Saturday, January 14, 2012


The view from 14B is really something. The whole west of the city is sprawled out in front of us. You can see for miles (and miles and miles and miles and miiiiiiles). I've seen a lot of different skies from this window.
The other day, when there were snow flurries, I couldn't see anything out the window, only white. I could make out nothing of the streets & buildings I knew were out there. Some evenings the sunset is incredible - Bright red (sailors delight!), the sky has on a couple of occasions looked like a giant jug of Tang. I can see the lake from here & everyday, since we've been here (2 months now), it has looked cold & mean. Choppy.
Right now, the sky is perfectly clear, dark (of course, it is night). I can see lit up neighborhoods far, far away.

Looking out this window is often very reflective of the kind of day we're having inside this room.

I've known for a while Gord would not 'bounce back' from this the way he has miraculously recovered from so many other things he's had to suffer through over the last 5 years. Numerous pneumonias, fungal lung infections galore, blood infections, H1N1, a MASSIVE blood clot spanning all along the whole entire length of his right leg, and the worst of it all, the 3+ years of grueling treatment (chemo, radiation, more chemo, more chemo, a short interlude - time enough for us to regroup & remember there is more to life than clinic visits & then,..... more chemo, more chemo) to 'cure' him. Not once did I ever think 'this time he won't make it.' Not like this time.

For the last 2 months Gord has begged to help him get out of here.  I'd try to explain it to him & he'd nod & then say 'Okay, so get the scissors & Cut Me Out of here!' Last night I began thinking about 'what should happen next'. He's not going to recover from this, I've known it for a long time but I guess I was just holding out for some hope, who wouldn't? We were/are ALL hoping for a little tiny miracle. I know Gord's wishes, and what was happening was in no way part of them.

So this morning I came to the hospital early. Still sleepy, I curled up (as much as you *can* curl up in the hospital recliners) and slept beside him. Laboured breathing, a weak cough, infection in the lungs but not enough energy to cough out the bad stuff. Painful even to listen to. When we were both awake, we talked - like, THE talk. The talk I've been trying to have with him for a while not but he just wasn't ready (neither was I, really). "I thought about it last night. I'm ready to quit."

Treatment has stopped. Now it is about making Gord comfortable & happy. It's all I've ever wanted for him since the beginning of this nightmare. I'm so, so thankful that he helped me to make this decision.

I didn't think this was how our story was going to unfold, I really didn't.

I'm with him, beside him, not leaving. Listening to his favourites, being taken good care of by the absolutely amazing staff here at PMH who have come to know & love Gord as well.

My next post is going to be a bunch of clips I've been watching tonight from his 'boomselection' folder of favourite sound system & reggae clips. Join me in celebrating him & wishing him absolute peace and strength. Hold our dear, dear Gord close to you during this next little while. He's had one  hell of a time.



  1. I dont know you; I found your blog through the lls boards. I am so incredibly and deeply sorry for what you are going through, and wish you and your whole family strength and peace in the coming time. It is painful to read that this is how things are going... I hope that the coming time will alsobe filled with the ability to think back on memories of better times with gord. You are very much in my thoughts.
    I myself just got a bone marrow transplant a few weeks ago, and I have an infant, too, so your situation hits close to home.

  2. Holding you all close to our hearts now and always.
    Love, Cousin Kimmy, Mario, Anthony xoxo

  3. Hi Nicole,
    Graham had posted your blog on FB (i went to school w him) but you will have to excuse me for I am trying to make the connection - and if memory serves me correctly Gord was Graham's brother(?)forgive me if i am wrong...
    I wanted to express my love to you at this most difficult time....unfortunately I have been where you are. My husband was 30 when he was diagnosed with cancer. He passed away at 32, our children were 7 and 22months when we lost him. It is the most difficult circumstance for anyone to go through...especially a young mother...someone who has so many things to look forward to raising children with the man you love...i wish you peace and comfort in the days, weeks, months and years ahead....just remember to live one day at a time and take those quiet moments and remember... and don't forget to FEEL.Feel all of the emotions you need to feel to get you through the moment.

    Sincerely (and if you will accept a hug from a complete stranger...)

    PS ...your blogs are a beautiful tribute to you for the love and dedication you have for Gord.

  4. Hi Nicole,

    Just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you, and Gord, and Frankie, and sending you all love and comfort. I hope there's some sunshine in your day today.


  5. Dear Nicole - it's Gord's cousin Nettie - our thoughts are with you at this time, sending lots of love to you, Gord and Frankie - I'm so glad that you started this blog as part of your outlet, I'm sure it has helped you thru this terribly difficult time - I've been reading it and your posts flow like a beautiful love story!!! It makes me want to know you both more and share in your good times - he certainly has had 'one hell of a time' - your strength is inspirational, hold onto ALL the wonderful times shared!!!!! xo

  6. Hi Nicole,

    It's Jonathan's heather here. I'm down with a cold so I can't come visit. I wanted to say how beautiful and touching your blog is, and how I am that Gord was able to make this decision. You are both such amazing people, and I look forward to seeing the new shapes Gord's light takes on in this world.

    I know you have lots of friends and supports, but I'm here if there's ever anything I can do.

    ~ heather

  7. I knew Gord quite well in high school. Graham too. I was in Ms. Copland's English class with Gord. There wasn't a day that passed where Gord did not make me laugh!! My thoughts are with him.

  8. I don't know you but have been touched by your blog. You have been given the gift to write and I'm thankful that you have shared your experiences with us all. Your daughter has been blessed with two amazing parents and thru your gift of writing/storytelling I have no doubt that she will know the wonderful man her father was and is.
    I work on an Oncology unit and truly believe and see that every day is a gift. After reading this may we all hold our spouces and kids a little closer tonight. May you find peace and strength.

  9. Please send "my little buddy" lots of love and a huge hug. I have known Gord since I was 5 and we started Kindergarten together. I have years of fantastic memories of Gord and making me laugh - always making me laugh. Please send my love to all of his family ( you included, I'm sorry I just found this blog through someone's fb post) and know that I'm sending as much positive energy and love to all of you.

    Rayna Laughlin

  10. Hi Nicole,
    I knew Gord from Enrichment and Secord. He is probably the only person I know who had the courage of his convictions at age 12. Gord made, and is still making, a huge impact on more lives than he may know. Thank you for sharing your experience through this blog.

  11. All of my good thoughts to you all.