Getting our affairs in order

I’ve heard people talk so comfortably about end of life matters, but it was never easy for me. With practice it’s been getting better.

My parents were both diagnosed with cancer within one week when I was 20, and within a year they had both died. Those were the first and second funerals I went to. Before that time I did not know much about grief except what I had read in books. That was an incredibly difficult season and grief continues, though not like back then. I’m working to prepare my children for life after my death, even though we are holding onto hope that I will live for many more years. We have had some really good and important conversations.

It’s always wise to make sure our will is updated and the other important things are communicated and ordered appropriately, but at times like this we feel the need to be sure all the more. It’s generally best to involve a lawyer. Specifics vary from place to place, but in Ontario Canada, the main pieces are: will, power of attorney for personal care, power of attorney for property.

There are many resources in communities and online to help.

For some time I’ve been connected with Hospice Care Ottawa, and recently have started taking advantage of some of their services. I’ve been meeting with a grief counsellor regularly since September because I was feeling the weight of many griefs, and this has been very helpful. Lung cancer advocacy can be a heavy load. Those who are uplifting and supportive matter so much. They can make a huge difference.

Some of Hospice Care Ottawa’s volunteers participated in an advanced care zoom meeting, which was filled with good information and resources. They invited us to play a “Go Wish Game”, where you choose your top 3 out of 36 wish statements relating to end of life care. It’s challenging to choose only three, but the point of this game is to get people thinking and talking, and that it certainly did. Many others on the call have also found that having these kinds of conversations with family and friends tended to turn out a lot better than they were expecting. There are lots of good resources and great conversations to be had.

My word for 2022 is “rejoice”, chosen before 2022, before my health took a turn. It’s surprising how much joy there can be, even in conversations about end of life issues. It matters to me that people feel freedom to celebrate, not just mourn. We’ve spoken about grief many times. We acknowledge there is and there will be sadness along with a whole lot of different emotions, but there can also be joy and laughter. My desire is that in addition to sadness people will remember and celebrate the good and happy times.

My beloved three children mean so much to me. They have been living with their Mom having lung cancer for over eight years. They were only 6, 10 and 12 at diagnosis. Now they are 15, 18 and 20. We are very thankful for advances in research that have been a big part of the story, keeping this stage four cancer survivor alive all these years. What a difference research and good medical care has made, along with the support of some amazing people!

Our advocacy has been largely about working to extend and improve the lives of people diagnosed with lung cancer or other kinds of cancer. We’ve worked hard to support people and elevate the value of people affected by lung cancer and the importance of research. It is still possible that I can live on chemotherapy long enough for another discovery to be made and become accessible for me. This is what we’ve been hoping for.

This is how we’ve been living for the past eight years since diagnosis. Seven different lines of treatment: four different targeted therapies, radiation, two sets of chemotherapy … when one treatment option failed another one has always become available, sometimes just in the nick of time. Great timing of accessibility has helped keep me and many others alive. This rollercoaster ride has kept me and so many others going, and we continue to hold onto hope.

We celebrate researchers, fundraisers, primary care physicians, counsellors, storytellers, social workers, advocates, nurses, surgeons, administrators, oncologists and anyone who works as a good team member to help extend and improve the lives of people affected by lung cancer. These good teammates need to be uplifted and encouraged because the load can be heavy, the work can be hard. We are so grateful for those who encourage and uplift teammates. Together we can be a good team. We can drive change.

#AdvocacyMatters

#AccessMatters

#ResearchMatters

#ChooseHope

7 Swans a-swimming – Silver Linings

Lung cancer is hard, but if you’re open you can meet some outstanding people that you wouldn’t have otherwise. There is grief, to be sure, but it is paired with the good gift and honour of knowing amazing people, the graceful swans or “silver linings of lung cancer”. So grateful! Research is helping more of us live longer. Please donate so more awesome people can live longer!

https://charity.gofundme.com/o/en/campaign/2020-lung-cancer-survivors-super-bowl-challenge/jillhamer-wilson

Thank you for Kindness

Thank you for all the lovely words, cards, meals and other many kindnesses in the wake of my mother-in-law’s passing. We are navigating these strange waters of grief, adjusting and allowing ourselves space to feel a variety of emotion. Gradually the rhythms of life are re-orienting, with grace as we occasionally find something has slipped through the cracks. We are grateful for the huge measures of grace poured into our lives, and for the comfort and healing we are receiving.

Some photo’s from the last time our whole family travelled to Australia, the Christmas before my diagnosis:

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Heartbreak, Hymns and Hope

Thank you for your prayers and kind words. My husband Jono’s dear Mum, with family by her side, slipped away to Jesus earlier this week. We are grateful to God for comfort and love, and for the care, prayers and kind words of many people. Here are Jono’s words from his fb post last Sunday:

My lovely mum Margaret said goodbye to this world today (Monday morning in Australia). Her passing was peaceful, and pain-free as far as we can tell: my dad Jim holding her as they lay together; he and my sister Angela singing hymns to her; and I was kind of there, as Jill had recorded some hymns I was playing at church this morning and sent the audio files, which she listened to as she was slipping away. Deeply grateful for a life well-lived: for the love that’s surrounded me from before I was born; for kindness, nurture and example that set me on the path of life. Thanks everyone for your many thoughts and prayers; they have sustained and blessed us beyond what I can express. (Photo is from about 2 weeks ago – so glad we had that time to spend with her.)

We are heartbroken, but we have hope. We are people of faith, and we believe in the resurrection. We’ve seen hints of it, even in the planting of seeds in our garden in spring.

#hope #ConspiracyofHope

2017: Grief and Hope

We’re grieving some disappointing news we received a couple of weeks ago.

My CT scan in January showed cancer. Ugh. This means the med I was on for almost two years is no longer working effectively.

Thankfully, this is not the end of the line: many new meds are being developed, and there were a couple of options for me to consider. The best option, we think, is a new drug which is only very recently available to certain cancer patients here in Canada. Good news that I fit the criteria. Good news that the timing worked out for me. Good news that the company agreed to release it to me on compassionate grounds. Good news that we don’t have to pay for it.

Yet, in the midst of all this good news … still the grief.

Naturally we hoped I’d have a longer run on Ceritinib. I had even started hoping that “cancer” would become a thing of the past, that we would turn the page and start a new chapter which didn’t include cancer. That in future there would be chapters which didn’t include daily meds, side effects, frequent appointments and tests. Maybe even one day cancer would be beaten! That day will come, but I don’t yet see signs of its coming.

The reality is that we don’t know the whole story. We can’t see the BIG picture. We have no idea what the future holds.

Thankfully I got the tests I needed quickly. Thankfully my oncologist worked late to fill out forms requesting the new drug for me. Mercifully it came surprisingly quickly. Thankfully I’ve been taking it for a week now and things seem to be going fairly well.

In the midst of disappointment, I keep praying to have my eyes and ears open. I keep looking for reasons to give thanks. I keep trying to discipline myself to stay in the present and live each day faithfully.

It’s hard to write this update. I don’t want to have to share bad news. I know you don’t want to hear it. I was blindsided by this news, and it hit hard. Surprisingly hard.  I’m still working through the grief. I started this post a few days ago, and I don’t even want to read it over to check my spelling & grammar. So I’m not going to! (I’m such a rebel!)

In the midst of this difficult news, there is good. There is hope.

Hope is the theme I’m focussing on for 2017. I chose it toward the end of 2016, and had no idea how much I would need it! One of the ways I am focussing on “Hope” is by regularly reading passages from the Bible which speak to this topic, and spending time reflecting and praying about them.

I recently read 1 Kings 19, which tells about the time the prophet Elijah was exhausted and fearful since his life was in danger, and he met with the LORD God. The LORD asked him twice, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” It’s a beautiful encounter in which the powerful God whispers to Elijah. Elijah learns that the story is bigger than what he perceives, and that the LORD has a good plan which includes Elijah. It reminded me that the Living God knows my name and all about my situation. Here is a prayer I wrote in in response:

Lord, thank you that we can come to you with the whole story, as we know it. You invite us to speak, to tell it to you. You listen and care for us. You are powerful & show your power … and you are gentle & show your gentleness.

You are more powerful than our enemies. You know our name. You know our need. You tenderly care for us. You give us a role to play in your Great story. You gently open our eyes and ears to know that the story as we know it is not actually the whole story. Thank you.

(If you’re interested in reading this passage, you can find it here: http://bible.oremus.org. Search 1 Kings 19)

Cancer is not the whole story. Leaving the clinical trial and switching from Ceritinib to Alectinib right now is not necessarily all bad. There may be good in it that I can’t perceive. Certainly the side effects so far seem much easier to tolerate, and for that I am thankful!

I’m praying for courage to boldly step into God’s Great story.

Prayers, warm thoughts, and words of encouragement are always appreciated.

Here are some glimpses of love, light and goodness from the past couple of weeks:

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The hibiscus plant is blooming again (and again)!

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I managed to root jasmine and geranium last Fall, and they’re starting to bloom!

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My first lemons are looking luscious!

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Homemade heart-shaped biscuits with our broccoli soup last night!

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I set foot on the world’s longest skating rink (wearing a cozy hat made by the sister of one of my favourite clinical trial nurses)!

 

In Ontario, cancer medications given in hospital (like IV chemotherapy) are provided free of charge, however cancer drugs that we take at home (like effective new pills) are often paid for by the patient. Sometimes they cost thousands of dollars per month. Many cancer patients face significant financial fragility, and should not have to pay for their treatment medication. The Canadian Cancer Society is making it easy to speak out against this unfair situation. If you are an Ontario resident, please consider taking action! Click here to contact your MPP about this important issue!