This one's for you, Nan

As forewarning, this post is not specifically intended for the regulars who browse this blog. But, of course, all are encouraged to venture on down, as this is a small piece of a truly amazing story.

Eileen Nash George, circa 1947.

The family, that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor in our innermost hearts ever quite wish to.

That's a quote from the 1938 play by Dodie Smith. My family recites it during traditional gatherings as we light candles for those of us who couldn't be there. On Nov. 19, 2006, we lost a major centrepiece of our family whose candle now burns eternally.

Eileen Nash George, or Nan, as the grandchildren always called her, was the most courageous fighter I will ever meet. She destroyed all odds with every medical ailment that came her way, forcing doctors who predicted her demise to see her as the great miracle she was. She commanded the attention of everyone she touched with her strength and her iron will. And we all looked to her for example, for inspiration and for courage to venture on no matter the obstacle that lay ahead. I often wondered where the fight in me came from. But now I've come to the realization.

Just a few hours after I arrived in Kingston last Sunday, I learned of her peaceful passing. After a few phone calls, and securing the understanding of the good people at The Whig-Standard, I got on a bus headed to a town just outside Ottawa to grieve and be with the family. We were joined by members from PEI, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Toronto and Ottawa. Dear Octopus, indeed.

We all emerged out of that painful but incredible week stronger and more united than ever before. In life and in death she brought us together.

She was quite the lady - a looker too. She disliked my grandfather at first. They were both actuaries in training at an insurance firm in Britain. When they first met, they worked together on a deal with a South African company that was apparently quite complicated. He had a little more experience and education than her and when she came back to ask more questions he snapped at her. Her diary apparently then started flooding with angry passages about that "silly George boy." Some time later, Dan's then-girlfriend wasn't available for a date to the theatre, so he asked Eileen. Though she severely disliked that mean old George boy, she accepted his offer to spite the girl who sat next to her and had a crush on him. During that date, the pair realized that they had a lot in common and shared a love for the theatre. The rest, of course, is history. They celebrated their 55th anniversary this fall.

I heard a lot of stories like that over the past week. The living memory of my family's history is a vast vault kept closed only by the nuances of daily routine. Once it's opened, jaws drop and eyes focus in.

It was a really hard week, though, and the grieving process still isn't over. I suppose it'll get easier over time, but in a way, I really don't want it to. I learned more about myself, where I came from, and what my family is capable of by living with that pain. My grandfather is an amazing man. Imagine. 55 years. He looked loss in the eye with a straight back and unwavering focus, even as the rest of us were collapsing. He is truly a remarkable man and a great role model. He's coming to visit me in Kingston some time soon for dinner, and I think I'll pay him a visit or two over the weekends.

The rest of that dear octopus is, as discussed, strong and bold. The good fight rages inside every one of them and She lives on. As I continue my internship and the first part of my, one would hope, promising career, I dedicate every effort to my Nan, my mentor who lives and speaks through us all. This one's for you, Nan. Well, they're all for you.

Newspaper journalism...

...though self-indulgent and largely biased one way or another, is, as discussed, the best medium in existence.

from today's Globe

A national vision for combatting the scourge of cancer and its victims of geography who receive unequal care will move a step closer Friday when the Prime Minister announces the government is getting out of the business.

The Canadian Strategy for Cancer Control aims to do what nothing else in this country ever has: reduce the burden of cancer by preventing disease, detecting it early and ensuring those stricken by it receive the best possible care, regardless of where they live.

On Friday, Prime Minister Stephen Harper and federal Health Minister Tony Clement will announce in a Montreal hospital that the strategy will become a non-profit, arm's-length agency, The Globe and Mail has learned ...

The new strategy, which has a $260-million budget for five years, will operate at arm's length from the federal government but report each year to the federal Health Ministry.

It also comes in the midst of a Globe and Mail special project on cancer, which has catalogued the human toll of the disease and magnified the inadequacies of the health-care system.

Those deficiencies include unequal access to cancer drugs and PET technology, and the failure of hospitals to meet health-accord benchmarks by radiating patients within four weeks.

After the stories were published, the Tory government was twice taken to task in the House of Commons, with the opposition charging this week that cancer patients are taking out loans, racking up credit-card debt and facing financial ruin in an effort to pay for their treatment. The Conservatives were also accused of dropping the ball on waiting times; the series revealed how only 50 to 60 per cent of hospitals are meeting the health-accord standard of radiating cancer patients within four weeks.

Sure, there is only correlation between the series and the announcement (thought it hasn't happened yet), but I'd hate to call this a coincidence. Sure, this is likely a PR stunt to appease the House and the public, another Conservative installment of smoke and mirrors, but I suppose we'll have to wait and see...

***

Though she won't be happy with me for announcing this, Jessica's been quite busy in Hamilton over the past week. Yesterday, she worked a 13-hour day. You can check out her work here, here (sidebar), here and here.

Random and incomplete thoughts

In a ridiculous amount of hours, I will post these words in Kingston, Ontario. And my journey begins with these words: “Be safe. Treat yourself with dignity. Eat well, sleep, aspire to balance. This is when our best work happens!”

Being a momma’s boy pretty much rules. The card came complete with some “pocket cash,” a massive sandwich, ketchup chips, a chocolate bar, napkins and a ridiculously large coffee. It appears that I’m all set.

I’m off to complete my internship at the Whig-Standard. This is probably one of the most random things I think I’ve ever done. Why Kingston? Good question. Journalism prof Kelly Toughill said she’s in good with the Osprey Media execs, and after perusing the company’s list of “products,” I settled on the Whig. I’ve heard some really good things about the paper, while I’ve also heard that it’s gone downhill. In what way, I’ve yet to determine, but this could get interesting.

I’ve noticed that the writing in the online version of the paper, while largely crisp and clean, isn’t exactly top notch. My hope is that I’ll be able to turn out some really good copy ON DEADLINE (hehehe), impress the higher-ups and eventually achieve my ultimate goal of making the front page.

Yes, oh loyal readers, my ambitions that manifested themselves across the first five or so pages of The Gazette’s news section last year are again going to see the light of day. I’ve seriously fallen off in the last few months, at school and at work. Sure, it’s just a campus paper, but we played an incredibly important role last year. President Tom Traves himself told me that the news section was the best he’d seen it since he’s been at the university. Indeed, at least half of the credit is due to Jessica. Her AIDS feature was one of the greatest accomplishments our paper has ever achieved... Oops. I digress.

A few posts ago, I wrote this massive list of stuff I wanted to accomplish. Sleep was a recurring theme, and it’s the only item I managed to secure. Most of the rest sort of went to the weigh-side. But I’m on my way to a new city, as crapy as I’m sure it is, to fulfill my responsibilities in my first real job. I’m starting fresh. And, god willing, if I manage to finish the pile of work I’ve conveniently saved for myself, I’ll be rip, roaring and ready to go by the time these ghetto, NON-SMOKING Via cars roll into Kingston.

But before I begin, I have to at least browse the weekend edition of The Globe. If you guys haven’t seen it, pick it up. This publication will show you why newspapers are the best mediums for journalism in existence. The edition launches a two-week-long series on the cancer problem in Canada. My step father was diagnosed with prostate cancer on Dec. 18, 2003. I will never forget that day. For those of you who don’t know the story, my step sister, Nicole Trask, found an alternative treatment centre in the Bahamas. In layman’s terms, the treatment harnesses the power of blood to fight cancerous tumors. The clinic has a long and fascinating history, and you can find my rendition of it here.

So, needless to say, the responsibility The Globe assumed in carrying out this charge is, in my eyes, incredible and inspiring. I’ll leave you with a few words from Globe Editor-in-Chief Edward Greenspon:

“[U]ltimately the point of this exercise is about getting public officials to address the unforgivable inequities and inanities in our caner care systems …

“Canada is far from the worst in the world when it comes to prevention, detection, treatment and research of cancer. But we are far from as good as we should be. We still await the national cancer strategy promised both by the former Liberal government and the current Conservative one. And Ottawa seems far less committed to medical research than it was several years ago.

“We intend over the coming weeks to challenge this system and the officials responsible for it. Shelby and thousands of others deserve more than good. They deserve our best.”