The Marquis du Mile End needs you! Felix has been diagnosed with a rare incurable sarcoma cancer. You all know him, whether from the street, the café, football , parties, or at our Esplanade home, where the door is always open and he and I, his wife Jen, are happy to welcome you. Always with a ready smile, a joke (often off-colour, all the more endearing for it) and an honest, open interest in who you are and how you are. Charming, big hearted, curly headed, above all beloved, this generous, loving soul, so full of vitality, our neighbourhood bon vivant, Felix, needs your help now.

Time is short and support crucial. Felix can no longer work because of the debilitating effects of the cancer and chemo treatments. This is your chance to make a difference in the life of someone you know. We don't know what the future holds, but this will be the fight of a lifetime, for a lifetime. He has two wonderful children to support, Anaïs, 15, is a happy-go-lucky girl doing wonderfully at FACE, Théo, 20, an elite triathlete and A student.

PLEASE JOIN US....THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Sarcomas are rare malignant tumors that develop in tissues such as connective, muscles, fat , nervous system, and bones. They make up about 1% of all newly diagnosed cancers. Due to its aggressive nature, all medical treatment options are being explored in hopes of extending Felix’s quality of life. Wishing all of us peaceful days of hope and healing, everywhere.

FELIX’S STORY

Jen and I have been together for eight years, and married during Covid. We waited years to have our honeymoon. When we finally did it was wonderful. Six weeks in Finland, from the shores of Lake Saimaa to the beauty of the archipelago to Helsinki . When we got back I felt reconnected to my roots; I felt alive. And then I was diagnosed with stage IV Leiomyosarcoma.

Leiomyosarcoma affects 1:100,000 people, making it very rare. It’s also very aggressive. The prognosis for people diagnosed at Stage IV is bleak. The five-year survival rate is 14%. The two-year survival rate is not much better.

The evening after getting the diagnosis confirmed by the oncologist and getting a full prognosis of the situation, Jen broke down. She’d kept a stiff upper lip for weeks, yet this was too much. “I met the man I want to be with for the rest of my life and you’re being taken away,” she sobbed. I hugged her and said: “Hey I’m still here!”

I decided I had to tell the children. I’ve lived through many difficult situations but none held a candle to this. But it’s always been my belief that as a father I must first and foremost be honest with them. It’s what they expect from me. They waited for me to speak. “Two weeks ago I discovered that I had stage IV cancer. The lesions weren’t typical of liver cancer and so they’ve been trying to find a cause. I saw the oncologist this morning and he said I have leiomyosarcoma. There is no cure. He said the best we can hope for is for treatment to stop the spread. If chemotherapy can shrink the tumours, he said, that would be the icing on the cake.” Silence. Then shock and horror crept into those young faces I know so well with love. They cried, hugged me. I cried. Now I’m starting chemotherapy. The hospital letter states my case is incurable and my care palliative. In his letter, the oncologist wrote I would be unable to work for the next 12 months.

Twenty years ago, after years of taking care of partners and their children, I moved to Montreal to start my own family. I’ve been a freelance journalist covering climate change, carbon markets, ESG, sustainable development and global affairs; I’ve lectured in political science at Concordia; at the 2007 Bali UN Climate Change Conference, I argued for the integrity of the United Nations as the only framework for negotiating and deciding climate policy; I’ve written songs and poetry

I just turned 61. For the past decade I’ve had to be practical and turned to property management, painting and plastering to make a living. It was hard work but good work most of the time, though it didn’t make much more than bare subsistence. Now, with two kids and Jen the love of my life, I am suddenly faced with my years slipping into twilight. I still write poetry and songs, though.

When I wondered to the oncologist whether some product or substance I may have used in the last decade could have caused this leiomyosarcoma, he said that it was caused by “shit bad luck.” It only started 2-3 months ago, he said, but it’s already at Stage IV.

From here I look forward to what could possibly be 2-5 years of painful, chemotherapy-ridden life. Along with it comes zero income, no savings, no pension, no private health care. There’s the spectre of credit cards, our mortgage, fees and property taxes. And the cost of my children’s educations and activities. Jen, my loving wife who spent most of her life as a theatre director, is my primary caregiver, and is now on unemployment insurance.

I have no maximum sum of money to ask for but with all the expenses, food, the car plus financing the children, I foresee a minimum required revenue of C$75,000 during the first year of my sickness. Any sum beyond would help me to live as healthily as possible, and to share as many happy memories as possible with my friends, my family and provide some security for their future. That will be my legacy. I humbly ask for your support to help with my expenses. Times are tough for us all and I sincerely thank you for any support you can offer. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read my story.

May God bless us all

Felix