Cancer. A word you never want to hear!
“Cancer. A word you never want to hear, but one that I was introduced to at a very young age. When I was in elementary school, my uncle Carlos was diagnosed with Glioblastoma (GBM) Brain Cancer. As his cancer progressed, I remember our family investing a lot of time and effort into finding solutions to prolonging his life. We raised funds through a fundraising event called Care for Carlos and even visited Queen’s Park to try and fight for the use of a pharmaceutical Avastin which would have improved his quality of life. Unfortunately, as time kept passing, my uncle’s health continued to deteriorate. My uncle passed away January 15th, 2014, a day before his birthday.
His loss was tragic, but even more so to a young child who had to witness his demise. I watched a man, invested in his own health, deteriorate from a bastion of health to a shell of his former self. I watched as a man who for all purposes looked like an athlete and modelled his lifestyle on those practices that encourage wellbeing, lose the muscle mass that had made him a formidable presence and then later bloat as his body fell into disrepair from inactivity. I watched the slow steady deterioration as he lost his hair, his teeth, and eventually even his ability to move his bowels. Over the span of five years, I watched as his functionality decreased and how one system after another began to fail.
Just before his death, we moved him into the Ian Anderson Home in Oakville. I remember the hospice always smelling like cookies. It felt comfortable and welcoming. The staff were very kind as well. Although I was sad that my uncle was leaving the world, I was grateful that he would be comfortable in his remaining time here with us. Hospices like the Ian Anderson Home are places that provide a peace of mind and a stress relief for families. They provide comfort and care for patients. But most importantly, they act as a family for these patients by creating an environment full of love. These services, those that aren’t tangible, are those that are the most valuable, are those that are often missing from hospital or in-home care. It is for these reasons that Milton must follow through with building the Hospice. I do not know where my family would be without the hospice services. The idea of a hospice in Milton has encouraged me to pursue my dream of entering into Medical School, and helping patients who are ill, just like the hospice did for my uncle. Let’s remember what health care should be; full of dignity and comfort. What better place to build such a home than Milton?” Jessie B.
Such wonderful childhood memories of me with my brother, Peter. Here we are at Rattlesnake Point. 7-year-old me looking up adoringly at my 18-year-old big brother. He fought like crazy when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was a very dark period in our lives, watching him suffer as he was losing his battle. It was frightening for us as we all took shifts caring for him at home – we didn’t know what we were doing, to be honest. Hospice was the silver lining in this dark abyss. They supported my brother and the rest of us as well. They allowed us to stop and be present in the moment with him. It also gave us one of our most poignant memories – a music therapist came in to play Elton John songs on her guitar. For that half hour, all of his pain disappeared. His body relaxed as he soaked in his favourite music and a sense of calm washed over him. Shortly thereafter, he peacefully slipped away with his family by his side. This is the type of compassionate customized care offered at hospice. Helping to make the end-of-life journey a little more manageable. – Sandy Hatzis
