One night in April, after a Sunday soccer game, Alan Twigg couldn't remember the names of his two sons or his wife-and he couldn't hold a pen. An emergency CAT scan revealed a large brain tumour squeezed against his motor cortex. 'Intensive Care' tells the story of why this was a good thing. 'Intensive Care' isn't a medical survival story; it's a yearlong reflection on how the imminence of death can enhance life. The grass gets greener. Confirmation that one is loved is exhilarating, more powerful than any drug. On May 26th, 'The Globe & Mail' ran a front page story about a recent medical study that concluded one in five Canadians will have a tumour in their head at some point in their lives. Two days later, Dr. Christopher Honey, a neurosurgeon at Vancouver General Hospital, removed the benign tumour from Alan Twigg's head during a five-hour operation. He started writing again, in the Intensive Care ward, three hours later.

One night in April, after a Sunday soccer game, Alan Twigg couldn't remember the names of his two sons or his wife-and he couldn't hold a pen. An emergency CAT scan revealed a large brain tumour squeezed against his motor cortex. 'Intensive Care' tells the story of why this was a good thing. 'Intensive Care' isn't a medical survival story; it's a yearlong reflection on how the imminence of death can enhance life. The grass gets greener. Confirmation that one is loved is exhilarating, more powerful than any drug. On May 26th, 'The Globe & Mail' ran a front page story about a recent medical study that concluded one in five Canadians will have a tumour in their head at some point in their lives. Two days later, Dr. Christopher Honey, a neurosurgeon at Vancouver General Hospital, removed the benign tumour from Alan Twigg's head during a five-hour operation. He started writing again, in the Intensive Care ward, three hours later.