IT'S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL

The day before every chemo treatment demands the requisite blood work done at North York General. This morning, as I awaited my turn in the busy outpatient clinic, a middle aged woman in a kerchief took a seat beside me. She remembered me and re-introduced herself as the woman I had sat across from during my first round of chemo. Tomorrow would be her last chemotherapy session for breast cancer and her relief at being finished with this challenging regime was palpable. Like me, she was on an expensive white blood cell count booster and like me, she struggled with the side effects of prednisone. It was great to meet someone coming to the successful end of her cancer treatment. She related that her two sons, aged 18 and 10, were extremely proud of mom.

After my blood test, I had a special visit to make with patient on the eight floor of the hospital, in the same ward I called home for five days back in June when I was first diagnosed with lymphoma. What a coincidence! A special friend and colleague from Brebeuf College, Brother Henry, was there having some testing done to see why he had recently lost some weight. Although well into his seventies, Brother assumes the unofficial title of chaplain at Brebeuf. For the past twenty five years, this stalwart of the Presentation Brothers has helped plan school liturgies and retreats as well as leading morning prayers. In addition, he heads up a group of students called the donnés who provide friendly visits to nursing homes in North York. Although he no longer has responsibilities in the classroom, Brother’s selfless example teaches both Staff and students at the school about dedication and compassion.

When Brother Henry heard of my setback in July, he was one of the first people to offer his support in the form of prayers and cards. In fact, he sent me a special relic from Blessed Edmund Rice, the founder of the Presentation Brothers. It was only fitting that when I visited him, I came with a medal from the Canadian Martyrs, my power source. We shared a few stories and compared notes about life on the eight floor. We both agreed that the nurses were terrific, the meals good and the sleeping conditions poor. Dalton, we need ear plugs. As I left, Brother offered me some peaches to take home. I gratefully accepted them remembering that the last time I left this ward, I seemed to be carrying a basket of lemons.

As luck would have it, as I was about to step into the elevator, I ran into Dr.Gunther, the doctor who had made my original diagnosis. He seemed genuinely happy to see me and was pleased that I looked well. I told him briefly about my cancer journey and assured him that I was using my plight to serve a greater good. He shook my hand and then resumed his rounds, walking a little taller than moments before.