Archive for September, 2013

CC CHRONiCLES: The Human Library / Flin Flon Culture Days

Published by cctadmin on September 30th, 2013

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When Cindy McLean, of the Flin Flon Public Library, invited me to return as a ‘Human Book’ for Culture Days Human Library event; I said yes immediately.  The premise of this progressive event is just as the tag line states: Don’t Judge a Book by It’s Cover.  The Human Library is where ‘interesting people become the books & are ‘borrowed’ for conversations’ & it presented the community with the opportunity to engage & expand their ideas on diverse walks of life in a safe public forum.

The library  took place last Friday evening as the Culture Days weekend kicked off; each of us Human Books occupied a table with chairs for people to sit around & engage; other human books included Norm Crerar “Canoe & Writing”, Sadia Lone “A Muslim Doctor”, Dawn Straff “Healthy For Life”, Alison Dalas “Surviving MS”, Father Paul Bringleson “Overcoming Alcoholism”, Sophia Ostrowski “Baba’s House Is Best”.  I only wish I could have spent more time engaging with the other human books because I too was curious about their stories.

The experience was special; I certainly felt more relaxed and prepared at my table than I did the previous year, likely a testament to the year’s experience I had of re-integrating back into the Flin Flon community.

What I found people were most interested about, in terms of my story “They Say I’m Different”, centered primarily on two things: how do I think Flin Flon & society in general have changed as far as the issues of homophobia & bullying goes, comparatively to that period of my own youth where I struggled with issues stemming from these points of contention.  Furthermore folks wanted to hear my thoughts on what it means to ‘come home’ again, in the capacity of not only a mental health clinician but also a local entertainer.

I appreciated the questions &opportunity to engage around these topics; it’s always interesting to hear other peoples perspectives on the universal subjects of self esteem, identity, healing.  People have capacity for great insight on the issues if given an opportunity to engage; what’s more is, no one wants to see today’s youth struggling, be it their own children or their nieces, nephews, grandchildren.  It’s clear no one wants anyone, regardless of race, gender, orientation etc. – to struggle with hopelessness and that crippling fear.  I appreciated folks sharing their attitudes as much as I did sharing some of mine – though I cautioned I’m not an expert by any means.

Someone ran their fingers over the title on my bio, which sat perched on the table top.  I could see wheels turning, “’They Say I’m Different’”…she read, exploring “What does that mean?  Different how?”

It was an inquest I’d never been asked before, despite having literally called my first album the same title.  She elicited a smile from me & I was able to articulate that the title takes on two meanings: one being that as a child & adolescent I (along with innumerable amounts of youth) my perception was that I was always singled out for being what they’d (‘they’ being peers, family,  adults, the community, society) call ‘different’.  To be different meant you were flawed, less than.  At that developmental phase in life, to be considered peculiar was a terrible thing, after all – who wants to be at odds?  You want to belong!

On the flipside, once I got older & was able to meet all sorts of ‘different’ folks in my life, distinct cultures, religions, educational backgrounds, ages, sizes, orientations – you name it – I began to shed that shame & discomfort that comes from feeling so alone in what you are.  I believe that change in perception of reality enabled me not only to embrace the things that made others unique, but perhaps also what made me ‘different’.

Thank you to the woman who gave me a chance to answer what really is a simple question.

Thank you as well to Cindy McLean, all the staff at Flin Flon Public Library & everyone from Culture Days who helped bring the Human Library night to a new level.  Flin Flon is capable of doing some very unique things & I thank those who came to sit with me for those moments.

CC

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CC CHRONICLES: Gift from a friend

Published by cctadmin on September 30th, 2013

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My boyfriend arrived here safe & sound about a week ago; we’re still settling into our new Flin Flon life & routine together.  With him he brought our cats (Doobie & Poppy), a jeep full of personals & with that, also some gifts from friends back home in Ottawa.  Below is the image of a picture our friends Craig & Gord sent up for our new home; Craig is a lively spirited soul & they were very good to Alain and I in our time in Ottawa.

Craig apparently found this framed image at a vintage store & thought of me – upon reading it for the first time I couldn’t help but smile in deep appreciation for it sentiment & his thoughtfulness.  Thank you Craig for such meaningful words.


CC CHRONiCLES: QT w Dad

Published by cctadmin on September 30th, 2013

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Last week it was my sister who went with Dad down to Winnipeg for his treatment; the week ahead will be my little bro.  I anticipate I’ll be going for week 4 – so just looking into organizing details this week.  In the meantime I stopped into see Dad this afternoon before he takes off tomorrow & I was happy to see him decompressing with his arts.  I’ve always said my Dad is where I get all my artistic ability from, & to this day he finds ways to work with what he has to create things of interest to him.

Wishing Dad & my bro a safe trip & thanks for tuning in.

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CC CHRONiCLES: Jamming for CULTURE SHOCK / Flin Flon Culture Days

Published by cctadmin on September 27th, 2013

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Living in a community that’s rich with talents, I’m really stoked to have found myself playing with Paul & Erik Bergman, Brent & Susan Lethbridge & Mark Kolt, respectively.  Brent spearheaded us gathering for the purposes of jamming & seeing if there was any potential for all of us to play at this years Culture Days event, the aptly titled ‘Culture Shock’, where several great local bands will be playing uptown.

I’ve had a great time with these folks; all of whom are amazing talents as well as pure music lovers.  I’ve never really had this kind of chance to belt out tunes with a drummer present, much less keys & all the other frills like harmonies..  Needless to say I feel pretty stoked.

What we’ll be playing tonight at Culture Shock are 7 cover tunes, ranging from blues to rock and even an country ballad; myself, Susan & Brent all sharing the vocal leads.  I tell you, its a good time & I feel honoured to be in on it.

Below is a rough rehearsal of the cover ‘How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)‘ – enjoy!  Maybe we’ll see you out tonight!

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CC Featured in Winnipeg Free Press: Flin Flon has changed, escapee finds / “Everyone’s searching for something I believe they already have within…Resilience.”

Published by cctadmin on September 27th, 2013

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Below is a Winnipeg Free Press article : Click here for direct link.

Story By Jonathon Naylor

Photography by Darren Holmes

FLIN FLON — C.C. Trubiak would have a hard time convincing fans one of his most popular songs, Prairie Boy, is anything but confessional.

“Head hung down in shame, it’s plain and clear you ain’t welcome here,” the 34-year-old croons on They Say I’m Different, his 2011 debut indie-folk album.

So sums up Trubiak’s childhood in Flin Flon, a normally welcoming community that failed to live up to its billing for the awkward gay youth.

Relentlessly bullied, Trubiak reached his tipping point while on summer break between grades 7 and 8. Twelve years were enough. He was out of here.

“I did not want to die,” he recalls. “I wanted to live, but I wanted to do so without the fear of threat or violence on my life, without the crippling feeling of shame, isolation and loneliness — all which seemed impossible. In my 12-year-old mind, I deserved the shame because I was constantly aware of my defect, my sexual orientation.”

And so Trubiak tried to end his own life. After fate struck him down, he began a family-supported journey of healing and self-acceptance.

In high school, he started seeing a guidance counsellor, who would let him use her phone to call a social worker at Winnipeg’s Rainbow Resource Centre, which supports gay youth and adults.

Trubiak also escaped into a world of music. The teen who could sing before he could talk spent hours in his bedroom crooning, writing songs and listening to records.

“I saw musicians as teachers, experienced in life and able to voice who they were through lyric and song,” says the gentle, warm-voiced man with the thin beard and black-rimmed glasses.

When life grew overbearing, Trubiak would remind himself that once he was done with high school in 1997, he would leave homophobic Flin Flon in his rear view.

Which he did, moving first to Prince Albert, then to Winnipeg and finally to Ottawa. It seemed the further from home Trubiak got, the more comfortable in his own skin he became.

It was in Ottawa he finally summoned the courage to unleash his latent vocal gift, packaging it with a very personal message of hope and tenacity. Playing clubs and caf©s, he slowly fostered a fan base.

But music wasn’t all that was on his plate. Compassionate to the core, a virtue that his harrowing childhood only strengthened, Trubiak studied social work at Carleton University.

After graduating in 2010, he scoured Ottawa for a job but found no takers. He was still pondering his next move when the phone rang. It was his sister. There was an opening for a social worker in Flin Flon.

Career-wise, it made all the sense in the world. Life-wise, the thought of going back home made Trubiak sick to his stomach.

When the inner conflict settled, he sent in his resum©. When he got the job, he promised himself he would stay for just one year, get the experience and get the hell out. But arriving in the summer of 2012, Trubiak discovered the Flin Flon of old existed only in memory. People seemed open-minded, thinking nothing of the growing number of men and women who were living out of the closet.

Just as impressive was the vibrant musical community that welcomed him with open arms. Soon he was performing at Flonstock, Flin Flon’s big outdoor music fest.

In between work and gigs, Trubiak pieced together a followup to 2011′s They Say I’m Different, an album called Tiny Army: The D. Holmes Sessions, due for an iTunes release soon (follow him on Facebook or at cctrubiak.com).

Having slayed his share of demons, Trubiak is as visionary as ever. What would it be like, he wonders, to enjoy that rarest of careers as a full-time musician?

It’s not that Trubiak is eager to give up his day job counselling people. It’s just that there is more than one way to change lives.

It’s not that Trubiak is eager to give up his day job counselling people. It’s just that there is more than one way to change lives.

“Everyone’s searching for something I believe they already have within,” he says. “Resilience.”

Jonathon Naylor is editor of the Reminder newspaper in Flin Flon.

jonathon_naylor@hotmail.com

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition September 26, 2013 A15

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CC CHRONiCLES: CC @ Flin Flon Public Library / The Human Library

Published by cctadmin on September 26th, 2013

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THE HUMAN LiBRARY / Flin Flon Public Library

Last year Flin Flon Public Library invited me to present as a ‘Human Book’; part of Culture Days groundbreaking Human Library event. It was an honour; so when they asked me to return again this year, I couldn’t say no. Come join me & 6 other ‘open books’ THIS FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 27th (8-10pm) where I’ll sharing my experiences as an openly gay artist, originally born, raised & returned to the Flin Flon community.

***The Human Library: Where ‘interesting people become the books and are ‘borrowed’ for conversation. The library will include the tasting of 16 wines, and numerous cheeses. Wine served @ $3 a glass.

***All photos by BONNiE FiNDLEY.  www.findleyfoto.com

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CC CHRONiCLES: To Unc, With Love / Thank you

Published by cctadmin on September 25th, 2013

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My Uncle Sterling…

has supported my entire life; some good, some bad, and definitely some ugly (my no-neck ex-boyfriend being a shining example!).   Particularly around my early teens, when I was struggling with self esteem and identity growing up in Flin Flon, my Uncle, who while born and raised in Creighton, Saskatchewan, has lived in Ottawa, Ontario for years – would write me letters which offering  stories and consolation during  tumultuous times.

I always admired my Uncle a great deal; to me he symbolized freedom and adventure, having left Creighton/Flin Flon as soon as high school ended; pursuing   an independent life of his own.  He was a swinging traveler in my mind; which very much attracted me because there was something about him I found I could relate to, and in a lot of ways I aspired to become as free and liberated, as cultured as I saw him.

Those letters we shared in my awkward teenage years provided me with solace; not only would he entertain my questions about life, love and liberty – but he did so with attention, thought and care.  Unc took time to answer to my curiosities about the world beyond Flin Flon, as well as open himself up for me to attain my own sense of hope for the future.  Flin Flon felt very suffocating at times; in the days before the internet – these pages on pages of letters made me feel special, connected to something beyond my current situation.

On top of it, Uncle went extra lengths to send me films and books that I had no access to in town, entertaining my cultural cravings to take in literature and films otherwise not available up North; ever willing to indulge and critically analyze for nothing more than my sake.  I’d like to think Unc got just as much out of this correspondence as I did.

Year and years later I found myself living in Ottawa too; spending dinners and special occasions with him and his own chosen family – he met all my boyfriends, came to my college and university graduations, and welcomed me into his world, which I’ll always hold so close to my heart.  Now that I’m back in Flin Flon and somehow full circle, it’s important for me to maintain that closeness with Uncle, as it was imperative he support my decision to return to this place he and I once knew to be so stifling and oppressive towards our kind.  I think he can appreciate my homecoming experience and be just as surprised as I was to live it.

Uncle, I love you dearly and thank you for being there for me in my life; I’ve been blessed to have and Uncle Sterling – to have shared in this way, because it’s a rarity I can only truly understand as I’ve gotten older.  Love.

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CC CHRONiCLES: Dad & A Port In The Storm

Published by cctadmin on September 24th, 2013

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I recently returned from a trip to Winnipeg, Manitoba, with my Dad.  It certainly wasn’t a vacation by any stretch – but it was an opportunity to experience something with him that we hadn’t in years.  It was quality time, under circumstances that are not ideal.  My dad was diagnosed with stage one cancer this past year:  below is a brief account of what one week together was like.

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Wednesday, September 18

Dad and I arrived in Winnipeg on Monday, roughly around 10:30am.  Coming here I’m sure neither of us was looking forward to it; he especially, for not knowing what this experience was going to be like physically, mentally, emotionally.  Radiation is no friend, its not an easy thing to face, and it took Dad a lot leading up to this trip to get where he is now.

 In addition to not fully understanding what is involved in the radiation process, I was also unsure how it would be to spend week one with him because it had literally been over 15 years since we’d spent more than a couple of hours alone together.  I was questioning, what would it be like? Would either of us be able to handle ‘it‘?

Day three into it, its been an adventure for sure, yet I feel like we’re blessed.  I find myself thinking: cancer has somehow brought us closer.  Is that strange?  Or is it common?

DAY ONE was all about orientating ourselves in the neighbourhood of ‘A Port In The Storm‘, located in the predominantly french community of St. Boniface.  First off, we got the address wrong.  After landing in the air port, our taxi driver took us to our destination, which according to the google search – was 441 Aulneau St.  Wrong.  Dad stayed in the cab while I hesitantly got out at 441 Aulneau St. to suss out the situation.  Why?  Because it was a very sketchy looking house, rather than the type of medical establishment I had pictured on the flight over..  I tapped on the front door thinking “I didn’t know we’d be staying in a boarding room…somethings not right.“, only to have a shirtless guy answer the door, looking gruff and wondering who the fuck I was.  Needless to say – I knew we weren’t where we were supposed to be.

Further research on the ‘A Port In The Storm‘ (PITS) website indicated that it was located at 601 Aulneau – the 441 was simply the office suite.  There you go.  PITS provides cancer care lodging services for out-of-towers, such as Dad.  The room is clean and spacious, with a spare room for me to sleep in, and Dad equipped with a T.V., fridge, couch, a big bathroom and staff who have been extremely helpful to us as we settle in.  Plus, Cecile and Marion, supervisors of the program, were welcoming and informative about the premises and services available to us.

I could tell that Dad felt a bit easier once he saw the digs and knew we’d be in a nice neighbourhood – heck it was worlds beyond nicer than his own Flin Flon home!  We also learned that there was a cafeteria and had our first supper there: chicken, lamb, vegetables, coffee and desert ($10 each).  Dad found it humorously awkward the first time because we were surrounded in a sea of elderly people, with him joking “I feel like a kid!“.  It was a bit strange, but this was before we knew that there were going to be more people we’d be acquainted with.

But before we had headed to dinner I found the local Food Mart, about a 20 minute walk away front the grounds.  We had a nice leisurely walk, enjoying the sun and feeling like we were making strides into the beginnings of this 6 week adventure for him.  A stop at the Salvation Army and grocery store later, and we headed back with an assortment of food and essentials for our little pad.

I think we both went to bed that night feeling tired and relieved; after all, the environment was no longer a mystery – and we knew that the next day was going to be a bit more stressful; what with it being Day 1 of radiation therapy.

DAY TWO began early: Dad and I got up around 7am and preparing for his 11:30 apt at Cancer Care Manitoba; I wanted to ensure we had a good meal and that dad had ample time to drink coffee and have his smokes before we took our cab there and orientated ourselves with the situation.

I could tell he was nervous leading up to it – slightly cranky and short tempered; after all, it had to be overwhelming thinking of what was in store.  Radiation is an overwhelming process, which neither one of us were experts on.  We took our cab there, arriving with ample time to figure out where the radiation centre was located.  The clerk gave us Dad’s radiation schedule for the week, noting that on Thursday he’d be facing two treatments in one day, spaced 6 hours apart.  It wasn’t ideal but it was going to have to be.  Dad got in his scrubs and we waited for the first radiation treatment; I must admit my heart was beating at the sight of him in the waiting room; he looked small and fragile in oversize blue scrubs, and in amongst all the other waiting patients I could see in his eyes he was taking all of it in, yet I couldn’t know for sure what he was thinking about it.  I gave him some water and we chatted about lighter topics until it was his turn.

Less than 15 minutes later he was out; we got him changed back in his clothes and headed over to our orientation helper Jana.  Jana sat us down and gave us the real low down on what to expect as far as the difficulties Dad was going to face as treatments progressed; the biggest being a difficulty in swallowing due to skin reactions to radiation on his throat.  Dad is also going to have to prepare for fatigue, swelling, inflammation and hoarseness; she gave tips on how to manage it and care for himself.  I was listening intently; and admit that it was difficult to process entirely.  There’s no way around it: radiation is not going to be a walk in the park.  I also think there’s enough information to help us all come together and help the process be as comfortable as we can.

Then it was upstairs for the first of weekly required blood work at the clinic (which occur every Monday) and to the Volunteer Drivers Program, where they’d help set us up with regular transportation to and from the Cancer Care Centre every day.  Dad took a particular shine to Kelly, the woman in charge of registering him for the drivers program: she was flirty, feisty, full of jokes and wearing a skirt, which had Dad going on at length for the next couple of days. “Oh that Kelly girl, isn’t she something?

Yes Dad.  She’s something.

Kelly was bright and cheery, and she made Dad smile and feel good so I appreciated all she did to explain how the program works.  Essentially a volunteer would pick us up and drop us off for all of his appointments – costing $13 a day, round trip – they are usually people with experience in dealing with cancer treatment themselves, personally or with a family member.  They are friendly and work very hard to transport everyone in a timely way.  They are quite amazing.

By then we were starved, having realized we’d barely eaten.  There’s a great street meat vendor outside the Cancer Care Centre where we decided to stop and inhale some sustenance and give him even more time to have a smoke break.  Dad likes his smoke breaks and you learn not to rush him but rather to give him all the time he needs.  It’s not asking for a lot.

After all of this, we returned to PITS via the transport service and relaxed before getting our tickets for dinner in the cafeteria.  Dad was really tired after the first full day, and he did say that his throat was a little sore; reporting that the face cover he has to wear during the radiation procedure itself, fits mostly ok other than the part that presses his lump down on the left side of his jaw.  He also reported having a bit of a headache, which I tried to explain was in large part because he drinks far too much coffee and not nearly enough water; but Dad loves his coffee so I’m not sure he wanted to hear that his headache and fatigued could be at all linked to dehydration.

I took a walk to the grocery store again and picked up some extra’s for Dad, including some Boost, and apple juice, which they recommended would be good for his health; you have to do all you can right?

Best part of day two was when Dad and I took a leisurely walk through our neighbourhood; not only was it good for us to be up and mobile, but it also gave us a chance to talk about things other than treatment.  This walk is one of my fonder memories, strolling along the scenic streets and stopping now and then to take pics of Dad by statues of Louis Riel.  I had moments where I was thinking it felt surreal to be in the city with him, who rarely  strayed far from his Belview home perched up on the rocks.

We ended the night both just watching some T.V. and winding down early.  I could hear the T.V. faintly as I closed my eyes in my room and drifted off to sleep.

DAY THREE I woke up and Dad wasn’t home; but I knew he’d be outside having a cigarette or two; only to return an hour to tell me he had a project to work on.  Turns out our neighbours across the hall, the Klassen family from Brandon, Manitoba whom we’d met only briefly in passing, had Dad in on helping put together a bed in one of the empty rooms upstairs.  That’s Dad for you though, likes to feel useful.

I took that time to explore the neighbourhood and went to a coffee shop and art gallery, by noon Dad and I reconnected and took another trip to the grocery to buy some eggs, milk and sandwich meat.  Marion, the director, had left a hot plate for us to use which meant we could go beyond using the microwave to cook, now we could boil soup and fry up some eggs in the morning.

At around 2:00 we were outside and ready for our transport pick up; which turned out to be small-world experience; our driver, a woman named Judy, had grown up in Ethelbert, Saskatchewan, where Dad’s own father had grown up.  Judy remembered the Trubiak name and even recalled that her school bus driver was a Trubiak, in fact it was Dad’s uncle!  They were talking away in the front together while I got to know another cancer patient, an elderly woman named Shirley, who was also staying at PITS. Shirley was from Dauphin and was on week Three of radiation; she was a sweet lady.

Once we finally arrived at Cancer Care, Dad pretty much went directly into his radiation session, and this time we both felt more familiar with the process; in no time at all we were back up in the volunteer transport waiting room arranging our return ride to PITS.

Evening three of dinner was a real treat; the Klassen family joined us at our table, along with Claude, a gentle man who’s been fighting leukaemia for at least 11 months.  Everyone was talking and enjoying the meal; we had a real good chance to hear more about their experiences.  Essentially John  and his family, use a truly inspirational group of people, landed at PITS and have been getting through each day much like Dad and I found ourselves doing.  John is a warrior;  he told us about getting ready to start receiving full body radiation on top of back to back chemotherapy, and stem cell surgery, with a bone marrow transplant from his older brother.  John’s story really has touched me; his wife and son Bryce are devoted to staying by his side, despite the upheaval its brought.  I felt blessed to be in their presence.

I watched Dad interacting with them, as they were so open and friendly with us, and it was clear Dad was impressed and touched by John’s will to fight.  It had me thinking that Dad really needed to meet them, if anything to put his own situation into perspective so that he could see how cancer affects a lot of different families on so many levels.  Dad had them laughing with his conversation and he opened up about his own treatment.  It made me proud of him and I could sense that being around them was good for his outlook.

The evening continued along like this, with Dad having a smoke break outside with Bryce and Claude, another cancer patient on our floor.  Claude has struggled with leukaemia for 11 months, enduring a list of procedures and treatments like radiation, chemotherapy, blood transfusions – that had both Dad and my head spinning.  Again, Dad was impressed by his will, even though Claude admitted he was getting tired of being at PITS, after 11 long months of the same routine.  Claude talked about wishing he could be back at work, earning a wage and being with his wife.  The three of us walked to the convenience store so Dad could pick up cigarettes and Claude could get his ginger ale.  I enjoyed hearing them talk together because again, Dad was being open, and i could tell he appreciated this conversation.

I spent a couple of hours talking with Kim in the lounge; with her opening up about their families struggle to adapt to all the changes that literally turned their lives upside down.  She asked me about Dad and told me how funny he was and that her son Bryce really enjoyed him.  I felt proud of Dad and appreciated having someone to talk to; I realized that I hadn’t really opened up to anyone about what its been like.  We talked about art and creative stuff like her work and what I enjoy doing in my spare time in Flin Flon.  She said she’d like to chat again before I had to leave.

Dad and I both agreed that all in all it was a great day and night here; its funny that we both feel so relaxed and at home here; thanks in large part to the community of people here to connect with.  I go to bed knowing that Dad is struggling with a bit of a sore throat from the two treatments, but that despite what’s ahead, he’s in good hands here and is certainly not alone.

DAY FOUR started off fairly early; with us getting up at around 6:45 am.  It was to be a busier day, what with dad having to have two radiation sessions; one at 9:30 am and the other six hours later at 3:45.  Not to mention a doctors consultation to see how he’s feeling up to now.  I can see it’s already beginning to take a toll on Dad, as it should – these four radiation sessions alone; he talks about his throat feeling a little sore, and contending with a headache for most of the day.  Although I will say he’s been eating healthy consistently, what with the meals they serve here and all the good groceries we have.  He sure would be best to cut out the coffee and add more water intake….

I can sense that he’s looking forward to heading back home for the weekend – as am I.  It comes out in the things he says in relation to John and Claude, who have been here considerably longer than he has, and who have also had a tougher battle to face in terms of their treatment plans.  I sense he feels for them – and I can also tell he’s becoming a bit more irritable at times, i.e., short tempered, moody – its not severe but there are moments.  To his credit he has been so flexible and his world has literally been turned upside down with all of these appointments, sessions, consults and so forth.  It only makes sense – yet somehow we’ve been able to make it work together; its required patience on both our parts.

DAY FIVE is now here… its a strangely emotional day for me in a lot of ways.  It marks the end of this first week experience with Dad, as well as my time at PITS and all of our new friends.  Dad and I were up very early so we could get to his final radiation apt of the week, which was at 8:45 am.  He is noticeably fatigued and operating at a slower pace.  He refers to feeling headachy and ‘not with it’.  I know his throat has been sore and perhaps the week of treatments has taken a mental as well as physical and emotional toll on him.  After all, prior to this week we had no idea what any of this would look and feel like, and he has made me proud with the amount of courage he has in facing each step of the process, connecting with people around here such as the Klassens and the staff.

Since returning from that apt he has laid low here, taking a nap while I spent some time with Kim and her son.  They took me with them to do some creative work; photographing me playing my guitar outside and in the Exchange District.  It’s been a real highlight to spend time with them, and they really seem to appreciate having met Dad and me.  I admit I am grateful myself, and their support during this week has been above and beyond, for both Dad and I.

Soon Kim and Bryce will actually drive me and dad to the airport… Its going to feel strange once I get home and am once again distanced from the PITS world..

My emotions are all over the place; I feel a multitude of things.  On the top of my head, I feel a guilt that I will not be here for Dad over the next few weeks, and furthermore my guilt comes from not knowing just what lies ahead in terms of how treatment go.  I feel as though I’m abandoning him despite that Ebony and Rob will also be here with him – I feel like I’ll be missing out on his full journey and it makes me sad… I want my Dad to know how much I love him and would do anything for him, even if it meant staying the full six weeks and enduring every step with him.

It also feels strange being away from the others in the PITS community; knowing they will also be continuing on in their own journey’s; I wish them all the best and hope they know how admirable they are to me and my Dad.

That’s all – I should sign off now and get ready to head to the airport – CC

*** Thanks for listening.

CC


CC CHRONICLES: Covering Dolly Parton’s ‘Paradise Road’

Published by cctadmin on September 21st, 2013


Classic Hollywood Beauty

Published by cctadmin on September 21st, 2013