I'm writing this today, Sunday Feb 1st 2026 as a form of therapy for myself.  I realize now I won't be getting nor do I deserve any type of professional counselling or therapy so for now, I will write it down.  That has become like my personal therapy.  Does it help?  Maybe, maybe a little bit. 

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This current journey I'm on started in the year 2025.  At some point, I noticed a problem on my breast and thought it was some kind of infection.  I had got through Dave's illness, said goodbye to him and our entire life in the north.  I moved into my mother's home where I felt at unease most of the time because I was too old to be there and had spent too long already in my own life.  I was thrust into hers.  Well, I put myself into hers.  At first when she was healthy, it was ok.  Although I realized pretty quickly to not speak too much of the turmoil I had been through with Dave.  It was always measured by someone else's.  It was not mine either.  I found no solace in his family with the exception of Kate and we became vipp, very important penpals :)  It did help greatly. 

When my mother couldn't stop falling, it took her awhile to come to the conclusion that she needed more help.  This was in 2024.  She was able to choose where she wanted to go and when.  And then we sold her house.  I had a lot of help with that but still felt it was so much work and so much stress trying to deal with it all.  It didn't take my mind off of the loss of Dave or our life in the north.  It just piled on more.  And I felt it.  I knew it. 

Once she was settled, it wasn't what I had hoped because her mind never accepted it.  She never moved on and expressed it often putting guilt on us all.  I felt it hugely.  I felt the need to continually just try to soothe her feelings and it became literally a day to day effort.  One that failed often.  She kept falling and ended up on the nursing floor which helped a bit but was still a huge trial for us to 'help'.  In the meantime selling her house took 7 months and great effort.  She continued to suffer from letting go of it all and expressed it daily, piling the guilt on.  She didn't mean to, that I know and would sometimes be able to make the effort not to.  The mental and physical parts of all this did me in. 

I thought I could get rid of the infection but it lingered on and on.  I didn't understand it but eventually knew I needed more help.  I moved into a condo apartment with great unease.  I was nervous about everything but tried to not show it.  I tried my hardest to continue the facade of 'everything's great' in front of the family.  But then I started having 'episodes' in front of them and once in front of Kate who generously came for a visit here.  And then I knew, I had to seek medical help. 

The sign on McLeod Rd flashed at me at least 20 times before I went there and signed up to see the doctor.  That was in October 2025.  I didn't get in to see him til November.  He took a look and asked if I wanted to know the truth of what he saw and of course I said yes.  I was trying to be truthful, if even just to myself.  He said cancer and that journey then started. 

He also noted high blood pressure, high cholesterol and high heart beat and sent me to a clinic for an ecg, blood and urine work.  He also sent me to a local surgeon for a biopsy.  Those tests all came back with more bad news.  He prescribed statins for the cholesterol and the surgeon confirmed cancer.  I was referred to the cancer center in St. Catharines and got an appointment with who I thought was an Oncologist but he wasn't. 

Dr. C was a Hematologist who confirmed to me that I had Leukemia.  My white blood count was 117,000 and should be around 4,000.  Blood cancer which was a separate issue from the breast cancer already confirmed.  Dr. C let me know no cure, no treatment but he was concerned I didn't have an Oncologist appt yet and helped to get me one.  This was in December 2025. 

I was sent for more tests and another biopsy, this time on my lymph nodes.  More blood work, a CT scan and maybe others I've already forgotten.  I finally get an appointment with an Oncologist in mid January.  By this time, it's been 2 months since I was told 'cancer' and a month since the one was confirmed. 

The Oncologist, Dr. Y was a nice woman who talked very fast and got basically right to the point.  The tumour on my breast extending into my lymph nodes measured over 6 cm by this time.  I had felt it grow over the past weeks or months.  I was in a lot of pain in that area from the tumour that had pushed through my skin (not an infection as I thought) - it grew and grew and from the two biopsies.  They were both extremely painful.  I had told no one about any of this at this point. 

When Dr. Y asked three times if I had someone either with me or that we can get on the phone and then confirmed stage 4 breast cancer, I knew the time was here to tell the family.  I knew I had no choice.  I physically wasn't able to do much for my mother and had used the excuse of my high blood pressure and a 'sore shoulder' too much.  It was time for the truth. 

I told Kate in writing.  I told Margaret when she was here  ... 

to be continued when I can