National Post (National Edition)
‘CAPTAIN POSITIVE’ BEAT CANCER. NOW HE’S FIGHTING COVID-19.
RENé GALIPEAU WAS LIVING WITH BRAIN CANCER, THEN HE GOT COVID-19
René Galipeau is just few days shy of his 75th birthday, an age, his doctors believed, he would never live to see. Galipeau was diagnosed with cancer — for the first time — 28 years ago, a late-stage lymphoma he beat with the help of a bone marrow transplant from his identical twin, Roland.
He has since been diagnosed with skin cancer, bladder cancer and prostate cancer, a triple dose of bad news, all received at different points in his life, that he has likewise survived. About 18 months ago, the Toronto mining executive met with cancer specialists, yet again. This time they said he was a true goner. He had a brain tumour. He was given eight months to live, at best.
Galipeau registered the grim prognosis and got on with his life.
“I shouldn’t have been here past last summer," he says, chuckling. “Nobody knows why I am still here, but here I am, and I am doing fine. It’s black humour, you know. Really, I have to laugh, because if you can’t laugh at it what else can you do?”
Galipeau’s sunny outlook is part of who he is. Even now, even after a pair of seizures landed him in hospital March 17, where doctors confirmed that, no, his tumour wasn’t growing, as he had feared, but that he had a potentially lethal new illness to contend with: COVID-19.
“I said to the doctor, who was dressed like a Martian in a protective suit, are you kidding me?”
It was, alas, no joke. Neither was the news, received a day later, that Mary, his wife of 32 years, also had the virus, a double-whammy with a silver lining, since the pair were sent home together to, as Galipeau puts it, “ride things out.”
On that note, the couple are holed up in their 19th-floor condominium with a view of Lake Ontario in Toronto’s west end. Mary was bedridden until Wednesday morning, when her fever finally broke. Her husband has mostly been on his feet throughout, with a nagging cough, making work calls, organizing taxes and avoiding the news — since it can be “hard” to digest — while binge-watching home renovation shows.
“I can probably renovate any house now,” Galipeau says. “So, if you are looking for someone, let me know.”
He does not know where he and Mary might have picked up the virus. They did not travel anywhere or stray from any of their usual routines. There was a dinner out with friends at a local restaurant, that’s it. As for symptoms, Galipeau had the cough, and experienced heavy fatigue. Mary, in comparison, has felt magnitudes worse.
Life since diagnosis has been full of lessons, including always remembering, as René recently forgot, to check if there are any spaghetti noodles before making sauce for the first time in 30 years. Friends have been making food drops at the Galipeaus’ door. Canned beans, corn, hot and mild Italian sausage, bread and eggs and, lately, perogies, are among the select items.
Back when Galipeau first learned he had a brain tumour, he wanted to do something memorable with his six grandchildren. They refer to him as “Pie,” since the first-born couldn’t pronounce “Pépère,” French for grandpa. Two of the grandkids love hockey, so Galipeau took them to Boston to see the Leafs play the Bruins. Two love baseball, and so he took them to Cooperstown, N.Y., home of the Baseball Hall of Fame. The other two got a trip to Quebec City, to see some history. They convinced “Pie” to buy himself a souvenir hoodie with “F---lamode” written on the front.
“Everybody said I was crazy, but I got all the trips done in the first six weeks,” Galipeau says. “But now I am still here.”
But why is the question. Galipeau’s best guess for his terminal-illness-defying-longevity is the love of his wife, Mary. She is a wonderful person, a reason to keep going, and they have an understanding, besides, that if you can’t change things, just get on with it. Galipeau, looking inward, describes himself as “lucky unlucky.” Brother Roland, the identical twin, died of the same brain cancer he has now; his older brother, Marcel, died of lung cancer at 48. Somehow, though, Galipeau keeps trucking.
Lately, he has been looking forward to another summer at the family cottage on Lake Erie. Why not? His approaching 75th birthday doesn’t excite him much, since he already had a “final” birthday bash last year. But being by the lake for May 1, assuming all goes well, would be a gift.
“I remember thinking, when the doctor told me I had COVID-19, ‘Screw this, I’m not letting a stupid virus get me, not after making it this long with my brain tumour,’” Galipeau says, laughing. “I know that sounds crazy, but that’s what I thought: Forget it. I’m not dying now — and I came through it.” Again.
NOT LETTING A STUPID VIRUS GET ME, NOT AFTER MAKING IT THIS LONG WITH MY BRAIN TUMOUR.