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.