By Mike Sloan, Special to Postmedia Network

“You have cancer.”

Every year, thousands of Canadians hear this from their doctors. It’s frightening, confusing, and outright scary. In February, it was my turn.

A myriad of options were offered. We can radiate this. We can do chemotherapy. All, in the hope of extending my life.

We live in a world where many cancers are highly treatable, and the hope for recovery is high. We are, and should be, thankful for the many great advances in cancer treatment.

However, despite our best hopes, some cancers are simply not well understood or treatable. This was my revelation. A few months after I lost my voice, I was diagnosed with anaplastic thyroid cancer. It’s a rare cancer that afflicts as few as one or two people in a million. My prognosis was grim from the start.

A surgeon and two oncologists suggested chemotherapy and radiation in the hope it may slow the cancer down. But that was merely a hope. No guarantees. I opted out, because I couldn’t make sense of being sick from the treatment in what was likely to be my last summer.

The summer is almost over now, and my cancer is closing in. I’m having more difficulty breathing and swallowing. It feels like there is a huge, growing, hunk of mucous in my throat that I can’t clear. I’d been told to expect this. The cancer is tightening its grip on my esophagus. Eventually, it will simply close and I won’t be able to swallow. Or, breathe.

I knew, going in, this would be the outcome.

Last week, the doctor told me I had, possibly, 6-10 more weeks to live. I accepted it. I’ve been expecting this. I still look and feel relatively healthy and it’s almost hard to believe this is happening. But, I’m entirely aware this is going to kill me.

I don’t have a fear of dying. I can handle that. But, the notion of choking or struggling to breathe really horrifies me. I don’t want to choke to death.

Thankfully, I have the choice of medical assistance in death. Barring some other possible event, that is how I choose to die.

Some people, in good faith, say, “don’t give up on hope.” But, hope isn’t a plan or a solution. Hope can’t guarantee I won’t struggle to breathe at the end.

I’m extremely grateful for the time I’ve had, knowing what was coming. Although I’m dying, the months between diagnosis and death have been incredibly rewarding, positive, and beautiful. I’ve never felt more connected to people, or more cared about in my life. At end of life, it’s a wonderful way to leave the world.

Deciding on treatment options for any disease should always be left in the hands of the patient. If you’re told “you have cancer,” do your research, talk to your doctors and make your own decision. It’s your life. Do what’s right for you.

Above all, use your time to reconnect with those who’ve meant much to you. Say what you want to say. End of life should be without regrets.

Enjoy your time while you have it.

Mike Sloan has shared his cancer story with the world on Twitter, the same way he shared his wry observations on life before he was diagnosed with terminal illness. Despite the prognosis, his sense of humour hasn’t flagged. Nor, has his brutal honesty about life as he faces his final days.

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PORTLAND, MAINE – The woman shrugs. 

She doesn’t mention Donald Trump’s latest outrage – that he’s “the chosen one.” She doesn’t even utter his name. 

She says she thinks she’s going to vote Democrat. Then she frowns a bit. “But I like Collins.”

She’s referring to Maine Senator Susan Collins, a Republican. Collins is the bane of every Democrat’s existence. She’s the one, more than any other Senator, who got Brett Kavanaugh onto the US Supreme Court. 

She’s the one who generally supports all of Trump’s nominees. She’s the one who claims to be a moderate Republican – and then votes for Trump’s agenda.  

The woman at the door of the bungalow on Hale Street has indicated she’s a Democrat. But she’s ready to vote – again – for a Republican. Susan Collins. 

It wouldn’t be a big deal, but it happens again and again. As my daughter and I move from door to door in this older Portland neighbourhood, volunteering for the Democratic Party, we see it a lot: shrugs. 

Down the street, Thomas, a man in his sixties, says he’ll vote for the Democratic candidate for Congress. Then he shrugs, too. “And maybe Collins for Senate,” he says. 

What we encounter on Hale Street isn’t unique. It isn’t an aberration. Maine Democrats have encountered it so often, an entire section of the script we’ve been given deals with Democrats who are ready to vote Republican. 

Right about now, Trump fans shouldn’t start breaking out the bubbly. It’s not that Americans have grown to love the guy. Polls clearly show they don’t, and in battleground states he won in 2016, too. 

But there’s resignation, now. There’s familiarity. There’s…shrugs. 

The day after my daughter and I knocked on dozens of doors for the Dems, a gifted New York Times columnist, Frank Bruni, wrote about exactly what we experienced. “Donald Trump has worn us all out,” read the headline atop his column. 

Wrote Bruni: “[Voters have] binged on Trump and now they’re overstuffed with Trump, and if Democratic candidates are smart, they’ll not dwell on his mess and madness, because voters have taken his measure and made their judgments, and what many of them want is release from the incessant drumbeat of that infernal syllable: Trump, Trump, Trump.”

And it’s true. As this writer said to someone down here, after reading Bruni’s words: “Do you get outraged about Trump anymore? Does he shock you anymore? Do you just change the channel, or flip the page, and move on to the next thing?”

Many of us do, on both sides of the border, I suspect. We simply have become used to Trump’s incendiary tweets, and his politics of division. He doesn’t shock us anymore. We shake our heads, or we shrug, and we move on. 

That creates opportunity for the Democrats, Bruni opined, because he thinks Americans are sick of all the drama and the craziness, and they want stability and civility. 

On Hale Street – and, in fact, on every other street we canvassed in Portland – we saw precious little evidence of that hopeful theory. Why we saw, instead, is that everyday Americans simply aren’t as exercised about Donald Trump as they used to be. 

And that’s translating into expressions of support – from Democrats! – for one of Trump’s enablers, Susan Collins. And that’s opportunity, maybe, for Trump and the GOP. 

Peter Jones, a retired man stands at his front door, and gives us hope. And a warning. 

“I pay attention,” he says to us, finger wagging. “Two things. Point out Trump’s faults, sure. But tell us what you’re going to do, too!”

Have Democrats done that, nearly enough? Have they described the America they want to create? 

Down on Hale Street, not really. 

And not across America, either. 

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