A detour from Wemindji - Feb. 4, 2014

Return trip to Oakville.

It's always a gamble when you leave elderly parents for a fairly lengthy time that something unexpected will occur.  In my Father's case it was the diagnosis of terminal, lung cancer last week.  He was hospitalized a few weeks ago but the findings were inconclusive and therefore all my sisters and I could do was speculate.  Unfortunately the specialist finally met with my sisters to deliver the pretty hopeless news of lung cancer.  Due to my Dad's advanced age and poor health (triple bypass 18 years ago and COPD), he wasn't a good surgical candidate.  Chemo and radiation were also off the table.  They offered only palliative care.

After late night chats with both my sisters we decided I'd better come home.  I boarded a 30-seater Air Creebec plane at the little Wemindji airport and started the trip back.  I reflected as we took off, the sadness I was feeling leaving my temporary grade two class of students, our last art class we did painting together and chatting.  I was going to miss that and my wonderful art lessons and profoundly interesting talks with Eleanor as well as the new workshop series she'd just begun in the evenings.  I would miss my Daughter Aidan who made my decision to return to Oakville easier and helped me function at school when I was trying to process the news of my Dad's prognosis.  What was particularly poignant for me on Monday night, while I was hastily throwing my clothes in a suitcase, Aidan gave me my birthday present early as I wouldn't be with her to celebrate. She presented me with little reed birds that are specially handcrafted by the Crees.  That turned the tap on for me.  I felt a wave of such sadness for all the events that I was doomed to face in the near future and the loss of incredible peace I've felt in Wemindji. 

I'm quite accustomed to adversity in my life and find I can be quite functional when faced with it again.  I reframed this event so that it was quickly becoming a new life experience instead of the terrible drama I could have made of it.  For example instead of freaking out on the little "puddle jumper" air plane, I adored it.  Discounting the frigid cabin temperature which never rose above 10 degrees and we were all wearing our coats and gloves the whole trip, I didn't experience any fear of flying in the little plane.  I was captivated by the beauty of the landscape below - the icy rivers, tundra, vastness of it all.  I was in awe.  My eyes barely left the little cabin window.  I was soaking up the experience of seeing the north from a unique perspective. I felt like I was in an episode of National Geographic.  This was one of many silver linings that always accompanies even the worst crisis.  I felt enormously present and grateful. Thanks Melanie for using your Aeroplan points to fly me home. 

The plane made 5 stops to drop off and pick up new passengers in communities south of Wemindji before we made the last leg of the journey to Montreal.  As I left the north and approached the big urban centre I felt a sense of dread.  Thankfully, the airport was quiet and we got processed  quickly.  I was able to move my departure time up an hour making my Pearson airport arrival time a bit more appealing to my middle daughter Eryl who was picking me up.  I sat with a handful of other Toronto bound passengers, all of us silently checking our phones or ipads or whatever. 

Finally we boarded and the flight was uneventful weather wise.  If I'd flown a day later, my plane would have been grounded like a thousand others due to snow but I guess this was silver lining number two.  At midnight, I found myself shovelling my way driveway before I could actually unpack and go to bed.  I missed my little dog Beau who I'd had to leave in Wemindji.   Aidan said Beau sat watching the front door expecting my return all evening.  Not having him with me is probably less complicated given the long hours I'm spending at the hospital. 

On a happy note, when I arrived at my Father's room finally, he was moved to tears (not an uncommon state for our good old Dad).  We talked for almost 5 hours.  He went for a walk (something he hadn't been doing), read from his new Bobby Orr autobiography I gave him at Christmas as I sat listening and knitting.  I guess that's silver lining number 3.  Not each visit will go this well I'm sure but it still made the return trip home more than justifiable.  Dad's entered a stage of profound anxiety and melancholia.  He is very candid and needs to talk about things as much as I do.  In that way, we are very alike.  Unlike my memories of my dear Mother's death some 25 years ago, also due to cancer, Dad is allowing us to actually speak our feelings and say our goodbyes.  We're having some sad moments but also many enjoyable reminiscences.  He started recording his life before all this and has asked me to bring in his tape recorder so that he can continue.  I said it will be our project.  For me this is silver lining number 4.

I have a return ticket to Wemindji and hope to go back in the near future.  I'm not able to focus on that right now for obvious reasons but the school principal there knows of my intentions.  I will probably continue this blog to record this chapter of my life. 

All for now.....