told us getting a cab was hopeless so after taking five minutes to change our clothes, we ran the twelve blocks to the theater through a storm that had moved from a steady drizzle to a tsunami, me in my three inch heals. Somehow though, we made it, drenched to the skin but on time. Chicago was wonderful.

Friday was a day spent in exploration, wandering the streets, shopping and soaking up the ambiance of the city. We gave ourselves enough time to change our clothes and enjoy cocktails before catching a cab to the theater. Try as we may, there were no cabs to be found. A limosine driver offered us a lift for a fee of $20 for what was essentially a $7 cab ride. We jumped at the offer. My feet were so sore from the miles of walking we had done that day that I would have paid him $50. That night we saw Thirty-Nine Steps, a bit like Monty Python does Alfred Hitchcock. It was very clever and very funny. Four cast members play dozens of roles in one production.

Saturday was our day for touring. We started with an elevator ride to the top of the Rock. Then did the hop-on hop-off bus tour of downtown Manhattan, taking in the sites from Times Square to Chinatown, Central Park to 5th Avenue. Dinner that night was at a Zaggat rated steakhouse called Rotthman's. The portions were obscenely large but the food was divine. By 10:00 P.M. we were stuffed, exhausted and ready to crash.

This morning we enjoyed a couple of hours of walking through Central Park, Times Square and 5th Avenue. Then it was off to the airport for a 2:30 flight which thankfully was considerably less eventful than the one that brought us to New York.

It has been about thirteen years since I was last there. A lot has changed in these years. The city is amazingly clean. The police presence is enormous. There is less visible homelessness and the panhandlers are quiet and not aggressive. New Yorkers seemed more polite than in past visits. Some things did not change. New Yorkers seem to think traffic lights are a suggestion. The noise is overwhelming. The costs are high. The traffic is terrible.

There is a good energy in the city. And it sure is a fun place to spend a weekend.

A Grateful Heart

"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice." ~Meister Eckhart

Jacob is home. The kids gathered at our house last night. The ravine is crimson. My heart is overflowing with gratitude. Later today Merv, Jacob and I will head over to the Moore's for the first of our Thanksgiving dinners this weekend. Last year was the first time we celebrated the holiday with Jonathan's family. We had a wonderful time and are so pleased to be joining them again this year.

If I started right now, I doubt I would have the time to count my many blessings before our second Thanksgiving dinner at Cath's on Monday. I live a life of bounty - family who are the best friends - friends who are family in every way but blood - a beautiful home - health - meaningful work...

No matter how long the list, I will be taking time this weekend to reflect on blessings both large and small. I hope you will take the time to do the same. And when I count my many blessings, you can know with certainty, I will be counting you.

Incredible Luck

"Good luck needs no explanation." - Shirley Temple Black

Eat to the Beat was a success. It was really fun to spend time with family and friends indulging in the delicious offerings of sixty talented female chefs. I was thrilled at my incredible luck in securing the winning bid at half the retail rate for a pink Kitchen Aid mixer that I've been coveting for the past five years. Little did I know, even more luck was coming my way.

I sold about forty of the one thousand tickets for tonight's raffle. I bought three. My sister Cathy really wanted the grand prize - a trip for two to an all inclusive resort in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. So at draw time, I moved close to the front and silently sent a plea to the universe that Cath's name was the one called. But it was not. Mine was. Needless to say, I sent up a large whoop and ran up to the stage. I simply can't believe I won. Before we even got home, I was dreaming of feeling the sun on my shoulders. I'm tired. I can use a week in the sun. Mexico would not be my destination of choice - I've been there a couple of dozen times but I can't argue about the price. Mexico will do just fine.

At the end of the evening, I met a group of five women. One of them recognized me as the grand prize winner. They noticed my Board member ID and asked me why I am involved with Willow. I explained that I know first hand how important the work is that we do at Willow and that it is my privilege to serve on the Board. One of the women asked me if she was understanding correctly that I am a breast cancer survivor. I said that in fact I am a breast cancer thriver. For some reason, she became emotional about that. She embraced me and they all wished me well. They told me that they felt honoured to have met me. Of all the things I won tonight, that felt like the best prize of all.

Think Pink

"The spirit of the Run lives all year long.
When we wake up each day.
When we reach out our hands.
When we love and laugh.
When our hearts fill with hope.
Together, we can create a future without breast cancer."

That little blurb was printed on the tag attached to the pink candle I was handed when I crossed the finish line at the Run for the Cure yesterday. It was a kind gesture made to those who crossed the finish line wearing the pink shirts that mark survivorship. Yesterday's event was a resounding financial success. More than 20,000 registered participants in Toronto, raised more than $5 million. The event was held simultaneously in 60 communities across the country resulting in a national fundraising total in excess of $33 million. Though there were 20,000 registered Toronto participants, the numbers of people who turned out seemed considerably smaller. It could have been related to the frosty weather conditions that greeted us in the morning or the dearth of parking that was available in the temporary venue at the U of T. Nonetheless, the crowd was animated and enthusiastic and visibly greater measures were taken to recognize and honour survivors. Not that surviving isn't honour enough.

Tomorrow I will attend Willow's signature fundraising event - Eat to the Beat. And though ticket sales are down this year, it still promises to be a fun night. On my way home from a client meeting today I stopped at Yorkdale to see if I could buy a dress that would be suitable for the event. The stores in Yorkdale are awash in pink ribbon merchandise. Though I usually don't buy pink ribbon branded clothing, Guess is selling an irresistible shirt this year so I indulged.

I've been thinking about pink merchandising and about pink ribbon fatigue. I suspect people are getting a little tired of it. So many events, so many requests for money packed into such a short period of time. I hope I'm wrong. But I know it's getting harder and harder to raise the funding we need to operate Willow. The work we do at Willow isn't the sexy work. We're not about the cure. We're about support. We don't have a big fundraising machine. We don't have a board comprised of the leaders of industry or well connected media folks. We don't have a lot of merchandisers standing by to donate the proceeds of their pink merchandising efforts. But if you happen to be that woman living in a small Northern Ontario or Saskatchewan community and your doctor delivers the news of your breast cancer diagnosis on a Tuesday morning, it's easy to understand why the services we provide are so important.

Whether it is support for Willow or Princess Margaret Hospital or the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, I hope you will put aside any pink ribbon fatigue you might be feeling. I plan to light that pink candle I got yesterday and dream of a future without breast cancer.

Jacob Deprivation

Missing someone gets easier every day because even though it's one day further from the last time you saw each other, it's one day closer to the next time you will. ~Author Unknown

I know I saw him less than a week ago and that I will see him again a week from now, but I woke up this morning longing for the presence of my son. Jacob deprivation is always hard. I don't know what happens to me that moves me from going to bed feeling happy and confident to waking up with an almost physical ache of loneliness for my child.

I'm torn between calling him and asking if he can find some time to get together for lunch or coffee tomorrow, and just sucking it up for one more week. I'm sure he has a lot to do and I don't want to burden him with having to find the time or feeling guilty if he needs to say "no". It's only a week until he will be home for three days. I think I'll figure it out in the morning.

Sunday is the annual Run for the Cure event, which for me is more like a walk for the cure event. Nan and I will do the 5k walk together as we have done every year since 1998. Normally it is a family affair, sometimes even the boys have joined Cath, Nan, Marg and I for the event. But this year it will be just me and Nan. Marg will be returning from her European vacation tomorrow and Cath has decided to go to the lake for the weekend. And that is fine. It promises to be a beautiful day tomorrow and we will enjoy the walk through the city in the company of so many others in what is essentially a celebration of hope.

The ravine is a riot of colour, growing richer and richer each autumn day. I'll be happy to share the view with Jacob when he comes home on Friday.