THREEPEAT

Last week, my futsal team Arse-and-all won our third title in the past five seasons. It was one of our easiest championship runs, and we actually won the title with one week to spare in the season.  However, like with every season, we did it a little bit differently.

In the past, we have been much more of a possession-based team with quick interchanging passes and many beautiful team goals much like Guardiola's Barca. This season, however, we played a decidedly different style - more counterattacking with less possession or control - kind of like the current Barca. They say that one must adapt or die. Therefore, I guess we can call this evolution, although I am not sure I would call it progress or more beautiful than our former style. However, one must dance with the one that brought you or play the style that fits the current players, many of whom were new and unused to the style of play that we used to inflict on other teams.

I do not want you to think that playing was boring or unfulfilling. On the contrary, it felt great to complete such a wonderful collective achievement of winning another title as a team. Working together to create something beautiful is what brings me back to this team and this game every time. Playing is fun, and playing and winning is even better.

I sprang for trophies for the team when it was clear that we would be champions, and I bought a cup trophy, too. This is because far too often we dwell on the failures and lows rather than the successes and highs in life. This was not one of those moments, We had a small ceremony after the final game, and we even got some love on social media from the facility at which we play.  The players seem truly touched, but it was I who had been touched by them and everything they gave to the team this season.

We are taking a little bit of a break, but I hope we will be back on the court soon. Here's to Arse!

THE CIRCLE

Sometimes a book comes along that really makes one think about how one is living and where our society is heading. The latest book from Dave Eggers called The Circle is one of those books.

The novel is set in Northern California and tells the story of a recent college graduate named Mae who lands a job at a tech giant called the Circle - think Facebook meets Google. Mae is quickly drawn into the charms of this company with its free cafeteria, many college-like interest clubs, and its diverse group of very bright and driven young people. Along the way, Mae gets a clearer view of the Circle and how its business model is largely built on getting its customers and employees, alike, to allow the Circle access into their lives. This is much more than mining status updates and search histories. The Circle creates products and technologies that are increasingly intrusive and that come to dominate nearly every aspect of the users daily activities.

This may seem quite dystopian or far-fetched until one actually evaluates one's own life and use of technology. For example, I would not be able to share this story with you if it were not for the fact that Google runs the Blogger website.  Similarly, I commonly share photos with you on Instagram, which is owned by Facebook. These sites are currently free, but, at any moment, these companies could charge a fee that we would probably pay to keep using this content. Moreover, all of our "likes," "comments," and "re-tweets" are being monitored so that companies can micro target us and get us to buy their products. Finally, every single search we do on the internet is visible to every search engine company. It is only a matter of time until we have to pay to keep our search histories private. All of this is to say that while technology and the internet have improved the world in so many great ways, there is a price that will be soon extort from us for this technology.

I do not think the answer to this dilemma is to retreat into a cave or become a Luddite. However, I would suggest that you do not do anything online that you would be embarrassed to have your parents or coworkers find out about. Think before you Google because Google and the like are thinking about your googling.

THE L WORD

Tonight, Justin Trudeau pulled off a major upset and unseated Steven Harper to become the next Prime Minister of Canada. He is the second youngest man to be elected to this post and the second Trudeau, following in the footsteps of his father Pierre, who was my first Prime Minister.

In a campaign straight out of Obama's playbook, Trudeau appealed to our better angels while his chief rival Mr. Harper attempted to appeal to our worst devils.

The victory is all the more stunning because Harper and the Conservatives had held power for nearly a decade while Trudeau's Liberal Party had been banished to the woods.

My own country's politics put this victory into even greater perspective because candidates of all parties flee from the label of liberal, which is viewed as political suicide. However, the Trudeau victory reminds us that ideas and principles matter. Government's job is to help those who cannot help themselves rather than to get out of the way of the rich who merely seek to enrich themselves.

So, let's raise a glass to Mr. Trudeau and to Canucks everywhere who made the choice that was best for their country. Labels be damned.

LIVING ON HIS OWN TERMS

I saw one of my patients Mr. I. recently for the last time. He was a large man - almost a bear of man - who was straight out of Grizzly Adams, and his appointments can only be described as spectacles.

I first met him over three years ago when he was diagnosed with metastatic prostate cancer. In those three years, I must have treated him with nearly 5-6 therapies. He always agreed to try something new, but he always added his own special brand of humor to the discussions.

One of the more memorable visits involved a discussion of chemotherapy. I listed off the possible side effects, which included alopecia, or hair loss. As I have tried to describe, Mr. I. was a mountain man of sorts with long gray hair. When I mentioned hair loss, he said that might not matter to a "bald motherfucker like you" but that he did not look forward to the hair loss. I could only smile because this was classic Mr. I. - telling it like is without any sugarcoating. One always knew what was on Mr. I's mind because he always told you what he was thinking!

As his disease progressed, we ran out of options. I recommended hospice, but he refused even though he agreed that no further treatments were possible. He said that he did not want to know about prognosis, and I refrained from discussing his projected longevity. At each visit, I saw his symptoms worsen, but he was adamant that he did not want anyone from hospice coming out to his home to bother him.

I saw him for the last time several weeks ago. He was quite weak, and he was relying more on a friend to help him. I again brought up the idea of hospice and said that hospice might allow his friend to go back to being his friend rather than his medical caregiver. It was at this time that I came to fully appreciate Mr. I. and from where he was coming.

He said that he was not sure hospice would be able to make it to his house, which was in a remote, undeveloped area of the state. He also confided that he was not sure that they would think much of where he lived. I reassured him that hospice was able to serve all parts of our state and that they were there to help him rather than judge him or his living quarters.

During that final visit, I noticed how utterly resigned Mr. I. was to his fate for the first time . He did not cry, but I could sense that he had finally come to accept that his end was near. This fighter's loss of hope, his resignation was truly one of the saddest things I have ever experienced in a clinic visit.

A few days later he called the clinic to say goodbye and to thank us for all we had done for him. He even apologized for the way he had behaved at times, which was quite unnecessary. He died shortly thereafter.

Just like there was an ending to Mr. I's story, I am sure there is a story to his ending. For me, though, the moral is simple: one should cherish this life and live it to the fullest on one's own terms until the very end. Is there really any other way to live? I know that's how Mr. I lived it.

SAYING THANK YOU BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE

One of my dear patients recently went on hospice. We met each other over eight years ago after I first started at my current job, and therefore it was very sad to say goodbye.

Mr. S. was one of the most selfless patients whom I have ever met. He enrolled in over four clinical trials in his lifetime. Moreover, he was always kind and courteous to me and the entire staff. He always thanked me even when the news I had to deliver was not what he wanted to hear.  He even brought in donuts for the nursing staff on days he received chemotherapy. When I got word of this, I said jokingly to my nurse, "Where is my glazed donut?" She shared this anecdote with the patient, and thereafter he made sure to include a glazed donut earmarked for me whenever he brought treats in.

Our last clinic visit was quite sad. I told him that I was sorry that the day had come when I could do no more to treat his cancer. I told him that I would continue to treat his symptoms with palliative care and hospice but that cancer medicines would cause more harm than good. We said our goodbyes and gave each other a good, long, tearful hug.

A few weeks later after he enrolled on hospice, my nurse told me that he had invited her to a party that his RV club was putting on for him. Camping and RV'ing were one of his main hobbies, and we often planned our treatments around these trips. In the party, he told his friends how lucky he was to have them and how grateful he was for the care he had received. He told my nurse that he could really sense how hard it was for me to give him the news about hospice and how much I felt for him.

After hearing this story, I decided to reach out to him before it was too late. I always send a note to families after patients pass away, but in this instance I felt the need to reach out to the patient, himself. I sent him a card that described my admiration for him.  I told him that anything I did for him paled in comparison to everything he had taught me about grace, class, and resilience - especially when faced with a terminal illness. I told him that I drew strength from him and that he was the reason I wake up every morning asking myself the same question: what will you do to cure cancer today? The answer is always the same - never enough and not soon enough. Godspeed Mr. S.

MINDFULNESS

Recently, I started taking a class in Mindfulness based on the teachings of the American psychologist Jon Kabat-Zinn. I signed up for the class because it feels like each year is more challenging than the last. There are more duties and expectations at work and home but no more time per day to complete all these duties. In this situation, stress is created by the disconnect between what we and others expect of ourselves and the reality of what we are actually capable.

Kabat-Zinn's teachings remind us that the present - the here and now - should be our chief concern. We should focus completely on what is before us, rather than dwelling on what is in the past or becoming consumed by the uncertainty of the future.

This is easier said than done, especially when one is busy and feeling overburdened. However, I have found that focusing through meditation has had a significant impact on my ability to work and parent more effectively. The verdict is out on whether it will help my marriage.

There is so much beauty in our daily lives, but it is so easy to miss these moments when one is not fully engaged or when one is distracted. It is also easy to focus on the negative when one does not slow down and appreciate everything that is positive in one's life.

I hope I can continue these practices - not only because they make me more efficient, but also because they make me feel more connected with others and with my life. It is a significant time commitment to try to stretch one's brain through these techniques. However, it is really no different than an exercise or stretching routine that so many of us who are getting older already do on a daily basis.

So, here's a challenge. Turn off the phone and TV. Sit quietly and just focus on one thing - breathing -for ten minutes per day. I promise that this alone will not solve your problems, but it will certainly bring both your problems and their solutions into focus.

LIKE TURNING THE SOCCER SWITCH OFF

This weekend Lionel Messi suffered a knee injury during a game against Las Palmas that will rule him out for the next two months. It was a sad and terrifying sight to behold as he fell to the ground unable to carry on. This is especially true when one considers how much Messi means to his team and to the game of football, in general.

I cannot think of another athlete whose absence for an extended stretch of time - let alone one game - brings so much sorrow to football fans worldwide. This is because Messi epitomizes everything that is great in sport - sportsmanship, skill, and a serious competitive side.

The game will be a little emptier for the next months, a little less joyful. It truly does feel like the game has been turned off - or at least turned down - due to Messi's injury. Here's to a speedy recovery so that Messi can get back to thrilling fans of Barca and the game of soccer worldwide!