Golden Treasures Come In Blue

I've spent the last 10 months being an executor.  Not an easy task to deal with someone's assets and their belongings.  You find things they held onto so dearly from the past and all you can do is question the purpose of that item.  Eventually, you figure things out, uncover things, finalize things and make the arrangements for their final resting place, following their Last Will and Testament to the best of your ability.  Now the process starts where I finally get to mourn my Mother.  My relationship with my Mother was not like the relationships I saw my friends have with their Mothers.  It was bumpy, it was difficult.  It's hard to always be the parent when you are supposed to be the child.  However, that was our relationship, the roles reversed for as long as I can remember.  I swore that my children would always have a Mother, not be the Mother.  When I became sick I saw my kids take on a more active role in my care.  I tell my kids I'm good when mostly I'm not.  I want them to be the kids who don't have to worry about their Mother.

When cleaning out my Mother's small apartment I came across one knitted slipper.  My Mother loved to knit.  When I was a child all my barbie clothes were knitted, my socks and sweaters, EVERYTHING!!  I hated it when I was little, now I cherish my knitted blankets.  So finding this one knitted slipper was golden.  Inside the slipper was a small ball of matching yarn.  I took the ball out and set it aside, I slipped the lone slipper on my foot and just like the magic in Cinderella, it fit perfectly.  For those who know me will understand, my feet are tiny, a child's 2.5.  So for this slipper to fit was amazing.  I'm going to say it was made for me because that just makes me feel better.  I never questioned for one second what to do with this treasure amongst the piles and piles of Church donations.  It was coming home with me to NS and I was giving it to the person God was telling me to at that very moment, my dear friend Heather Star.  Heather is an incredible friend, she has been with me through all my difficult times, happy times and scary times.  She took the day off of work the day I had brain surgery so she could see me through it with the power of prayer.  She sat with TJay for the gruelling 10 hours at the hospital, waiting for me to wake up.  I often wonder what TJay and Heather talked about for that many hours.  She's celebrated my children's achievements like they were her own.  We've cried together and also laughed until we cried!  If anyone could knit the matching slipper to my mom's half done project it was her.

Heather came to visit me not long after I returned from my Mother's passing in Quebec.  I handed her the slipper and asked if she could make this into a pair.  She left with the yarn and the one slipper, knowing she had been entrusted with an important job.

Several months had past and I had pretty much forgotten about this project, my head too full of taxes and payments and and and....anyone who has been an executor understands the amount of work that is involved.  Then one day Heather shows up with a pair of slippers.  One as beautiful as the other.  She explained that my mom had taught her something.  She had never knitted the stitch around the opening of the slipper the way my mom did, so she had to learn it.  Amazing how someone can teach even after they are gone.  As I inspected the slippers Heather showed me something so very special about each one.  She said you will always know which one your mother made as the one I knitted I sewed a small blue star inside.  Two identical slippers made by two different people with two very different meanings to me, both equally a treasure.

My Boat Needs A Bung

Once again it's been way to long, so much has happened that I don't even know where to start.  An MRI result I wasn't expecting is probably a good place to begin.  Growth!  The word no one with a brain tumour ever wants to hear.  "Your tumour has started to grow" were the words I heard from my annual MRI.  Sadly there's no room for my tumour to grow in my head, it's in a tight little spot in there already.  Honestly, is there room in anyone's head for a foreign invader?  I remember staring blankly at my radiation oncologist thinking all this time he was the guy I had in my back pocket, the just in case guy, the guy who followed me after surgery but I would never need because I'm only 45. Now this guy is my best friend, my new fixer of all things, the guy holding the tablet with my glowing brain tumour shinning brightly like a star.

Radiation was something I was well aware that could be in my future I just didn't think it would be a mere 5 years after surgery.  We have conversation about making the mask, starting the treatments, how many there would be, ohh ONLY 25!!! Dear lord!!  "The team" got together and decided that the remainder of my tumour was still not a candidate for additional surgery so radiation it is.  I said to TJay I'm not sure what freaked me out more, having to have radiation or a group of health care professionals gathered around a table looking inside my head via their tablets.  I felt kind of left out of the party even though I was the star of the show.

So I put my big girl panties on, had my mask made and showed up for my first treatment in bright red Tom shoes.  Because if I have to start a hellish journey I'm doing it in style.  My first treatment I felt a little drunk after but I made it through.  Having your head bolted in a mask to a table is truly not my idea of anything that resembles fun but I did it and we left.  Day 2, lets get on with it, day 3, this kinda sucks a bit, day 4, I feel kinda of crappy and what are those weird lights I see during treatment and what is that smell?  Day 5 I'm in tears I'm so sick.  The thought of my head being attached to that tables and possibly throwing up is too much to handle.  They won't start my treatment until I see the Doctor.  Did you know they have great drugs that instantly take away nausea?  And from that day forward I take Omeprazole, Dexamethasone and Ondansetron.  I make it to to day 25, in which they say ok see you in 6 months for your 1st post treatment MRI. Don't expect any shrinkage, in fact don't really expect that at all, we are simply hoping it stops the growth.

I'm now back to MRI's every six month.  My second one after treatment will will August 22, 33 days from now but who's counting!  I'm going to assume this one is important as it's been a year since treatment ended.  I pray it's still stable but my gut tells me something is up. Sometimes my gut and my fear/anxiety get confused but I think hey! Prepare for the worse then if it's good news I can relax. I come across as having it all together, a pretty stable brain tumour patient  but really I'm a barely functioning nervous wreck who seems to be the one who holds everyone together when I'm the one who is falling apart.  But you see I can't fall apart, if the person in the sinking ship panics, all those who are floating will simply loose it.  So I continue to bail out my boat.

730 Days of Recovery

2 years ago today I was in the OR having my brain tumour "debulked" I was asked last night if 2 years felt like a long time.  The answer to that really has two parts.  Do I believe it has been two years since I've been off work?  NO, and I think that's partly because when your brain is shaken up like mine, your mind isn't really on work.  That amazingly goes to the back burner, even though its such a huge part of your life when you're in it.  Do I feel like it's been a long time floating around in the medical system.  Yes, a very, very long painful two years.  So in January last year on my 1 year "Craniversary" I wrote a post "365 Days of Recovery"  Today I repeat the blog idea, but with another year of reflection.  Here's what 730 days of recovery look like to me:

That drugs play a bigger role in recovery then I thought.
That having a Neurologist after almost 2 years is a good thing.
That falling through the biggest medical crack has hurt me physically and exhausted me mentally.
That my kids are still just as amazing, thoughtful, kind, human beings as they were 730 days ago.
That the word "Time" is a joke now.
That my eye ball will never have feeling in it nor will my vision correct, those days of wishing and waiting are over.
That you can still have headaches every single day.
That I have more specialist now and I'm grateful for everyone.
That there is a perception in Canada that you have to "accept" the Doctor/Specialist that you are referred to because our Health Care is free.
That not all Specialist graduated from the School Of Bed Side Manners, you don't need that energy as part of your Rock Star Specialist Team, choose wisely.
That these new drugs allow me to think more clearly.
That thinking can sometimes land me in bed from over doing it.
That MRI's are still hateful, and a warm smile and comforting words from an MRI tech can make or break your experience.
That on my 2 year "craniversary" I'm probably more hateful then hopeful.
That I never thought people I've never met in person, only through online support, would become household names.
That people who heal together, band together.
That I would rather own a condo or an apartment than a house.
That one of my true enjoyments of the day is watching the chickadees in my bird feeder.
That having a dog has brought me unbelievable joy even though he bit me.
That I'm extremely grateful that my brain tumour hasn't grown in 730 days.
That my tumour sits at 1.8cm x 1.6cm which is better then 2.5cm x 2.4cm x 2.1cm before surgery.
That there are still days I can't believe I have that blob in my little tiny pea head.
That my Radiation Oncologist classifies 2mm as growth, hmm not much wiggle room.
That once "growth" happens everything gets re-evaluated.
That I pray for no "growth"
That several people have passed away in my life which has me thinking about my own funeral.
That I don't want a funeral but rather a celebration of life.
That I'm aware of how "shockingly" good I look considering...umm thanks?
That as I remember things more clearly, it's like a kid in a candy store kind of excitement.
That I don't expect you to understand that.
That I'm no longer afraid.
That acceptance is a gravel road.
That the cold hurts my head and face.
That Tegretol has finally some what settled my Trigeminal Neuralgia, Thank God!
That I'm still blown away by people who "pop" out of brain surgery and carry on.
That anyone who knows me, knows that's exactly what I thought would happen to me.
That this has been the biggest lesson in human compassion anyone could have ever given to me.
That once again my problems are no different then your problems, mine are just in my head.
That if you didn't laugh at the above line you need more coffee.
That my kids accomplishments make me burst with enthusiastic pride.
That I wish my kids didn't have to deal with such big issues in their lives.
That being said they are the most loving, kind and well behaved kids as they know they are lucky to have their mom.
That my love for TJay has no spoken words other then he is the worst boyfriend ever.
That you wouldn't understand that inside joke but it is the best compliment I can give him.
That not only did TJay bite off 2 kids, but a brain tumour too.
That speaks volumes about the man he is for not "spitting out" that mouthful.
That I cherish this love and nurture it's growth.
That as I type this I get shocked to the face, thanks Tegretol for wrecking my faith in you settling my Trigeminal Neuralgia!
That loosing your hair can freak you out more then you ever thought.
That I get another new Doctor this year.
That I'm shocked to find out I was supposed to have this Doctor all along. (*cough* medical crack *cough*)
That I have a much deeper understanding for the medical system.
That I wish a was a Politician, no a Doctor, no wait a Researcher, to evoke change.
That I've started to ask myself after 730 days-at what point does it go from Recovery to Reality?

                                                                                      illustration by Phil Foster

Might Is Mighty Fine

Well I finally have a Neurologist, he seemed as shocked as we were that no one other then my Family Doctor was really taking care of me.  "Your neurosurgeon?" "Nope she left right after my surgery for the USA"  I said.  Then I think I made some sort of comment about being forgotten.  He asked all the questions he needed to know, about radiation, who's my radiation oncologist, chief complaints, meds etc.  Then did the typical neurological medical exam (which I think I passed but I never did get my "grade")  Lots of Q & A led us to a switch up in my medication.  There will be a slow decrease of the one I'm on and a increase in the new one.  There was a lot of talk about how my issues were vascular related, hence, my inability to do anything that forces blood to my head without it going to explode.  That pretty much covers anything from lifting a bag of groceries to crying.  I explained to him how hard it is to go from someone who went to the gym to a softy.  He said with a smile, "the great thing about this new medication, it might help with that."  he asked if we owned a tread mill and after hearing yes I was am to hop on and get a marker as to what I can do now before my head pops.  Then we can see if there is any improvement with the new meds.  I can feel my excitement starting to build, one drug to help with most of my brain tumour symptoms.  Ohhh it's a great day.  Back in three months in the plan of action and I leave the office feeling excited.  Someone on the traditional medicine side, who understands brains, how they work, how they don't work when you grow a brain tumour in there, is actually on my side.

T Jay being the voice of reason, as he always is, said don't get too excited, he said it might work.  And once again TJay is right (insert, muffled under my breath words here) :)  This is why I bring TJay along with me to all my medical appointments.  First of all, unless I recorded the entire visit I wouldn't remember anything the Doctor said by the time I got home.  It also allows us both to be involved in this very personal journey that at the end of the day affects us both.  Plus TJay can see my reactions to Doctors and knows if he is going to have to build me up or bring me back to reality with repeating sensitive words like "might."  We both agree however that "might" in this case is a very powerful word.  I have been living for 17 months post opp with my radiation oncologist using words like "I have no idea why you haven't recovered from surgery" to " we might be able to help some of your symptoms with simply changing up your meds"  I'll take it.  The reality is, the fight against the brain tumour is not going to change, however, if a simple med change "might" give me back some of my life, that's mighty fine to me.

365 Days of Recovery

It's here, the one year anniversary of Brain Surgery.  This time last year I was in the OR, having my brain tumour "debulked" .  I created a video in honor of my 1 year anniversary and while I'm pretty confidant that it will not win an Oscar, it will remain unpublished for some "tweaking" Not to be confused with "twerking" there will be NO twerking in that video. So, here in no particular order is what I've learned in the past 365 days?

That brain surgery as necessary as it is, Sucks!!
That a brain tumour is simply a mass of cells who get together and plan an "out of control teenage party" in your head.  As much as you think you can clean up the broken pieces, you just can't replace some of the valuables.
That the first few weeks of recovery were nothing like I had expected.
That the next few months of recovery were nothing like I had expected.
That the word " Time" became as much a part of me as my brain tumour itself.
That being Canadian is something to not only be proud of, but to be grateful for.
That LOVE is "in sickness and in health"
That you learn very quickly who the important people are in your life.
That the above statements truth was a powerful enlightenment.
That you can have a headache everyday.
That I will not let my brain tumour define me.
That my brain tumour has now become a big part of who I am and that's OK.
That people have an expectation of when you "should" be better.
That my brain thinks differently now and I find that fascinating and frustrating.
That being home with my kids for the past year is a silver lining in all of this.
That I thank God for each day.
That expressing my thoughts into words is like putting a jig saw puzzle together every day.
That life as I knew it does not exist anymore.
That I'm grateful for all my specialists.
That my life is great, even with teenagers partying in my head.
That perspective is way bigger then what we perceive.
That I took my perfect vision for granted, learning to live with double vision is interesting to say the least.
That Doctors are busy, the health care system is tasked and at the end of the day it's a business like any other business.
That MRI's are hateful and I still don't sleep the night before.
That Canada is NOW working towards counting every Brain Tumour, but it will take time.
That benign brain tumours although depending on location can be just as life threatening as malignant ones.
That my children remain fairly silent and I fear they are angry at me for getting sick.
That this is to big for me to even understand so how could I ever expect my kids too.
That life is too short not to eat Gluten every now and then, even when I suffer the next day.
That blogging makes me feel good, brings out raw emotions and allows me to express this journey.
That I never expected side effects from surgery, even though it was brain surgery.
That I am grateful I am alive, walking and taking however, I'm sick of my other symptoms being down played simply because I'm alive.
That I've learned more about myself in 365 days then in 40 years.
That having a hole in your head is just plain weird.
That I miss my job, my co-workers and the smell of 70% isopropyl alcohol and transpore/mircopore tape.
That science hasn't even come close medically to understanding the brain.
That in a perfect world Neurosurgeons would have brain surgery so they could truly understand that we are not all "text book" cases.  Perhaps there will be an "app" for that someday.
That I'm not afraid some days.
That I am afraid the other days.
That I continue to raise my kids in a a silly, loving, off the cuff manner, hoping they will learn that strength can come from your weakest moments.
That watching your kids minds process the fact that mom couldn't get the fork to her mouth, was just as confusing for us all.
That I have come a long long way in 12 months and no intentions on slowing down.
That radiation scares me but know it's something I should probably consider.
That having two caring and considerate children is a product of good parenting and God's will.
That I sometimes wonder what I would be complaining about right now if I was healthy.
That I'm grateful to Global News for thinking that Canada not having a National Brain Tumour registry is "newsworthy"
That I sit in silence way more then I used to.
That I can't imagine a life without T Jay, I am grateful and thankful for his unconditional love.
That health should not be measured in weight and height but defined in a mental state.
That I'm the luckiest Woman and Mother in the world.
That I'm thankful for the Twitter community of #BrainTumorThursday and #BTSM for their support
That my problems are no different then your problems..
That our society defines you by the work you do, being a brain tumour survivor was not in the "career choices" book at school.  Yet at the moment that is my full time job.

Hi my name is Kelly, I'm a Brain Tumour Survivor and I'm recovering one day at a time.

Bubble Land

Sometimes I repeat myself and I don't remember even saying it.  Apparently I do it a lot.  I guess there is a possibility that I rewrite blogs.  That would be kind of funny actually, especially if they were months apart.  I'm sure they would have totally differently perspectives.  I find that my attitude is very different now that I'm almost 1 year post op.  I feel that in the beginning I was ecstatic at every little change and accomplishment.  Every appointment brought hope.  In the beginning there is an expectation that you will heal in the medical fields "determined amount of time"  I, of course thought that I would be back to normal way beyond what they said.  It's humbling to find out that healing is only partly in your control and slightly aggravating as well.

So I stand now in a different line, not the line where every Doctor wants a piece of you to get you back to your good old self.  Nope, I'm standing in the "we'll see you in six months line"  This line takes you right back home to sit and wait.  And I do, in my bubble.  I will admit I'm afraid to do things.  Walking on ice has me looking like I'm 103 years old.  T Jay said we should go skiing, and I said are you out of your mind?  I'll go with you but I'll be in the lodge drinking hot chocolate.  I just don't think I will ever ski or skate again simply out of fear.  I'm afraid of banging my head.  Now that this tumour thing is stretching into it's 3rd year as it all started in June of 2011, when I tried to take up jogging again.  Bam, welcome Trigeminal Neuralgia to my life.  My tumour saying hello, and oh by the way I've got your cranial nerves all wrapped up.  This tumour is stubborn, not unlike it's owner, and won't leave, can't leave because he's hanging out with the carotid artery.  I saw the pictures, I've painted my own picture in my head and the thought of falling and rattling that intruder around scares the life right out of me.  So I sit in a fearful bubble, a place that is very unfamiliar to me.  I need to learn to like Bubble Land or move out...or perhaps it's move on.          

Ahhh What A Good Little Tumour

Results are in, no regrowth.  As you can imagine that is the best news someone with a brain tumour can get.  I kind of figured as much as I didn't get a call the day following my MRI, at least the no call meant nothing drastic was going on in my head.

Dr. Mulroy is a kind soul who is suited for what must be a draining job.  He answers all our questions, shakes your hand and a feeling of genuinely wanting to be in your presence is evident.  A rarity in the Doctor world I find.  So if I have to have a radiation oncologist I'm glad it's him

So here is how the appointment went.  He said there was no change, which is good, and then some silence.  I immediately pipe up and said I'm sensing a "BUT"?  He very quickly said, there's no "but" it's good and showed us the comparison of my last scan to this one.  I like to see my scans, it's my tumour and I want to look at it.  He said that if the tumour was acting up I would have symptoms of tingling and/or numbness in my face or diplopia (double vision)....UMMM I have those, they are wonderful left overs from my surgery.  Hmm yes, yes you do was the response I heard and again he said that those are the things we would look for if the tumour was growing.  Brain "shut down" happened as I try to process this information...well if this is what you look for and I already have it...then where does that leave me.  I know that T Jay is asking questions but I have no clue what it was as I come back into the reality of "pay attention Kelly"  He said that he thinks we should adjust and change medications to try and calm the trigeminal neuralgia down.  Now the great news about having about only 95% of the feeling on the right side of my face is that I get shocked many times a day but prior to surgery the shocks to my face would have been about a 12 out of 10 on the pain scale.  Now they are about a 4/5, certainly a pain that's highly annoying and lets face it, they suck, it's exhausting to be snapped in the eye and teeth over and over again every freaking day but face numbness has been a benefit here.

So ok great lets increase and change the meds.  Since I am highly sensitive to meds we will do it 100mg a week AGAIN until things are under control.  Cool, I'm good with that.  Now, since there is no change in your MRI I think we should get the meds under control and then chat about radiation in the new year, as starting anything now this close to Christmas...........................and that was the last thing I head for a few minutes.  A Charley Brown whaa whaa whaa whaa whaa moment kicked in as the dreaded Christmas word has once again come into play in my life.  Now don't get me wrong do I want to jump on the radiation train full speed ahead?  Umm NO, but how my type A personality works is this...very simple...Kelly has a brain tumour, not all of it was removed, the hospital has radiation, if the hospital zaps Kelly's tumour, Kelly is all better and we just move on getting life back to normal, Kelly is fixed.  Doesn't that sound right?  So as the lump forms in my throat and my face feels like it's so red it's purple with frustration.  I can't stop thinking "why Christmas, why do you hate me so much"  I'm now back listening to T Jay and Dr Mulroy talk and I hear, that the radiation odds are only about 30% for relieving my symptoms....umm what?  What happened to my theory of zap, fix, move on?  I hear that he will call me in January to see how I'm feeling with the change in meds and we will look at the radiation either then or after my next scan in May.

Next comes what I like to call the "sobriety test" walk in a straight line, then heal to toe, close your eyes, all the things that I spent months at the Balance and Dizziness Clinic perfecting.  I've got this I think, watch this...I stand up and what happens, I stumble, like a drunken fool and I instantly am mad at myself for not being able to show off my new and improved skills.  I suppose if anyone is to see the fact that you still tip over it's your Doctor but we all want to prove how good we are at something.   I do however, feel the need to say that I've gotten so much better because of the help from the Clinic.  So once again the brain vs. Kelly didn't go my way and the brain decided that it was at that exact moment to do the two step.  grrrr

I ask about work, life going back to normal, when when when, and basically state that I'm done with this recovery thing and don't ya think this is a bit excessive?  I was told 4 to 6 weeks I'm almost a year out and seriously what's the deal?  Some people take longer is what I hear and he has seen people improve even up to two years.  OMG is what I think.  Ok so work...lets get back to that, you are not ready is what I hear, you are still recovering and you need more time.  Lets give your brain  more time to heal.  OMG is what I think again, time time TIME TIME and then I can't take it anymore and the water works start.  The blubbering about time and my frustration with this whole thing is beyond and that I love my job and I miss it, and I feel there is a big part of me missing.....But you are not ready, is what I hear and a Kleenex box is gently given to me.   We will talk in January, lets see how the meds do and you are not resting, you need to get a restful sleep, I will send a letter to your family doctor...hang in there.

So, the great news, no regrowth, the great news, radiation on hold, the great news it's still a slow growing benign tumour.  The bad news, radiation is still in my future, the bad news is I still have a brain tumour, the bad news is it's still going to grow and now matter how much I play the Kelly vs Brain game, it's always going to win.  I realize that I am lucky that it's not cancer, I count those blessings everyday.  I do also realize that because it's not cancer, I have the luxury of waiting, hanging out in the system, a place I like to work in then go home, now I feel like I'm living in it, from home.  I am however, proud of my little tumour for behaving and not growing, if I have to have one I want one on it's best behavior.

The image below is my head, basically cut in half, the tumour is on the right, images are reversed on MRI's.  As you can see the white blob is what is left of my tumour, a MUCH smaller white blob then I had.  This guy has a nice little grip on my cranial nerves and is hanging out with my carotid artery making it "inoperable".  So I say ahhhh what a good little tumour with a slight sarcastic tone as he has taken up house in a crappy location but as long as he doesn't take out a mortage to add an addition he will remain "a good little tumour"

One Canadian's Brain

I haven't written in a bit as honestly, I haven't been feeling the best.  The definition of recovery is a return to "normal" state.  Hmm I don't really remember what that "normal" was but I can tell you I feel like I'm slipping backward and not returning to anything.  What has returned is daily headaches and  sharp pains in the head. Nausea (which is new and NO I am NOT pregnant) and some odd "occurrences" has me thinking a trip to the good old Doc tomorrow is in order.  So in the month that I should be speaking the loudest about brain tumour awareness, I find myself not in my best state.  I do feel that since I started pouring out my feelings, anger and love for all that is involved in recovering and living with this brain intruder, I have raised some awareness.

One thing that I did get accomplished in the past 10 days is I posted a letter to government through the Brain Tumour Foundation of Canada's website.  It's called Let's tell Government and is aimed at letting our elected officials in Canada know that Brain Tumour research is critical.  The Brain Tumour Foundation would like to have 837 letters sent to Government which represents the 837 people who will be diagnosed this month with a brain tumour.  So far we have 71.  This form is simple, it's easy and YOU don't have to be a brain tumour survivor, YOU just have to want to inspire change.  Maybe someone close to you has a brain tumour HINT HINT!!!!!  So for example:  Primary brain tumours (That's me)  in Canada are not accounted for.  Yes that's right my brain tumour was not counted.  In fact Canada uses data from the US to calculate or approximate the amount of people we have here with Brain Tumous.  Umm, I'm not a scientist, I'm not a Doctor, nor am I a researcher but I am a brain tumour survivor and here is what I had to say to government:

October 3 2012, the day I was told I had a brain tumour, the day my journey with the Health Care System truly began. I am grateful for all the care I have received so far and as I prepare for radiation treatment I continue to be grateful. I have had a long recovery and lots of time to read about Brain Tumours and their impact on so many lives. I am a born and raised Canadian, living with a primary brain tumour that was only partially operable and not at all accounted for. I'm asking you, our elected officials, why my brain tumour doesn't count? More research is needed to aid in the development of The Canadian Brain Tumour Registry. We have no accurate Canadian data, this needs to be changed. I'm asking you today to hear my voice, because my brain tumour counts.

I have received a couple of responses back but only one that was personalized, it was from Gerry Rogers, The House of Assembly in good old Newfoundland.  Thank you Gerry for taking the time to read and respond to my plea for change.  You too can write to Gerry and all the other elected officials about Brain Tumour research, the need for a Canadian Brain Tumour Registry, access to treatment options or to simply say you know someone with a brain tumour.   Chances are I'm not the only person you know who has been affected by one.  One voice to the government is like a whisper, many voices produce change, please click here  and fill out this simple form  It only takes 5 minutes and you will be helping approximately  55,001 Canadians living with a brain tumour raise much needed awareness.  By the way I'm the 1, The Fifty Five Thousand and ONE Canadian, because my brain tumour counts