Neil Crone - Enter Laughing

Precious seconds

A gorgeous morning.  Warm, even humid air, scented with the aroma of the earth, humus, the gentle decay of fall.  So beautiful. The kind of morning you can actually feel wrapping itself around you as you step out into it.  I enjoyed it for a while then came in and opened up my morning email.  I was hit between the eyes with the news that a young girl, a girl I've never personally met and yet whom I feel I have a relationship with, is now dying.  Lindsay Bolger is a twenty-six year old dynamo who has been fighting brain cancer for many years.  I met Lindsay's wonderful mom Jo-Ann a few years ago while speaking at Princess Margaret Hospitals Pencer Centre.  I've been following Lindsay's remarkable journey ever since, through email and the internet.  She's been through so many ups and downs I can't begin to tell you.  And she's raised hundreds of thousands of dollars in research funds through her  B-Strong Bash and now, finally , it looks like  her journey may be coming to an end.  Although with Lindsay, I would always have to say all bets are off.

I don't know why people get cancer.  I've asked myself why I got it many, many times. I do know, from experience, that one of the really very good things about it is that when we get it, a lot of people watch.  They watch people like Lindsay for instance and they stand in awed witness to the best in the human spirit; courage, humor, joy, love, perspective.  And they are reminded of how precious every second we get is. How every morning we still get to be here is a very good one. They are walking wake-up calls for the rest of us trudging around staring at our shoes.  Like I said, I've never met Lindsay Bolger...but I can tell you that I love her dearly. For all of those reasons and so much more.  I hope you will too.

A banner day.

When I was first diagnosed with colon cancer, I asked my Surgeon, because you just do when you're suddenly faced with the proposition of dieing, 'What my chances were?'  He told me 35% over 5 years.  Yikes. I remember trying very hard, for a very long time, to forget those words.  And I could, for a time.  Sometimes for long periods of time.  But not for ever.  I could never fully forget. Until, I think, today.  Today marks the end of my 5 years.  Which means, I suppose that I am no longer a statistic.  I'm not on their actuarial tables any longer.  I'm free.  It's nonsense, I know.  I have no idea who ever pulled the magical number 5 out of a hat and decided that that was when cancer survivors had really survived.  But, for better or worse, it's there and it's accepted and it's something that we cling to.  It's hope, I suppose.  And I must tell you, in spite of feeling marvelously, perfectly healthy for at least the last two years, I do feel even better today.  We marked the occasion with dinner out and champagne at home.  I sent my Oncologist and the Oncological nursing staff a dozen red roses. A banner day indeed.

Thanks Randy...

Randy Pausch died yesterday. Some of you may remember reading a post in here about Randy's famous Last Lecture . He was a College Professor diagnosed with a terminal illness. In his famous last lecture to his students he distilled, beautifully, some of the life lessons his impending death was teaching him. It's an incredible presentation and one that all of us should probably watch at least once a month, maybe more. I encourage you to have a look if you've not done so already. It was a sad day for me (and undoubtedly millions more judging from the remarkable success of this lecture) yesterday but also a bittersweet one. Randy only lived 47 years but we should all leave such an enduring legacy. His message, basically, live large. Amen. We're here for a short time folks. Don't glide. Now go take a bite out of the ass of life!

The lovely Sheela

Oh man, that picture of the lovely Sheela Basrur, the late Sheela Basrur, stole my heart this morning. Another beautiful soul gone to cancer. I really can't help but feel that we're doing something fundamentally wrong here folks. That we're missing some key piece to our lives, our existance that would make it all so much easier and understable and, dare I say it, fun? Why is this disease running so rampantly amongst us? Why do people get it? Why did I get it? Why did I get better? I sometimes wonder if all of our research dollars are being spent in the wrong areas. Maybe the cure has to come from the inside, not the outside? Just a thought. But one that's more and more on my mind every time I read of another loved one gone. Joy and health to you and yours.

A long overdue hug.

Hats off to my buddy Cosimo. Owner of Terroni restaurant here in Toronto. I've known Cosimo for a few years but we've never met until this afternoon. We were put together through email a number of years ago when Cosimo was diagnosed with colon cancer. Like cancered folk do, we bonded very quickly and firmly even though all of our conversations were in cyber-space. Until today. The universe works in wondrous ways. I had made arrangements to meet Carlo Rota, a friend and co-castmate on Little Mosque, at a restaurant named Terroni. It just so happens that Cosimo not only runs the place but is a lifelong chum of Carlo....I arrived at the restaurant and with hardly a word spoken Cosimo and I were embracing like brothers. Because, I guess, we are. Chemo and radiation brothers. Another one of the weird little gifts of the big black dog, cancer...you make friends for life, however long or short it might end up being.

A walk to remember.

I just wanted to post a follow-up to my Meagan's Walk entry. I can't say enough about this wonderful event. There is something about a crowd of people, all of whom have been touched by cancer in a very real way, that just reaches you on a level like no other. Meagan's Walk is primarily all about raising funds to research and cure pediatric brain tumors. This is all about kids with tumors in their heads. Not a whole lot of those children make it. And when you stand in front of and talk to and walk amongst parents of these children and hear many, many stories and see many many pictures of the beautiful little angels these people have lost, if you have any soul at all...you are changed.
And when, once we had completed the walk to Sick Kids Hospital, we formed a human chain completely encircling the building, raised our hands together and hugged the place as one, there was not a dry eye in the house. Rarely have I taken part in such a moving, soul-satisfying, change-making event. Thank you folks. I am a better person for having shared that with you.

Meagan's Walk

Going to do Meagan's Walk this Sunday morning. I like taking part in most charitable functions. It makes me feel good. Still, if I'm being honest, some just speak more to my heart than others. The first time someone contacted me about doing Meagan's Walk I immediately knew I'd like it. Check out the link for a full description of the walk and Meagan's story. It'll touch your heart too, I'm sure. In a nutshell though it's a five kilometer walk from Ontario Place to Sick Kids Hospital, where (and this is the really cool part) all of the participants join hands,encircle the hospital and give the building a big hug. Love that. I have my own reasons for wanting to fight cancer and for loving Sick Kids...not least of which is the fact that my 13 year old son is bouncing around just fine after having a van run over his leg this past winter. Thanks to Sick Kids. If you've got your own reasons, or if you'd just like to feel good, we'd love to have you join us on Sunday. Cheers.

The gift that keeps on giving..

I had one of those 'red alert' moments this past week. Another reminder that cancer is the gift that keeps on giving. On March 30 it will be four years since my surgery and diagnosis of colon cancer. Free and clear and healthy, I am feeling wonderfully. But it's always there...the threat, the worry, that it might come back. I wonder if it ever goes away? I had some blood work done recently. Just routine stuff. But then we got the phone call. The one you dread. The doctor would like to see Neil regarding his bloodwork. What's it about? Can't you just tell us over the phone? What's going on? I'm sorry but the Doctor needs to see him personally.
And so the wheels begin to turn. We got the phone call on a Thursday and I wasn't able to make an appointment to dispel my fear until the following Wednesday. Almost a week for the rumor mills in my head (and I am certain my poor wife's head) to start cranking out the bad news. When we finally did get to see him, he joked when he walked into the room that 'This must be serious! You're both here.' Well, yes...you see, I thought that I might have cancer again...
Anyway, it's not cancer. It's only a couple of numbers that seem to be anomalous and one or two vitamin deficiencies we might want to keep an eye on. That's it. My doctor, who is actually a very good guy, said he'd tried to call me personally to explain but couldn't reach me for some reason. All's well that ends well, I suppose. Still, I am amazed, angered and frightened by the power that this disease, almost four years later still has over me. I guess I still have a lot of work to do.

The last lecture...

A friend just sent me the link to Randy Pausch's lecture on living your dreams. If you've not heard of this fellow (and I had not) it's well worth the ten minutes to sit and listen to his remarkably compelling story. I would even call it life changing. They don't come any more real than this folks. Enjoy. And thank you Randy.

Perspective to the rescue

It looked like I was going to have one of those 'bad' mornings this morning. Car wouldn't start, then, spent close to two and a half hours in traffic trying to get down to a Colon Cancer Canada press conference in Toronto announcing the kick off of colon cancer awareness month. I was a half hour late. I had started to do the usual fretting and fuming in the car. Working like crazy to keep a positive mindset about the whole thing, but losing that battle with every creeping kilometer. Then, when I arrived, I stood and listened to a woman talking at the mic about her firefighter husband who was not long gone from this world, the victim of colon cancer. Then I met a young woman who has just received the news that she has inoperable colon cancer. I heard an audible click, somewhere in the region of my heart and everything slid back into place. Perspective had arrived. Life was beautiful again. Bring me traffic, give me all the traffic you can muster. I'll sit there and I'll be happy about it.