Dying Dann’s Adventures With Death #5

Some people just wait for the rightly worded post to give them a chance to run their opinions.

By doing so, show their own prejudices and attitudes.

All lives do matter.

I agree with BLM that this is their time to rise.

But,

There are a few people, often uneducated or graduates of Facebook University, who can cause the pot to be stirred in the wrong direction.

They use the same campaign every post they “invade“.

I have seen and have been the victim of the same police brutality.

As soon as they see the tattoos and long hair out comes the guns, in shaking hands.

Yes, statistically, the higher majority are Black men and women.

But, the reality is, that it should not happen to any person. Regardless of race or religion.

If you study and research past history, you shall see that statistically it is being poor and living in an impoverished neighbourhood that sits upon the throne of society’s issues.

That it is the actual Number One Problem.

I have had brothers shot, by the police, in public, in the middle of the day with many witnesses.

No one spoke a word concerning it.

No one marched or if there were a march, it was more than likely their family and a handful of their friends.

I have seen, too many times, Natives, male and female, beaten beyond recognition and then driven to the outskirts of town in minus 30 degrees weather.

Left to die in the cold and in the most inhuman matter you could imagine.

“Many of which are now on Missing Persons posters, by the way.”

No one organised a march.

Study the statistics and you shall see that the Indigenous people of all of North America have been plagued with constant racism.

Far more than the violence, racism and abuse that the Irish and Black slaves endured during the birth of both Canada and the USA.

There have been far more Indigenous deaths by the police and way more missing Indigenous females then Black, Brown and Caucasian combined.

I agree with BLM that this is their time to rise.

But, that attitude is definitely feeding into the trap the “Powers Who Be”, our governments, have set before us.

Causing us to have discernment amongst our rank and file.

Like children arguing over who was first in line at the ice cream truck, only to turn around and find the ice cream truck had left.

Having no time for their non- unified confusion.

It makes little sense who gets the rewards first as long as the goal is reached.

What matters is whether or not the message has been received.

We cannot address such significant issues with Jerry Springer chaos and attitudes.

Yet, even knowing this and knowing the trap was set, we repeatedly march in beating the same song. Waving the same placards.

Now, this old LightHouse would like you to imagine this…….

What if we stop using the Prejudicial attitudes that focus on the political “flavour” of the day?

We all get ourselves a sign that says “Lives Matter” and then march to the main headquarters of our various governments demanding change and reforms.

Then, and only then, will we be one voice in many languages.

Imagine that!

The key for a march to achieve it’s goal is to not leave until “goal” and targeted results have been guaranteed.

That, indeed, the “Wheels of Change” are in motion.

Stay on their doorstep.

Stay as long as it takes to start the “Engines of Change” .

Bearing in mind that your cause will not succeed nor happen overnight.

Stay until the “promisesare made and the cause has legal and political representation within the system.

Presently, we are many voices with many messages.

The higher powers that be are infamously known to have little or no ability to process more than one matter at a time.

We still come knocking on many of their doors in a chaotic but systematic manner.

Leaving them to wonder which door, if any, they should answer.

Knowing that we have attempted this numerous times before.

One of the most important being the BLM movement.

Of this, you will find no argument from me.

We can and are focusing on the deaths and systematic racisms blacks face each and every day of their lives.

I have a strong rooted conviction to their cause.

For just reason.

Having lived on my own since the age of 12 meant I was beyond poverty and I spent most of my youth living in the impoverished neighbourhoods.

In layman’s terms, I lived in the ghetto because I was poor, had long hair and tattoos.

In my time of youth, that made me exist on the same playing field as the blacks, browns, yellows and the Indigenous.

Marches will never change anything until the participating members are of all races and religions with one unified and IDENTICAL goal.

Until we all hold that same placard saying, “Lives Matter”.

I pray that all of you have the same goal in mind.

I pray that goal is “peace”.

They are winning while we are arguing over which sign to hold up.

Perhaps we should lose the signs all together.

They, The Powers That Be, Already Know Why We Are Marching.

What we need to do is march to our various destinations and stay till the battle is won.

And, no matter what, no violence or destruction of properties.

(Actions like that add higher burning fuel to an already out of control existing fire.)

Always bearing in mind that we are slowly evolving creatures.

That change will not happen overnight.

In reality it will take decades, perhaps even centuries for this necessary change to happen.

Hopefully it will be “peace”.

For peace is the main goal.

Is it not?

If we are all true to our cause, then we must stay focused and have a devoted patience, for we have many miles to go before we see the candle in the windows.

So sayeth The LightHouse Verner on this beautiful Sunday evening.

#LIGHTHOUSEVERNER
#TheOriginalUrbanViking
#thelastcanadiancosmonaut

The Fear of Cancer

Not often I have ‘fear‘.

I have it now. I fear that I may not beat this cancer.

I was diagnosed on October 22nd, 2018, with Pharyngeal and Squamous Cell Carcinoma. Stage four.

I was past the ability to be treated via chemotherapy and conventional radiation. My only three options were let nature take her course or surgery to remove my complete tongue and lymph nodes (leaving me with zero quality of life) or receive radical aggressive radiation.

I chose the latter. Receiving a double session twice per day for twenty days. The actual treatment was easy. Just lay down, strapped in a cage and a mere fifteen minutes listening to Pink Floyd as the machine’s robotic arms did their task.

I was pleased when on March the first I completed the therapy and was told it had succeeded in killing all the tumors.

What I didn’t understand at that time was the worse part comes after the therapy. As the tumors diminished the damage from the radiation and cancer surfaces. This, apparently, can go on for up to two years.

My throat swelled and on the exterior turned purple. A side affect of the radiation burn and dying tissues within.

I had a few complications during the course of treatment. I developed a huge abscess in my lower abdominal cavity, possibly from the feeding g-tube implant. It required minor surgery to remove and drain. This was followed by a major battle with septicemia. A battle I thankfully won.

I was released from the Princess Margaret Cancer Center on January 31, 2019. After being hospitalized for twenty seven days. I was glad to be home.

At four in the morning of February the 2nd my spleen exploded. I bled out and have only survived because I live blocks from the Michael Garron Hospital. I was revived. Received four pints of blood, rapid infusion of Ringers lactate, a litre of iron sucrose and twenty nine staples on my abdomen. Complete removal of my spleen.

I spent all of February and half of March in Princess Margaret. My weight dropped down to ninety seven pounds. A far cry from my average one hundred and seventy.

I look like a survivor from a Nazi Death Camp.

I was sent home mid March to complete my treatment as an out-patient.

Things were well at first. I could not swallow most food so I was dependant on six cans of condensed Isosource nutrients to feed my body. I managed to get my weight up to one hundred and twenty-two pounds.

But, a big but, the damage from the tumors and radiation was surfacing more and more. The pain of swallowing increasingly getting worse. To the point I feared swallowing even my saliva.

This I am still plagued with as I write.

My weight loss increased and depression tried to take over my logic. I feared that I would definitely die. I have that fear still, as do my caregivers.

No longer able to function properly I resigned myself to the reality of coming back into the hospital.

Presently, I am hospitalized in the magnificent Toronto General Hospital. A Blessing of living in Toronto with the world class treatment of Toronto General and the adjoined Princess Margaret Cancer Center. Two of the best hospitals worldwide.

If I lived anywhere else I am positive I would not be authoring this blog on this foggy Sunday morning.

I am not sure what is to happen to me next. Neither are my team of doctors.

I have been here a mere few days, having been admitted on the twenty four of May. So, I am awaiting the results of my MRI, CT Scan and numerous other tests.

Tomorrow I have to have minor surgery to re-implant a gastric feeding tube and biopsy of my tongue and throat.

So far my diagnosis is as follows:

1) as my body absorbed the dead tumors it left behind holes, like potholes in a road. These ‘holes‘ have developed ulcers.

2) The ulcers can be one of three types. (A) non-cancerous, (B) Cancerous but treatable and (C) Cancerous non-treatable

3) I am severely malnourished and dehydrated.

Hopefully, by tomorrow evening I will know for sure what battle lays before me.

I am a ‘realist’. Hence, I take things in stride. It is what it is and I will deal with whatever falls my way with logic over emotions.

I also trained myself to always expect the worse possible scenarios. Reason being if I am expecting the worse no matter what my diagnosis is to be it shall be better than what I expected. A small comfort in such a serious situation.

I am not being unrealistic in my expectations. I am in a serious situation.

After many discussions with all my treatment team and my beloved family, I made the difficult decision to put in place a DNR, (Do Not Resuscitate), on my medical record.

This is justified and many tears were shed coming to the decision. It is the best avenue to take considering the condition of my physical form. My bone density is very low which means that if I were to receive CPR my ribs would shatter. Greater risk is that my heart and poor physical condition makes it ninety nine percent positive I will slip into a coma – a coma I will not recover from.

I pray no one ever has to have this discussion with their family. It was/is the most heartbreaking talk I have ever imagined having to have.

Saddest part being the reaction of my family and friends. I, being the patient, fully have accepted that I am knocking on the gates of Valhalla. I did not wish to accept it, but it is what it is.

I also have refused any major surgery that will disfigure and disable me. I refuse wholeheartedly to have my love ones suffer the anguish of watching me whither away, perhaps for weeks or months. That would scar their very souls for life. It would be selfish of me to put them through such.

They understand. They don’t like accepting it, but, once again, it is what it is.

I am not, by far, a ‘religious’ man. I am a man of faith. I believe in a higher, supreme power. Over the past 15 years I have been brought back to life 9 times so far. I wrote about these times previously. It’s suffice to say my life has been full of numerous ups and downs. Often down. It strengthened my personality and outlook on life. To most they would say my life was tragic. I see it as just ‘my life’. Sixty-one and a half years of learning and growth.

So, as it stands today, I have a battle to win. And I shall win because I am surrounded by true caring and love. I have a large group of beautiful souls who have formed a ‘Prayer Army’ on my behalf. Believe or not, but there is a power in prayers. They don’t have to be church indoctrinated chants, but rather sincere and positive praise to whoever you perceive as your Creator.

I am anxious to get the results of the tests tomorrow. The waiting and the fear of what may be is far more disheartening than the cancers themselves. The fear of the unknown instills an anxiety that clouds judgement.

I prefer sunny days over cloudy ones.

So, I will leave you now and I will blog whatever happens next in my wonderful life as soon as I know.

Until then, I remain ‘Dann, just as I am – – – The Original Urban Viking’.

NAMASTE’ MY FRIENDS

And remember to ……

ALWAYS PRAY IT FORWARD

BLESS

“I TRY”

As I sat this beautiful day with my beautiful sister Chorkies, Miss Pringles and Miss Ruffles

Miss Pringles

Miss Ruffles

I reminisced about my personalities.

I am in no way saying I am schizophrenic.  (Although I  could very well be.)

I am referring to the various ‘me’s‘  we all have.

The at work me.

The retired me.

The going shopping me.

The friend me.

The tough me.

The gentle me.

But, neither do I know the ‘me’ that you know as ‘me’.

I am – to me – all the ‘me’ I be.

This is the ‘ME’ I see

Yet, each new morning I start the quest to be a better me.

I try to love for I want  love.

I try to smile for I want a smile.

I give a hug for I want a hug.

I tell a humorous tale for I want a humorous tale.

I try not to judge, but I have been judged.

I try not to hurt, but I have been hurt.

I try not to lie, but I have been told lies.

But, yet ……

“I try”.

Until next time, I remain,  Dann – just as I am.

Smiling, 

Namaste’