Originally published October 1, 2016

When I arrived in Toronto, the shadows of September had disappeared, and I had finally reconciled my heart and mind to the notion that ‘you can never look back.’  

I had returned to the land of Ontario only to find that everyone had left without leaving a Dear John or whatever type of note that one usually expects when visiting from afar.

Even Little Danny disappeared in the end, unable to keep up with his older and wiser self.

But ‘hurt’ and “wine” are only healed with time, and besides, it will be good to get back home to Holly Golightly, my dog, and my friends.

I decided to cease using social media for the summer and rent a cabin somewhere on the Sunshine Coast, hoping to rescue the novel that had eluded yours truly, a procrastinating writer.

A few of the rentals seemed perfect, but were expensive or didn’t allow pets.  

So we stayed at home to write the book.

Every morning, I got up early to begin writing, but it was impossible to focus on anything but the shadows of September racing through my brain.

I decided to fight back one more time.

But this time with no secrets!

Those readers who wish to know will follow; others should leave quietly without slamming the door.

Now, as much as I try to remain neutral about Facebook’s pros and cons, it is an ideal platform for communicating with friends and family en masse rather than contacting each person individually. 

And sometimes, posting a few pictures helps with the update or storyline.

So, I decided to use Facebook to update everyone on the upcoming shadows of September.

I hope to write a blog later summarizing the details and, hopefully, a happy ending.

But I purposefully delayed writing this blog until today, October 1, 2016 – because it was easier to keep the source of the shadows hidden in a dark hole, covered by my fears, concerns, and regrets. 

And it’s also because I’m a little superstitious – as in ‘break a leg!’

So, dear reader, I will write about September’s weird shadows and provide regular updates over the coming days and weeks.  

And the final installment might surprise you!  

So why not pour a drink and avoid rolling in your rocking chair while I lead you through the shadows of September?

Friday, September 9th

Today I had a Contrast CT Scan of my lungs to see if the spots and shadow areas had grown or remained stable.  

For many cancer patients, this is a time to be nervous.  

Not that the procedure is unpleasant – it’s not.  

It’s just that sometimes, you have to wait a few weeks for the oncologist’s results.

I arrived at the Cancer Centre in Surrey an hour before my appointment to visit with my many friends on staff.  

I told them I wouldn’t be able to return for social visits anymore because of ongoing issues and concerns with the BC Cancer Agency.

I resigned from my volunteer position last December because of growing concerns about patient care and a respectful workplace environment at the BC Cancer Agency, Surrey Memorial Hospital, and the Fraser Health Authority.

Social visits would be out, but I would stay in touch via Facebook Messenger, texts, and personal email.  

But it was difficult; my healthcare gal and guy pals are like family to me, and I love every one of them.  

And they return the love – times ten!

After the scan, I returned home, nervously waiting for the results.  

The appointment with Dr. Karvat, my oncologist (and hero), wasn’t until September 21st, but I had many things to keep me busy during the wait.

UPDATE: Sunday, September 11th

Holly Golightly and I were alone, watching the Blue Jays game, when the chest pains started, and I knew that something terrible was about to happen! 

I was having difficulty catching my breath, but that was primarily because of my ‘fear’ that it was another attack.

I couldn’t determine if it was my heart because the pain surrounded my entire chest.

I was buckled in pain and tried to get up from the recliner, but got dizzy and had to sit down again.

Holly sensed something was wrong, jumped on my lap, and licked my face. 

Holly is not a ‘licker’ – to anyone or anything but herself, so this was scary. 

I’ve always believed that animals are more intuitive than humans.  And Holly sure looked worried!

I slowly walked to the front door, unlocked it, returned to the recliner, and sat down. 

I popped a couple of children’s Aspirin into my mouth and began chewing them as I called 911.  

I told the dispatcher I thought I had a heart attack.

Within minutes, three uniformed firemen burst through the door and surrounded my chair.

Holly was terrified, trying to protect me and hide from the enormous men.

Then two paramedics came into the room, and within another minute, they were lifting me onto the stretcher they had wheeled into the kitchen.

All the time they were working on me, I tried to calm Holly, but she was terrified.

They wheeled me through the front door, and the last thing Holly saw was me giving my house keys to one of the five giants, who locked her into the house alone and petrified.

As the ambulance pulled out of my driveway, I worried about leaving Holly behind.

Dog people will understand – others will roll their eyes.

The paramedics wheeled me into Emergency and stayed with me until the nurse arrived.

My friend Norm used to be a paramedic with the ambulance service, and he told me that you needed empathy, not sympathy, for patients, or you’d never be able to do your job.  

This doesn’t mean that you didn’t care—it just means that you had to be able to control your emotions.

Although I agree, I could also see the concern on the paramedics’ faces—they made me feel like I was their dad.

My mind wandered down the bumpy road of fear; maybe it was the spots on my lungs.

That might explain why the pain was on both sides of my chest.  (I hate it whenever I worry about something; it always takes me to that ‘what if it’s cancer?’ mind game).

I was dying of thirst – my mouth felt as though it was full of sawdust.  

But I couldn’t have any liquid before the ultrasound test, which would be sometime on Monday.

It was early afternoon when the technician in the Ultrasound Department showed me the culprit on the screen.

“OMG!” I thought, “It looks like a baby ALIEN!” (as in the horror flick starring Sigourney Weaver).

I jumped up and down on the gurney, screaming:

What is it? Please get it out of me!

Relax, Grandpa. I’ll tell you if you stop hugging me! she giggled.

I slowly relaxed my arms and sheepishly muttered an apology.

My eyes were searching her uniform for a name tag, but I couldn’t see one.  

At that precise moment, I caught her eyes looking at what my eyes were staring at, which made me blush, because I was staring at her boobs.  

(Danny’s note: Are you still with me?)

They will probably suggest having it removed.

What, the alien? I asked.

No Pops, your gallbladder.  They can remove it and then you won’t have any more problems.

I tightened my arms around her and thanked her for telling me it wasn’t cancer.  

And although I still had to wait for the results of my September 9th CT Scan, at least it wasn’t in my lungs.

When can I get this operation done? I asked.

Some people get it done while they’re here, she replied.

Great!  I will be able to get this done while I’m here, but will I still be able to do the Terry Fox 10km Run/Walk on Sunday, September 18th?  

I would only be walking and could always do the 1km or 5km route instead of the 10km option.  

What do you think? I asked.

Your doctor and surgeon will discuss this with you when you get back to Emergency.

A few hours later, I saw a doctor who advised me that I had a fever and they wanted to keep me in the hospital until everything was back to normal.  

They would do the surgery in four to six weeks, allowing my body to recover from this episode.

However, you cannot have any fat in your diet until you have the surgery.   Otherwise, the gallstone could start moving around again.

Will I be able to do the 10km walk this Sunday? I asked.

We will have to wait until we get your fever under control.

I could finally drink, but only have clear fluids and jello for a few days.  

But how would I ever manage to survive without fat for six weeks?  

Even ENSURE and other food supplements have fat.

On the second day, they moved me to a private room on the second floor.  

It is where a nurse took the above picture.

I didn’t check my cell phone or notebook for messages during my first two days in captivity, but started posting updates on my Facebook page.  (Some friends and family are not on social media, so I email updates to them.)

I began receiving messages of support, and I tried to reply to each one, but my mind was not on my gallbladder or the surgery.

I was missing my Holly and knew that she was probably still grieving the kidnapping of her Daddy.

Dogs are different from humans – they love unconditionally and cannot stop loving you!

It was nice having a private room.

My previous hospital stays were during my cancer treatments seven years ago – in semi-private rooms.

At the time, I didn’t realize that my health coverage had undergone significant ‘clawbacks’ by General Motors of Canada, the employer I’d spent almost 30 years with and from which I retired in 2005.

A few weeks after my last radiation treatment, I got an invoice from the hospital for the semi-private room.

I was no longer covered, and I had to pay the difference between a regular four-patient room and a semi-private room.

Wednesday, September 14th

Today, my captors released me from the hospital.  

All I could think of was seeing my Holly Golightly, and how excited she would be when I walked through the door.  

I’m sure she thought I wouldn’t be coming home again, and I was excited to surprise her.

I was still weak, having gone without food since Sunday morning.  

The homemade soup I had stored in my freezer was high in fat, so my only non-fat food was 0% yogurt.

But how could I survive on just 0% yogurt for six weeks while waiting for the surgery to remove my gallbladder?

And how would I ever be able to do the Terry Fox 10km Walk for Cancer Research on Sunday, which was only four days away?

 

I had people who made financial pledges of support, and I wasn’t about to quit.

But Holly was all that I cared about now.  Everything else could wait.

I will give her 100% attention to get her forgiveness.  

She is almost ten years old and very loving.

But she is spoiled and stubborn – just the way I raised her, and I know that after she gets over the excitement of seeing me alive, she will probably give me the cold shoulder and sulk for a few hours.

********

If you’re lucky enough to be walking on the Pier in White Rock occasionally, you’ll notice an older man with a walker.  

I used to see him on my early-morning walks, and I always smiled at him because he reminded me of someone.

He always appeared sad or lonely, but maybe he was just tired of ‘being’ friendly to people who never returned his nod or smile.  

I guessed he was all alone in this world – most of his loved ones had probably passed.

But a few of his friends remain to keep him company as he sits on the last bench at the end of the Pier.

At first, he sits and stares out at the ocean – as though stranded on an isolated island.  

And then he pulls out a crumpled paper bag from his pocket, pours a handful of seeds into his hand, and waits.

I watched him as he silently waited.  

I walked closer to see what he was doing, and it didn’t seem to bother him.  

His dark eyes and weathered skin suggested he had spent most of his life in the outdoors.  

Maybe he was a retired logger or fisherman?

Good morning, Pops!

I waited for an answer, but he kept staring at the ocean.

I shrugged and started walking away; then I heard his faint voice.

I’m here!  I’m here! he whispered.

But he wasn’t whispering to me.

And then, a pigeon suddenly appeared on his outstretched hand and began to eat the seeds.  

Ten pigeons sat on his lap, shoulders, legs, and even on the bench beside him within a minute.

He was now smiling, with a youthful sparkle in his eyes.  

And although I haven’t seen that nice man for many months, I’m sure the pigeons haven’t given up on his return to the Pier, so neither have I.

Besides, maybe he had an illness to deal with, too.

I envied him for that moment and couldn’t wait to get home to hug my Holly!

That is the way it has always been for Holly and me.  

We still miss each other and are always excited to see each other, regardless of how long I was away.  And we never give up on each other!

So I can’t think of any other way to describe how Holly met me when I got home from the hospital and walked through the front door!  

It makes me cry every time I think about how excited she was! I was afraid she would hyperventilate!

For the next three days, she received lots of treats, hugs, and kisses, and she would never leave my side for a second!  

I still feel guilty about how terrified she was when those bullies came to take her Daddy away.

But her dreams were answered – because now her Daddy’s home!

I had to gain strength for the Terry Fox Cancer Walk on Sunday, the 18th.  

I wanted to be there at least for the start of the run/walk, then mingle around the area for an hour or so before heading home to bed.

Sunday, September 18th 

I awoke at 3:30 AM.  

My doctor didn’t think it was a good idea to try the Terry Fox 10km Run/Walk, but I said I wanted to be there at least for the START.

I have always resisted the idea of quitting – lots of people at the Cancer Centre encouraged me not to, and I wasn’t going to let a silly gallbladder prevent me from attending this vital fundraiser for Cancer Research.

I said goodbye to Holly and drove to Douglas Park in downtown Langley.

 I stopped at Tim’s for coffee and arrived at the park at 7:45 a.m.

The Run/Walk Start wasn’t until 10:00 a.m.

I wandered around, taking pictures and talking to the other early birds.

When I noticed her, I had just stopped a passerby to take a picture of me standing at the START / FINISH line!

Could it be Karen?  

I walked closer to get a better look.

Yes, it was Karen M., a former St. John’s Therapy Dog Program volunteer, who used to visit the Cancer Centre in Surrey every Wednesday morning with Laura, her care dog.

Later, she began including Laura’s pup Jacob in their weekly visits, and patients and staff always enjoyed seeing the three of them.

Karen is a recovering cancer patient as well.

I walked up to her and asked her if she recognized me.  

I had lost a lot of weight in the four years since I last saw her, and at first, she didn’t know me – until she heard my voice.

We hugged, and she introduced me to her husband and Jacob’s pup.  

Yes, Jacob now had a son!  Laura’s a granny!

Wow! Where has time gone? I asked, Where is Laura, and how’s she doing?

Karen said Laura was home and doing fine.

Karen updated me on her life and said she has a Team registered every year at the Terry Fox Run/Walk in Langley (Langley City and Langley Township).

She introduced me to Fred, a new cancer patient currently undergoing radiation treatments for brain cancer.

He and his wife were still trying to come to grips with the fact that Fred had cancer and their difficulty in remaining hopeful.

I told them my ‘40%’ story and how I was still here seven years later!  

I also told them I believe cancer is also difficult for a patient’s caregiver/, family, and friends because they feel so helpless, wishing they could take away their pain and fears.

Cancer can be a ‘roller coaster’ of emotions, and you must remain hopeful.

Bottom line: You need to remain optimistic.

I gave Fred my card and told him to call me anytime he wanted.

We hugged, I wished them all well, and headed to the Dedication Wall, where you could write the name of the person you were walking for in the Run/Walk.

I asked Marg, one of the event volunteers, if she would take a video of me putting my heart on the wall. Here it is:

I then returned to my car and had some quiet time to reflect on Mom.

I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and love from everyone, and it made me miss volunteering at the Cancer Centre in Surrey.

But that will be my next blog – I’ve got to finish this blog first.

At 10:00 a.m., everyone gathered at the START/FINISH line, but I stayed at the back of the group because I knew I couldn’t walk the 10km, much less the 5km or 1km alternate route options.

I figured I would get a passerby to take a picture of me at the START line – to prove that I made it to the event.

Many people had saved my life, and this was my chance to give something back, so I wouldn’t quit without at least walking part of the 1km route.

Besides, I had raised over $250 from my sponsors: Andy F., Hillary F., and Loren J.

Another person was standing there, and I asked him to take my picture with my phone.

Sure, offered the kind stranger, if you’ll take mine?

I am the world’s worst photographer, and I find it difficult to understand how my cell phone operates, let alone this man’s ultra-sophisticated iPhone. 

My previous phones were Blackberry, but they didn’t have a touchscreen and only a limited number of Apps.

Okay, I answered, but can you show me how it works?

We posed for each other and then introduced ourselves.

Hi, My name is Danny.  (I wasn’t wearing a name tag, but he was.)

We exchanged names and learned that we had much in common; we were both cancer patients, and neither of us could walk in the event.

Well, why don’t we try walking for a couple of blocks?  

We can always turn back if we get too tired,” we both suggested simultaneously.  

So we decided to walk the 1km route.

I am unsure how long it took Howard and me to finish the race, but at least we did!  

We were standing at the FINISH line, shooting each other’s photos, but we asked a passerby to take Howard’s picture because the ones I’d shot were less than stellar.

The person also took this picture of us together.

We then headed to the stage area and were presented with our certificates and ribbons.

Howard introduced me to Marg, one of the event volunteers.

I told her I used to volunteer at the Cancer Centre in Surrey and missed it very much.

I was too tired to stay for the rest of the festivities, so I headed home to Holly.

I spent the rest of the week in bed, resting up for the next event on my schedule: the Push For Your Tush 10km Run/Walk on Sunday, September 25th, at Jericho Beach, Vancouver.

But one more thing on my schedule that worried me – my September 21st appointment with my oncologist to get the results from the September 9th contrast CT scan of my lungs.

Wednesday, September 21st

I will write a short blog about the results of my CT scan in a few days.

But visiting the Cancer Centre in Surrey allowed me to see all my friends for hugs.  

These people are family, and I love and miss them very much.

Sunday, September 25th

On this day in 2010, I called my dear Ma, who was in the hospital, to say that I was coming to Toronto to see her.

Her voice was quite feeble, and I know she was tired when we said our ‘goodbyes,’ but I never dreamed I would get a phone call six hours later telling me that she had passed away.

She died without knowing the reason that I had not come to Ontario for the past 18 months for a visit.

I hadn’t seen her since early 2009, shortly before being diagnosed with stage 3 throat cancer.  

I never told anyone in my family that I had cancer because I didn’t want the news to get back to my mom, who wouldn’t have been able to handle the information.

And although Ma didn’t have cancer, she died with a broken heart.  

She was the last of her brothers and sisters to survive.

And all of my Dad’s brothers and sisters are also gone.

At her funeral in Oshawa, I said my goodbye; it was the first ‘Shadow’ created in my September calendar.

It was also the first time I cursed having cancer.  It prevented me from seeing my Ma for the last 18 months of her life.

But the one thing that keeps haunting me is the day several months after my treatments had ended, when Ma called me and asked me if I hadn’t been down to visit her because I couldn’t afford the airplane ticket.

Could she send me the money to pay for the trip?  

She said she wouldn’t tell anyone in the family.

I could hardly talk then, but it made me cry inside.  

I have never let my Mom pay for coffee or anything. She and Dad made enough sacrifices for us over the years.

I still cry inside, wishing I could have been selfish enough to tell my Ma about my Cancer because I know that she would have hugged me and assured me that everything would be alright.  

And I would have believed her, and it would have made me optimistic.

However, I didn’t have to be too brave during my three months of intense treatments because of the outstanding care I received at the BC Cancer Agency in Surrey, BC.

They became my family, and so did my many actor friends in the Lower Mainland.

The support I received led me to volunteer at the Cancer Centre in 2011.

*******

I arrived at Jericho an hour before the 10:00 AM START and wandered around the site as volunteers set up tents and booths.  

I went to the Registration Desk, signed in, and received my Survivor’s T-shirt.

Push For Your Tush was my second Walk for Colon Cancer, so it was great to see some familiar faces from last year’s event.

Here is the link to that event:  Push Your Tush story

I also noticed the BC Cancer Foundation had a booth at the event, and I wandered over to introduce myself to the gentleman setting up the display.  

He appeared familiar, but I wasn’t sure if I knew him.

Hi, my name is Danny, and I used to be a volunteer at the BC Cancer Agency. 

It’s great to see the Foundation supporting this awesome event!

We shook hands and exchanged business cards.

I read his name and then cringed!

Were you at the Taste For Your Life Gala at the Terminal City Club last Spring? I asked.

Yes, I was, he replied.

I cringed again.

He would have seen my presentation! I cringed again and muttered that I should get going.

There was little point in explaining why I no longer volunteer.

But I did tell him that I had significant concerns regarding patient care and was working on a critical analysis of the BC Cancer Agency.

I then visited the various booths in the area.

I bought three ‘Tara’ bracelets – crafted by a mother whose daughter had passed from colon cancer.  

I gave away the one I bought last year to an old friend in Ontario.

We hugged, and then I headed over to see my friend Lui Passaglia, a colon cancer survivor.

He introduced me to his grandsons, both of whom are football players!  (Lui is a legendary BC Lion football player.)

It was nearing the 10:00 AM START, and I was already exhausted.

 I hadn’t eaten anything except 0% Fat Yogurt since being released from the hospital on September 15th.

I decided to participate only in the Start of the event, then walk to the first marker.

It was a fantastic day.  

I met some new friends and completed the whole 5 km Walk!  

However, I was the last person to cross the FINISH line; most people had left.  

I asked a passerby to take my picture before the balloons were taken away.

But I did complete the whole 5 km!

And that’s a wrap!

Never give up on your dreams.

Dedicated to cancer patients and their caregivers

I hope my stories are a gift to your head and heart.

Hugs,

Danny

Today’s tune from Danny’s library (purchased):

I want to know where my confidence went
One day, it all disappeared
And I’m lying in a hotel room miles away
Voices next door in my ear
Well, daytime’s a drag; nighttime’s worse
Hope that I can get home soon
But the half-finished bottles of inspiration
Lie like ghosts in my room

Well, I wanna go
I know I can’t stay
But I don’t want to run feeling this way

‘Til I am myself
‘Til I am myself
‘Til I am myself again

There’s a seat on the corner I keep every night
Wait ’til the evening begins
I feel like a stranger from another world
But at least I’m living again
There are nights full of anger
Words that are thrown
Tempers that are shattered and thin
But the moments of magic are just too short
They’re over before they begin

Well, I know it’s time
One big step
I can’t go; I’m not ready yet

‘Til I am myself
‘Til I am myself
‘Til I am myself again

[Instrumental]

I had a dream that my house was on fire
People laughed while it burned
Well, I tried to run, but my legs were numb
I had to wait ’til the feeling returned
Well, I don’t need a doctor to figure it out
I know what’s passing me by
When I look in the mirror
Sometimes, I see traces of some other guy

Well, I wanna go
I know I can’t stay
I don’t want to run feeling this way

‘Til I am myself
‘Til I am myself
‘Til I am myself again

Songwriters: Jim Cuddy & Greg Keelor