In December of 2004 my mum suffered what was initially diagnosed as a stroke. It turned out to be Multiple Sclerosis.

Our family learned a lot that winter – about how quickly things can change, about how healthy people can be brought down by something so unexpected, about where exactly in a house a wheelchair cannot fit, about how the medical system does or does not work at a time when time itself is critical.

MS changed my mum, changed our family dynamics, and changed our outlook on life and perceptions of health. What it did not change was the determination and ability my mum has to be able. It’s been 2 1/2 years and she improves every day. She has been incredibly brave and incredibly resilient throughout this whole ordeal. Her determination to get better, the daily kindness and assistance from friends, members of the small island community where she lives and that of her husband are the reasons why she could leave the wheelchair behind and begin to regain her independence.

Multiple Sclerosis is a disease of the central nervous system that affects the brain and spinal cord. The MS Society of Canada estimates that 55,000-75,000 Canadians have the illness with Canada being the highest risk area in the world. There is no cure for MS and the cause is not known.

On June 9th and 10th I’ll be taking part in the Rona MS Bike tour – riding 180 km from Airdrie to Olds in Alberta to raise money for MS research and services. If you are interested in making a donation to the MS Society of Canada by pledging me, visit this link.

To make a regular donation visit the donations page of the MS Society of Canada website.

To learn more about Multiple Sclerosis and the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Canada, visit their website.

My mum, pictured with me on the jacket flap of Pig in The Middle, a children’s book she authored and I illustrated prior to her illness.

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When you are away
I eat only toast
spicy olives
and strong black tea.

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Tooth marks in algae by snails of varying size and appetite.

It’s been raining a lot in Vancouver recently. This isn’t out of the ordinary. But the rain brings about a kind of senility – a distortion of time. So many days of grey and water seem as if they are many weeks instead… months. And many a Vancouverite will tell you that it’s wetter this year than anyone can remember. They’ll threaten to leave. En-mass. To flood south to dry out their lungs and complain about the heat.

And then suddenly it’s sunny again. The city blinks and everyone forgets because it’s just so darn beautiful. Vancouver, suffering a different kind of collective short-term memory loss, drags its patio furniture out onto the deck and settles down with a cup of coffee to take in the view of the north shore shrugging tattered wisps of mist off its verdant shoulders.

I haven’t minded the rain much; I haven’t been able to go outside too often anyway. And besides, with the rain there is no sun and with no sun there is no glare on my computer screen. And with all this rain, one day is much like the next so there isn’t anything to miss.

More importantly, rain is what makes Vancouver Vancouver. It’s what makes it green. No, not the leaves on the trees and the grass (moss) in our lawns or the dark viridian ferns in the lovely wind-ravaged forests. It makes stuff green. Like patio furniture. Sidewalks. The weather stripping around car windows. It makes back steps, the trunks of trees, sides of buildings, flower pots, bbqs, decks and fences a lovely, sometimes violent shade of green.

There is something poetic in all this slow-creeping green.

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