If you would like to keep up with news of Barry's time in the hospital, please visit my blog,
http://livingintheeasternwoodlands.blogspot.com/
I am Barry's wife Linda and I will be posting news every day. Thank you.
About every five minutes as I type this, I'm stopped by a harsh, gasping cough as my lungs rebel against the constraints of the fluid that surrounds them. The same cough that has kept me awake nights for weeks now. The same cough that kept me awake until well after midnight last night until exhaustion finally overcame me and I drifted into a fitful sleep.
At 10:30 this Happy Father's Day, my daughter Kathy will arrive to take me on the long drive down deep into the City where I will be admitted to the Toronto General Hospital for best part of the week to have the fluid finally and completely drained from the pleura surrounding both lungs and to seal the pockets of the pleura to prevent this ever happening again.
I will be taking my laptop with me, but have already decided not to do any posts this week, even if the hospital has internet access. So don't expect any updates on this blog until at least next weekend. If anything really interesting happens, Linda will be sure to let you know.
In the meantime, I have some packing to do and a flood of pills to take.
Let me wish all the father's out there a Happy Father's Day.
As for me, like the President of BP once famously said, I'm looking forward to getting my life back. And hope this week will do the trick.
I put together this brief tribute to my father, William Fraser (1902--1987), several years ago. Given the proximity to Father's Day it seemed a reasonable post for this week's Sepia Saturday.
Also a sneaky way to get in lot of photos without over burdening blogger, or myself. The video is just over a minute in length.
"Bye, Bye Black Bird" was his favourite song.
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Linda stirs beside me in the bed and takes a peek at the clock. I snuggle up behind her and put my arms around her.
"It's the big day," I whisper.
"So it is," she agrees sleepily.
Today the staff at her school, where Linda has worked for 25 years, are celebrating her career. Former Principals will be there, family, former students, Board trustees and many, many others will be out to wish her well.
Linda has been instrumental in Berner Trail Public School winning the gold standard as an eco school, has lead the school choir for a generation (and even sang the anthems at a Blue Jays game). As a teacher and an artist and an environmentalist, Linda has left her mark on her profession and her school.
But, for the moment, Linda isn't anxious for the day to begin. It is comfortable just resting here in the early morning light.
Her brother Steve and I will take a taxi to the Party, since, between numbed feet, drugs and constricted lungs, I no longer trust myself to drive.
Linda was up late last night putting the finishing touches to a scrapbook she has been compiling of her career. Letters of commendation from the Board, photos of folk dancing groups she's led, the safety patrol she managed, the wilderness trips she supervised, photos of former teachers and friends.
So many memories.
But now Lindsay comes wiggle wagging her way into the room with a "come on guys its after getting up time and I need to go out" look on her face.
And Linda stirs, throws back the covers and her day begins.
Lindsay hears it long before we do. She comes running out of the back office in full defensive mode, the hair standing up on the back of her neck, and rushes to the front window.
Linda and I exchange "what's got into the dog?" glances. And then I hear it too.
A very deep and distant "thup, thup" sound approaching rapidly from the East. Suddenly there is a vibration in the house and everything that's loose seems to be rattling.
Lindsay starts to bark ferociously.
And a large military helicopter sweeps quickly by over head destined for the distant towers of the downtown core where the G20 Summat preparations are in full swing. Defending the leaders of the world's most powerful nations on their two day visit to Toronto will cost tax payers over a Billion Dollars. More, even, than the recent Olympics held in Vancouver.
"Who's here?" asks Linda, noticing a car pulled into our driveway.
I've spent the last few days in a state of exhaustion punctuated by the return of a rattling cough that disturbs my sleep and irritates my days. The relief I'd been experiencing from the medications prescribed by the psychosocial oncologist, only mildly moderating the experience now exacerbated by the side effects of chemo.
My chair is closest to the window. "Looks like Wally and Ruth," I tell her.
Wally climbs out of the car and watches the massive helicopter receding into the distance. Wally and Ruth are my daughter Kathy's in-laws.
Linda goes to the door to greet them and I can hear laughter in the distance. The two women are talking and I can clearly hear Linda saying, "Oh now look, you have me in tears!"
I become concerned.
But there is more talk and more laughter before their car pulls back out of the driveway and Linda returns carrying a small blue box. Her eyes are wet with tears and happiness.
"They brought us muffins," Linda tells me. "Ruth was thinking about us and baked us some muffins."
And I marvel at this woman beside me who has been holding back the very Forces of the Universe to care for me, profoundly moved by a simple act of thoughtful kindness.
Wally and Ruth, two more good people in my debt.
As an Explorer I was always on the go. However, in my English Pram in 1945 I had to wait for Mommy Power to get me moving.
At that age all I could do was dream of being a train engineer.
By the time we had moved to Canada in 1946, I had discovered a love for dogs and was inspired by their freedom to move.
I thought about becoming a farmer and working with massive farm machinery.
I wondered if by being nice to girls they would take me for a ride. And many did. Just not always in ways I had imagined.
Of course I could always rely on my dad and dream of being a fireman.
Or I could just strike out on my own and see what adventure the world had to offer.
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