Wonderful Whales, Weddings and Westermans

It is hard to blog when I feel that words cannot really describe the incredible moments I have experienced in recent weeks. But avoiding it doesn't help. From heartbreaking to amazing, the past month and a bit has been very full and I have learned so much more about life and how potent it can be.

As many of you know and can read on Ryan and Tasha's blogs (see side panel for links), the Westermans have been riding a fast and furious roller coaster since the news that Ryan's tumour had broken free of the experimental treatment's reigns just before Christmas. And after being admitted to hospital on New Year's Eve with stroke-like symptoms, Ryan found out a few days later that his tumour had moved to his brain stem, and the doctors recommended taking a hospice bed immediately. It was a surreal concept for a guy so alive. And after a day or so, Ryan took action. Ryan prepared videos for his family to ensure everything he wanted to say is said in case he lost his speech. He wanted to have his "celebration of life" with him in attendance, and so we had a party later that week - people flew in and everyone shared stories of their friend Ryan.

Having been in the room when Ryan's doctor recommended taking a hospice bed, I felt a huge dilemma in leaving for Hawaii a few days later, both because of the uncertainty for Ryan as well as for the support Tasha would need. In one way, Ryan's situation should remind me that things like going to Hawaii were important especially given my own health situation. Ryan and I were diagnosed a few months apart in 1997 and have relapsed several times after a variety of treatment options including experimental ones. On the other hand it seemed ludicrous to leave. Both Tasha and Ryan told me to go, and Ryan said he would be pissed off if I didn't go (said with a large Ryan grin on his face). Ryan's celebration was the night before we were to leave, and he looked so full of life roaming around the room that I truly believed he would be there when I returned.

So I went to Maui with mom and dad - to an incredible oceanfront condo (Dad had found it last minute for half price!) that couldn't be any better. We just walked down to the beach every day (Mom and I with our coffee cups) and boogey boarded (Dad non-stop), snorkeled with turtles or just relaxed on the sand. Or sat on the patio and watch the whales (at least 10 sightings each day) flap and jump and blow spray from their spouts. Or watched at least two weddings take place on the beach in front of us (even started ranking them!). On the few times we left our oceanfront paradise, we had pupus and mojitos at Tommy Bahamas. It was a wonderful holiday and once again I was filled with the Maui energy I have come to love. And aside from a grueling trip home (flights delayed and rerouted and delayed again!) the three of us agree the trip was absolutely the most relaxing we have had.

Dad brought his laptop and webcam, so I was able to keep track of Tasha and Ryan while in Maui, getting the updates that Ryan continued to play the "exception" role he has perfected...very little change from when I left. I was able to show them a few waves on the webcam, report my daily turtle and whale sightings for Talyn and enjoy my holiday even more fully.

And when I returned, I went over to see Ryan and Tasha and found that while Ryan's right side was a bit weaker, not a lot had changed. We had dinner and then Talyn wanted to play Uno with his mom, dad, Baba and I. And after Ryan and I were the last-place finishers in the card game, he pulled out the Connect 4 game to challenge me. I forgot how great that game is - such a simple objective of lining up 4 coloured chips in a row, but so difficult. After much thought and time, I won the first game. The next game I backed myself into a corner without even seeing it and Ryan kicked my butt. And all my worry about having gone to Maui evaporated. This guy was just fine. Who has a tumour wrapped around his brain stem and still beats me at Connect 4? Mr. Ryan Westerman that's who.

The next night a few of us surprised Ryan at dinner at the restaurant Teatro - it was an extraordinary evening - we all shared our favourite memory or story about Ryan and he in turn shared his favourite of each of us. Such pure and honest energy exchanged. Honest tears and pure laughter.

As Ryan describes his new "pad", it is a remarkable place that to me feels like a mountain retreat house than anything. Given his continued ability to push the boundary of the doctors' predictions, it is a great place of flexibility and options that supports what he and his family need. I am very grateful for that and on my tour of the place was even thinking of how to contribute to the hospice in the future. The value it is providing to Ryan, Tasha and Talyn certainly rivals even the progress of research.

As I have told him, Ryan is "writing the textbook" on how to live when you're told you're going to die soon. He has struck a perfect balance of respecting the possibility of leaving this world with respecting the possibility of a further miracle. He has also mastered the balance of "fighting to live" with "living". He has faced the fear of the moment of death. These are all things he and I and Tasha have discussed over the years, in the various contexts of each of our cancer fights. But he is walking the talk and I am inspired, proud and amazed at the way he is able to execute so remarkably the very theories that I aspire to. Cancer or not, all of us should do the videos. Now. We should celebrate life. Now. The risk of doing that is what?

My words cannot possibly report the depth of life I have been fortunate to experience recently. And so I'll conclude. It's just been so many shades of wonderful.