Hope, Faith & Empathy

Prologue

Hope, Faith & Empathy will take you on a journey, a journey that is loosely based on my life’s story as an Indigenous woman, of individuals who showed up at a pivotal time in my life to guide and teach me and of characters who came to me as I wrote. These characters I believe are gifts from the Ancestors.

Hope, Faith & Empathy includes parts of our collective Indigenous history, and I am hopeful that readers will have a greater sense of the history and how it ripples into the current circumstances facing our people. The mere fact that Indigenous peoples exist in Canada is a miracle unto itself. The fact that we are thriving in the multitude of ways that we are is pure inspiration.

I offer much gratitude to you for sharing your time in reading this book and sincerely hope that you find whatever you may be seeking as you join Tilly on her journey and meet the characters that come into her life.

It is my hope that while reading you will encounter yourself, your strength and your own resiliency. Perhaps, even just a little, you will have a greater sense of hope…for whatever your dreams, ambitions and heart’s desires may be.

Why Did I Choose Hope, Faith & Empathy?

Hope that our children do not have a childhood they have to recover from. For too many generations, Aboriginal people in Canada have experienced immense challenges and, as a result, there has been significant trauma in the lives of children. It is my HOPE that children of this generation and future generations do not have a childhood they have to recover from.

Faith in the resiliency of the human spirit. Faith that we will learn from our history and work together in creating a future that recognizes the gifts of all members of society.

Empathy to foster and witness greater compassion between the relations of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal peoples and that this begins with each of us. Empathy is the bridge linking hope and faith in creating future leaders who will lead us in crafting a world where all children have the ability to pursue their dreams.

Chapter 1

Second Chances

"It doesn’t necessarily matt’a what the decision is Tilly, just make a decision. Too many people think far too much for their own good. Make a decision ‘n’then begin act’n on it right away. Good things will begin to flow to you. Trust in that."

—GrandmaTilly

Last year, I had a bout of pneumonia that was not getting better, and so the Doctor sent me for what I thought was a routine CT scan. After the scan, I went back to the office and was in the middle of a meeting when my assistant interrupted me.

Tilly, the phone is for you, she said.

Can you take a message for me? I asked.

Umm, I tried, but they said they really need to talk to you.

I excused myself from the meeting, walked over to my desk and picked up the phone.

Hello, Tilly speaking.

Hello Tilly, this is Doctor Brown’s office. We have the results of your CT scan, and Doctor Brown needs to see you.

I reached for my chair, needing to sit down. My mind raced. Holy crap! How did they get the results so quickly? Something must be wrong. Something must be seriously wrong.

Umm, uhh… Nothing else would come out. I swallowed hard. Tomorrow, I can come in tomorrow anytime.

Actually Tilly, the Doctor wants to see you this afternoon. Doctor Brown’s receptionist paused for a moment. Can you come down before five? Her voice had softened and wasn’t quite so business-like.

Uh, yeah, sure. My brain was not working. I pushed the end button on the phone and sat there, looking around my office, and my eyes stopped on the school photos of my twins. My breath caught in my throat. I am not sure how long I sat there staring at those photos, but it was the laughter coming from the meeting that brought me back. I felt stunned and immobilized…yet I knew I needed to get moving as I had to be at the Doctors office in less than an hour.

My partner and I dropped our twins off with friends and anxiously made our way to the Doctor’s office. The receptionist showed us to a room, and before she could close the door, Doctor Brown was walking into the room. Hello you two. Thanks for coming down so quickly. As you know, we have the results of your CT scan, and I wanted to talk to you in person and show you the results. She brought the scan up on the screen of the laptop she carried with her from room to room and patient to patient. She pointed to the bottom of my right lung. See this here, Tilly. I could see it—there was no missing it. The circular shaped thing in the upper part of my lung. My body felt tingly, my vision got narrow and the room suddenly felt very small. It was hard to breathe.

We don’t know what it is, Tilly, and because of its location the Radiologist said it’s too dangerous to do a biopsy on. She closed her laptop and sat down. I know this must be overwhelming. I nodded my head. I could hear my breathing in my head and the buzz of the light in the room, but I couldn’t stop staring at her now closed laptop.

I suggest we move fast on this Tilly, so I’ve made a referral for you to see a Thoracic Surgeon. His receptionist has made an appointment for you the day after tomorrow, and at that time the surgeon will be able to discuss the options more thoroughly with you.

The journey had begun.

After meeting with the surgeon for almost an hour, I knew more than I had ever wanted to about lung disease, tumors, cancer, life expectancy, surgical options and the risks associated with each of my options. My nursing background helped me understand the medical terms, but it was still overwhelming.

The surgeon gave us our options. I can do the surgery next week, but what you need to decide is which surgery we’re going to do. Are we going to do the four incisions and remove the upper lobe of your lung that has the tumor in it, or are we going to do the more invasive surgery with the hope of being able to remove the tumor without having to remove part of your lung? Although depending what we find once we are in there, we still may have to remove the upper lobe. I sat there, stunned.

I felt like I had been sideswiped, totally unprepared for this diagnosis and the decision facing me. This was serious, potentially fatal. I could not wrap my mind around surgery next week. I needed to get out of his stale, pictureless, white room. I needed fresh air.

I looked at my partner—always my safe place to land—now looked shell-shocked.

I, I… I cleared my throat and tried to keep my tears at bay. If they started, I wasn’t sure they would stop. I need some time to talk to my family.

Yes of course, Tilly. I know it’s a lot to take in. If you have any questions or want to talk more about your surgery options, I can meet with you again. This is a big decision, so take your time. Just call Sandy, my assistant, if you want to make another appointment or if you want to go ahead with surgery next week. It would be Tuesday. It was Friday. And with that he stood up, opened the door and extended his hand to me. He must have known that I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me. I put my hand in his and the other on the arm of the chair for support. When I was solidly on my feet, he gave my hand a squeeze. Call when you are ready, Tilly.

As I walked through the reception room I felt shockingly young. Everyone was at least sixty, and there were so many oxygen tanks…so many tanks. The crazy-making thoughts started: Is this is what my future holds, having to breathe with the aide of an oxygen tank? How will I keep up to my twins at the park if I have to drag along an oxygen tank? My mind raced even faster as I processed these questions.

Right there in the middle of an oxygen tank traffic jam, my head started to move from side to side. No, I decided. No way was this going to be my reality.

In that moment, as we walked out of the surgeon’s waiting room, I relied on my partner’s arm around my waist to keep me moving forward. I was no longer aware of standing in front of the elevator. I was remembering Grandma Tilly and her telling me that one of the most important things we can do in life is to decide. It doesn’t necessarily matt’a what the decision is Tilly, just make a decision. Too many people think far too much for their own good. Make a decision ‘n’then begin act’n on it right away. Good things will begin to flow to you. Trust in that. The elevator ding snapped me back to the biggest decision I had ever had to make in my life.

I felt like my deepest fear and most intimate vulnerability—the possibility of not being alive to be a mom to my twins—had been exposed.

That night, after talking with my family and calling my parents and sister, I decided to go ahead with the less invasive surgery and to have it done on Tuesday. Even though I had such a strong sense that everything was going to be okay, there remained an uneasy feeling, a feeling hard to describe. It was like terror and faith combined into one emotion.

Having a tumor in my lung that was too dangerous to biopsy with a needle, well, frankly it created a sense of fragility in my intuition and faith. There was no way to know if the tumor was cancerous or not.

~

From the warmth of my bed I knew it would be a typical winter day in Victoria. I could hear the rain falling, felt the dampness linger in the air, and the smell of low tide wafted into our bedroom. But it was not a typical day—it was Tuesday. I quickly took the last shower I would have for weeks, smudged (1), and then went in to see my babies. Although they often reminded me that they weren’t babies anymore, but big seven year olds, they would always be my babies. I kissed them and lingered a little longer, watching them sleep. They were the most precious gifts I had ever been blessed with. My chest felt tight and my throat constricted…the thought of being away from them was excruciating. I knew I had to go into this surgery strong, so I was really trying not to be emotional about this. I took a very deep breath, kissed their cheeks and whispered that I’d see them soon.

~

Tilly, Tilly. I could feel my arm gently being shaken, and slowly I awoke to the surgeon standing over me. He rested his hand on my forearm. He had a white halo over him, which I now realize was the light but at the time seemed appropriate for his message. The biopsy we did of your tumor in the operating room came back as benign. It still has to go to the Cancer Clinic for a full workup, but so far everything looks good. We had to remove the upper lobe of your lung, but the good news is we were able to get all of the tumor.

My eyes welled up and I became aware of the intense pain in my chest. Monitors started beeping like crazy, and two nurses quickly came over. Try not to get emotional, Tilly, it will only make the pain worse.

In my very drugged state I just had to be sure I understood him correctly. Benign means... no cancer, right? The machines went crazy again as I held my breath, waiting for his response.

He smiled. Yes, Tilly, benign means no cancer.

I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. Thank you, thank you. I could feel my lip trembling and tried hard not to cry. When can I see my family? All I wanted was to see my family.

You need to be here for a while longer. The nurses will take good care of you and move you up to the ward when you are ready.

I’m thirsty, so thirsty. He looked across the bed at the nurse and raised his eyebrows and nodded. Then he gave my hand a squeeze and was off.

The nurse came over. You can have a few ice chips to start, Tilly, and if you keep them down I can give you some ginger ale.

Ahh, ginger ale. At that point it could have been anything wet, but ginger ale sounded so good. I was determined to keep the ice chips down. Cold was all I could get out, and I was vaguely aware of being tucked in tight with a warm blanket, which was pretty remarkable as I had cords and hoses coming out of every orifice of my body—including the new holes in my chest that they had created during the surgery.

My family, I want to see my family. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, but all I could think about, besides my unquenchable thirst, was my family.

Here, Tilly, have a small sip of ginger ale.

The nurse put a straw in my mouth and I took a sip. It was cold, tingly, sugary…it felt like a dance was happening in my mouth and I could have drunk a litre of the stuff. Only a sip to start until we know you can keep it down. I wanted more, so much more. She must have known because she walked away with the cup and came back with another warm blanket. I guess maybe she thought that would appease me?

My family, want to see my family. I was getting very groggy again and only vaguely heard her response, something about shift change and having to wait, and I was asleep again.

This time when I woke up I could open my eyes a bit more and was able to focus on the recovery room. That’s when I saw it...my cup. More ginger ale, please.

Just a minute, Tilly, and I’ll bring it over.

I waited and waited. I knew it was to my advantage to be kind and respectful, I was at the mercy of these nurses and I wanted that ginger ale. Finally she came over with the cup and put the straw in my mouth. I took a long sip and relished in the taste and relief.

When can I go up to the ward? I want to see my family.

I’m not sure, but they’ll call us when they are ready.

No, no. Don’t wait for them. Call up again, please. I just want to go. But my brain and mouth were not working together yet, and those words didn’t come out before I dozed back off. I was in that morphine-induced state, unsure if I was dreaming or hallucinating.

Years earlier my alcohol & drug counselor, Bea, had told me about our traditional teachings and the importance of the number four, that it is a sacred and powerful number. She taught me about the importance of the four seasons and how each of them has a healing element and purpose; that there are four races that make up the human race and that on the Medicine Wheel the white colour represents the white people, red is for the Indigenous peoples, yellow for the Asian people, and black for the Black people who originate from Africa; there are four sacred directions; four components to the Medicine Wheel (mental, emotional, spiritual and physical); four chambers of the heart; and four stages of life.

I recalled how earlier that morning, before my