I have my alarm set to wake to a French station where the most beautiful choices of music begin my day. Plaintive sounds. Orchestras. Baroque. Strings. Many strings. Violin. Mandolin. Classical guitar. It fortifies me as I rest and listen for the quiet hour I give myself in the morning.

In thirty minutes I pick mum up, load medical supplies, her soft Brunswick Sheets, a few photos of her family, the bunnies and teddy bears that she loves, a suitcase of clothing and away we go - the next chapter is about to begin for her. We leave the assisted living environment of Windsor Court for Nashwaak Villa - a small, sweet little nursing home. I took her up Monday and introduced her around, filled out all the papers and visited the pharmacy. My emotions are all over the place on this - I find it very hard. Mum sat with me Christmas Eve Day 2005 and told me she was about to hand over the matriarchy to me. I don’t want it.

I just finished reading The Red Tent - I am doing a lot of reflecting this morning - thinking about our place in society. Our place as women with men. And I am mourning. My mother is leaving me through loss of short term memory.

I thought I had it all figured out. She would move into the extended care facility where I work and I would keep an eye on her for the family. When I introduced a social worker to her this summer to start the “paperwork” we needed to name three facilities in order of preference. I spoke up but mum negated my third choice. She said instead, “Stanley”. So we put down Stanley never dreaming this is where she would end up. But as things sometimes happen when we do not meddle, Mom is going to Stanley and will be Virginia’s room mate - a first cousin she always loved. Virginia loves music - especially gospel. My babysitter is also there - Mabel is 99. Mum grew up on the Nashwaak River so this is home to her and the powerful long-term memory she finds happiness with. That memory is moving in on the present.

I just need to keep it together today. Have had a few weeps but I will swing into action and the nurse in me will take over. My sisters and brother are also each doing their parts and we will divide the visitations among us and Mom’s grandchildren. It comes down to family in the end, doesn’t it? The family unit. And all the possessions in the world are quite meaningless. Several in the family will “run for the cure” on Sunday - my sister ‘n law began her radiation yesterday. Her chemo is over.

Love Barbara

Listening to Billy Joel.

Had a dream last night that seemed significant. I dreamed I was in my workplace but it wasn’t really my workplace although the Director of Nursing Care Services was there. She was smiling, serene and just walking through the space. I was somehow attending to my father and he was unusually soft-natured. We all knew he was dying as did he. I was bringing together his meal for him in a very large cafeteria-style space that was light and airy and quite beautiful. Plants. Paintings. Vastness. Grand piano in the area. Escalator going down. Also elevators. Very high ceilings. My mother was there but I could not see her.

Then all of a sudden we were in my Aunt Gertie’s house - in the country. At Aunt Gertie’s house - before we entered the door - I said “OH LOOK. There is an accident going to happen.” Everybody looked to where I was pointing. There were two airplanes heading for the other. And sure enough they hit in midair and then there were huge plumes of smoke coming from the ground. It was a summery day and I wondered if the crash was over the family business site but it seemed to be more easterly - perhaps in my mother’s birth community.

The last thing I remember was thinking that this would certainly be a city-wide emergency and I would have to go to the hospital emergency room. I knew I would not be effective with triage as I deal best with the emotional side. I did not want to go as I would be expected to do things I would not be good at.

(Background: Mum and Dad, Aunt Gertie and Uncle Bud had a double wedding and Uncle Bud is in a nursing home now - as is Mum. Aunt Gertie died at age 39 from a difficult struggle with cancer. She left behind her husband and three young children - all girls. She had lost another child (Karen) to a car accident age 4 - it has been quietly speculated throughout the years that she was hit by a drinking driver. Karen was walking with Aunt Gertie at the time and my grandmother watched the accident from her kitchen window. When I was 19 and in nursing school I took my guitar to the radiation department and sang to Aunt Gertie and for the other radiation patients. I just learned in my late forties that Mum offered me as a child - to Aunt Gertie. She told me, “I had two girls and Gertie had lost her only one - so I asked her if she wanted to take care of you. I thought it might help her to have a little one to love.” I did not live with Aunt Gertie but I visited often. Dad died 15 years ago of cancer and our core family surrounded him through his passage.)

Helping grandson Ennis and Daughter when they were sick earlier this week subjected me to a touch of the bug myself - I have been a little under the weather for a couple of days but not as sick as either of them were. I stayed away from work yesterday but will hit the floors today with my Walking Spree pedometer in my pocket. My inner clock is all turned around from the past two days so I have been awake since 2:30 am. Time to write in the middle of the night. (My editor said to me once about writing, “When you are driving the highway alone at three in the morning …”)

I have a little Eva Cassidy playing. This musician and artist was introduced to me by the same person who told me to read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Eva and Ayn have left lasting impressions with me. They came into my life in 2002, when I was directing ops for the Liberal Leadership bid of the Shawn Graham leadership, healing from cancer surgery and studying for my nursing refresher. I am not sure how I did all that. I slept for three weeks when it was all done and over with. My flowering crab was the most beautiful I had seen it that year. After resting I then headed straight into my nursing practicum on a rugged Medical/Surgical floor. YIKES.
Back in 2002 I gave Shawn a copy of Atlas Shrugged. I thought it might be important for him to read in light of his increasing leadership role - provide him with something to stir the mind. He enters the Legislative Assembly of New Brunswick as Premier on Tuesday. I will be watching. And smiling.
Love Barbara

This week I was confronted with two front-page news items (New Brunswick paper and Canadian paper respectively). The stories outlined 1. The horrific abuse of a child whose rectum had been penetrated with a toy pencil, rupturing her bowel. She suffered before death AND 2. the Planet’s largest polluter - cited as China - and its impact on humanity. In my book I encourage the reader to think about our individual “cancers” (illness of course but also greed, hate, resentment, bitterness, jealousy, addictions, etc) and our global “cancers” (wars, pollution, racism etc). I question how these “cancers” relate to the physical illnesses we are beset with. The suffering. Soul Gifts was written to comfort - and it will do that for those who seek it. It will provide hope in what many consider a hopeless world.

The way I dealt with my own cancer was automatically to love it as part of me. “Come to me. I will touch you. I will love you.” We need to accept ourselves and extend that acceptance to others.

Soul Gifts is dedicated to the late Dr. Duncan Hadley and to the world’s children. It’s about a legacy of personal and global peace … and how we might achieve that. Here is a little excerpt … I was maybe thirty years old when Joleen entered my life. (I am now nearly 56.)
JOLEEN
I had two little girls arrive at my back door. No mittens. No hats. It was the dead of winter. They asked me if they could have some hot chocolate. I invited them in.

For the next two years one of the girls visited regularly. Joleen. One night in the middle of a snow-storm she arrived with her younger sister and brother, a toddler. They were not dressed for the cold. My husband and I fed them, warmed them by the fire, and later, once we were sure they would be supervised, we returned them to their home. The next day I called the little girl’s school and spoke with the guidance counselor. Joleen’s case file was described to me as border-line. Her family was being watched.

I continued to befriend Joleen, helping clothe her and teaching her as best I could about a different way of living. Then things began to change. As my own family expanded, I was afraid she was becoming too dependent on me. I began to wean her from me and eventually our time together ceased altogether.

Many years later, we serendipitiously rediscovered one another. She looks much the same as she did when she was a little girl who came to my back door. An innocence lingers there. I invited her to coffee. A question had niggled at me for a long time: had I made life easier for her, or harder to bear?

We talked. Joleen is now in her early forties. She said, “I moved away from here. I’ve been married. Divorced. I lived in parts of Canada.”

She told me she has little memory of her childhood. ” I do remember you though. I knocked on your door and you let me in.” She asked, “I wonder who was with me that day? Who the other little girl was?”

Joleen is happy. She is proud of her children. She said, “We love to read. We write a lot. I have written a lot of poetry over the years.”

She paused. We grew silent. Then Joleen said, “People are afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” I asked.

“They are afraid to ask for a hug. So I give hugs when I think people need one.”

When Joleen was a little girl, all those years ago, she was not afraid to reach out for love. She explained to me how she now reaches out to others with that love. I am very proud of the fine woman she has become.

I have had an excerpt from Soul Gifts - about suffering - published in a newsletter out of Portland, ME, USA (page seven - increase the font size to read). I love this particular part of the book as it describes a little bird’s visit - Say’s Phoebe - when I was recovering from cancer. The excerpt also has a glimpse of Harry L. Gill too - India, 1942 as well as a colleague from the University of Ottawa - Dr. David Large Ph.D.

Off to visit friends for a few days. A winter break. Love Barbara

On the heels of the Dixie Chicks sweeping the Grammy Awards I had an incident today that was mind-bending. It ticked me off. It made me feel as though I am “not ready to make nice.”

I headed to the full service gas station after buying my groceries. A huge four-wheel-drive truck pulled into the pumps behind a red car. I approached from the opposite direction and parked in the free spot - the hood of my car faced the hood of the red car. The hood of the truck faced the trunk of the red car - the truck was idling directly behind the red car. I exited my car. Then the man in the truck screamed at me while he gestured. I approached him. My junior by about ten years and a big man, he ranted that I had been rude to take his place at the pumps. This made no sense to me as he was in a stationary position behind the red car and had approached the pumps from the opposite direction. His verbal assaults made me angry. I held my tongue until he pointed his finger at me and boomed, “You are RUDE.”

Intimidation doesn’t sit too well with me. I hit back and put him DOWN by incredulously laughing and non-chalantly saying, “You have a problem.” I then turned on my heel while he ranted at my back. Before I knew it, the gas attendant had followed me into the store to see if I was OK. Then the attendant thanked me.

Here is the kicker. The owner of the red car was a little old lady. She was slow. While she had lots of room to move her car, her confidence must not have been high. I discovered she had waited until I returned to my car before she attempted to move her car. This further slowed the man from getting his gas.
During the incident, my natural instinct was to protect myself - to clobber him with my purse, take down his license place and report him to the authorities for verbal assault. I am now in print and must practice what I preach. Arghh. I state, “When we consider others’ points of view, and put ourselves in another’s shoes, we will find compassion. We will live more in peace.”

There was nothing peaceful about what happened at the gas pumps. I further say in Soul Gifts, “Some believe evil, championed by the devil, lurks in dark corners waiting to grab us, tempts us and destroy us … I believe evil to be the actions of men [men or women] who exercise their will and propagate what is antisocial behaviour. Have I seen that? Sure I have. Such predators are unable or unwilling to exercise self-control and have only self-interest, often defiling others to satisfy themselves … these individuals deserve our compassion, love and kind discipline - not our loathing. This does not mean we must embrace their behaviour … one might liken antisocial, unkind or careless behaviours to a malignant tumour - the cancer of mankind that we witness in atrocities against humanity and the deplorable way we have taken care of our earth … Mankind can defuse what it calls evil and shrink that global tumour until it is remission. Or gone. If that is what we want …”

I will, upon leaving today’s blog, put away my groceries and pray for my compassion for this man. I will work on forgiving myself for hitting back in the way I did. I will have to dig deep. His behaviour was upsetting. I was shaking when I left the gas station. He was a BIG man in a BIG truck. He had a BIG voice and he looked stronger physically than I am.

I try not to dwelll on the past. Only the good memories! I am 56 and in many ways have had, and continue to enjoy, a good life. I am thankful.  However, I have also coped with a life of chronic pain which I manage in great part by using “mind over matter”.  I was diagnosed with Erythema Nodosum and Sarcoidosis during my first pregnancy (I was placed on bed rest during  that pregnancy, age 25, 1975-1976). I was diagnosed with Fibrositis (now known as Fibroymyalgia) in 1979 after ten years of investigation,  then Burn Out with Depression in 1994 and Liposarcoma in 2001. The latter has definite links to Agent Orange and the other diagnoses, I think are - in large part immune-system related.  I spent every summer in Jemseg or Maugerville, New Brunswick and still frequent the Jemseg area every summer.  I was six years old when the (alleged) extensive spraying started at the neighbouring Canadian Forces Base Gagetown - the largest land-mass base in the Commonwealth. It is frightening when the extent of spraying is considered!

Today I joined the Class Action Litigation.  I am doing this to help others wake up from   denial. Some have said to me, “I don’t understand why you would join the litigation- you weren’t at Base Gagetown. The government can’t compensate all citizens.” These are  arguments I have had with myself!  Fact is - I WAS there - just across the St. John River. I was there - in the water, swimming. Breathing the air. Eating the food from the gardens.  Drinking the well water. It’s difficult for me to fathom that chemicals could have affected me so much and that there could have been chemical use well beyond my knowledge or comprehension.

I address litigation and chemical impacts on humanity in my book - which I dedicated, in part, to the Children of the World.  Love Barbara 

PS Maybe there is a need to look at chemical exposure in reverse … ie “Prove to me my ill health is NOT chemical-related.  Prove that poison has not harmed me.” 

Update: August 7, 2007  Please read the comments section. Input from a retired military gentleman - Cpl. Kenneth H Young CD (ret) 

I had to consider being perceived as “opportunistic” when I joined the Agent Orange Class Action Litigation. Some will think it is all about “money”. Cash is not even in the equation for me. This is about principles. I “put my money where my mouth is” when I spent thousands on the publication of Soul Gifts - a small effort in the scheme of things - to help bring forward my perception of Humanity’s truth.

I am not niave. This action could take years. BUT maybe truth will come out … and maybe it will help my grandchildren’s generation.

A few quotes from my book: “Vacationing at our summer cottage I stretched out on the beach and looked up at refueling exercises conducted right over my head. A week of entertainment for all the children gathered around.” And from the acknowledgements of thanks at the back of the book: “The approximately twenty medical doctors who have tended me …”

Ah yes.

Truth-telling time is coming. Let’s just hear the truth. Another quote from my book, “The question that is tantamount is whether today’s government leaders and beaurocrats are responsible for the decisions of yesterday. If Barbara argued for compensation, would it be the same as blaming her parents and their generation for apathy, ignorance or complicity. Or would it say that governing parties and beaurocrats had failed to disclose the horrible truth? Or - has everybody been in denial?/This goes to the issue of legacy and raises the spectre of what Barbara’s generation will provide as legacy to the generations to follow.”

Love, Barbara

I finished up in the kitchen the other night and a mouse scooted by. It deaked into a vent. There was great commotion as Blair and Victoria - the Great White Pyrenees got a glimpse of the mouse and my reaction to it (ie “You little critter - get OUT of my kitchen!”) Bev commented on my last blog post that there is a high incidence of cancer and birth anomolies along the St. John River Valley - comparative to the rest of the Province of New Brunswick. I will research this and ask Bev to contribute more about this. Perhaps we could do a thread about it and generate a discussion. I sent off my PAPERWORK including my book - to the Merchant Group about the class action. (I will talk more later about our litigious society. Maybe I am becoming as much a part of the problem as I am the solution. Later Gator on that point. ) I also sent an official letter of request to my doctor, with a cc to the Merchant Group, to have all pertinent copies of files forwarded to the litigators. I didn’t plan on becoming involved in all this. Now, here’s the rub ….

I picked raspberries Wednesday morning. It was so peaceful in the patch. On the other side of the bushes was a woman I had never met. We couldn’t really see much of each other, a glimpse now and again between the bushes, but we talked for an hour. I spoke about the Agent Orange litigation and mid-sentence it was like … OH, I wonder if these raspberries have been sprayed. And what of the strawberries and blueberries and and and … How much are our livers supposed to take I wonder? I made the comment, “Well what did we do years ago?” She said, “We didn’t cultivate.”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. In my book I talk about the unintended results of agriculture when referencing the plethora of Snow Geese in the Artic - they are apparently tearing up our tundra in their feeding frenzy although I have not witnessed this with my own eyes.

I picked up a shift so head into three shifts in two hours. One thing that has always been hard for me due to my health is working full time. I need lots of rest in between. So I have had ten days of rest. Time to work again. It’s good for me. Work is good for everybody. Must get Kahil Gibran out. He speaks about that.
Love Barbara

I wasn’t going to say much - protect the children and all - but they are adults now. So I told them over the past few days. I have a mass next to my incision line where the Liposarcoma was excised six years ago. It is in close proximity to my groin. Yikes ! By exercising more I have been paying more attention to my body. The mass is about the size of my palm. I was examined by my physician yesterday. MRI coming up. This is the first step. If it is suspicious then when I meet with my surgeon we will determine a course of action. That action might include a visit with the Sarcoma specialty in Toronto - Dr. Wunder was my consulting doctor prior. (Interesting that my daughter and son n law - RCMP - are to receive their initial posting in the Toronto area in November). If cancer is present it will undoubtedly mean cutting my leg again and it would mean radiation this time - something they didn’t want to do the last time as it would result in a swollen sore leg for the rest of my days. Or so I was told after my first incidence. I am remarkably relaxed about this. We will see what evolves. It will take a few weeks to figure out. Recurrance is only at 10-15% with the very large tumor removed the last time. My concern is a debilitated leg that won’t allow me the same kind of mobility I have enjoyed. And I’m not too fussy about having MORE physical pain.
Mmmmmm. Well I have my Agent Orange Ex-Gratia papers nearly filled out. And more information to go to the Class Action Litigators. Liposarcoma has been identified as one of the cancers associated with Agent Orange. I planned to donate anything I received … but maybe I will need it to help me with post operative care if surgery is required. One day at a time. I have thanked God every day this fall for the glorious fall foliage in Stanley. It has been breathtaking and peacemaking for my heart. Love Barbara

Update: 3:50 PM Same Day - Went to the Agent Orange office, ragged out the woman there - felt horrible about that then burst into tears. I don’t know if I can stomach more disability paperwork. I have had my fill of it over the years. It will be difficult to prove my presence on the farm with my grandparents (not officially listed as a resident) so I may not bother as it irritates the hell out of me doing paper-paper-paper work. I need to keep my environment serene. Very serene.

As for the bi-focals … I chucked THAT idea. I asked them to replace the lens with readers only. Bifocals made me nauseated!