My Family After Tragedy

How to Pay $7.50 for Bread and Ham (and Still Be Happy) By the summer of 1992, Christina and I were full steam ahead—we were all in, like peas and carrots. Burnaby Mountain Park, just a short drive from Simon Fraser University, became our favorite escape. Christina kept an old green sleeping bag in her car—once used for picnics with her dog Sam—that doubled as our picnic blanket. It was more than a blanket; it was our magic carpet. Lying there after lunch, we’d fall into the sweetest, most tender conversations. That’s where I learned about Christina’s deepest thoughts, her heroes, and her dreams. Because I spent nearly every night with her, I rarely cooked for myself anymore. Instead, I bought lunch and persuaded Christina to come with me—wherever the wind took us. On campus, in town, it didn’t matter. The food wasn’t important; her company was what fed me. One day: “Christina, can you go for lunch now? I can wait if you’re not ready.” “No, this is a good time. Did you bring your lunch...

A few weeks ago, I joined a grieving support group organized by my local hospice (1). Following COVID protocols, we are meeting online. We are part of this group because we have all lost someone close and dear to us. Attending these meetings shows very clearly that we all share a deep sense of sorrow. As I write these lines, I can visualize their faces and hear their voices telling stories of love and sacrifice—how much it hurts to lose someone so special, how powerless we feel not being able to prevent the final end from arriving. I have discovered how amazing these people are. We are similar because we belong to this big family we call humanity: we love, fight, and endure the most severe circumstances encountered along our paths. We all did the same for our loved ones—we fought for life until the bitter end. We were there until the last breath, holding hands, bodies, and souls, fully committed. Amazingly, we are also different, and that is what makes the world so interesting. Imagine...

When Christina was diagnosed with Glioblastoma (GBM) in February 2020, our world flipped upside down. The idea of losing my wife to cancer became a terrifying reality. Emotions were chaotic, and thinking clearly felt impossible. Our first instinct was to learn everything we could about this disease. Information came at us fast and from every direction. The most shocking fact? GBM is the most common primary malignant brain tumor in adults, with a median survival of only 15 months (1). Treatment usually begins with a biopsy and tumor removal , followed by radiotherapy and chemotherapy with alkylating agents . Christina received temozolomide (TMZ) , and later bevacizumab , a monoclonal antibody that blocks the tumor’s blood supply (10). I’ve decided to write a series of posts documenting what I’ve learned about GBM and my ideas—naïve though they may be—about how we might improve outcomes for patients, from the perspective of a chemist. During my chemistry career (1984–1998), I worked on ...

  What happens when we dream?  Dreams are made of images, sounds, and events, most of the time chaotic, sometimes sweet, sometimes scary.  Dreams seem to have a sudden start; at least that is what we remember, which might or might not be associated with its last mist. I still remember one of the most epic dreams from my childhood; it happened so long ago, but it created an impression; I dreamt of a horse.  The dream starts by opening my tin soldier box and there it was, gallant, ready to take me into battle.  I picked the horse from the box and placed it on the palm of my hand to admire it.  The horse looked at me and I was surprised because I knew that it was a tin horse! Then, the unimaginable; the horse grew until it became a giant horse.  Suddenly, I am standing on the horse while looking at my surroundings as if I am looking from the stars.  "Is this real?" When I woke up I went to the tin soldiers box to look for my horse, and there it was....

  It is difficult to write a story out of context.  My wife and I started a wildflower garden because of taxes.  Yes, you read it right; taxes .   The original idea of what to do with the piece of land in front of our house started to take shape in 2016 when the Liberal government of Justin Trudeau was elected.  During his election campaign, the Liberals promised to set yet another tax on Canadian families, and this time was to save the entire world; The Carbon Tax. Well; they were elected and set themselves to grab more money from our purses without providing a framework to start tapering the usage of fossil fuels.    "Not another tax; it is hard as it is!" were the words stuck in my mind constantly .  To show that the liberals were bringing responsible governance to Canada, and the world, the government started to work on their  Greenhouse Gas Pollution Pricing Act legislation.  It was just a matter of time before we were going to...

Opened a drawer and there it was, under a pile of papers waiting to be rediscovered!    This picture decorated the wall across from my bed in New York.  I could see it clearly before closing my eyes for a good night's sleep, to dream of the day we could be together again, my wife and me.  I have not found the original yet; I know it is somewhere ! There we were in the lobby of The Edgewater in Seattle the day before getting married!  How beautiful we were! Today I was practicing one of my rituals; while I was working on the dining room table Christina's picture was "watching" a show about Egyptian Gods on Prime.  Raquel; our youngest daughter walked into the living room and asked me what I was doing.  I explained to her the ritual, that it was OK to do that because it makes me feel better.  Interestingly, she was wearing a sweater from Mom because it makes her feel better.   We hugged and she asked me for the URL address of my blog....

There is a story behind every photograph taken.  Pictures are testimonies, they have their own soul and objectives.  One can look at the picture and wonder "why was this picture taken?  What is it trying to tell me?"  It could be a happy moment, something beautiful, endless possibilities.  Pictures even take new dimensions under the fantasy and creativity of the curious onlooker. In the summer of 2014, my family and I were walking on Main Street Barkerville Historic Park & Town; browsing and window shopping.  The street was very busy, boiling with actors, and actresses wearing the attire from the old days.  It is difficult not to be enchanted by ancient buildings, the irregular dirt road, the actors, horse riders trotting slowly, accompanied by a coach horse-drawn style carriage lifting a slight cloud of dust, like a portrait from years long gone.  The only pieces out of place were the tourists trying to blend in. An actor playing Billy Barker...

I wrote  "What Are You Going To Do With It?"  late last night, and have read it many times to re-live it, and also for editorial purposes.  There are many stories in draft mode in my blog.  Often I remember something and I start the post because I do not want the thought to go to sleep again.  Many years ago, around the time I arrived from the United States to join my wife for good, I told Christina that perhaps we should write our story.   "Write it" - she said to me.  I meant to tell her, that we should write it together; but she was adamant. "No, this is something you need to do.  Write it". It is amazing how much I remember.