De Bilbao a Sudbury, de Sudbury a Toronto, esta historia es una saga familiar que converge en Alicia, una doctora entre varias culturas, especialista en enfermedades infecciosas, para quien el COVID de nuestros días es tan solo uno más de los grandes frentes de sus diversas luchas por la vida —de los demás y la propia.
I have a very good memory of Paul and I being together on our honeymoon in Bilbao. Here he met many of my cousins, my two aunts, and uncle. It was a massive food fest with lots of noise, lots of laughter. I was excited, not only seeing everyone again, but mainly because I was introducing Paul to the Spanish family. It was different for me. I was introducing my husband who was Canadian to my Spanish family and the country. Seeing it through his eyes, being able to dive deeper into the culture as I attempted to explain it to him. I had my Canadian and my Spanish lenses on. I remember the scene, it was mayhem, so memorable. We were at my father’s sister’s home in Bilbao, there were two groups of cousins from my father’s side. They knew some English and Paul some Spanish. When he first came in, there was lots of kissing and hugging. Paul is very outgoing so everyone was laughing. Paul slipped right into it, I loved that, that was very important to me. He was really into it, he loves Spain. Even now he can be more protective about Spain than I am. The table was filled with lots of food, I remember there was patatas fritas and filetes de ternera. Later on, we all went out and danced and partied. Afterwards, my aunt drove us to my father’s family home, in el pueblo de Cubas, which is an hour from Santander. We continued on our honeymoon. We had a great time, so much so that we decided to come back next year.
Both Paul and I were born in the same hospital in Sudbury, Ontario, eight years apart. It turns out that my mother’s obstetrician was a good friend of Paul’s parents. Isn’t that crazy? Prior to my birth, my parents did not live in Sudbury, they lived in Chapleau, Ontario, five hours from Sudbury. Here my father, Luis, had set up his medical practice. As my due date approached, my mother Merche, took the train from Chapleau to Sudbury by herself. She was picked up by a friend Manolo Penas, who was originally a miner from Galicia, Spain and was married to a Canadian school teacher, named Elspeth. Manolo picked my mother up at the train station in Sudbury, brought her home and, when she went into labour, he “dumped” her at the front door of the hospital so I’m told [Laughing]. The nice thing about Dr. Farrell, my mother said, was that he and the staff, many of whom were sisters of the Order of St Joseph, were incredibly nice. He felt sorry for my mother. Dr. Farrell offered to have my mother stay with his family for however long. But my dad did eventually come to Sudbury to take us home.
My dad was a physician, like me, who originally came to Canada about three years before my mother. He wanted to get speciality training in North America. He thought it would be more prestigious to take back to Spain a certification in cardiology. He ended up in Sudbury because of a placement agency in Spain. However, to practice as an independent practitioner he had to do some training where he was a jack of all trades. He did anaesthesia, surgery, pediatrics, general medicine and he had to write exams to get his certification. He met my mother during a summer break from his Canadian training, on a train travelling from Madrid to Santander. She was going to spend her summer with a friend. It was a tradition for many people from Madrid to go to Santander for the summer. My parents wrote each other letters and kept in touch and when he returned again the next summer, they spent a lot of time together. My mother says the following November she got a letter from him saying, “He decidido que nos casamos en diciembre y que vienes a Canadá conmigo.” He didn’t say “would you marry me”, he did not really propose [laughing].
In the fifties and sixties, Sudbury was a boom town so there was a need for professionals, like my father. That’s the same reason Paul’s family was in Sudbury, his father was a mining engineer. It was a good thing that my father did his training in Chapleau, because it was French speaking and my mother did not know any English. She could fend for herself in French which was nice. What I find striking is that I always considered my parents to be risk averse, conservative, not going out on a limb. They often arrived at important decisions after a lot of discussion. Every time I think about their immigration story, I think, oh my God, what a remarkable adventure. Maybe things were bad in Spain, not being paid well and he envisioned living beyond a life in the village. That’s what you had to do. I think that is very cool. As a result, my dad set up his practice in the north and then eventually moved his practice to Toronto and the College Street area.
I don’t have a lot of memories about that time in Chapleau. I remember being potty trained [laughing]. And I had a babysitter who spoke French to my mother. Then we moved to an apartment building on the 427 in Toronto for a couple of months. And I remember going to a family’s friend’s house, the Alonso’s house when we moved to Mississauga. But my first real memory was nursery school at St. Stephen’s on the Hill in Mississauga. Some family friends say that I spoke Spanish all the time, I wonder when I fell out of that. Now, although I speak fluent Spanish, I don’t speak Spanish to my mother. I can’t remember when I stopped. My parents spoke Spanish to each other all the time. I do remember, later on, being pressured to speak Spanish. I begrudged my parents for that, but maybe I was lazy.
During my childhood, we had a woman named Valentina from small village in Galicia who did a lot of the cooking. She was a really good cook she made sure everyone was well-fed. My brother, Michael, always blamed Valentina for being pudgy as a kid. According to him, she thought that bread dipped into milk with sugar was a good breakfast! Spanish food involved a lot of preparation and cooking. My mom would do a massive grocery once a week, at a place like Highland Farms and buy things from College Street and Kensington market because my dad worked around there. I remember going to the fish shops or Italian delis with her where she would buy cheeses and preserved meats, like jamon serrano and mortadella. My parents would go to the Italian and Portuguese shops but also a store called Sol de España on College, which later moved to the corner of Lakeshore and Cawthra. It took a lot of effort on my mother’s part to get these ingredients and cook them. I remember the smells of frying garlic, onions, and tomatoes. I have vivid memories of the fan being on behind closed doors because my mom did not want the smells to permeate throughout the house.
At breakfast we would drink cafe con leche at a very young age. Valentina would make a little espresso on the stove top, in the stainless-steel carafe, on the burner. I will always love that smell. Sometimes for lunch we would have sandwiches made with mortadella or salami or membrillo [laughing]. It is a quince jam paste eaten with manchego cheese. At dinner, we always had a tablecloth with the table properly set, bread, “porque no se come sin pan”, and water. At dinners we would always have homemade soup to start, a green salad, then, following la primera, we would have the main course. We always had potatoes or rice to satisfy my three brothers’ appetites and lots of homemade French fries. They were so good. I remember when Caroline was born, the first thing my mother made for me was this huge plate of French fries, very salty, greasy, [laughing] they were so good. I had this huge craving [laughing], for the deep-fried potatoes, nothing like them. I also love tortilla de patata but I’m averse to cooking it, because of the grease everywhere.
We would also eat filetes de ternera, pollo and pescado. My mother would cook cocido, often cocido madrileño, on a weekly basis. This dish was based on a sofrito, which would consist of onions, garlic, tomatoes and peppers. And for a quick dinner, huevos con arroz, and pollo con arroz. Given the need to cook large amounts of food quickly, my mother often used a pressure cooker. She made great “caldo”, from which she would create some sort of soup. For example, she would make sopa de garbanzos, and, of course, some kind of cocido. We also, often had some broth-based soup with little pastas; my kids and I eventually called this “star soup” when I would prepare it for my own family years later. My mother would also make gambas al ajillo regularly. I can’t forget that. We would often have desserts like arroz con leche, flan and bizcocho. My dad did not eat dinner with us because he would come home later, at 8:00 or 8:30. Most Canadian kids in our neighbourhood ate around 5:30 to 6:30. We ate around 6:30 to 7. I have not made a cocido madrileño, all the other things, yes. However, I certainly do not cook to the extent my mother did! On special occasions I make paella, the typical one, with seafood, paella de mariscos.
In Canada the boys and I drank a lot of milk but not in Spain. The milk in Spain, it sucked. People in Spain would say “Que va, esta buenísimo, de que hablas?” However, there was a farmhouse attached to the main family house. We would bring over stainless steel milk jugs. It came straight from the cow, boiled; with Nesquik or instant coffee, it was really good. Otherwise, we never drank the milk. I have a vivid memory of a layover in Montreal and ordering a small carton of cold Canadian milk and loving it. It was my first drink on my arrival from Spain.
I went to St. Christopher’s for grade school in Mississauga. Even though it was the nicest little school for me and my brothers, Luis, Rick and Michael, I remember being intimidated when I first started kindergarten. I recall being bullied a couple of times by a boy in the kindergarten class, who I ended up knowing well into adulthood. [laughing] I remember the teachers being very nice. I still have friends from St. Chris that I keep in touch with.
At St. Chris, I figured out that I really liked school. I liked sitting at my desk, doing my homework and doing well. I remember daily catechism classes and weekly mass on Wednesday mornings. I remember enjoying catechism, it was more about a person, Jesus, who moved a lot of people throughout history by virtue of being kind, loving and champion of the downtrodden. And I was glad I was brought up in this different Catholic school that was not strict or dogmatic. The nuns were pretty nice. It was a nice place to go to school. I remember father Will was cool and a fantastic relaxed person, friendly and warm.
I spent the first two years of high school at Holy Name of Mary in Mississauga. There, I got a very different vibe from the staff, many of whom were nuns. They weren’t as warm compared to what I was used to, but then again, maybe this was just a teenage reaction. I remember being confused and surprised when the school sent out some kind of memorandum which clearly laid out the connection between sin and masturbation.
In grade 11, I moved to Lorne Park Secondary School. I remember meeting Lynn, Paul’s sister, who was extremely friendly, very warm, very welcoming to me. I developed other important friendships with other people that have remained in my life to this day. A number of us had children at the same time which helped us remain good friends as we were going through the same things.
Lorne Park, Mississauga, was so homogeneous, and, for a long time, as the daughter of non-Canadian parents, I didn’t feel that I totally fit in. That is a very hard thing to say. Did it bother me? Yes and no!! When you were younger and a teenager you were more self-conscious about being different. That’s not a good feeling. Over time, as an adult, I embraced the Spanish differences, it became a positive thing. When was the turning point that I felt better about this difference? Maybe in high school; my good friends liked that we had French sticks, the good bread and I made lunch for my friends during high school. As I grew older, I just felt simply that I was different. Now, it’s fine, it’s a good thing.
In the summers, during my childhood, we would travel to Spain. Those summers were like being in an alternate world because, especially at that time, the differences between the two countries were more pronounced. In retrospect, some of it had to do with Canada being a more affluent country. For example, I remember having my own camera, which people thought odd. At night, we would “dress up”, like the Spanish kids. It was a different lifestyle, after the beach you would get washed up, wash your hair, put on a dress your grandmother had made and you wore a nice pair of sandals. In Canada, we usually wore shorts and T-shirts in the summer, all the time. In Gandia, at the beach, you would not wear shorts at night. In Santander, it was a little different because at night it was colder. We would wear jeans, and always a nice shirt and a sweater.
My father came from a village called Cubas, on the Rio de Cubas, which was close to Santander. It probably had a population of less than 100 people. We would just hang out with my cousins and friends. We had a ball, it was great. We’d go out and walk or bike through small roads, collect snails and frogs, visit other kids at their houses and go to the beach. My cousins and I were very close. Every day, up to 12 of us would have giant meal around dining room table and we would laugh and laugh. Occasionally, my grandmother would say the prayer before the afternoon meal, we had to try to stop laughing before we started dinner. Sometimes I laughed so hard that I peed my pants.
Because of my Spanish summer experiences, I started drinking at a younger age and I don’t mean a glass of wine at the dinner table. I mean drinking to drink and smoking cigarettes. My cousins all drank alcohol at a younger age. In Spain this was not considered unusual. But, in Canada people would get a micky of vodka and would drink to get drunk. That was not the intent in Spain, at least that’s what they said [laughing]. Still, in Spain you would go to the bars and dance at discos at a much younger age. Yet, I do remember in Canada, I had a friend whose mother was very relaxed and took us to a disco in Yorkville. We were only 16 years old, she stayed outside parked in her car. This was pretty out there for two young girls from the suburbs. I felt that the suburbs of Mississauga were culturally deprived.
When it was time to come home to Canada, I always acknowledged that I had had a great time, maybe I was sad to leave my cousins or a boy I liked. While in Canada, it felt more boring, more routine: it was school, we’d have parties but we missed going out dancing, and being with a big “pandilla”. The pandilla (group of friends) was not the same in Canada. In Canada I had a “pandilla” but it didn’t include guys. I had many guy friends outside of the group of girls growing up though. We would go to parties with other groups, house parties, but we did not have the same night life in high school as we did during the summers in Spain. But I liked school and my routine and I was always ready to come back. Apart from enjoying Canadian milk I was also happy to get back to North American TV! It was shit in Spain, so bad. But our summers were really great, fantastic summers.
I felt different in Spain for sure, there was a novelty to being Canadian. Yes, it was a good difference. Spanish people often wanted to speak English with you, wanting to try what they studied in school.
My parent’s Spanish group of friends were really close. Most of the guys were Spanish doctors and interestingly over half of the wives were not Spanish. They were really social. My parents would go out a lot, have big dinners, so good for them. Everyone had a great deal of knowledge about current events and history and there were many good conversations. These men often got together on their own, at a restaurant near Dundas, even well into retirement. And five of these women of the group live in the same building together now.
Humans immigrate to different parts of the world and aren’t we lucky for that! I married into Paul’s family, which, like our family, is extremely open and embrace other people’s differences. While I have often thought that Spaniards valued the family unit more than typical Canadians, Paul’s family would be an exception. They are a very close family, much like ours. Paul and I both keep in touch with our parents and our siblings on a very regular basis. We are really looking forward to this summer, as my brothers Luis and Rick have summer homes in the same area as ours. Mike, my middle brother, and his kids, will hopefully join us there.
I met Paul at the end of high school and I started dating him after I had been invited to his sister’s wedding in Ottawa in 1983. That’s where the sparks flew! Paul was living in Hamilton, he would come to see me, frequently at the University of Western Ontario. I found it academically very tough because I wanted to get into med school. The first couple of years were very stressful and even though I was getting good marks, they were not good enough. When not stressing about academics we had a lot of fun. We used to go to the Elbow Room, Joe Cool’s on Richmond St and the Spoke. We danced, went to many parties, listen to live music, the music scene was very good. I received a bachelor’s degree in microbiology and immunology from Western. I then did one year of physical education to study physiology and anatomy. We got married in June of 1987 at the Engineer’s Club on Richmond. Paul fortunately worked at Channel 11 in Hamilton. I loved that school, Mac, McMaster University. Many hours studying, but I enjoyed the subject matter. I was 100% content at Mac.
My medical residency, also completed in Hamilton, was tough, especially when the kids were so young, but I still really enjoyed it. During residency I still had a great time [laughing], well I enjoyed the work. While I was the chief medical resident at St Joseph’s Hospital. I began to realize that I enjoyed the operational aspect of patient care. I do remember being tired all of the time. During residency, in January 1994, Caroline was born and then Michael was born May 1996. Paul was bearing a lot of the responsibilities as he had his work too. We had a nanny, not a live-in, she would come in just for the day. The medical training experience was not perfect but I recall having a better time of it than my colleagues. Internal medicine at McMaster was three years. This was followed by further training in microbiology and infectious diseases, which was another three years.
I liked those years. Again, I remember the strains of being tired. And feeling the stress especially when I was studying for the exams at the very end. It was a three-day exam. The medical microbiology, three days long, it was crazy. I felt guilty about leaving the kids so often because I did not study at home. I remember Caroline getting upset about that but I like sitting at a quiet desk and getting work done [laughing]. I like studying or learning things. I derive self-satisfaction out of that so I guess that’s what got me through it. I also like guiding things along shaping things or introducing new things. I can get along with people, like med students that are having a difficult time, or a staff person who is a bit of a shit or a challenging ward clerk. That is one of my strengths, so as the head resident, I was able to do that. I have a calming effect on people. I think that is my personality, I think I was probably a calm baby. I followed rules in school, did not create many waves. I respected authority so the combination of the two things, my innate personality and perhaps the role that I played with my brothers and parents. I enjoy reaching out to people getting things done. I liked being a resident. There were a couple things that I put in place that hadn’t been done before.
After my training, I began to work at Brampton Civic Hospital and I truly liked working there. I saw incredible medicine. Hamilton did not show me the pathology that Brampton had to offer; Brampton is very multicultural community, with a southeast Indian population with tons of sick people. Apart from Infectious Diseases, I also practised internal medicine with a huge amount of call. As opposed to residency, you were making a lot of medical decisions on your own. I learned a lot about medicine there. It was challenging with kids. That was stressful but I enjoyed the people a lot.
I remember having dinner with my parents. My dad and I would talk about these crazy cases. I remember the rest of the family complaining about the conversations that were so focused around medicine. He told me he was proud of me. When I finished the internal medical exam, my parents were very proud. They had a gathering for us in the backyard. My dad got me a really nice history of medicine book. He wrote an inscription in the front of it, that was very nice. I miss my father very much. I still feel an ache inside when he comes to my mind.
I then went to work at Trillium Health Centre for five years. SARS came in 2003 which involved a tremendous amount of work both at the hospital and MDS Laboratories. In 2006, I moved to Credit Valley Hospital, where I lead the Infection Control team, directed the microbiology laboratory and took care of patients with infectious diseases. I continued to derive great satisfaction from the ongoing learning that came from the various cases, infection control scenarios and lab-based work that I was doing.
While at MDS, now Life Labs, I was the provincial director of the microbiology laboratories. It was a whole other job. Very hectic because I would drive to the big lab by the airport on a daily basis. It was a big position, and they had several labs around the province where I needed to travel. It was a lot of responsibility but I learned about private industry, a great learning experience. It was a very large lab where I learned about operations and quality assurance, an area where the hospitals lagged behind private industry. Those learnings were a major asset for me when I went to work at the Credit Valley Hospital. I was able to apply what I had learned at the lab and to Infection Control. It was fun to build the Infection Control team, present to medical advisory committee, reap the benefits for the hospital and at the same time, do infectious diseases. And I negotiated not to do night call for internal medicine. That was a life changer, no night call. Paul was traveling a lot at the time. The kids were teenagers so it meant I was home at night including Fridays and Saturdays which was really important. I am very proud of building the infectious control team, we hired people and developed the program. We set the objectives and the process of how to measure success, all kinds of stuff like quality assurance and accountability. While at Credit Valley, we brought in new technologies, including molecular testing, which helped lay the groundwork for Covid testing. I’m also proud of being chief of medicine for a couple of years. I feel though, that the Chief of Medicine was not the most effective use of time. I did not like the politics. Sometimes I look back and think I should have been more outspoken about certain things, challenged people more.
In 2020, I decided to retire and I feel a pang inside when I say that. The medications I am now taking for chemotherapy – their number one side effect is fatigue. It’s like this lack of energy, I get tired earlier, unless I’m pumped up to do something like with my mom or when I am with the kids or friends – then I have more energy. I get tired so easily, so I can no longer do the work. I’ve done traditional chemo twice now. Maybe the chemo ages you prematurely, you don’t have the same stamina. I don’t anymore.
It’s hard. I have inherited a mutation in a gene called BRCA that predisposes me to cancer through my father’s side of the family. He died of prostate cancer in 2007 – all of his siblings died of cancer and another cousin died of breast cancer. And two more cousins have recently gone through chemo for breast cancer. If one of your parents carries the mutation, you have a 50/50 chance of inheriting it. And your chances are very high of developing certain cancers including ovarian, breast, pancreatic and prostatic.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was very angry and afraid. In late 2015, I originally thought this was nothing to worry about when I first felt the mass in my lower abdomen. During the ultrasound exam, I asked the technologist what she was seeing. She said I’m seeing cystic and solid masses. I thought: Holy shit. This is not good. The technologist brought the chief of radiology in, who I knew fairly well. He sat down with me. He said, I’m really sorry, there is a good chance this is ovarian cancer. He confirmed what I was already sure of. I went straight to my office in the hospital and I called my doctor friend Carol, who is a gynaecologist. I told Carol about my ultrasound finding. I remember her saying you’ve had such a year. You had that thyroid cancer. I had completely forgotten about the thyroid cancer. I told her that the thyroid cancer is nothing compared to what this was going to be like.
Carol sent a referral and copy of the ultrasound report it to my future oncologist at Princess Margaret Hospital and I saw him shortly after. According to Carol, Dr Bernardini was the best, and I have since become so grateful for his incredible care. Carol and Paul came with me and the three of us were seated while the resident was asking questions. Poor resident. The resident said are you a physician. I said yes, I’m an infectious disease physician. And then she asked Carol are you a physician. Carol said I’m an obstetrician gynecologist. And then to Paul are you a physician. He said, “I only play one on TV.” Paul is a commentator on Leaf’s TV. It was a needed moment of comic relief. [laughing]
Dr. Bernardini, or Marcus, was a young guy, 6 to 8 years younger. He said what’s going on with you that doctor Wade said that I had to see you immediately. Carol said I needed to see you as soon as possible. And here you are, and what’s going on. One thing led to another and I had the surgery in December of 2015. The surgery was horrendous. That was brutal. And I had complications. I came home for Christmas. And then I had to go back into the hospital for 10 more days due to complications of the surgery. From that experience, I did learn that I was able to endure a lot and maintain a relative sense of calm. I also fully realized how much energy and security one can receive from the support of friends and family. I am not much of a hand-holder ordinarily, but I distinctly remember feeling incredible love and solidarity from my mother as she kept her hand over mine during those hours at my bedside.
Finally, slowly, I began to regain some strength and weight. Because I had lost a lot of weight. I don’t have that much on me to lose. I started chemo and finished six months later, in time to enjoy a nice summer prior to going back to work. And then in 2019 during a routine test, there was evidence of a recurrence. That’s the nature of ovarian cancer. So, I went through the traditional chemo again last year in December until April. Then I started this pill form of chemo in May of 2020. Yeah, the cancer is a thing, I think about it a lot and I know everyone in my family does.
Well, how do you deal with cancer? I have to accept it, I can’t change it, it’s kind of out of my control. This kind of cancer does not have a good prognosis. I initially spoke with a therapist to help me through and I have a friend who I talk with who has had ovarian cancer for over 10 years versus my 6 years. I have come to accept it, and try to be positive, just be a good role model for my children and my husband.
How do we live with it? If I was falling apart then they would be falling apart too. I’m not going to fall apart. In comparison to my life before the recurrence, I live my life on more of a day -to- day basis. That’s not say that I don’t plan my days. I spend time with my husband, children, mother and brothers and all the other people I care about. I do nice things to fill my time, like reading about art, studying French, painting and bird-watching. And that is the way I see it. But if someone was to tell me next month that my blood work came back and it was not good…. It would be hard. With each recurrence you have less options in terms of treatment.
All my family has been extremely supportive. Paul has been incredibly supportive, very loving. Interestingly, our relationship is better since this happened. We are nicer to one another, we appreciate each other more, don’t sweat small stuff so much, we let things go. What’s the point of bickering and allowing insignificant things to bother me? My kids… Mike is able to talk about it. Michael is very expressive, he has a healthy handle on this, as much as a young man can. Caroline does not like talking about it at all, that worries me because I don’t really know what she thinks about her mother having a life-threatening disease. And then there is my mother. [Pause].
My mother thinks about it but does not talk about it a lot. It’s a big thing for her. And it’s almost too big. Sometimes I wonder how much her need to be informed on the details of my illness is a reflection of her personality versus just being a mother versus the Spanish culture. Maybe it’s part of the culture, to have the whole family in there, trying to help and support. In Spain, if you are at the hospital, you don’t sleep alone. There is always a family member with you. Maybe it’s part of being a parent, I would be the same with my kids.
Art was always an interest of mine, I studied music and ballet. I started dancing in the basement of a church in Lorne Park. Later, I danced with my class and the class above me, at no charge to my parents. After a year of that, the teachers spoke to my parents telling them that I had potential to go to the National Ballet school. We had a serious discussion in my father’s den. My parents did not put pressure on me. I do not have any regrets about not going the National Ballet School. I feel I found my profession as a physician. I really enjoyed what I did.
On our trips to Spain, we would see a great deal of art. Previously I did not have much time to devote to painting until I became older, especially now. I can sit and watch a film about El Greco or a presentation on El Prado or follow sites on Instagram about art. I dabbled and I like to learn about how to apply a brush on paper, creating something is nice. You get a sense of accomplishment and over time you improve with different techniques. That’s enjoyable, again, the learning part. I love to paint.
Who am I? Many different things. How I do define myself? Partly professionally. I define myself as hard working in the service of others. I also define myself as a wife and mother and daughter and sister and good friend. Someone who has close connections with many people and I try to do my best by them. I am someone who loves to learn about things, places and people. Unfortunately, living with cancer, trying to do the best with limitations of cancer is part of my new identity. I acknowledge that culture is important. But does heredity really define you as an individual? Or does it not matter much? Does who I am have much to do with the fact that my parents are Spanish? I tend to help people that are having a rough time and this could be why I chose my profession. But I wonder if it’s about being a person in the family who ironed out the wrinkles because English for my parents was not their first language or they did not understand a person. I remember a girl, Anna, she may have come directly from Portugal to Canada to the classroom. I had a huge compassion for her. I remember that I needed to really help her. I felt I needed to welcome her because she was so shy and awkward. I felt that it was my responsibility. The same way I protected my brothers in the schoolyard. Being a child of immigrants does in a way affect how I behave now.
Myself, Paul, Mike, and my mother were seated at the dinner table so I asked the question – Who are you? My mother said right away, “Soy Española, Soy Española”, and very passionate about it. Paul said I’m Canadian and added a couple of other things. Michael said I’m just another living thing on this earth, I’m human, that’s a bird, that’s a fly. Nationality is more important to my mom. She said, Spain and Canada are like a lover and a husband. Spain was the lover, and Canada was the husband. Spain is what she is passionate about [laughing], the husband is good and dependable, like Canada, I can rely on my husband [laughing].
Does it bother me that my kids are not Spanish? No, I’m not Spanish, right? Their Spanish-ness is diluted but they still have what I consider to be good enough appreciation of Spanish things. I, of course, like my parents, would be happier if they spoke Spanish better. However, I think that they love the food, they love traveling to Spain. My children have a connection with family friends there and are even in a What’s App group with them. The world is a much smaller place it was a generation ago and Canada is more diverse, more accepting and globalized. We are citizens of the world rather than countries with borders.
Family is so important to me, my children, my husband. It’s the most important thing in my life. However, what did I know about marriage and raising a family. It was always a series of trial and error. In marriage though you sometimes get lazy, you don’t always do your best. It is a learning experience, marriage and raising children. It’s not like you go to med school, get training, and a whole bunch of knowledge. You start from ground zero. Experiential learning and trying to do better next time. Talking to friends, how to do better, and the children themselves, managing certain situations.
My best memories with the family are of just being at home, preparing a meal and sitting down at the table and having a good laugh. Just that very normal, not glamorous kind of thing. But also, trips are special, Caroline, Michael and I have had great trips, experiencing something new together. Those are the best memories. With Paul its traveling, he has embraced Spain and we go there often. He’s a Spanish nerd.
In the future, I wish that my kids continue to develop into the good people they are. I hope they adjust to whatever life brings them. I really think about that. Because of my cancer diagnosis, I want them to adapt as well as they can, should I pass prematurely which will probably be the case. They are solid enough people to get through their challenges and then some. And for Paul, a happy family life, a gratifying family life. A fulfilled life.
I live day by day now. I don’t make big plans. I’m not going to climb another Mount Kilimanjaro or work with people in Guatemala. I’ve accepted that. I wanted to do those things for a long time but I never got around to it. Now it’s about living well. And making the most of time. At the end of this pandemic Paul and I plan to return to Spain which is something we always dreamed of doing after our retirements. After a lifetime of shared experiences, I have a wonderful vision of our kids and family with us, enjoying tapas and un buen vino on a sunny terraza del barrio del Retiro en Madrid.