[present day]
on friday night, the 22 of december, my brother was taken by an ambulance to the university hospital in london, ont. Right before we were about to eat lasagna for dinner, which i made specially for him, he lost the feeling in his left arm. When asked, he told me it felt as though he had fallen asleep on it and had lost all the feeling, but he hadn't been leaning on it. By the time he left, he said he could touch his fingers together and he could feel them a bit, but his speech that had been rapidly getting better, suddenly had worsened and I couldn't tell what he was trying to say. My mom & dad took him to the ER and I sat at the house waiting for the dog to show up. I couldn't get a hold of any of my friends and it was rather a lonely evening.
At around 9pm they showed up to the house minus my brother who they told me was being taken by the ambulance I mentioned. They were rushing to get out of the door, and asked me to stay behind because they didn't know what was going on in london or how late they would be there to. So I stayed with my brothers cell on me so I could go out and waited and waited.
I went out to paddy's to get a pint to cool off and to see my friend and his band play. I read margaret atwood and e.e. cummings while I waited for them to finish their set. impatiently I waited for my parents to call to at least tell me that they had arrived in london safely. Finally around 12, I got the call that they had at least made it there and they were going in to find out what was wrong.
Eventually I left the bar because my friends margaret & e.e. were getting a little boring and I was too upset to be in such a busy place. On the walk home, I met two guys who were trying to ride their bicycles down the hill at centennial. I told them they might kill themselves doing that, and they walked me half the way home.
When I got back I was up until 4, with my parents finally arriving back from london at 6am. I only vaguely remember them walking in and moving the dog off of me as we were both snuggled up on the couch.
After that I found it hard to fall asleep. I had fitful dreams about my brother and my family, amongst other things. At around 10 my parents re-awoke and by ten they were on the road again. I got the feeling they didn't want me to come because if I don't have a lot of information about something, scientific information, then I sort of lose my shit on the doctors to put in a polite way.
When they arrived they called back and told me that my brother most likely, after countless mri's and different neuro-radiologists looking at them, was deemed having an infection at the site of where the brain tumor was in his brain. His face had swollen up from the infection they said & he wasn't doing very well at all.
Yesterday I made the journey down with my parents. He seemed to be in good spirits, but his speech was still a problem and the infection seemed still present even though he was hooked up to antibiotics through his IV. We brought him is ipod and some books, something for him to do. I can only imagine the boredom of lying in a bed like that all day.
The neuro-radiologist from the university hospital will be reading his MRI today and determining if he might be able to come home for christmas and we could set the IV up here and a nurse would come and administer the antibiotics, or if the infection has decreased substantially, then he might be able to take pills. If it is an infection for sure.
This is all rather shocking considering the afternoon before he was taken back to the hospital we watched august rush [his choice] together while I worked on the zine on the living room floor. He seemed to be doing so well.
but as I said before, [even though you have yet to read that portion yet as it isn't written down], he was let out of the hospital far too early after such a major operation and he wasn't monitored properly. The health care system does not look after the people who feed the money it. I'm only grateful we have a system at all because without it, my brother wouldn't have been able to have the three operations that saved his life, nor would he be receiving care now.
but, you still have to pay for the ambulance ride.
[end of present day- monday 811 am]
Monday, December 22, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
first attempt [part 2]
Talking to a friend the night before we joked about the possibility of asking the surgeon to open my brothers head up perpendicular to the last incision to create an extremely badass scar from his far to his front temple, making an X where the hair refuses to grow. I rather doubted my brother nor would the surgeon go for it, however the idea caused a fit of nervous laughter as we stifled our feelings with yet another bowl of pot in the makeshift bong; a feeble attempt to suppress our feelings about my brother having brain cancer for the third time in four years, not that the attempt was successful.
It’s not that I even knew these people at the time of the first one. My friends are not troopers, when things get awkward I feel that most people tend to run. I accept this as much as one who is left by themselves to deal with this could. For the first tumor I was a completely different person. Then I had a bright future. I was attending university and was about to marry my quote-unquote high school sweet heart. I had a nice apartment, nice friends, a masters program waiting for me to jump into.
The first tumor almost killed my whole family and it wasn’t even cancerous. A malignant tumor the first time, but one that was pressing down on his brain causing him to seizure. I remember the phone call that I received just a few days before my birthday telling me that my brother was going to have to have brain surgery for a tumor that he had had for over 4 years. Our family doctor, instead of ordering an MRI to be done over those four years, simply gave him medication after medication to try and stop the massive and debilitating migraines he suffered from. She could have probably had him diagnosed years prior had she followed proper protocol. As you can tell my family all hates her and the funniest part is she left the family practice to work as an Oncologist. Anyways, the first time was the most shocking by far. No one can prepare you for a family member to have such a terrible illness. It’s strange because shortly after my brother was diagnosed a neighbor was diagnosed with one as well as my boss’s daughter.
The second time my brother was diagnosed it was only shortly after the first. By then I was so doped up on medication to try and treat my own illnesses that I can hardly recall whether they used stitches or staples to tape his head shut. I didn’t know anyone now that I knew then. It seems as I’ve always thought, disaster & sadness are quite a repellent. I change friends as often as I change, well, maybe more often than anything else. It seems no one wants to deal with all this baggage. As soon as the word cancer was added to the mix, people ran like frightened flies over a carcass. The surgery that time was followed by radiation treatments, a long and painful process for my brother. Since he had to have them for so long the second time he can no longer have them or the radiation would cause brain damage. It’s sad in a way simply because it cuts down his chances this time. We all know this. It hangs over our heads whenever mention of chemotherapy is brought up because we know that is the only option left besides removing them every time if they continue to reoccur. A potentially fatal option.
As I sit in the car I think of the night before, looking at my new friend who I acquired a year and a half before and he smiled sadly, looked down at his hands. It isn’t there fault that this is so awkward.
It’s not that I even knew these people at the time of the first one. My friends are not troopers, when things get awkward I feel that most people tend to run. I accept this as much as one who is left by themselves to deal with this could. For the first tumor I was a completely different person. Then I had a bright future. I was attending university and was about to marry my quote-unquote high school sweet heart. I had a nice apartment, nice friends, a masters program waiting for me to jump into.
The first tumor almost killed my whole family and it wasn’t even cancerous. A malignant tumor the first time, but one that was pressing down on his brain causing him to seizure. I remember the phone call that I received just a few days before my birthday telling me that my brother was going to have to have brain surgery for a tumor that he had had for over 4 years. Our family doctor, instead of ordering an MRI to be done over those four years, simply gave him medication after medication to try and stop the massive and debilitating migraines he suffered from. She could have probably had him diagnosed years prior had she followed proper protocol. As you can tell my family all hates her and the funniest part is she left the family practice to work as an Oncologist. Anyways, the first time was the most shocking by far. No one can prepare you for a family member to have such a terrible illness. It’s strange because shortly after my brother was diagnosed a neighbor was diagnosed with one as well as my boss’s daughter.
The second time my brother was diagnosed it was only shortly after the first. By then I was so doped up on medication to try and treat my own illnesses that I can hardly recall whether they used stitches or staples to tape his head shut. I didn’t know anyone now that I knew then. It seems as I’ve always thought, disaster & sadness are quite a repellent. I change friends as often as I change, well, maybe more often than anything else. It seems no one wants to deal with all this baggage. As soon as the word cancer was added to the mix, people ran like frightened flies over a carcass. The surgery that time was followed by radiation treatments, a long and painful process for my brother. Since he had to have them for so long the second time he can no longer have them or the radiation would cause brain damage. It’s sad in a way simply because it cuts down his chances this time. We all know this. It hangs over our heads whenever mention of chemotherapy is brought up because we know that is the only option left besides removing them every time if they continue to reoccur. A potentially fatal option.
As I sit in the car I think of the night before, looking at my new friend who I acquired a year and a half before and he smiled sadly, looked down at his hands. It isn’t there fault that this is so awkward.
memories of the past tumors. [pictures stolen from my brother]
after the second surgery.
hair starts to fall out from radiations treatments.
hair starts to fall out from radiations treatments.
The mask he has to wear during the radiation treatments. Made specifically for his face.
getting radiation treatment in london.
all the pills he takes. now he takes more.
MRI's: is primarily a medical imaging technique most commonly used in radiology to visualize the structure & function of the body. It provides detailed images of the body in any plane. MRI provides much greater contrast between the different soft tissues of the body that computed tomography (CT-SCAN) does, making it especially useful in neurological (brain), musculoskeletal, cardiovascular & oncological [cancer] imaging.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
November 29. 08. : first attempts [part 1]
The family has been up roughly since 3 am. At least that's when the first musings about leaving began between my parents over a cup of hot, low quality coffee. For me there was the sudden jolt to the awake state; my father’s hands quietly repeating my name while standing over the couch in the darkened living room. “It’s time to wake up Melissa, it’s time to go.”
I wanted to sleep through the long car drive, to some extent. Hopped up on a combination of gravol, clonazapam and the seroquel left in my system from the night before I hoped to weigh my thoughts down with these things. These designer drugs; all meant to stitch my eyes shut, to render me immobile while my brother stared out the window beside me. He had his ipod on, fidgeting with the technology. Trinkets- faster computers – crisper images on televisions – these have been his drugs for a lifetime.
On the hour & a half trip in the snow to London, my parents put on a mixed c.d. that was both requested and made by my brother. A mix of country music and pop rock & even though I would rather die than listen to the songs, I didn’t see the point in arguing. I would probably want to choose what we listened to on the way there if I was having brain surgery for the third time. So I snuggled deeper into the pillow I brought for the trip, continuing to flit in and out of consciousness, his hulking frame crushed into the backseat beside me. The smell of cigarettes being chain smoked in the front seats & the brief flashes of cold to let some air in afterwards kept me just out of the reach of sleep, no matter how many drugs I swallowed.
I looked over at my brother, curved and slightly crooked, at 6’6 easily a scary man but without the strength to back it up. He looked just like a child, even though I am the younger by six years. I wanted to pick him up and tell him it was going to be okay. We haven’t hugged each other in a very long time; I doubt we would start now. The ride kept on, and we sat there just like when we were kids, except less space & additional years.
To perk him up I mutter some trash talk about how the music on the c.d. sounded like shit. I attempt to poke at his ribs, but he only flashes me a quick near toothless smiles and groans at little at me, or maybe he’s just groaning at the pain in his head. His head is now shaven sheer, most likely my mother did it in the kitchen the night before: him hunching his large frame down so she could reach the top, the hair falling on the tile- less floor that was meant to be tiled last year or the year before that. The dog probably tried to jump at the hair as it fell to the ground. His head has to be shaved for the surgery but if you do not do it yourself then they will just shave the part that needs to be operated on. My brother still has sense of style, not wanting an uneven head of hair. Even though ever since the first surgery he has one because the scar will not let hair grow over it; a large gash where the incision was made, it still protrudes and aches, seemingly it throbs through the air like invisible sound waves, it’s an open heart thumping and pounding with no consideration for the body. He looks sad, worried, and forlorn; there are countless of synonyms to describe the fear right before a major surgery. I probably will never be able to use my vocabulary to define it; my ill attempts seem neither here nor there. So inept, I fumble with my thoughts as he looks out the window, watching the flat farm land swim by at 120 kms and hour.
I catch my father’s eyes in his rearview. He looks at me helplessly and I too return his gaze. I hope secretly in my head, hold a wish like a small child, that this time the scar will heal better and that hair will sprout from his wound. I know my brother would like that.
to be cont...
I wanted to sleep through the long car drive, to some extent. Hopped up on a combination of gravol, clonazapam and the seroquel left in my system from the night before I hoped to weigh my thoughts down with these things. These designer drugs; all meant to stitch my eyes shut, to render me immobile while my brother stared out the window beside me. He had his ipod on, fidgeting with the technology. Trinkets- faster computers – crisper images on televisions – these have been his drugs for a lifetime.
On the hour & a half trip in the snow to London, my parents put on a mixed c.d. that was both requested and made by my brother. A mix of country music and pop rock & even though I would rather die than listen to the songs, I didn’t see the point in arguing. I would probably want to choose what we listened to on the way there if I was having brain surgery for the third time. So I snuggled deeper into the pillow I brought for the trip, continuing to flit in and out of consciousness, his hulking frame crushed into the backseat beside me. The smell of cigarettes being chain smoked in the front seats & the brief flashes of cold to let some air in afterwards kept me just out of the reach of sleep, no matter how many drugs I swallowed.
I looked over at my brother, curved and slightly crooked, at 6’6 easily a scary man but without the strength to back it up. He looked just like a child, even though I am the younger by six years. I wanted to pick him up and tell him it was going to be okay. We haven’t hugged each other in a very long time; I doubt we would start now. The ride kept on, and we sat there just like when we were kids, except less space & additional years.
To perk him up I mutter some trash talk about how the music on the c.d. sounded like shit. I attempt to poke at his ribs, but he only flashes me a quick near toothless smiles and groans at little at me, or maybe he’s just groaning at the pain in his head. His head is now shaven sheer, most likely my mother did it in the kitchen the night before: him hunching his large frame down so she could reach the top, the hair falling on the tile- less floor that was meant to be tiled last year or the year before that. The dog probably tried to jump at the hair as it fell to the ground. His head has to be shaved for the surgery but if you do not do it yourself then they will just shave the part that needs to be operated on. My brother still has sense of style, not wanting an uneven head of hair. Even though ever since the first surgery he has one because the scar will not let hair grow over it; a large gash where the incision was made, it still protrudes and aches, seemingly it throbs through the air like invisible sound waves, it’s an open heart thumping and pounding with no consideration for the body. He looks sad, worried, and forlorn; there are countless of synonyms to describe the fear right before a major surgery. I probably will never be able to use my vocabulary to define it; my ill attempts seem neither here nor there. So inept, I fumble with my thoughts as he looks out the window, watching the flat farm land swim by at 120 kms and hour.
I catch my father’s eyes in his rearview. He looks at me helplessly and I too return his gaze. I hope secretly in my head, hold a wish like a small child, that this time the scar will heal better and that hair will sprout from his wound. I know my brother would like that.
to be cont...
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
an introduction
well since third time is a charm, my brother has been going through the process of having his third brain tumor removed over the past week, so i have decided to document the whole event. With the encouragement of my brother who wanted some photos of himself in the hospital, i have begun to go through the tedious process of shooting photos and writing recaps of each day that we have traveled to the university hospital in london.
Soon information about brain tumors will be posted including the diagnosis my brother received, information about what it is like for my family to go through the challenging events of this surgery and the chemo that is going to follow. Hopefully it will be a way for my family members to find out information, a way for others to gain information about brain tumors and a means for me to enjoy the solitude of reflection in hopes of keeping my wits about me for the days to come.
So here are some teaser photos from after the surgery over the past four days. it will take a while, but soon everything will be up and running. For those faint of heart, I suggest going back now. Some of the visuals are quite graphic. not in any particular order as of yet, but soon will be, with explanations.
for now signing out.
Soon information about brain tumors will be posted including the diagnosis my brother received, information about what it is like for my family to go through the challenging events of this surgery and the chemo that is going to follow. Hopefully it will be a way for my family members to find out information, a way for others to gain information about brain tumors and a means for me to enjoy the solitude of reflection in hopes of keeping my wits about me for the days to come.
So here are some teaser photos from after the surgery over the past four days. it will take a while, but soon everything will be up and running. For those faint of heart, I suggest going back now. Some of the visuals are quite graphic. not in any particular order as of yet, but soon will be, with explanations.
for now signing out.
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