A few days ago, Mom must have been having thoughts of mortality again, because she arranged for me to have power of attorney over some funds she has in an account in Germany “in case anything happens to me”. She also mailed me her “UBC [USB] stick”, which has her notes on her life story, illness, and, not least, recipes.
Today she Facebooked this:
Dr. just called with Pathology report. Yes. It was cancer but he’ll send it off to Mayo clinic as he disagrees with pathologist [who erred in one of his key premises, that Mom’s lung cancer was her “primary” cancer, when her primary is the one from ten years ago: ovarian]. It was “clean” without any others in there.
And she sent me a message from there too:
Just got report and it’s what I knew. Will now start the ‘Gerson method’ for sure. Need a different juicer. Mine’s crushing and not expelling the juice.– Will you start checking on flight cost? Where are we starting? French side? It’s the prettiest.
In other words, she’s as determined as ever. So here’s where things stand:
1. We expect a report on the actual kind of cancer, and type of cells, from the Mayo Clinic within several days’ time.
2. She’s throwing herself into the Gerson Method. We’re looking into juicers that actually facilitate the whole point of juicing – at costs of around $1000 on eBay, but stay tuned to see who – we humble deserving sorts or the faceless eBay masses — wins the next auction (I’ll even take bets on who wins the betting). Pricey, but we think it’s worth it. Penny-wise, pound-foolish – and Mom’s pounds, so to speak, make up some very precious cargo!
3. Mom is now clear that she wants to spend six weeks in Europe, walking as much of the Camino as she’s able, and then – and this thrilled me to hear it, Alp-lover that I am – reward herself with a few days in some Alpine spa, a la the old-fashioned “rest cures” popularized in Nobelist Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain.*
4. I’m researching online and asking Don Julio, our Man on the Ground, what city to fly into, where to begin, what to bring, what it should weigh (a critical consideration), and so on. As I do that, I’ll build our Resources page . . .
* Except that, if I recall correctly, Mann’s hero, Hans Castorp, a symbol of [pre-WWI Germany? European bourgeois society?] was sort of in love with being sick and dying. Though he visited the Swiss sanatorium of the title (based on the famous Waldsanatorium in Davos, Switzerland) only to see his tubercular cousin, his health got mysteriously worse and worse, so that he spent seven years there before being called up for World War I and, presumably, his end. Mom is the anti-Hans.