Race, Nation, Canada

The comments section below this linked op-ed on multiple citizenship nicely illustrates the suspicions many white Canadians still entertain towards multiple citizenship for immigrants. Given the Canadian reputation for tolerance among Americans, I always have an instinctive surprise when I read comments like this. But there you have it. I have never given much thought to it before moving here, but it really is shocking the ways in which citizenship that is chosen is regarded with suspicion, even though people born here can easily live abroad for their whole life and their Canadianness is never questioned (I am certain this is also the case in the United States–I just never identified as an immigrant there and so never really contemplated it).

I am reminded of Wallerstein and Balibar’s Race, Nation, Class which (among other things) argues that notions of “nation” and “culture” are rarely very far from “race” and “people” and, by extension, we might also say “blood and soil.” Perhaps the concept of citizenship itself is a concept hopelessly mired in 19th century racist nationalism. The problem, like most political concepts, is that is also does a lot of good. As the cliché goes for democracy, it’s an incredibly flawed system but the best we’ve got. At least until someone concocts some kind of governance system that works with open borders and shifting populations.

10 days out, the wave breaks

After a few days of stuff hurting more, the burn on my neck appears to have crested (although there’s a nasty raw part I won’t detail here–suffice it to say that I’ll be stopping by the nurses at radiation oncology tomorrow on my way to the respirologist; also I was motivated to buy some open necked shirts and v-necks today). My throat pain is also noticeably decreasing. I’m going to try it without narcotics tonight. It might be too soon, it might not be, but it’s worth a shot. My voice is still kind of crap, and definitely worse than last week, which means I am staying off the phone for now. I have managed to go out in public without too much trouble, though sometimes Carrie can’t hear me.

I had hoped to be “back to my life” at this point but that was of course both unrealistic and, well, silly since I’m only just over a week out of radiation and I still need a nap every day. I have started doing some things and will continue to try and clear off my desk next week. I’ve also got an art project to keep me occupied as well as the World Cup, and of course a social schedule.

Without a countdown, I lose all sense of time

Not really, but I think the opiates are staying with me into the daytime, making the whole “get back to work” thing a little tougher and slower than I had imagined.

I can confirm that without daily treatments, the radiation’s effects continue to get worse. The burn is really ugly, and swallowing hurts more, not less. The fatigue is steady but I have a new theory on that, which would also explain my erratic sleeping and my sudden tendency to run hot: I’m slightly hyperthyroid instead of hypothyroid. Though the sleep may just be a cough issue.

Anyway, I guess I’m “done” but I still get to be a “sick person” awhile longer.

Symptom report aside, I have managed to socialize a bit, keep up with walks, and do some of the things that have been piling up on my desk when I wasn’t working at all. I’ve also been keeping up with the World Cup. Monday I had what seems to have become my annual Entourage disaster and spent several hours on the phone with tech support at McGill and Microsoft (and Carrie put in a call with Apple as my voice was giving out). Ugh. I had planned to revisit my choice of digital tools sometime during sabbatical. Email programs just went to the top of that list.

There Is No Zero Because Zero is Not Exactly a Number

and because I have no more cancer treatments to count down. Sure, there’s weeks of recovery and years of follow-up, but the acute phase of treatment is officially over and I am a happy camper.

What I am doing to celebrate:
1. Completed and will mail out our application for Canadian citizenship.
2. Long nap.
3. Dinner and music with friends.
4. More socializing and napping over the weekend.
5. I am taking a leap of faith that I will be in good enough shape to go to Brazil in 5 weeks’ time, so we started looking into visa requirements.

In the end, EBR was kind of anticlimatic. I certainly experienced nothing approaching what other patients referred to as the “worst pain of their lives” although if I swallow the wrong thing or the wrong way, it does hurt like hell. The burn on my neck is also plenty unpleasant, but it’s just that. I take mostly over the counter medicines, and just one spoonful of codeine cough syrup at night to control a really nasty cough. How bad can that be? I also appear to have all my taste. Which is amazing. Either I got lucky or they really did aim “away” from my mouth and throat.

Recovery will be slow. In fact, for the first couple weeks I may not recover at all as the radiation continues to do its work. But at least I won’t have a 150 minute hole in the middle of every weekday. The burn may let up in about 3 weeks, but I will need to put heavy sunscreen on it forever, and I need to stay out of chlorinated pools for a good month. So I will still be rocking the dorky Tilly hat until the burn is healed enough to use sunscreen. The swallowing pain may stay with me for 6 weeks or more, though I expect that it will decrease slowly, just as it ramped up slowly. As to the fatigue, who knows? My guess is I will feel waves of it for a very long time, as I just got through about 9 months of intensive treatment including 2 kinds of radiation and 3 surgeries. But I’m hopeful that it too will start to remit in a few weeks and that I can get back to being me, at least most of the time.

Luckily, I have a very non-stressful year to look forward to.

As to the future of this blog, there will still be cancer blogging, as I left a few aspects of the year undocumented and would like to tidy that up while it is fresh in my mind. Though I certainly will feel empowered to address other topics, or take a summer break as I did last year. We shall see.

3

I am now officially at the “I am sick of this shit and ready for it to be done” point. This is the feeling I remember vividly from February: an absolute surplus of will and energy, all driving at getting me out. Of course, my confinement is only temporal now, with a 2.5 hour hole in the middle of each day. It’s way better than being in the hospital to be sure, and I’m in much better condition than I was then. But I am still sick of being sick. I do not want to “discover” any new symptoms or “explore” new bodily sensations. I am tired of the restrictive diet, the limited hours, the dulling from pain and fatigue and drugs, and the whole sick person routine. I know that when I walk out of the green room on Friday I will not begin healing immediately, but it will still feel good.

As happens in institutional cultures, I have become a kind of fixture in my 7th week of radiation. I have worked out my niche in the ecology of the radiation section. I know the movements of the machine intimately–I have mastered its choreography and even the sequence of noises it emits. I know the best ways in and out, the relative merits of different taxi routes, and the rhythm of the blue line trains. I have my routine in the place down to a science, or maybe it is its own kind of dance in counterpoint to the machine’s. And I’m the informant for new patients. Friday, N the brain cancer patient finished. He’d been before me the whole time since I’d come to the 12:30 slot. Now there are new people in the green room, and I get to tell them about how it is, the virtues of the barcode sticker you can get for the back of your hospital card, etc. Soon, they will take my place.