This has been an interesting write for me. The emotions are all still there,very real and very strong. This has been hard, to open them up and lay them there. I always talk about intent,my intent was to write honestly and let it just come so it would be honest. I thought I was doing this so people could see that you can face and get through horrid times and move on to better times. But I see that this was for me too. If you face the ghost ,he can't scare you. If you look at the wound in clear daylight you see what it needs to heal. I didn't even know that the wound was this deep. It still hurts so.

My son was going down hill. He had had several operations all taking away a part of his body. His care was so negectful in the hospital that it had me worried. He was put in palative care. We had made the journey of them denying care,to out patient care where he sat in a chair and had his chemo and came home. One day he talked himself up to go. It was not easy to go get hooked up for tourture and it did ravage his body. We waited over half the day,waited with him getting more and more tense. Mid afternoon they came and told us to go home..that was it. Go home,no reason ,no we're sorry,nothing. So his chemo didn't happen, so what of the schedual  that's so important he be on?  It was their tone..one of total lack of interest. This was so hard on him. To sit all day in a room packed with others hooked up, so ill and reacting so violently to the drugs, but his illness was on public view as they allowed visitors to walk in and out. Inhuman. Totally inhuman. He had the highest doses ever given due to the stages and amount of cancer through him. To throw up in front of others was braking his spirit and this boy had a lot of spirit. He was so allergic to the drugs,something they hadn't dealt with before. He got so ill that it was decided that he be hospitalized for the rounds of chemo. Palative care is a word that to me meant the end. We will warehouse you until you die. Plative care. What care? They wanted to push him off to a nursing home.

Enough. Enough,enough,enough. This boy deserves to live,this boy deserves a chance, he at least deserves some dignity.

We talked with his girlfriend,we launched a ...get him out of this hospital.... get him somewhere were they care if he lives. That week we moved my son to a hospital in Toronto. He underwent weeks of chemo and they took care to control the allergic reactions. He couldn't eat and we'd try to bring in anything we thought he'd eat. Turned out greasy old McDonald fries was something he could take a little of. He wanted to stay in the hospital close to home as he knew the costs were mounting and we found it hard to handle everything. Financial worries shouldn't even enter into this but they did. The reality was that they did.

My son came home and I found myself trying so hard to take care of him. Our dog never left his side. That dear animal was keeping guard the best he could. Watching all the nurses,watching all the meds,watching all needles. He stood over this boy he loved and never was far,always circling back to his spot beside him.

My son worked at a factory and tried to keep up his university until he couldn't . He never complained, he never yelled or screamed or did anything other than remain calm and quiet. I was raging inside,at every down turn at every loss cause there really wasn't any good news for three years. He tried to live his life and continue when he was strong enough but as the chemo continued he lost his hair and his strength but he never stopped. So after all the drugs and after the move to this hospital they were going to try stem cell regeneration on him. I froze and I could feel from him that he doubted this was the best road for him. He started researching. The plan was to havest his blood and seperate it taking out the cancer cells and return the blood to storage. He was to be treated with mega doses of chemicals killing off all his own blood making capablities. Then from a bone marrow transplant havested from him they would keep him in germ free enviorment for three weeks and slowly reintroduce his own cleaned marrow and blood to him. I was in a state of panic. Sheer horrified panic. Had to keep it to myself but I could think of nothing other than this and everytime i did the panic set in. The months passed and they harvested his blood and everything was set. The day before this was to start my son went down several floors in the hospital and walked into a surgeons office. The Doctor was on his way out,on holidays. My son explained his case and asked this Doctor what he thought. He sat down and talked to my boy...the reasearch was about to pay off!

Because my son was over the age of majority I had no rights to information. This was hard as my son didn't want to talk about anything to do with his health. Boy it was hard not knowing what was going on! It was also very hard when he was living at university,I so wanted him home,under my wing. But that's not what he wanted and he needed to be independent. He was home a lot in home care and I felt calmer knowing that I kept up on everything and I doubted that he did. So we went into this operation the two of them devised without understanding it all.

The surgeon had done one operation similar to this one. The day that the stem cell treatment was to start my son went in for his operation. I had gone with him to talk to the anesthetist. The Doc looked and relooked at his charts. This can't be right??? He looked at my son. A slow grin came over his face and he said to the doc ...well no one ever accused me of doing things the easy way. The doc listed off the cancers that had invaded my boys body and looked at him in amazement. Yup,he grinned again, that's me! They launched into scienfic names and chatted and the doc talked to and treated my son as an equal. It was interesting to see the ease between them,I didn't understand what they talked about,just caught the odd word that I'd heard before.  They went into his office and I waited outside thinking of what the past three years had been. They emerged laughing and still talking and he took my hand and told me ...quite the boy you have there. I nodded the tears spilling down. I think we need him on our team,think about joining us. My son laughed deeply and said he'd think about it. He wished us the best for the morning.

 We arrived at the hospital early in the summer morning and there started the longest day of my life and of the family's. In this operation they would basically open my son up,spilt his chest and disassemble him. His lungs were deflated and lifted out,the same with all other organs. The masses were removed from his lungs,his heart,arota,kidneys,liver, all through him. These huge masses that didn't respond to chemo or will power that were sucking the life out of him were cut out. They misjudged and had to attack more aggresively than planned so the pain control was useless for him. The 9 hour mark passed. Surgery was taking longer than they had figured. At 10 hours one of the surgeons came and talked to us. I remember teams of surgeons,and still alive. At 11 hours I was tense, not breathing wondering at 12 the same.  I got up and walked out of the room. It had been 13 hours and I felt numb. I hadn't left the room but I walked to the evelator.  The doors opened and there was my son. His eyes were opened and that was the most beautiful sight. He was cut from his neck to below his belly and tubes and equipment was all over him. His eyes were registering the horrific pain he was in but his eyes were open. He was in intensive care for one week,touch and go. The operation had had to go further than what they figured so he didn't have pain medication as the stint was set to low in his back. It must have been horrid,so horrible. The first day out of intensive care we made the trip in to see him in his new room....damn!!!! There he was sitting on the end of the bed, with his backpack ready,dressed...telling us he was coming home. Talk about panic. We arranged for his girlfriend to bring him home that evening as her Mom is a nurse. So there he was,tubes stints drainage and I'm to take care for him. Panic!  I did,don't know how but I did.

I've left out a lot like when the first hospital made him put on his own shoes after abdominal surgery before I got there to bring him home and he opened up at home and we had to rush him back,or a lot of the things that was done by the hospital,I touched on some. People going through this need care. Good care in order to survive. The family needs care too. I was told that a lot in my sons condition are left,just left by themselves by families that can't cope. My son survived because he chose to. His spirit found the way and sought the right help for him. We fought for him and he stayed strong. I don't know how he stayed so strong. I hope this ,besides being something I wanted dearly to share, helps some one see that you can get through horrid times and come out better. My son went to the Artic the next year to swim under the ice to collect samples for his work. He got bit by a moray eel of the coast of Australia the next year and has a wonderful scar to tell the tale with!!! His scar is starting to lessen down his chest but it's a scar of honour. I so honour this boy and his spirit and his being and I am forever grateful I got that dance with him at his wedding. He danced with me to What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong, he said...Mom I thought you'd love this best.