This story begins on June 11,1968, our first date. And continues today.

Between times have been one adventure after another, including the raising of two wonderful young women who make me a proud father.

This woman, who is mother of my children, my lover, my wife, my partner and my friend has a story to tell. I'm incredibly fortunate to be part of her life. Since the original diagnosis in 1986 she continues to amaze everyone around her with her ability to love life and continue on regardless of the odds. Tell Michelle that there is an adventure to be had and she's up for it. Her latest adventure is merely to save her life.

In 1986 this super woman is busy; house and home, husband and two daughters, horses, cats, and dogs, not to mention running an insurance business and developing a shopping mall. She signed final papers for a land purchase from the hospital bed, the day after surgery. It may be possible to knock her down but not for long.

Our friend and family health guru, Dr. Sindelar advised us that our minds are recording, particularly when we are unconscious. With this in mind when Michelle was recovering from anesthetic I tried to implant "Michelle loves football." Didn't work. "Michelle loves life" did.

Mikki has Cancer. I don't think I have ever been so helpless. What can I do?

Be there! I have been and I am. I am there when she wakes, I am there for a helping hand, I am there for food service, I am there for holding, I do everything I can to be there.

I am there for this new path. The life changes, the diet, the exercise, the excitement and sharing in the return to health.

1987

Out of the blue comes a phone call - my 37 yr. old daughter has cancer of the cervix and a hysterectomy is forthcoming. The very word 'hysterectomy' strikes terror to my heart. My own hysterectomy several years earlier was a nightmare of complications and a near-death experience. I must go and be with her. A flight is arranged for me to arrive just before the surgery and stay several days after.

A nurses' strike delays the operation, but I go anyway and we had a wonderful visit. But I could not be there when the operation took place. I might as well have gone, I spent nearly as much on phone calls. The night nurses on her floor were polite and professional with their answers. "She is sleeping now - doing well."

She did make an amazing recovery and I relaxed again, confident that the crisis was over. It was the hysterectomy - not the cancer that I worried about.

Several years later, when she had moved to the Island and my husband had passed away, a reoccurrence of cancer appeared. Several years of suffering followed - surgery, biopsies, radiation, etc. Always with the hope it would be gone, but year after year, little pieces of her were removed and it always showed up again. The last proposed surgery was to be a reconstruction of the vaginal wall but the cancer cells had by then invaded the meatus. She was at a crossroads - a horrible choice that no human should have to make.

She refused further intervention and went on a healing diet that seems to be working, for which I am very thankful; though I do not understand it.

Here I must also add a tribute to that the person closest to her - her husband - Ken has been right there through thick and thin. Through much adversity, he has always persevered and I consider him my son.

All I really care about is that she feels well and is again her usual bubbly self - enthused about various undertakings and showing definite "Joie de Vivre".

CANCER  The very word strikes fear into the hearts of patients and their doctors alike.  My first real experience with the word cancer was very personal. I was just out of high school and looking forward to entering college in the fall.

First of all, you should know that this is not my story.  I had the easy part if you can call it that.  I am the member of a close family who has the misfortune to have to deal with a family member having it.  It's kind of like winning a lottery (just not a very good one).

I was getting ready to enter college when my mom started to have some unusual symptoms start to happen to her.  I won't go into those as that is her story to share.  Needless to say by October she had been to see a doctor and had a diagnosis of a progressive cancer.  There is that word again.  At seventeen I did not expect to become so intimately acquainted with the word let alone the disease.  This couldn't be happening.  My mother was a healthy vital 37!!!!! 

The only thing that crosses your mind at that time or at least mine was "how soon can she have surgery".  I thought that surgery was the saving grace at that time.  (After seven surgeries that my mom has endured I have a slightly different view point now.)  To complicate matters the nurses in Alberta went on strike at that time and all hospital procedures ground to a halt.  Emergencies only.  Did they not realize that this was an emergency?!!! Apparently not, as Mom's surgery was rescheduled for February.

Needless to say the next three months we tried to carry on as usual even though we were all really thinking about what was going on inside of my mom. 

To back up a bit, I have to say that this experience changed me from the first day that it happened. The sense of knowing that your parents would be there for you for those important days in your life (such as college graduation, wedding, etc.) was gone.  In some ways that has not been a bad thing.  It has brought our close family even closer.  We say all the things that you should say to your family members when we think them.  Because you never know when you will get the opportunity again or even if you will.

After my Mom's surgery in February I went to see her in the hospital.  My Dad of course has already been there and the gifts that he has left are displayed on the bedside table.  Her favorite perfume, etc.  My gift to her was completing a new pedicure on her.  (My mom has had her pedicure done every day of my life and it is always fire engine red or now burgundy.)  I never knew how much this meant to her until years later when we discussed it.  Her roommate was also in for cancer surgery and stated that she would have loved for her daughter to come and do her pedicure for her.  Such a personal and easy thing to do.

Our family seemed to take on the business of my Mom's cancer with the seriousness and organization of a well-organized battle unit.  My Mom is the Commander in Chief.  Looking at all of the information available and deciding the battle plan.  My Dad is the Second in Charge and helps make all the arrangements and see that everyone is where they are supposed to be.  My Sister is the unconditional support personnel always there to listen, ask thought provoking questions, and give that warm hug whenever needed.  My job is a bit different from the rest.  I am the morale officer.  I am ever ready with a good dark humor joke or an encouraging word. 

I remember on the eve of one of my Mom's surgeries, she was a province away from me.  I am not even able to hold her hand.  She sent my Dad to their friends for the evening as he was very tired and more than a bit distraught.  Then she called me.  I don't know if he knew how upset and scared she was.  I know my job and I do it well.  Within ten minutes of calling me, we were both in giggles.  Laughter really is the best medicine.

One more thing before I give you back to my Mom to finish this tale.  I never expected to become an unofficial member of the Cancer Group either.  Now when I fill out health histories my doctor gives me that look.  You all know the one.  Half filled with concern and half with doubt.  So far I am glad to say that I have nothing to worry about.  I am textbook normal in everything.  But I don't take my health for granted.

I know that if anything were ever to happen that I don't have to look too far for inspiration.  My Mom is a survivor and will continue to do so.  We always tease her that she is far too ornery to go gently into the night.  She will fight with every last bit of energy.  I know she will be here for all the important things I want to share with her.  I have faith.  You have to, because faith is over half the battle.  The rest is easier.

The Haiku is a Japanese art form.
It is a seventeen word or syllable poem that expresses a complete concept.

It is with great sorrow that I must bid my beloveds, Stacie & Brent, farewell. They need to leave the Island for employment and family concerns. Parting our family as have so many families been parted.

Every moment in memory is cherished.

This is my Haiku:

Part of a Mother's job
Is to let go. So says my mind
While my heart weeps.

Many thanks to Brent for the generous gift of the "DRACO" logos in support of this website and the foundation.

As a family member, his artistic talents are only one of his many valued attributes. He is a cherished son-in-law, enriching our lives with his Buddhist point of view of enjoying to the fullest each present moment. His quiet and gentle strength, sense of humor, practicality and high ethics influence us all. He is a vocal living tribute to the family values that nurtured him.

Present from the very beginning of this cancer story, first as the boyfriend then our son-in-law, Derek is a strength in the core of our family. Sometimes challenging, always ready with a helping hand, from chef to mechanic to astute businessperson, he is a man of many talents.

Through the various crises and traumas and joys in our extended family, he's been a blessing. He most recent new career is trying for the title of 'World's Best Dad' with Daz's enthusiastic approval.

Some of my earliest memories of my mother are as the community healer. In the small remote rural Saskatchewan community where we lived; as a nurse; she was the only medically trained help within over an hour of travel in good weather in any direction. Although she had no official title, office or payment, our kitchen frequently became an impromptu emergency room. My immense curiosity drew me. I always watched in fascination and sometimes was privileged to assist by holding this or passing that or taking something away.

The parade of interesting cases was forever attention riveting. There was a woman who came with what Mom diagnosed as ringworm. There were three circles in her hair toward the base of her neck the size of an adult finger to thumb circle. They were reddened with raised brown scabby looking crusts extremely painful to the touch. I remember the careful examination and cleaning and lifting of the edges and injection of peroxide with a syringe. I remember her hissing between her teeth and turning towards Mom afterwards with thankfulness in her eyes.

Then there was a man with a broken nose, all the blood to be mopped up, Mom's quick movement, his cursing and then; thankfulness in his eyes.

Another man presented a glass circle in his fingertip from the neck of a bottle, a quick squeeze in the appropriate place and out it popped, and the thankfulness in his eyes.

Flocks of sick babies; Mom administering a potion of some kind and the thankfulness in the mother's eyes. There dozens and dozens of wounds, accidents and sicknesses of varying seriousness and treatments. Some walking in; some carried in. She would turn from whatever task was at hand and immediately put her healing to use.

Shortly into my school years, we moved on into urban centers and Mom usually was the midnite shift emergency room nurse at the local hospital. Frequently, I would visit through the wee hours. The lore of emergency care seeped into my consciousness.

Seeing beyond the blood to the source, to access the severity and immediately decide on a course of action.

Our relationship has been both wonderful and stressful. We have been linked through the years by our mutual love for Ken and then the girls. We have both grown to a place of mutual love and admiration.

She has become a role model for all of us through her determination to overcome the traumas of a serious car accident when she was 78. After months in the hospital, multiple reconstructive surgeries and over a year in a wheelchair; how proud we all were when she ‘showed off’ by abandoning her wheelchair and walking for Stacie’s wedding.

Here she is on her 85th birthday.