ENGINEERING HOPE

Snow flakes greeted our arrival in Ottawa last Thursday. Visiting Janice, Kevin and nineteen month old Isla is always a wonderful escape. How can you beat spending time chasing squirrels with your granddaughter while eating beer infused bagels?

The white stuff wasn't the only surprise as we pulled into their driveway. Down the street came an elderly man propelling his wheelchair with some difficulty. It was Ken, our daughter's next door neighbor. I knew he had recently finished a month of radiation for a brain tumour and was astonished to see him outside braving the elements.

"Hi Ken, great to see you," I said as I got out of the car. "So nice of you to come out and meet us like this."

He barely smiled at my feeble attempt at humour. He looked tired.

"My first outing in two weeks," he replied. "What a coincidence."

A retired electrical engineering professor from Carlton, Ken doesn't have my new found understanding of chance meetings.

"Too cold to talk. Let's do some catching up tomorrow morning," I offered in a friendly tone.

"How about coffee at 11?" he answered.

Ken has been in a wheelchair for the past twelve years as a result of a fall from his rooftop. He continued to teach despite his disability until last year, at the age of 75, when he decided to call it a career. Now he's dealing with cancer, stage four neuroblastoma, an insidious spider like growth in his left frontal lobe.

As his wife Norma poured coffee, Ken started to talk about his newest challenge.

"My sister, mother and grandfather all died from brain tumours. I guess it's my turn to have this thing," he explained somberly. "As you know, I had a seizure on May 28 that started everything but I didn’t begin radiation until September. In all, I’ve had twenty two treatments. Burned my scalp a bit but that’s a small price to pay if it helps. I’m having an MRI in early November to see how things are going.”

He was eager to share his story and apologized if his train of thought was derailed occasionally.

“I really couldn’t lecture any more. My memory’s not what it used to be since the treatments began.”

He continued, "My research tells me that the survival rate after three years from stage four neuroblastoma is 13%."

He seemed remarkably composed for a man who was holding a pair of twos against a cancer full house.

“But Mike, I’ve got a plan to fight this thing," he said, his eyes widening.

This seemed only natural coming from a man who designed and help build the elevator he uses to get about his three storey house.

"I'm using ketosis to try to stop the spread of my tumor. I’m on the Atkins diet."

For the next half hour, Ken talked about mitochondria, cell voltage imbalances, blood brain barriers and the health issues of Arctic explorers. It was a fascinating talk and I struggled to keep up, not because it was disjointed, but rather because neurobiology is as foreign to me as salsa dancing.

"Basically, tumours need carbs to grow” he explained in an attempt to recap the whistles stops through his research. “That’s what scientists at Boston University have found in experiments with rats."

Ken reads journals the way I read the Toronto Star.

"When you deprive yourself of sugar, your body uses proteins for fuel rather than carbs and essentially, you starve the tumours into submission. So I’m eating lots of bacon and eggs, red meat and fish these days.”

His wife is worried that his loss of energy can be attributed to the side effects of this type of diet.

Only time will tell whether he has engineered a way to arrest his tumour. I admire his resolve to fight his cancer and offered him as much encouragement as I could.

“You know Mike, just seeing you looking so healthy is the best medicine I’ve had in days.”

“I’ve learned so much this morning Ken. I hope you know that you’re on our prayer list,” I said as I rose to leave.

“What’s a prayer list?” he queried.

“Well, Terry and I have a list of people with cancer that we pray for on a regular basis. We once had eight on the list but three of those people are now in remission or are cured.”

“Maybe you’re on to something. That’s almost a 40% success rate,” he replied with a big grin, the first time I’d seen him smile all morning.

As I reflect on my conversation with Ken, I marvel at his determination and fearlessness and realize that he's one of a host of amazing people I’ve met in the last year.

No, I’m not going to try an Atkins diet anytime soon.

I guess I love my beer infused bagels just a bit too much for that.