Postcards from the edge

Where have I been, you ask?
Do you really need to ask that question? C'mon, people. Be logical.
It's summer.
In Kelowna.
Think boobs, beer, bikinis and boats.
It's like Wakefest every day for me. Really, it is.

Well, maybe not every day.
The truth is, life hasn't been as rosy as the bikini pictures make it out to be. The Summer of JJ began to unravel with a phone call from my mom. Impassionate and as stoic as can be, she uttered four words that hit me like a Mike Tyson overhand right. Or a bite to the ear.
"Jake, I have cancer."
From that moment on, until about five days later, I experienced no emotions at all. I dropped everything and drove to Victoria to be with my mom in hospital. Two days after she had been diagnosed, she was in Vic General, waiting to be operated on to remove a dangerously malignant uterine tumour.
I didn't have to do much except be there in body for her, and that was enough. Which is good, because I had no soothing, reassuring words for her. I've never been the one to dispense words of wisdom, despite my occasional claims otherwise.
I did have to act as the information conduit to the family and our friends, though. (Cell phone bill for the month of June: $360.) After the operation was over, and the doc told me they'd gotten all the cancerous tissue, I broke out the rolodex and began calling everyone I'd been keeping in touch with.
It was strange, though. Right there, in the middle of Tillicum Mall, being the portent of good news, I broke down. It wasn't a feeling of relief. It was just a wave of undefinable emotion that overwhelmed me. I wish I could have explained it a better, because it was such a foreign feeling to me.
But the news, initially, was good. The Victoria doctors said they'd gotten all the cancerous tissue, and the biopsies didn't appear to show any spread. Chemo and radiation therapy were options, but perhaps uneccessary because the chance of a re-occurence was 5 per cent, they estimated.
Fast-forward to last Monday, when my moms went to Vancouver for a second opinion. This new doctor, who sits on the national medical advisory board, informed us the chance of re-occurence was closer to 33 %. Chemo and radiation therapy would be daily instead of once every three weeks.
So now my moms is facing the prospect of months in Vancouver undergoing therapy, instead of recovering in her own home. This summer will be a long one, I fear.

Apart from Cancergate, there has been some news for the positive in my corner of the world.
- My little project, that Doyle and I have been working on for the past three years, is finally a go. Yes, a go. Believe it. Now we just have to make it work. And the hard part begins. (And if you have no idea what I'm talking about, e-mail me, and I'll tell ya. Can't be too careful in cyberspace these days...)


- Motorcycle school is over. See that hot blue ride to the right? Nice, isn't it? :)









Plenty of visitors in town... Miceail, left, is heading to Danemark to play ball. Good luck, son. Rest up them ankles.

- My back has recovered enough that I can sneeze and not worry about ending up on the floor in pain. I even tried wakeboarding a little bit, and didn't do too badly. Now I just have to get my feet in shape so I can last longer than five minutes.
Pics from the first day out below...



Look past Johnny, and you can see me... and the doggies.



Me helping Paul (aka the Pikey) with his bindings. His first time ever on a board, and he got up. Eventually. And then he was down fast. lol



There's more to update on, but since it's 11 p.m., and I'm done work for the day ... it'll have to wait. Hasta la vista!