So far, I’ve shared with you some of the methods I used to survive but I absolutely have to include my family and friends in my story of survival.  First let’s talk about my husband known to all as Bobby Tee.  He is quirky, weird, funny, super-sensitive and uber-loving.  And as my daughter likes to say, he just has so many feelings!

When I was first diagnosed, he was absolutely devastated of course.  For him to see me suffer was probably the hardest thing for him to go through but through it all, he was by my side.  I have to mention here that my two children supported him so that he could be strong otherwise I think he would have just been a big puddle of feelings! He was still working at the time and his co-workers and owners were very sympathetic and gave him whatever time off he needed to help me.  He was such a trooper, the first time around.  He was strong and supportive when I had my first round of surgeries and I’m confident that when he saw the physical changes in me like the loss of my breast, the loss of hair and every other change in me, he really didn’t care.  He still thought of me as beautiful and treated me as such.  What a moral booster he is!!   Until I got the news that the cancer had metastasised in my femur and in my spine.

This is where the funny BT stories begin (well there’s a million of them really, but we’ll stick to a few). Poor Bobby Tee had just retired a few months before, our daughter had gotten married and we were planning an amazing retirement travelling to see the world.  All that changed in the day we found out the cancer had returned.  He was, of course supportive and helpful but he seemed to be a little more withdrawn and serious.  I guess it kind of hit him that this disease could really kill me.  Anyway… He we were dining out with old friends (I was sporting a fabulous looking cane) and chatting when all of a sudden I notice BT kind of listing sideways in his chair and I started screaming “he’s having a stroke call 911!!”  He wasn’t of course, he had just passed out twice in a row. EMT’s bring him to the hospital and my friends were stuck with the dinner bill.  I call my ever helpful sister and she meets me at the hospital.  They test him for a stroke, a heart attack and everything else (thank you Canadian Health Care system).  He seemed fine and everything seemed to be going well.  We thought a change in scenery would help so we head out to Toronto to visit with my niece Tara (my super-duper bff) and her family.  As BT’s helping to prepare muscles, his muscles give out and he passes out again! What the Fuck??? My niece catches him before he hits the floor and  I bitch slap him until he comes around! Here we go! I can’t drive the 4 hours back home with my stupid peg leg.  Thankfully my son was about an hour away at university so he drove us back.  His family doc got him to see both a psychiatrist who prescribed anti-depressants and a psychologist that helped council him.

A few months into this, I catch him online looking at….. puppies (get your mind out of the gutter).  I’m like “what he hell are looking at puppies for? We already have a dog!”  Okay so he’s 18 years old, blind, deaf and arthritic (I had to carry him around on a pillow), but still…. His reasoning was that our old poodle Shelby will die soon and we’d be devastated and a new puppy will help ease the blow.  So there we go! The whole family visits the puppy and of course we all fall in love with him and bring him home a few weeks later.  We name him Nelson after Nelson Mandela because he was also a remarquable survivor (he hadn’t passed away yet). The little shit head was so freeken hard to house train that I wanted to give him away but eventually (like after 6 months of cleaning pee) he became a loving and cuddly little dog.  We had to put the old guy down after he had gotten sick and the new guy, Nelson, eagerly took his place.  My daughter is convinced that Nelson had something to do with the Shelby’s death because he was quite happy being the only dog in the house.

Okay well that story isn’t so funny after all but here’s a good one. It’s the middle of summer and the BT decides to take a walk with Nelson to the local pharmacy about one kilometer away.  It’s about 6pm and he still had a history of passing out.  By 7:30, no BT.  By 8:30, I start to get worried!  What if he’s passed out in a ditch somewhere!  What if some hooligans saw him with a pharmacy bag with drugs in it and murdered him!!  What if….. I try his cell phone and of course he left it behind.  I call my daughter to see if she heard from him.  I call the friends and acquaintances that live along the way and nothing.   One of them happens to be a retired police officer so he, his wife and his trusty dog head out to look for him (after I drove through the neighborhood myself of course).  They’re looking in the ditches along the way and some guy comes up behind them and asked what they were looking for.  “YOU, you ass-hat!!”  Yup! good old BT met someone with a dog and decided to stop for a beer!  For fucking 3 hours!  The guy suggested he call his wife to tell her (me) where he was but HE DIDN’T KNOW MY PHONE NUMBER!! Can you believe? My phone number is engraved on the dog’s tag! He was in so much shit!! I now track his phone!

About 6 months after the Passing Out In Toronto Incident, we decide to go visit BT’s brother in Arizona for a couple of weeks.  He hadn’t passed out in a few months, the doc said the whole thing was caused by stress and depression and he was medicated.  We’re waiting to get processed by immigration before boarding and there he goes again! Passed out on a bench.  Some by-stander calls 911 and not only do EMT’s show up, but the police, security and the fire department!  Apparently, that’s protocol in an airport.  I slap him around a bit, shove a pill in his mouth and we convince the emergency personnel and security that he’s fine.  We finally board the plane and he passes out before take-off! I shove a pill in his mouth and I figure, I’ll wake him up before we land.  That’s the last time he passed out.  Sheesh!!! poor bastard!  The last thing he wants is to make me worry and he’s now 4 years passed-out free.  Congrats Babe!

Next time you’ll meet my fabulous children.  Okay I know that all parents think their kids are fabulous (except maybe Paul Bernardo”s mom), but mine really are!  Come on! A Doctor of Psychology and a Lawyer advocating for abused and neglected children?  We could not be prouder!  Two very accomplished adults who chose absolutely incredible life-partners (don’t let that go to your head Silvano) !  I know that we raised them to be the people they are today, but they also helped me become the fabulous woman that I am today!

Stay tuned !