Desperately Seeking Hope

This is not an easy post to write and I am sure equally difficult to read. Please realize it requires no comment, no reply...it is what it is...my reality.

On top of my own surgery, and subsequent infection, the day I got home from the hospital post surgery, they called from Toronto to tell me my mother was just diagnosed with Uterine Cancer. Naturally I joked that it was a good thing she wasn't planning to have any more children...but inside I couldn't help but feel that as QE II said this was most definitely the Pelc Family " Annus Horribilus"!

A bad joke, that wasn't the least bit funny.

Throughout it all I was distanced, remote, I could easily see myself housebound. The slippery slope between healthy mental state and depression, neurosis, anxiety, was a fine line that I was crossing, as if on a tightrope perilously crossing a huge abyss.

Through it all I couldn't put my finger on the true source of my depression, yes a lot of shit has been coming my way, but that wasn't it....

I was finally able to verbalize the feeling about 3 weeks ago...I had lost my connection with hope. Throughout the last 6.5 years I have always managed to be hopeful...but it was gone. In fact those who have known me my whole life, would probably agree that my hope and determination are pretty much traits that defined me. The empty void was replaced by a profound ache, so profound that I wondered if I could go on living like this. Something so vital to my existence, to my personality, to who I am was gone.

Thankfully I am lucky enough to be in therapy, and through our conversations the options became clear...either I had to make peace with the New Sam...or I had to fight to rebuild my hope. I knew that the first option was not truly an option, I couldn't make this ache, this void a part of my life..this was not living. So that left us with Option 2...rebuilding hope, trying to find a way out of the darkness. Lana (my therapist) used the image of stringing pearls...telling me to string 1 image at a time...to find the patience to fill the necklace pearl by pearl, focussing on the pearls on the strand and not on the empty space still waiting to be filled.

I decided to use her image to make a real bracelet of beads that I found that represent Strength and Energy. Each night I sit here at home adding a bead for each hopeful image or thought I've had during the day. Let me tell you it ain't easy. Some days I struggle to find 1 image or affirmation that I have had to leave me hopeful. Some days I can add a bead or 2, smiling at the thoughts that bring me here, evidence of hope.

So where am I you wonder...about 1/2 way there, much further than I imagined 3 weeks ago, but still working my way towards the end. Today I reached the middle and I am finally able to share this post. What put me over the middle...a crabapple tree we have in the front yard.

For four years it has never produced the vibrant red fruit for which we bought it....and this year with all the sorrow and uncertainty...this tree on which we had given up hope is full of little red apples that shortly will be a vibrant red and a sign of life.

I'm sorry apple tree for every doubting you, for giving up on you, now I'm working my way to finding the same forgiveness for myself...

I am Pro Choice and also Pro Life ! There I have said it. Oh, don't worry not in the way you think. I may be a walking contradiction on many levels but no, this is no contradiction.

I realized this week that you need to choose to live. Not just breathe air, but really, really live.

After another minor bump in the road, I ended up back in the hospital for yet another sojourn.

As I sat in emergency for 7 hours before being seen, and then another 5 hours until they proceeded with treatment, I couldn't help feel an immense longing for the time being wasted.

I know we all use the expression " A waste of time" but truthfully is there anything in the world that should make us angrier...anything or anybody wasting our precious time.

Ultimately I realized that Time is finite...yet so easily wasted...so easily taken for granted.

How much time have we wasted, being bored, being angry...being, but not enjoying.

As I ended up on 9 Surgical ( yet again) I commented to the staff how sad it was that some patients, in the room next to me, were still in the hospital. After all I had already been home for 6 weeks.

" How long has she been here I asked?" Quietly the orderly help up 2 fingers. " Wow I said 2 months?"...." No" she said "2 years". TWO YEARS !!!!

I think my gulp was audible all the way to Toronto.

I actually became anxious. It wasn't the 2 years of hospitalization, it was the immense waste of precious time.

Recently someone very close to me was also diagnosed with cancer, yes when it rains it pours. Never a chipper person at the best of times, she has fallen into a depression and refuses to seek help. She hasn't come to the realization yet that you need to Choose Life...Choose to Live.

So really we should all be Pro Choice and Pro Life.

Pro Choosing to Live life every moment we can.

I don't want to die yet, don't get me wrong it's not the dying, it's the idea of NOT living that scares the hell out of me. Not laughing, Not smiling, Not Hugging someone you love, Not waking up each morning and doing something you love. Not, not wasting time!

Will there be sad times, yes, but even then we live by leaning on those we love, holding someone tight and crying on a shoulder of a friend.

Think of all the moments of your life that have been wasted and join me in choosing to live....

This morning I'm making Challah French Toast..ahhhhhh...let the living begin!!!!!!

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
Carl Sandburg

Self Esteem

It's remarkable how much of our self esteem is tied into body image. Duh, you say. Well today's views of body image weren't really a part of our growing up. When we were in high school, way back then, I don't think any of the girls ( I am sure I will be corrected) aimed to be a size ZERO and none of the guys worried about a Six Pack. Hell the only six pack we knew was the way soft drinks came ( no self respecting Canadian ever bought a six pack of beer, even if you were Jewish you knew to order a 2-4).

We were able to buy our self esteem, it required having the coolest, latest fad items.

Please let me take you down memory lane.. The Right Clogs, Sport Root, Painter Pants, Pukka Shells, Kodiaks, Denim Overalls, Camaros...I must have forgotten a few...feel free to add on...oh yeah my all time nemesis...Frye Boots.

I laugh because I was far from athletic. In fact I got caught doubling back with Hartzman smoking on a 12 minute run, but somehow I had these huge calves. These same calves which today are my pride and joy were so big even then that I couldn't wear Frye Boots...they would bunch around my ankles. You see, now I get stopped in the street about my calves.

In my lowest point wandering aimlessly down the corridor of the Royal Vic last month, hooked into I have no idea how many life sustaining apparatus, an orderly came over to comment " Hey man, nice calves, do you do a special exercise for them?" Someone even thought I had implants.

Hmmm...that's it my calves are the saving grace of my physical self esteem. You see I need to hold on to or find something to be self redeeming.

Over the last 6 years, although I have joked about it, the scars that crisscross my body have come with a heavy emotional price. I have tried to view each with pride as a memory of a noble fight, fought and won, but the truth is that it is not that simple. The doctors call them Red and Angry...how prophetic....if they only knew.

I remember conversations with Carmen and issues with Mastectomy and body image...back then I didn't get it. I didn't get the heavy emotional cost of having no choice but to agree to surgical mutilation ( sorry for the word...but ultimately it is what we agree to), but I do now.

5 surgeries later my body is not a canvas I recognize. So I struggle with body image issues. I wonder if I will ever take my shirt off in public again....will I scare small children on the beach?

Oh how I wish it was 1975 all over again...I would just buy those clogs, painter pants and even the pukka shells if it would make it all okay. If I could only buy back my self esteem...oh wait I almost forgot...I still have my calves...maybe things will workout after all.

A Fine Line

3 weeks and 1 day post surgery. My energy level is nowhere close to what it has been after the past surgeries. Thank you to all who so kindly have reminded me that now that I'm over 50 I can't expect to bounce back the same way...( Hallmark called they won't be needing your services).

Originally I had hoped to be back to work this week, at least part time, but that was clearly not going to happen. So next week it is ....or so I hope.

I also realized that apart from the physical healing, I had pretty much fallen in to a depression over the last few months. I don't mean profound sadness, cheesecake or hot bagels can pretty much cure that, I mean the kind of funk that baked goods won't cure.

I know you're thinking " Well after what you've been through, of course you're depressed", but somehow knowing your entitled to it, doesn't make it any better. Trying to plough your way through this fog is about as exhausting as trying to keep up with Lance Armstrong, okay not even close.... Lance was more exhausting.

That's it...this morning I smiled...Lance was more exhausting and I lived through that...I can live through this. So I made a plan to try to join the living, and this time it doesn't involve lycra.

I took a shower...and cut my toenails. Big deal you say.... Happy Feet...Happy Soul.

I wanted to rejoice in the mundane and so cart in hand I went to Loblaws and even did my own checkout....alone.

Lastly I needed to rejuvenate in the splendour of spring so I decided to make an outing to Jasmin, the best garden centre in all of Montreal. There is something very therapeutic in wandering down those aisles encircled by the beauty of nature in it's thousand hues of green.

Embraced by the welcome scent of lilac and roses, the watercolours of Hydrangea and the gurgling fountains, encouraging me to sit down, relax and refocus on the rebirth associated with the season. It certainly helped that my breakthrough omen Tracy was the first person I saw when we arrived at Jasmin ( to understand more you need to read the old posts about the ride).

I don't want to trivialize the despair associated with depression. I wish it was as easy as picking yourself up and brushing yourself off, it's not. I know I need help and have reached out to find the help I need. I know it's not over, but I also know that I will get through this.

Some of us are good at being chameleon's in the face of adversity, showing a brave outer face as we crumble inside.....some can't find the light... and some are overwhelmed by the despair.

Baby steps...Baby steps....walk before you run.....and then dance, and dance and dance!!!

Happy Feet....Happy Soul.

The Ride's Not Over

I have made the decision to keep this blog up and writing...because the truth is for me the Yellow Jersey is a metaphor of crossing the finish line. Not sure if it mean the finish line of life or any project we have, but truly it is about giving your all in the meantime. The last year has been another rollercoaster.

Somewhere along the way I made a decision to try to figure out how to live with cancer, as opposed to living my life waiting to die from cancer. The distinction is huge and really it was about trying to find a way to have cancer come 2nd.

That included a decision to monitor a 1.8 cm growth and continue with my plan to celebrate my 50th in Antarctica. Doctors reassured me that I was not putting my life in jeopardy and for once, I could live and have the cancer wait. Huge relief...I was getting the upper hand for a change....or so I thought.

My return in February showed that the tumour was now 2.4 cms through MRI and so the process began to figure out what it was and proceed with the necessary arrangements for removal. The tumour this time was firmly planted on my pancreas....but it was not pancreatic cancer. The doctor was quick to make the distinction as it seems that the pancreatic cancer diagnosis sends a chill up everyone's back and leads to deafening silence.

I was truly up for the challenge until out of the blue the new surgeon recommended a brain scan to make sure that the cancer had not spread any further.

Although I was ready for the battle at hand I had in no way anticipated that the rules would somehow change without prior notice. I know it sounds crazy, as if cancer plays by some standardized rules, but where the hell did the brain come from? How did it become an issue all of a sudden?

I couldn't take any more surprises so I requested a full body scan to make sure that another tumour wasn't lurking somewhere only to be detected in 3 months.

The ULTIMATE good news bad news scenario. The CT Scan found nothing else except the existing tumour we were working on...YAY....BUT somehow in this imaging it wasn't 2.4 cms anymore it was 4.6 and growing rapidly....WTF.

My head was spinning, yet again it was if cancer was laughing in my face. Just when I thought I had found a way to live with it, reality came home. In the interim we lost Bev to lung cancer.

Bev Levitt was a ray of sunshine. She was diagnosed with lung cancer precisely at the same time as my last kidney surgery which was November 2008. I completely didn't see her death coming. I wanted her to survive so badly....no lets be honest...I needed her to survive. I wanted the pact we made with Terry last July, to outlive the cancer , to be unbreakable.

Even then we knew it was back but Bev looked strong and with Mark at her side we all seemed invincible (cancer laughs again).

Bev's unveiling was on May 9th, Mother's Day, and 2 days later they wheeled me in for my surgery. My emotions were raw...the 5th surgery in 6 years. You know you are in the hospital too often when you end up with the same nurse from 1.5 years ago and they remember you , and it only makes it worse that I was in a completely different hospital. Will this be my road to infamy? Jim not only remembered me but the details of my previous surgery....Oy Vey....We have to find a different way to meet.

The rest is mechanics and I am home recovering very nicely....never as quickly as we would like but surrounded with love and good friends.

This latest round brings me back to the fight for a proper Psycho Social Oncology program at the MUHC. I realize that this battle needs to be waged and I am not prepared to give up. To those who are ready to join me in this battle your help and support are more than welcome. Knitting needles in hand I start to create the safety net to which I believe every cancer patient and their family is entitled. So bring your needles and join me....my next posting will be about the vision for the future. Like I said for me the Ride's not Over.

Views from the top of the Hill

After 4 months of training, spilling my sweat on the roads, and my guts on the blog, the weekend went by in a flash. Emotional high, somewhat exhausted and yet replenished...odd how that works.

You couldn't have asked for better weather. Earlier in the week they called for rain so naturally I went out and bought rain gear...a sure sign that it wouldn't. Fern and I rode up talking about the recent months, and I actually got him to agree to pursuing riding next year on a moderate level.

We checked into the Westin to begin this last leg of the adventure.

Cocktails at Quintessence allowed us the opportunity to finally meet the other riders, to exchange hugs, smiles and stories. I also connected with my posse, the "Less than Elite" Riding Group.Luisa, Catherine and I became a formidable block of average riders committed to the max. Catherine is Sarah Cook's aunt and was back for her 2nd year of riding. Sarah was recently diagnosed with a recurrence of her cancer at the young age of 17. Our thoughts are with her and Catherine's persistence at this difficult time was heartwarming. The true devotion of an aunt.

Fern and I attended the dinner and thanks to all of my team we were among the top 5 fundraisers, which placed us at the table with Lance. As I have mentioned before I am more of the Livestrong Lance fan than as a cycling phenom. I truly do appreciate his decision to walk through the public door with his cancer and to undertake this huge global vision for the disease. We are often encouraged to think outside the box but he has collected a huge array of creative thinkers around him that have a vision for cancer that is truly inspiring.

Lets just say my pre-ride sleep was not completely relaxed. The little man in the my brain kept running back and forth screaming.." It's not too late"..."Don't do it"..."What were you thinking".

Relax I told myself, you've got Luisa and Catherine...life is good.

The morning of the ride went quickly with Media interviews ( all in French) and the pre ride tension. More hugs all around, the presentation of the Yellow Jersey - Dr. David Fleiszer who raised $82,000 and we were off.

There was an amazing surge of energy when we took off and when I realized that we were riding at 33kms/hr. Hmmmm...not sure I can keep this up. Do your best...just do your best.

Lets just say, that the region is hilly and Lance rides quickly....okay downright fast. For someone who trained at 27 kms/hr realizing that the peloton was at 40k/hr was initially overwhelming. Finding comfort in my posse we soldiered on at our own rhythm in our own way. It was great to see the people on the sides of the road waving us on and ringing the cowbells to encourage our efforts.

We broke once at 50kms for a group picture and the peloton continued on the return. Arriving in Huberdeau we were welcomed by a large group of people and it was great to see Fern and Marlene on the sidelines cheering me on. The home stretch seems to go quicker since you are counting down towards the end...pedalling faster to get back.

Let's just say I wasn't at the front of the peloton. Luisa and I made our own way back probably 30 minutes behind the leaders, happy, and relieved to have completed the journey.

With a little bit of hindsight here is what I realize:

1. I am not a speed freak..I am just as happy cycling at 27 kms/hr as I was at 34kms/hr..maybe even more.

2. Everyone has a story...we need to listen

3. Cancer needs to be a global concern..Lance has it right.

4. Terry Diab gives great hugs and is a champion in all ways

5. Caroline Rhea is a mensch and funnier than you can imagine.

6. The feeling comes back eventually but it can take up to 48 hours.

7. There are flat parts to Quebec and you can ride there too.

8. Bad/Sad things are going to happen without any effort on our part...It is up to us to create Joyful moments...they don't seem to happen spontaneously..you have to make them happen.

9. Now that I've cycled with the best...time to look onto a new challenge...hmmmm maybe Swimming with Michael Phelps...I think I can beat him.

10. You can never say Thank You enough. I could never have undertaken this insanity without your support. From Andrea shopping the bike, Marlene and Sandy taking me on training rides, my lunches with Simon, Fern telling me I could, the countless emails and words of support from you, my friends and family, each and every step has been as part of a team. Thank You, Thank You, Thank You...

Stay tuned the blog will continue as we prepare for 10*10*10....in the meantime I better go get a Speedo...Michael are you listening?????

Thank You..you made it happen.

The Letter

To my indefatigable foe,

I know that most letters begin with Dear, but you can understand that in this circumstance I truly don't share those feelings. For nearly 6 years you have played much too large a role in my life. Yes the first surgery scared the hell out of me, but after that I was confident that the worst was behind me. You truly sent me reeling when you reared your ugly head only 9 months later. That was truly the turning point, nothing is more chilling than hearing the word metastasism.

Somehow over the years I learned to live and even more joke about my increasingly scarred body.

I learned to endure the looks of despair and pain in the eyes of my parents, family and friends, and together we found comfort in our tears. Thanks to you I joined a community of amazing people soldiering through diverse yet similar experiences, and formed bonds of friendship and camaraderie.

In the last few months I realized that despite my seeming optimism you did manage to shake my resolve. You made me question my future, my ability to dream, to make plans.

Will I celebrate 50? Can we even discuss retirement? Will I dance at Edan's wedding, Lenore's, Sivan's? Do I still have the courage, the guts to undertake another challenge?

Last May with the scars still fresh and the pain too real a rumour surfaced in town that you had won. Yes, through the grapevine, I heard that it was said that I wouldn't ride this year because my health was failing....things weren't going well.

How dare you. No one will say it's over until I say it's over, and so I rode.

Tentatively at first but with increasing strength. I rode alone because I needed the time to think, to cry and breathe the air of life, but I was never really alone. With me were all my family and friends. They powered my soul and my legs, yes those very tired almost 50 year old legs. The hills and the challenge of Tremblant await. On Friday I will ride in a peloton focused not only on the ride or the task at hand, but with your ultimate defeat.

I don't know what the future holds, but neither do you. What I do know is that Lance was right, It's not about the bike. It's about the road we take and our experiences on the ride.

It may be bumpy but this boy is strapped in and ready to go.

On your mark, get set...see you at the finish line.

Sam

The Golden Rule

There's a book that I remember that said that everything we need to know in life we actually learn in kindergarten.

1. Don't Hit

2. Don't Lie

3. If your feeling cranky and irritable, remove yourself from everyone else till the mood passes

4. DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD HAVE OTHERS DO UNTO YOU...

Okay maybe that wasn't kindergarten, it may even be religious, but isn't it the truest thing around? The principle of empathy, do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

In recent weeks I have had to balance the public good and my inner core beliefs, and happily its my core that won out. Some things are non negotiable.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, it was as if one of my legs had been knocked out from under me. Yes I was standing, but boy was I wobbly. I could have fallen over at any moment. That is the way it has been for close to 6 years, over and over again. Each time when things got tough my family, Fern and my friends were by my side. During the interminable interval between scans and results, when I am far from being my best, Fern and my friends have been at my side.

When I needed to fly to Sloan Kettering for consultation, Fern and my cousins Rose & Arthur were by my side. Without hesitation, without question, you have been at my side the whole way. You have always been the other leg to stand on.

Now as I enter the final week before the ride, I realize that somehow the focus has become about me and my achievement, and frankly I am not comfortable with this. Standing again on 1 leg alone, and way to wobbly. So let me reiterate in the clearest terms possible. My participation in this ride is thanks to you. You my supporters my donors, my friends, my family and particularly Fern are the sole reason I have found the courage to undertake this mission.

Together we have achieved the financial goal and from you I have found the inner drive to train and ride in some difficult moments.

I look forward to next week and having Fern at my side, where he has been for 17 years, 6 of them in this hellish cancer battle. Riding with Lance, but partying with Fern- the way I would have it done unto me.

THANK YOU EVERYONE...WE HAVE ACHIEVED OUR FINANCIAL GOAL, NEXT WEEK I PEDAL FOR ALL OF US - STURDY WITH BOTH LEGS.

The Survival Gene

I now know where I come from.

I wonder if it's because I never asked, never listened, or because my parents never talked about it. I really knew so little about my parents early lives. Although I knew that they were spared most of the atrocities of WWII, the reality of their lives had somehow escaped me.

Our trip to Israel allowed me the chance to watch, to listen and to learn...and now I understand.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, my father's reaction was far from predictable. Yes he was sad, yes he was frightened, but more than anything else he was angry. I know he was angry at the cancer, but he would yell at me on the phone. It actually got so bad that I had resolved not to speak to him anymore as I found it too painful. My father wanted me to fight, to survive, to commit every living moment towards this battle. He was terrified that I would be complacent, that I would allow someone else to control my destiny. My words fell upon deaf ears, nothing I could say would change his feelings. Now I know why.

They never had the luxury of complacency. They never had the luxury of trusting their lives to someone else. As I listened to my parents surrounded by their friends in Haifa, it dawned on me that apart the obvious we had something else in common, a story of survival.

They made and remade their lives 4 times; as children, young adults, newlyweds and finally with us as a young family. Each time the challenge was confronted with the certitude that they would succeed if they committed all their energy to the task at hand.

"Commit all your energy to the task a hand." That is what my father kept telling me on the phone. " Do whatever you can, do everything you can".

Over the last 5 1/2 years many people have commented on my attitude and the way I have confronted the cancer. I really didn't know any other way. Some people have asked me about the logic of undertaking this ride. I really don't know any other way.

I guess that it's true when they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Thanks Abba, Thanks Ima for giving me the survival gene.

2 Weeks left and I promise to commit all my energy to the task at hand.

10 * 10 *10 - A NEW PROJECT

A wise man said " If not me ...then who, If not now....then when?"

We control not only our destiny but the future of others. Today as 2000 walkers take to the streets of Montreal it seems appropriate to tell you about a project that I have been working on for a few months.

10 * 10 * 10 - The Cedars Cancer Challenge.

I am looking for a team of 30 brave individuals that are looking to challenge themselves both physically and emotionally. Join me on October 10, 2010 as we begin a week long adventure with a 2 day ascent of Mount Kenya. Yes, that's right, Mount Kenya...in Kenya.

This will be followed by a Mountain Bike Descent and then a walk/ride through the Kenyan landscape guided and encouraged by the cheers and songs of the Masai Warriors.

My trip to Africa in 2008 left me a changed person, this challenge will be a life changing moment in your life. We will challenge our physical selves, we will find the harmony in nature and learn about the peace and tranquility of the Masai people.

This is not an adventure without cost. It will require $$$, but more importantly it will require your commitment, your energy and your sweat to reach our financial goal of raising 500,000 as a team. It also involves a commitment to getting yourself fit and ready to challenge your body and your soul.

I have a plan, I have ideas, and now it is time to find the team. To find the 30 people who will work together for 1 year to attain our financial goal and the physical goal of reaching the summit of Mount Kenya and crossing the finish line with our Masai friends.

If not me then who??? I not now then when??? - Time is fleeting. for years I have believed in he simplicity of the Field of Dreams.." Build it and they will come". Together we built Ca Marche, we built Au Coeur de la Mode, we built Heroes Night.....now we build

" The Cedars Cancer Challenge". We will need a big team to realize this dream.

I look forward to giving you more details as the time comes...but let me know if you are interested .....LET THE CHALLENGE BEGIN.

The ride with Lance is in 3 weeks. As you can see I have already begun to look to the future.

Setting new challenges, new objectives. Thank you to all who have contributed to the Tour de Lance. I am still in training and will be pushing hard to make you proud...Thank You.

Unfinished Business

We are closing into the home stretch. Three weeks until the big day. Three weeks until we ride with Lance Armstrong, but more importantly three weeks until we raise the money we need for Cedars and the cause.

It nags on me to have unfinished business. My father always had this long list of things that he needed to do, things that were unfinished and I have always wondered how me managed not to be panicked by its neverending length. I like things to get done and then move on...new projects new ideas.

As you may remember a flat tire left me with my own unfinished business. So my first ride after the holidays needed to settle the score. I left the house headed out west along the Lachine Canal, out to St. Charles, up to Gouin and then along the beautiful area of Ste Genevieve, Senneville, Ste Anne De Bellevue, and then home along the river. 72kms with a break at km 48. It is a wonderful ride and then came home, got dressed and went to work. I was thrilled to have accomplished the ride, but truthfully I was happy to deal with the unfinished business.

Unfortunately, having cancer is a constant state of unfinished business.

I have always promised to tell the truth in my blog and we all know that sometimes the truth is painful. It is exactly 1 year since 4 letters changed my life. 1 year since I was diagnosed with the last cancerous tissue. While discussing the planned surgery the doctor was happy that the 1mm cancer growth was on the exterior edge of the remaining kidney and said " It's in a great place and we have to remove very little of the kidney which gives us room WHEN it comes back". He didn't say IF he said WHEN. It was not his fault, he was probably being completely honest and truthful, but those 4 letters W H E N have been very heavy on my heart for 1 year.

Emotionally it set me way back. It felt like the door to hope had been slammed in my face. I could no longer live under the lighter cloud of IF, I was now covered in the greyness of WHEN.

This last year has been about dealing with this unfinished business. This ride is about adding 4 more letters to that word and changing WHEN to WHENEVER.

Feeling the strength both emotionally and physically to weather another storm...whenever.

It has not been easy, but thankfully my involvement with Cedars has allowed me to look beyond today, tomorrow or even the next 3 weeks. Looking forward to the creation of a modern comprehensive cancer clinic for men, women and children...ready to help and support them ...WHENEVER.

We still have much to do, more money to raise. I really need your support.

Please make the donation at www.tourdelance.ca click on riders and then make your donation.

Now is the time to tell your friends, your company, your family about the ride...I need all the help I can get. Thank You.

Hindsight

Well it's been 2 months since my adventure started. Two months since I spent way more money than I hand intended and asked you to join me on this latest challenge.

Some things have changed and some things I fear will never change.

1. I actually don't mind the spandex. I still don't get the overly colourful look at me stuff, that usually promote European companies that I don't know. I wonder if it's to give the impression that you actually are part of the Astana Team, but folks if you look at any of those people it is instantly obvious that the closest most of these people have ever been to being part of the Motorola Team is because they talk on one.

2. You get used to falling. Yes you do. You still feel stupid but the fear of falling has quickly dissipated. How many times you ask....4 and really no lasting scars.

3. You need to learn to fix your bike. They don't have roadside assistance (I see a business opportunity). The old days of fixing the tube are way over. Disposible. You travel with a spare tube and a canister of air to give you a quick fill. Okay, the back tire is trickier, and truthfully I haven't really done it, but I have all the stuff just in case!

4. Early morning is not the same for everyone. (That means you Joy)- I like cycling at 6:30 in the morning. It is cool, fewer people and it is quiet. I don't know but to me 11 am is not early.

5. Bugs are protein too. In June the Shad Fly problem along the canal is ridiculous. You need to filter through your teeth in order to continue breathing without inhaling a mouthload of bugs. Protein, they say you need it to restore your muscles.

6.Cyclists talk about cycling. You learn great tricks and you learn great routes that you would never know otherwise. People like to share, it feels like a club or sometimes....a cult.

7. Clip unclip, Clip unclip, Clip unclip...city cycling....I hate it.

8.Hills - It takes practice just like everything else. I firmly believe that I will never like it, okay the truth being told, I hate it, but I keep doing it because I hated piano lessons too and now I regret that I threw in the towel. Incidentally I find it helps alot if you allow your inner voice to swear the whole time.

9.The Big Question: NO CALLOUS. I don't know what it takes, but damn I am sure numbness is not normal. I realize I need to take a break every 40kms to let everyone rearrange and breathe. Assos of Switzerland is good but it actually deadens the nerves and then ....oh forget it don't ask you really don't want to know. But I did figure out the nod. I have noticed on my early morning rides that as you pass other cyclists they give you a small, curt, nod. Oddly I seemed to notice that it was coming from men. At first I thought it was to say good morning and then I realized- what they are really saying is "I understand...You can't feel them either".

Now when I pass a man...I nod back and smile.

10. I have an amazing team around me. YOU. It has been a joy. The riding, The blog. The entire process. It has been cathartic for me in my own recovery, and from the messages I have received, some of you have managed to laugh and cry along with me. Thank You.

And so I am on break for 1 week. Off to Tel Aviv and although I appreciated the suggestion Peter, no I have no intention of taking the Spandex nor cycling in 42degree weather. By the way if you have ever seen Israeli drivers you know that you wouldn't even have the chance to unclip before they run you down.

The picture above was from a Naked Cycling Even in Tel Aviv last month. Who knew?

So when I get back it will be the home stretch. ONE MONTH to the big event. It will be flat out training and fundraising. We still need to reach the 25,000 target so it will take a lot of work. If you know anyone who would like to donate in the interim please ask them to join me at www.tourdelance.ca by selecting the riders and choosing my name. It would be greatly appreciated.

The Legacy

Today Lance Armstrong placed 3rd in his return to the Tour de France. The media reports that his 3rd place finish does not come without disappointment and recriminations. I can't help but wonder what will actually be his legacy.

In 100 years will Lance Armstrong be remembered for the 7 Tour De France wins or for Livestrong? Will the record have been shattered by another great champion? Perhaps, but in my mind his achievement with Livestrong will not only never be equaled, it will be the enduring legacy.

Livestrong has given cancer patients a voice. The yellow wristband is recognized worldwide.

Today in the final leg of the Tour, numerous riders from other teams were wearing their Livestrong bracelet. I was moved and again felt the silent solidarity one feels with other cancer patients and their family.

This week we celebrated life together with a lunch at Bice featuring Caroline Rhea. We laughed and we recognized the formidable battle that Terry has undertaken. Oddly enough, although we know many people in common, it was cancer that brought us together.

We began with small courteous emails a few months ago, extending a cyber hug and smile. We became Facebook friends and supporters for the Tour de Lance. Each time our circle of friends continued to crisscross, we would smile, amused at the smallness of our world.

Through a bizarre twist of fate our pas de deux became a trio. Our worlds collided around Bev and now we were three. Three different cancers, 3 different people, same end result. All 3 of us had surgery at the same time, and only this spring did it even connect that we all knew each other. How weird is that you are saying???? Plenty weird.

Fast Forward to this week where I met Terry for the first time, and Bev saw Terry for the first time in many years. Knowing hugs, knowing glances, knowing smiles.

So Lance if you ever read this post, rest assured that in the long run today's 3rd place finish may have been a disappointment but for us it really makes no difference.

You gave us a voice, you gave us hope. You encouraged us to not only live, but to LIVESTRONG. The three of us are a testament to the work of your foundation.

Have no doubt this will be your legacy, and for that you will always be in First Place.

I must be crazy.

When I was growing up no one went to see a psychiatrist or psychologist. I remember my parents saying "You've gotta be crazy to see one of those". Not to mention, the images that we saw on television were usually frightening (lobotomies, shock therapy), and the psychiatrists were loonier than their patients. It was only in the late 1970's that pop psychology surfaced and although most of us took it in University, the stigma of actually going and consulting someone remained.

I always enjoyed the magic trick of pulling out a tablecloth and leaving everything perfectly in place. Well, when I was diagnosed with cancer it was as if the tablecloth was pulled and everything came crashing to the ground...no magic, just reality.

I knew I needed help.

My first attempt was through group therapy at a wonderful place, Gilda's. As the only male at the initial meeting I sat around a circle with about 10 women as we introduced ourselves and spoke of our cancer. It became apparent that this was not going to work for me. Firstly , I realized that most of these women had breast or uterine cancer and had much in common. I was clearly odd man out, "Kidney, how rare!" Frankly I took no solace from being in a room full of sad, crying, people. I couldn't wait for everyone to stop talking. It occurred to me that men and women don't necessarily succeed in similar therapies. Men probably won't sit around in a group and discuss how their Prostate Surgery has created sexual dysfunction. Maybe I'm wrong but I doubt it.

So my next step was a referral to a very nice social worker, who unfortunately knew nothing about cancer. The conversation quickly went downhill when her first question was " So you must be worried about Chemo?", "No I answered my cancer has no treatment, I pray that surgery will work as they have not developed a chemo or radiation that works on my type of cancer." She was shaken and taken aback and redirected with "How do you feel about dying".... needless to say we never saw each other again.

Thankfully I met a trained Oncological Psychiatrist to whom I did not need to explain my cancer issues, and who had seen other cancer patients and knew that my prognosis was probably not imminent death. Over the next few months, I laughed, I cried (a lot), and somehow made relative peace with my situation. Thank you Dr. Hoffman.

Throughout my 4 hospitalizations I have come to realize that we do a great job healing the body, but not such a great job healing the soul.

It's the soul that wakes you at 3am trembling in your bed.

It's your soul that is frightened like a 5 year old each time you put on a hospital gown.

It's your soul that sometimes wants to give up because you're just not sure how many more times you can put your family and friends through this hellish ride.

Last week I had my latest CT Scan and in the cubicle waiting next to me were a couple clutching hands as he waited his turn. As I was called I looked in and told them "The Scan is really not bad, you'll be okay, just believe you'll be okay", they both thanked me and off we went.

For the last 3 years I have been an advocate for a comprehensive program in Psycho Oncology. I believe we need a program that can address the needs of Children, Women and Men with huge variety of techniques and treatment types, that combine psychology, psychiatry and volunteerism.

On September 11, I ride with this mission in my mind, and as another step in the healing of a wounded soul.

I still need to raise $10,000 so if you know anyone who may be interested in contributing to the ride please ask them to join me at www.tourdelance.ca go to riders and click on my name.

Every donation matters. Thank you.

Biking is like Life

I have a hard time breathing. I could blame it on my reduced lung capacity but the truth is I'm a mouth breather. I never got the concept of breathing through your nose, it just doesn't seem to do the trick for me. In fact when I first start riding I tend to hyperventilate, and there is no way my cute little shnoz is gonna bring in enough air to satisfy me. Once I relax, it seems to work itself out unless of course it is a day like today with a face full of wind which only enhances the breathing issue. So I consciously have to force myself to relax, and in so doing, I came to realize that biking is a great life metaphor.

You wake up being hopeful, you slip into clothing ( probably too tight, but its the fashion), you slather on some cream and then you head out into the world hoping for the best.

You start at a good speed moving forward, nodding at people that pass as if to say good morning. Quickly you realize that today may not be exactly what you expect. Unexpected turbulence (wind) knocks you around and you may even feel like you are stuck in the same place. Other people keep moving passing you by, but you just don't seem to have the rhythm it takes to get yourself going. You regroup, you relax and before you know it you are in a groove.

You're moving, oh yeah, you are really moving. And then it happens, you hit a pothole and you are stopped dead in your tracks. A frigging flat, just after you were so sure that you were finally in the zone.

Yes today after about 26kms I ended up on the curb waiting for my lift home. It made me realize that I was somewhat envious of Lance Armstrong. I don't mean winning the Tour 7 times, or having raised 250 million dollars for charity, or making it all look so effortless at 37.

I mean wouldn't it be great to always have a support team around you. Clearing the road of all obstacles so you can just focus on the job at hand. Wouldn't it be great to have them immediately at hand to fix the flat and get you back on your feet in a millisecond. Wouldn't it be great to have them cheering you on, telling you that you can do it, that you can reach the summit.

And then I realized I have nothing to be envious of .... I have you.

My friends and family, my own 24/7 support team. My own personal cheering squad.

Hmmmm. I guess Lance and I have a lot more in common than Cancer. We have lots of people we can count on....we're the luckiest people in the world.

In case I have not said it lately...THANK YOU.

Real Proof

The human body is a remarkable thing. Okay, maybe not my body, but I speak in general. It's recuperative nature in particular has truly amazed me.

Numerous people were kind enough to let me know of someone who they new who was living with 1 kidney when it was clear that it was my prognosis. Somehow like a car I'm not sure we have a lot of unnecessary spare parts, but I was comfortable with the fact that I cold exist on one kidney. That was also true when they reassured me that we really don't need both lungs to function and although useful, we have numerous lobes and losing one in the mix would not leave me the worse for wear.

In fact, after all my surgeries, I actually recovered remarkably quickly if you ask me. In most cases I was back to work in weeks and in one case I actually worked from home within days.

After my first surgery I was very weak, but so committed to recuperating that I was actually back in gym within a month.

I had forgotten about the recuperative side of exercise, and although not scientific I can personally confirm it is true. How do I know you ask?????

My last operation left me with a large outward bulge on my left side. My abdominal muscle had pushed out ( somewhat like a hernia) and there was an accumulation of fluid. Although numb from having the nerve endings sliced, for months I felt very uncomfortable pulling. Imagine Sigourney Weaver in Alien, I looked ripe for an extraterrestrial to come bursting out my left side.

I consulted both an Osteopath and Phsyio and with minor results. I took to wearing a supporting brace (girdle). My doctor really didn't think it would ever get better, and in fact it was due to this discomfort that I had pretty much ruled out the ride this year.

My pride wouldn't let me skip the ride, so as you know for the last 2 months I have been training. After each ride when I undress my left side has been hyper sensitive. For about a half hour it feels like I have a really bad sunburn. Frankly I am so anxious to get in the shower at the end of the ride that I have not really focused on my bulge, in fact, it had become part of my reality. This week after my ride I was stunned to realize that with the cycling my abdominal muscles have begun to regenerate and the burning feeling was actually the nerve endings firing.

The bulge has all but disappeared. I kept staring in the mirror truly amazed by the radical change.

It's true, although it behooves me to admit it, getting off your ass and doing something helps in your recovery. Not only the physical but also the emotional recovery. So if you know someone recovering from surgery or chemo, give them a call, and go for a walk together. I promise the results will be encouraging...after all I have the proof.

Guilty Pleasures

When you start a blog it seems that above all honesty is truly the best policy. So here it goes;

I have some serious guilty pleasures. Okay, nothing that will get me arrested, but I may as well tell the truth.

1. I have never seen a plate of baked goods that doesn't cry out to me. I used to buy 14 bagels so that I could eat 1 on the way home and never get busted. I can't resist sitting in the car knowing that the warm body next to mine is a dozen hot bagels.

This may explain why in my month of training I have not lost 1 single pound. In fact I have gained.

I actually look thinner but I have gained weight. I know for most people this would be traumatic, but as a cancer patient gaining weight is actually reassuring. Prior to my first cancer one of the only significant symptoms was a gradual weight loss. Since I am being truthful, I should also tell you that I never looked better. The weight loss made me look svelte, not sickly. I actually looked so good that, promise not to groan, I went out and had my passport pictures and drivers license pictures taken. Hell I figured that I would never look this thin or this good again. Little did I know it was due to cancer. Go figure.

2. I love coasting. Serious cyclists actually pedal when they are going downhill. You are supposed to get into a slower gear so that you can pedal and gain momentum. Forget it. My favorite part of hills is coasting downhill. Wind blowing in your face, it is truly my Dicaprio moment where I want to scream "I'm the king of the World" as I fly downhill at 40+ kms an hour. I figure that we go through most of our lives feeling like we are always pedaling uphill, granted its a gradual hill, but uphill non the less. So if its okay with you when life actually give you an opportunity to coast; then coast baby coast.

3. I will never be an underwear model. I have always joked that my day job better work out because after all these surgeries the scars on my body have pretty much ruled out my backup career. After my first operation, I mentioned to Harvey that I had always heard that scars give you an allure of mystery, they add character. " Yeah Sam small scars on your face" he replied " Not ones that make you look like you got caught in the propeller of a boat". We had a good laugh. Boy did we laugh.

So what have I learned? Eat what you want, life is too short, and the next time you are eating a warm bagel...think of me. Coast when you can, you have my permission, hell if you're like me your entitled to the occasional break. Laugh. Laugh and then Laugh some more. Even in the darkest moment there is probably something worthing laughing at.

By the way if you want a good laugh, a chance to eat and to coast for an afternoon, then let me know because on July 23rd, we are hosting a Cedars Riders Fundraising Comedy Lunch at Bice hosted by Caroline Rhea and Michael Kors. Tickets are $150.00 and you will receive a $100.00 tax receipt. I can send you details if you are interested.

Incidentally this week I rode 77.2 kms, 3 hours 13 minutes, and we surpassed the 50% mark in fundraising. Thank you to all who have donated, it is greatly appreciated.

It's Bette Midler's fault

I have been a huge Bette Midler fan for years. If secrets be known, I used to listen to the Divine Miss M every Sunday morning for years. She is bawdy, outrageous and a damn good singer. That doesn't preclude the fact that for a fleeting moment I actually blamed her for my cancer.

I know you're thinking lets back this up just a wee bit. Okay, here goes.

Bette and I have been missing each other over the years on her concert tours. It always seemed that whenever she was in town, I wasn't. So in January 2004 I finally made the pilgrimage to see her in NYC at Madison Square Gardens. Enough waiting, if the mountain won't come, then I was going to the mountain.

So that January weekend as the group of 6 walked the streets of NYC I confessed to a friend that I thought something was wrong. For about 2 months the strangest thing was happening. Each night my toes and legs would go into complete spasm. My grandfather had a neuropathy with his legs and I was pretty sure that regardless of my young age, I had something in common with this 90 year old man. That night after an amazing concert I made the statement that would haunt me; "Now that I've seen Bette Midler, I can die a happy man".

Within the week I had been diagnosed with kidney cancer. For a moment, albeit a fleeting insane moment, I actually blamed myself for making that statement.

Over the years I have come to understand a lot about self blame.

My tumor was ridiculously large, clearly Bette had nothing to do with it. It had been growing for approx 3 years to reach that size. I kept wondering if I had somehow missed a symptom.

Wondering if I had done something to bring on this mutant multiplying cell. In one humorous exchange with my doctor I needed to clarify how I had missed it, so I asked him if there was some symptom I had ignored.

" Did you have blood in your urine?" he asked. " No" I replied, I know that's not good.

" Well did you have lower back pain?" he asked. " Well I answered, I'm 44 years old, do you mean Oy Vey I have back pain, or OH MY GOD I'M GONNA DIE back pain." When he qualified it as the second I realized that there was nothing I had done or could have done to avoid getting cancer. I had to make peace with the fact that neither I, nor Bette, were to blame for my current state of health.

I've spoken to a few cancer patients and it is always amazing how many people ask you if you smoked. I realize that in doing so they are trying to give themselves hope, that somehow they are safe, that somehow this can't happen to them. The reality is that it could and it might, so whatever you do lets leave the blame game out of it, cancer patients are going through enough.

Whatever happened to empathy?

Last week at my surprise party someone gave me the latest Bette Midler CD and today I actually had the courage to open it. As tears welled in my eyes I once again sang Friends with all the gusto I could muster. Thanks Bette, 5 years later all is forgiven.

New Milestones

Today's revelation is that...get ready...."I'm not telepathic". Not only that, but you'll never believe this "Fern is not telepathic either". Maybe you're not surprised but like many couples I think our biggest frustration is that the other person just doesn't know what we're thinking. Well, after 17 years is that too much to ask for? Is it?

I haven't been able to find enough time to train for the ride and I can feel September 11th quickly approaching. The weekends seem far apart and even then my ride on Sunday in the heat was less than satisfying. This has been causing a little bit of anxiety and I could only find one solution. So I took the big leap and told Fern that I needed to find time during the week to ride. Ruling out after work, that meant a revision of our morning schedules. We will have to share the morning dog walking obligations. I have decided that in June I will add a 6:15 morning ride. Wednesday was Fern's first day at the helm.

I awoke, let Roxie out in the back and then dressed for my ride. She look at me as if questioning "Are your really going to wear that to the dog park?" You could see the embarrassment in her eyes. "Don't worry" I said " Today...you're all Fern's".

With that I hobbled out of the house (you don't walk in cycling shoes..you hobble), unaware that on June 17th, new milestones were to be reached.

I mounted my bike and rode, and rode and folks... I did it 70 kms and all that before breakfast!

From Montreal West through Lachine to John Abbott College in St Anne de Bellevue and back.

Not only were the kms important, but I broke a mental milestone..at the end of the ride I rode all the way home, up the "maudite" hill that joins Ville St. Pierre and Montreal West, with barely a hesitation.

However the most important milestone was to come at the end of the day. My dear sister, Sabina, called to let me know that after 8 years her oncologist had let her know that they felt that she no longer needed to be followed medically for her original breast cancer. After 8 years our family's first cancer experience was to be buried. Buried but never forgotten.

I think I was more nervous than her. She was ready to make the move and recommence living.

And so we celebrate on this beautiful sunny June day as 3 milestones are broken...heaps of rubble in the road, markers of the past, that we pass with an acknowledging nod, as we push on forward...hopefully always moving forward.

Let me know if you want to join me for a morning ride, after all, breakfast awaits.

Stronger Together

Ron and Arthur died.

Carmen and Mel died.

They all died way too young, and with so much more to offer. Eirini was very close to Ron and Arthur and I remember talking about their passing and she worried if they ever found peace. She was hopeful that they had. I remember thinking about the concept of finding peace in a terminal illness, especially when you are so young. Can it really be possible?

I remember not talking to Carmen about her imminent death, she forbade it.

I begged Carmen to write for her daughter and I bought her a journal. We never spoke about whether or not she wrote, I never knew. Last year i saw her daughter and she asked me to tell her a little about her mother. It broke my heart. " Just tell me a little Sam she said, because I try but I don't remember". It's then that she told me all she has to hold onto is the journal that Carmen wrote in, the journal that she new I had given her mother. I realized that in her own way she had found peace. She had allowed herself to write, to leave her story for her daughter.

I wonder a lot about the process of finding peace. When I was diagnosed I never went through the "Why Me" phase. I know some people do, but I didn't. I often said that it would be too egotistical to always pass in front of the hospital and to somehow never expect that it could be you. Why someone else and not me?

I realize that having lived through the worst of the AIDS disaster somehow prepared me for loss, but having lived through that period also taught me about finding strength in numbers. We stood together.

In the last few years we have been dissecting cancer into infinite subsegments. We have divided the disease into so many small pieces, somehow obliging people to decide if they support: Breast, Colon, Lung, Prostate, Ovarian......

I wonder if we wouldn't be stronger if we all fought together. If we walked and rode and hiked together, and not apart.

Maybe if we all joined together we could really find peace together. Maybe.

On September 11th I ride for all Cancers...thank you for your support.