me now

changing course

Our dear friends and family,
everything has changed since we last communicated with you. We have had to have conversations with close family, and especially our children before posting our news here, but we've been thinking of everyone who reads this and holds us close, knowing that we needed to talk to you as well...
Last thursday, Nov !3th, Brian had another biopsy, to determine the condition of his bone marrow in preparation for his transplant. We found out on Friday that the information from the biopsy was not what the doctors had been hoping to see.
The chemotherapy that Brian had already been given was not successful in combating the leukemia. In fact, in the month between biopsies, the disease had grown more than 10X. That growth happened in a matter of weeks. There may be other factors which led to the decision of the medical team not to transplant--we will be able to ask questions like this tomorrow--but the fact remains; Brian's bone marrow is too sick to give treatment to. The team of doctors has told us that all they can do is to maintain Brian, for weeks or months, as long as his body can fight off a serious infection or avoid a major bleed.
I feel the sadness of everyone who is reading this. Its so difficult to write.
I want you all to know that we are well and happy within everything that is going on. The kids are on their way from Salt Spring today, and we can't wait to be all together. Our hearts feel so strong with loving and being loved. There will be many kinds of days in the weeks ahead but there is an abiding sense of healing in the face of dying and of the permanence of love in the face of loss. I am thinking of Pete Seeger singing " we shall overcome..." . Go, find it, listen, its a favorite of Brian's. And, oh ya, let's have a party. Ok, its Brian's call, but lets all start imagining celebrating him together.
Love,
Joanne

premonition of a Tree

Hello Everyone!

I'm feeling better and my appetite's good!

My Mom has been sending me some photos of things I've made and the carving above is one of them; I made this head while working at Lake O'Hara about twenty years ago. At the time I remember thinking while carving it that it looked like Tim, one of the managers, who was somewhat challenged in the follicle department. (I know Tim doesn't mind a little good spirited fun poked at him}. I even put a couple of lumps on the head, 'cause Tim was famous for bumping his nogggin while splunking around in crawl spaces, cisterns, and septic tanks.
But check out the crooked smile! It's not Tim, It's Me!! My chemo therapy has me completely bald now, just like this guy (I think I named it George). Anyway, the resemblance is uncanny and I couldn't help but wonder if the whole thing was this big chunk of a tree showing me my future self.
I switched hospital rooms the other day at the urging of a few of the nursing staff. My room was cold and North facing and the one available was warm and South facing. After making the move it felt completely right. That was the room I was sick in and this will be the room I am well in. It really feels like I've past through the worst part of this illness (knock on George) and There is an endless well of gratitude to all of the friends and family out there who helped with their healing energy sent my way.
There's also a fellow named Thich Nhat Hanh, a author of Zen Buddhism who helped me greatly through the hard times. We took many quiet walks together and sat for what seemed like days by a clear flowing mountain stream. He helped me manage my pain by holding it like a small injured child and rocking it until it was calmed. Embracing rather than fighting.
I have so much to learn.
Thank you for your love.
I have never felt so grateful
so human
so held.

Brian

Breathing a sigh

Its day fifteen, counting from the beginning of Brian's chemo, and we're experiencing a reprieve--from many things, pain, crisis, fear, to name a few. On this day a number of issues seem to be settling down. Brian has had his first solid food for breakfast, he no longer has a catheter, (and all the pain that was going with that), and at last his fever has come down. These are some very good signs.
As I write, Brian is watching CNN's election day coverage. This is the first TV he's watched in age...; what a moment to tune back into the world. The mood of tentative optimism extends, it seems, beyond this hospital room. Can something good really be happening? Do we dare believe? Too late, our hearts are already open and exposed. We do hope.
We have a new team leading his care here on the ward. Its a normal, monthly rotation, but we're pleased with our new Dr.'s.
The Fellow likes Brian's sense of humour, which has begun to surface again. And they call each other Matt and Brian, instead of the more formal options. His Attending Dr. is a beautiful white haired woman with a great sense of softness and eyes so blue they seem electric.
So, I think that all my birthday wishes are covered; Brian feeling better today, and maybe, it looks like, a young, profoundly intelligent, visionary, heart-centered, evolutionary, BLACK man, will soon become the single most powerful figure in the world.
Sigh.
Keep up the hopes and prayers, for Brian, for all of us; this whole world needing healing, unity, tenderness and understanding.

I love you all, feel we are so blessed to be held in this amazing circle of care.

Joanne

Day Three

Chemo, day three; Brian is sleeping a great deal today but otherwise not yet feeling the effects of the chemotherapy drugs. Everyone is different as the medical staff remind us. How and when he will react will be individual.
Its mid- afternoon now and I'm sitting in his darkened room. He didn't really sleep during the night, but now the crazy combination of sleeping meds, benedryl, (for blood product reactions), and the chemo premeds are all conspiring. Good, though,to sleep. He has so little mobility right now, with his catheter, and the accompanying big saline bags which are continuously running through his bladder, and two PICC lines, one in each arm--not to mention the additional IV site in his hand because they are always running out of access for something--antibiotics, TPN..... sleeping is a relief, for both of us. He will be disappointed that he missed lunch, though. He's on a full-fluid diet now, so there is soup getting cold and vanilla ice cream getting warm on the tray beside his bed. The return to eating simply these sorts of things has been a real pleasure in the midst of so much discomfort.
Another small pleasure has been the IPod that Louise sent. And, at last, getting the laptop up and running in his room here--a feat I accomplished just today!!-will be a huge lift. Its going to feel like XMas when he wakes up this afternoon.
My week has been one of catching my breath, and catching up on meals and sleep while things are relatively stable. I've also been plowing through things governmental and technological. Seems having acute leukemia isn't at first glance convincing to EI. The powers that be decided originally that 7 weeks was enough, and it took a call to our MP (and a single hour after two months of phone calls) to straighten things out. Thank you, Gary Lunn.
Thanks also to the Salt Spring group who arranged for me to have a hotel room during these chemo days. Its a great gift.
As well,the quilt made by many hands on SSI is a constant on Brian's bed now, and much appreciated.
I bought some books to read to Brian courtesy of Dwight; today we're reading essays by David Sedaris. Smile inducing.
At last, now, Brian will be able to read your postings, and maybe begin on the emails. Sorry so many people have gone unanswered. We so appreciate you all.
love,
Joanne

Next Wave

Joanne, again, its four am. I'm at a hotel, supposed to having a night's sleep. That part's not working but I've got the pleasure of listening to my children sleep. My heart is so full being in their incredible presence, missing them, and at this moment, missing Brian, wondering if he's also awake, restless and missing... I'm hoping very soon to have his laptop set up at the hospital, now that he's well enough to be sitting up for part of the day. I know being part of the blog world again, and reading all the amazing and inspiring posting from others will bring him so much pleasure and strength.
I wanted to fill everyone in on the latest developments, in the meantime. As of yesterday Brian has been getting TPN, nutrition in a liquid form through his PICC line.
This is going to help him in many ways as he recovers from his bowel obstruction. Then, on Monday he will get a PICC line in his other arm so that he can begin a round, seven days, of chemotherapy. This is an attempt to get his primary condition, the MDS, under control. Getting his associated bleeding condition (DIC), to be less of a risk to him is of fundamental importance. It is necessary before the transplant process can be activated. So, we all now can have a new focus for thoughts and prayers; may this chemo work as the medical team is hoping it will.
It should surprise no one who knows and loves Brian that he is completely unique in his manifestation of this illness, his responses to treatments, and even his basic body structure. Really, not a day goes by before we are again reminded of how unusual his case is, and what a mystery.
What a mystery, indeed. On so many levels...the feeling that we are cells in a single body, communicating with one another, sharing intelligence, information, emotional responses, surrounding with energy,and the desire to heal, the part of the body which is injured. All of us surrounding Brian that way. No one separate from the whole.

The kids are here this weekend. They will see Brian tomorrow and I think our hearts will burst to feel us all in one room, even for a few minutes. Turns out to be incredible timing with his busy week about to start. ...I've already shaved his head in preparation.
He looks extremely beautiful; soft and open, ready for what's ahead.
Thank you all for your responses. I woke up with your words in my heart and head at about three o'clock, in awe at the abundance.
Dwight, your presence here was like a powerful dream to Brian; he was so sick when you were in the room. Today he cried remembering you being here, and touching his hand. Please come back when you can. He misses you more than he thought possible.

with vast love and gratitude,
Joanne

Thanksgiving

Dear Friends,
I'm sure our silence has twigged everyone to the fact that Brian and I have been completely occupied with the medical journey for this past week. Brian was admitted to the hospital eight days ago. Originally this was to get the bleeding in his urinary tract under control, and also to see if they could normalize his blood levels with continuous blood transfusions. As happens in these situations, no sooner does the medical system try to get on top of one issue in the body, then another one surfaces. This week for Brian the next issue has been an obstruction in his bowel. Things had become serious indeed over the weekend, as there was little option for surgery and such a great risk of an infection taking off completely with his immune system rock bottom as it is.
What a harrowing few days; so painful for Brian, exhausting for me. I slept on a chair in his room for nights running, helping anyway I could think of, keeping updated with his vitals and bloodwork and listening in to the consults with the circulating rounds of physicians. What a time. Today, Brian is seeming on the mend. He still has a fever but his bowel is more clear, although not working on its own yet. He is alternating between sleeping and being quite irritable. Even I am getting sent out of the room with a wave from the back of his hand. My sister Lea says feisty is good, it indicates your body is headed toward survival.
Sigh, and prayers of gratitude. There is an awareness now in us and in the medical team of just how precarious things are for Brian. The hope is that we can get him stabilized, back to strength, and ready for that transplant. They do have a donor; ready to go, I believe. More gratitude to all the saint and angels and to the Creator. The work now will be in getting Brian healthy enough to go through the process. Ongoing emotional and spiritual support required for this next bit. Thanks to all who continue to hold us in prayer and thought.
I want to say how often I reflected on gratitude this weekend. The unexpected blessings of the kindness of strangers, the words in an email from an old friend, and the presence of people, especially family. Now that all of Brian's siblings have been here I can officially express my love for all of them. Its a family of individuals, so different one to the other, but all totally beautiful in all ways--spouses included, of course. We are all relatives. Special thanks to Louise for bringing them all into the world.
We are missing our kids like crazy, but feel completely calm with Mike and Lynn holing all the whole show. Now thats something to be grateful for. True friendship, true family.
I'm loving the postings, please continue. Thank you all for everything.

Love,
Joanne

Joanne's turn

I'm the designated writer today, as Brian is feeling unwell. He's so committed to communicating with everyone whose love, support, prayers and chants have been maintaining and sustaining us that he's asked me to write an update.
The last couple of days have been fairly stressful as the MDS has begun to make its effect upon Brian's body felt in some big ways. Bleeding and infection are the two big concerns and we've had a dose of both in the past few days. The infection is somewhere in the urinary tract and so is the bleeding. Its all rather alarming, especially on day one, but its amazing how fast you, as patient and spouse, come up to speed and begin to join the team in thinking clinically, strategically about things. 'Okay, here's the problem, lets find the cause and the solution and move forward with a plan.' In the leukemia/bone marrow transplant unit they really utilize and empower the patient and the partner, and give both of us all the information they have moment to moment. It truly is a remarkable part of the health care system and most of the time we stand in awe at the science and the heart that is part of every aspect of Brian's treatment. Life appears miraculous on so many levels and so continuously...the body, in balance and out of balance, seems to me a portal for light. At the moment, Brian with his multitude of bruises, dressings, and in his diminishing strength, is a luminous being, with all those prayers,mantras, and heart felt wishes shining through him.
Please know I feel strength coming in from all of you. Thank you for loving us, being hopeful with us ,and helping us imagine the future.
I am thinking of the poet Rilke's vision; that in our deepest selves, God is still growing.

Kids in the Hall

Well my kids were in the halls of the Cancer Lodge this last weekend, and I think everyone really enjoyed having them around.
For the older folks the two younger boys were like bringing puppies into a retirement complex. Coleman and Hannah were much admired and Coleman was very impressive with the way he could really slam those pool balls into their pockets with such confidence in the common room. Hannah with her quiet grace simply was just that.
Thank you Lynn for bringing everyone together for the weekend.
Within the Lodge there is a special room called the listening room. There's a large water feature that quietly trickles in the corner and the furnishings are simple, the room soft and spacious. While Joanne and I had the whole family together (along with and thanks to our wonderful Lynn) we thought it would be a good time to circle up in the Listening Room and give everyone a chance to express what they were feeling.
With the lights dimmed I took Joanne's stringy silk scarf and we all knelt around it; just close enough to touch. I started speaking to my kids telling them about my disease and that I was strong and I would never give up on them. Looking at each person I told them how I loved them and I would always be strong for them.
when we took turns talking we would creep a little closer to each other in the circle, and after each person spoke I would take their hands and we would put our foreheads together and cry a little, tears falling on Joanne's scarf. While My head was against each of my children's heads I would tell them how strong and beautiful they were and that I was going to be O.K.
After everyone had spoken all of our knees were touching and we all put our heads together, leaning over the cloth and it formed this small human shelter over the piece of fabric that had been catching out tears. I talked about it being like a house and how as a family we would always form a strong house.
Louis then banged a gong to clear the air and Lynn chanted Om, Tare, tu Tare, tura so ha which is a healing chant. We all joined in and repeated it many times.

Everyone felt much better, and we each took turns cutting pieces of the crying scarf to keep as medicine.
A thread came off Sef's piece of scarf soon after he cut it and he tossed it over the balcony into the wind. He said he gave a little prayer with it as it fell to the ground. As it should be : with every thread lost to the wind goes a prayer that our family, heads and spirits together, backs forming the frame of our little house, will weather this storm and many others after.

I'm very proud of my family for the bravery and love they showed that day.
Joanne has lots of scarf left for anyone who would like a piece

anyone interested in donating bone marrow could check out
www.onematch.ca
thanks.

On my moon

Well it was the harvest moon a couple of days ago, so it seems fitting that I had to give up a bit more blood to the Labtech people in labland yesterday. Could have been the gravitational pull from that large glowing orb that kept the needle point spot in my arm bleeding for hours afterward. A small nosebleed and bleeding from my gums are two more gross details of my day yesterday.
Dr Shepherd prescribed vitamin K supplements to help coagulation. Little vials of liquid drawn up into a needle and squirted into the back of my mouth (needle removed thanks). The pharmacist gave us the choice of using the vitamin K usually reserved for dogs who have ingested rat poison or this other mysterious stuff in a glass vial. I've always enjoyed a good mystery.
I'm not bleeding anymore after a couple of doses,but I can't help but wonder what in the world is going on inside me.

I think the health system should have a different scale of evaluating how their patients are doing;
Often I'm asked how's my discomfort level on a scale of one to ten. Maybe they should develop "The Seven Dwarfs" scale of well being,'cause I was feeling like at least 4 of the seven yesterday. Especially Grumpy in Joanne's loving opinion. Sleepy Sneezy Dopey, and I did go to see Doc. Definitely not bashful, as I tend to be a bit of a loose canon when I'm low on hemoglobin.
Maybe there was another dwarf that never made it past the Disney Editing Staff. Horny. But then,If I followed through on his personality trait I'd have a lot of explaining to do when questioned about where those bruises came from.
On a COMPLETELY different note:
Joanne and I had a wonderful experience with a 78 year old "energy worker"named Bett this morning.
It was a meditation/gentle massage experience that left us both feeling quite calm and well. This woman was amazing with all of her healing experience and wisdom. She does regular appointments at the cancer lodge, and we'll definitely see her again.
Instead of coming at me with needles, beeping machines and crisply trimmed moustaches, she had warm hands soothing sounds and sensitivity. What a relief.
The Doctors will let us know on Monday If I can go back to Salt Spring for a while. I'll be hoping for a marrow match on the international registry, which could take a couple of months, apparently.

Thanks to everyone for the contact and generosity. Thanks Chad Thompson for the leather medicine bag.
Feelin' the Love.

I've had a few visitors since my last entry, and have spent some time back on Salt Spring. My sister Wendy and her husband Don came out to the island and, although I have a touch of leukemia, I still wanted to show them the Saturday Market and at least point them in the direction of the wineries and the viewpoint at the top of Mount Maxwell. I wasn't always the tour guide, mainly because I tire easily . I think they were most impressed with Mike's showroom and garden.
The day they were leaving Joanne and I noticed a huge bruise on my elbow and small red bruise patches in various places on my skin. Joanne called into the hospital in Vancouver- although I had been stable two days before, my blood platelets were diving off and my hemoglobin count was down. So we tagged along to Vancouver with Wendy and Don to get me topped up with another transfusion.
The trouble is, my bone marrow just isn't making enough blood. I'm like and old engine that's burning oil. Don (who's a mechanic) mentioned that a dipstick would be handy, and, having worked with one in the Kootenays, I readily agreed.
(Sorry Cam, I couldn't resist}
Don and Wendy were really fantastic, it's great to reconnect after all these years. I was pleased to find that Don, after travelling on the ferry and inspecting the" Spirit of British Columbia's docking procedure, came away without losing any more fingers. Wendy was very loving and generous, but it was Don's parting words that really struck a chord..."Just relax". Few words well timed.

Being low on hemoglobin is sort of like being drunk at a Mormon barbecue. Every one is sober and you're getting maudlin and making rash comments about lingerie. I'll get teary about not having my shoelaces the same tightness. When I'm out in public surrounded by blushing and embarrassed family members I know it's time for a couple of pints of red.
I have a good appetite for whatever's on the grill and I'm not in any pain.
Being low on platelets is like having skin as thin as a ripe Bartlet pear, and I shouldn't pick my nose for fear of non stop bleeding. (a hard thing for a carpenter to resist when alone in the elevator) I should also avoid sharp objects like any woodworking tool ever made. I also can't fly in an airplane for fear of spontaneous bleeding. Other passengers are kinda put off by that sort of thing.
Being low on white blood cells means I'm susceptible to infection and should avoid crowds and babies. Crowds OF babies handling money would probably be the worst, so I guess no more Salt Spring Saturday markets for me!

My Mom Louise and Stepfather Jim have been in Vancouver visiting for a few days; they've been absolutely lovely and have been very brave sharing the Cancer Lodge cafeteria food with me. (which really isn't that bad once you recognise the creativity that goes into the soup de jour) .

Now to explain the butterflies:
Well it's all metaphorical of course: Up until now I've been going through life like a solitary determined caterpillar; Fairly thick skinned and unemotional, doing my daily task munching away at what i thought was my leafy life.
Then Life stands still where I am now at the chrysalis stage, where a thin skinned and emotional Brian is quietly developing.
Sometimes I tear up when Joanne tells me of the generosity of people I hardly know but who love our family enough to help out. Jo Jo says it's because I've made an impression through the work I did or the way I did it. Truth is I've always loved what I did and never really thought much beyond that. It's definitely not all about me; as a family we're a unit and it's been Joanne who has made most of the emotional connections .
I'm starting to understand how to let people in, and I'm looking forward to reconnection time. There's a Neil Young song that says one of these days he's going to sit down and write a long letter...well I guess this is my long letter. My cocoon is a time of change and waiting, and I find myself quietly weeping from all of the unexpected love and generosity shown by others. When Joanne looks at me her eyes are like titanium blue rods that go right through to her titanium blue shoes. She has the strength of the ancients to help our family through this. Her love is what wraps my chrysalis.

I will survive this thing.

All gallows humour aside, It's a fucking scary and strangely wonderful ride.
The Blue Morpho butterfly is me; at the end of this journey.

Thank you to everyone for helping us out.

Dr. Barclay

Here's a short document that definitely does not prevaricate about the bush.
I Like Dr.Barclay. He reminds me of an old horse Doctor. I'll be seeing him again tomorrow.

click on image to enlarge

This is our big hairy black thing. There's a new fire hydrant soon to be a little less pristine.

My life as a dog:

Nothing much happened today: I ate, went for a walk, napped quite a bit. Wondered about dinner, Joanne gave me a nice back scratch. A perfect day really.
The big news is Charlie and Ali had a little boy born at 6;15 pm Alberta time. A little brother to Liam.
I'll get more details posted as they come in. Very exciting. Wow.
I had some blood work done today and my hemoglobin is down a bit to 93, neutrophils also down to 0.4., platelets @ 21.

A huge thank you to everyone who is helping with meals these days. Like a dog, sometimes I'm not sure where the food comes from, but I sure do appreciate it!

Well it's time for me to turn about three circles, humph down into bed and chase a few rabbits.

Monday September 08

I spent Sunday with Joanne Coleman and Hannah In Vancouver. My ol' bossy friend Cam Mathieson was in Vancouver for a visit too, so he got his buddy (and my Milk River Canoeing Companion) Andy to drive us around the city a bit. Driving around with Andy and Cam is like seeing the sites with a Vegas comedy team. Lots of fun and much appreciated.

We saw Andy's art Gallery and went out for lunch. Some clothes shopping for Coleman and the rest of us sort of tagging along, enjoying the downtown scene and feeling vaguely out of place in some very hip stores for the youth of today.
Then oooo, by jiggers wouldn't you know it , Brian's darned biopsy site started weeping through the bandage.
Joanne and I had to head back to the hospital to have that changed and have more blood work done to determine if we should go home to Salt Spring. It all turned out O.K. and I blamed it on the Vancouver potholes and Andy's back alley driving.
We saw the house that Hannah will be staying at while dancing at the Arts Umbrella this year. Very nice. Modern with lots of post war wooden trim at the same time. She's going to have a great year I just Know it
We made it back to Salt Spring Last night. Very good to be home. We're in a watch and wait mode; getting blood work done on a regular basis and taking care of all the paper work. The House was very clean thanks to Pam and her amazing Crew, the dog was very happy and flee free thanks to Lynn and Mike and everything was as it should be thanks to everyone.
I should find out soon If my brother Al is a stem cell match.
more postings to come.
Thanks Gary for helping to set this up!

Nurse Charlie

I can;t believe the level of fine experienced staff they have here at the Cancer Clinic!
I never know what's going to happen around each corner
carpediem!

Nurse Charlie

Saturday September 06/08

My daughter Hannah and Son Coleman are in Vancouver today: I haven't seen Coleman since initially going to Victoria over two weeks ago! It looks like He's working on a moustache! Hannah will be going to the Arts Umbrella on Granville Island this year, so she's setting up a place to stay with a family who's billeting her. Very nice to see both of the teens.
I'm feeling well today, after a bit of a dissappointing day yesterday. No marrow matches found yet.
To marrow, to marrow, there's always to marrow.... yeesh,
Cam, my bossy friend from Nelson should be here today too, and we'll all likely go out for dinner. I'll post a picture of one of the lamps that Cam made and one of Nurse Charlie who's now back in Sylvan Lake where He and Ali and Liam are expecting a wee baby soon./Users/hairydog/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Modified/2008/29-Aug-08/200808292154.jpg/Users/hairydog/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2008/24-Jul-08_3/IMG_1694_4.JPG

After Victoria

I was transferred to Vancouver general hospital where, after a few days and one blood transfusion, I underwent another bone marrow biopsy.

This time I was given a platelet transfusion at the same time along with a little morphine and just a sprinkling of ativan.  I was still gripping the bloodstone Laura gave me pretty tight, 'cause when you feel the suction of the marrow going out of you there's no freezing or morphine that numbs the pain.  Thanks Joanne for holding my hand.

Sept. 05:

I found out today that of the four brothers and sisters that have had blood tests none of them matched for a transplant.  My brother Al is in Hawaii and still has to have his blood work done.

It's the leukemia lottery.

If Al doesn't match then there's a vast registry of potential doners who may match.

Dr Shepperd told us that the leukemia in my marrow remained stable so Joanne and I will be heading back to Salt Spring Island on Monday.  I'll have my blood tested three times a week and wait for word from Vancouver as to what the next step will be.  If I spike a fever or start bleeding for any reason then I'll be back at Vancouver General. If I need another blood transfusion then I will likely have that done in Victoria.

The waiting is a little unnerving, but I'm just going to look at each day straight on and make the most of things.  Tell my kids how much I love them and appreciate every moment.

I told my brother Charlie today that it's sort of like driving along a long stretch of highway, looking at the dashboard and noticing that you're way past empty on gas.  You really start to appreciate every telephone pole or fence post you get past before you have to push the damn truck to the gas station.

I just don't know where the next gas station is.

Thanks to everyone for their support today

An introduction to the blog... and the story

I've decided to start this blog to help keep my friends & family updated as to how things are progressing since being diagnosed with MDS/AML Myelodysplastic syndrome/ Acute myelo leukemia. MDS Leads to AML, right now I'm borderline AML and waiting for some test results from my second bone marrow biopsy.

I work for Hans Hazenboom as a finish carpenter and while working in his shop I nicked my finger on the tooth of a saw blade while building some cabinets. No big deal, just flush out any debris, put a band aid on and go back to work.

But this little wound was taking forever to heal and developed a bit of an inflammation/infection. I had also noticed that my legs were getting very bruised up; at the time I had been doing quite a bit of yard work and didn't think too much of it... just banging around in a drainage trench and cutting firewood for the winter. One day I was picking blackberries with my son Louis and got poked by a thorn right in the center of one of the bruises on my calf . I didn't really pay any attention to that until ,while working in my shop, I noticed a
steady trickle of blood down my leg and onto the shop floor.

Very strange, but I've always been one to rationalize what seem to be small things like that. The bruise was full of blood, so that pressure is all that was causing this bleeding. Simple!
A couple of days later at work the finger that was nicked by the saw blade was sore and swollen and towards the end of the day i noticed a red streak forming on the back of my hand.

Uh Oh, blood poisoning, I thought and quit work a little early to have it checked out at The Lady Minto. The doctor gave me a prescription for cellulitis and asked if my lymph glands felt swollen under my arms. I told him no, but noticed a bruise on my wrist and let him know that it seemed like I had been getting a lot of bruises lately. I showed him one of the big purple bruised on my legs and he scheduled me for blood work the next day, telling me to take a couple of days off.
The next day after the blood tests things started to happen very fast. My GP gave me a call in the morning to come and see him after lunch and then called right back to see me as soon as possible. Not good.

He let me know what his suspicions were right away and the word "leukemia" played prominently in the conversation. Within three hours of that conversation I was at the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria getting a bone marrow biopsy. The initial results under a microscope showed some abnormal cells, a very low platelet count, low white blood cells and low hemoglobin. A day later and after more extensive tests I was told I had MDS. An Unlucky disease.

Here's a few photos of me.

when I was 11 or 12 kinda wild and untamed

my first blood transfusion Aug.30 2008

I'm 45, kinda wild and untamed, but with a few unwanted leukemia cells floating around in my bone marrow.