Two C’s

I’ve had a little note beside my computer for several days now: blog post. But there are only two things on my mind, really. The corona virus, of course, and its possible personal and broader social consequences—about which I have nothing to say that isn’t on everybody’s mind anyway. And Jack’s cancer, which I hesitate to make the sole focus of a post. Two C’s. Here goes.

I’ve been getting queries about Jack, so I’ll begin there. We came out of mandated isolation on Friday and he was scheduled for a CT scan tomorrow. We got a bit ahead of the game because on Wednesday he was having some serious balance issues. We took him to emergency where we were directed into the “hot” area because we were within two weeks of our return from Mexico. It wasn’t terribly “hot”. No one else was there. 

They did a scan of his brain—confirming that the tumours there are very small—and concluded that he needed a higher dose of the medication he was prescribed in Mexico to reduce associated inflammation. He’s he’s doing better on that front now, and thanks to that earlier-than-scheduled scan, he’s moving into the system faster than we expected. 

He’s been in touch with a radiologist by video call and has a preliminary appointment with the technician on Wednesday. Actual treatments will begin later this week or, we think more likely, next—five treatments in about that many days. Meanwhile, he’ll have the full body CT scan tomorrow to make sure nothing else is going on.    

Many friends have suggested that this confluence of personal and global crises must be extra stressful, and on some level of course it is. But we’ve become somewhat inured to the drip-drip-drip of Jack’s slow-growing cancer, so that that we no longer respond to each setback as immediately life-threatening. And the COVID situation is so pervasive at the moment that it seems to swallow up everything else. 

So on to that.

Like everybody I know, we’re staying put. Except for trips to the hospital for Jack’s treatments, I expect that to continue. We’re both at risk because of our age, and we assume Jack is at somewhat higher risk because of the cancer—and the upcoming radiation treatments. 

Isolation isn’t so bad, really. I’m reading, writing some, walking less than I should, watching the ducks on the river, and looking forward to getting out in the garden and yard. Jack is starting things up in the pottery studio. Soon, I think, we’ll make a short trip to the lake for a few days. We have plenty of everything we need, including contact with friends with whom we’re staying in touch by phone. Not quite the same as a cup of tea or a glass of wine, but there’s a real sense of people looking out for one another.

And so far, the COVID hasn’t mushroomed here. I think our region is up to ten cases, and I’m not sure if any are hospitalized. Maybe that was yesterday. But everyone assumes it will come.

Top of mind for Canadians right now is Trump’s decree that orders of medical supplies stop being delivered to Canada. On this side of the border, that’s resulting in a lot of angry words and diplomatic reminders of our interdependence and good neighbour status. It’s been reported that a shipment of masks was stopped at the border, and without that shipment Ontario will run out within a week. It doesn’t help that this is less than a week after Trump mused about placing troops along the Canadian border. In his briefing this morning, Trudeau assured us that talks with the U.S. are productive and he expects the goods to arrive. We’ll see.

But I’m afraid I’m not sure what Canada would do if the shoe were on the other foot; circling the wagons is a fairly instinctive response to a crisis. The question, it seems to me, is how big is the circle? And how many concentric circles are there? The PM says he won’t retaliate, but I see this morning that border city hospitals are lowering the boom on medical staff working on both sides of the border. It’s a reasonable move, given that we are fighting this virus within our own political and health-system bubbles. I wonder, though, when this is over, how small the circles will have become and whether we will move into a long period of me-first-ism under the guise of preparedness and self-sufficiency.

Last week, CBC News Kids invited children to send questions about the pandemic to the Prime Minister, who would answer ten of them live on Sunday morning. I think a lot about the kids, including some of my grandchildren, who are too young to understand what’s going on. They can’t help but pick up the tension and fear in the air, and I wonder what long-term effects that will have. Some of the questions the kids asked Trudeau were clearly fearful.

Ten-year-old Quentin, Galen’s oldest, was among the more than 4,000 kids who sent questions. His question wasn’t one of the ten chosen, and I don’t know the answer to it. But it’s a promising sign that me-first-ism hasn’t taken root there. Check it out (says Grandma). You have to click the arrow on the smaller picture.

https://share.icloud.com/photos/02azLRayRqW2BDUkIE0gO-19A