Fleas and Lice

Posted on March 5, 2014 by admin

My goodness. I just cannot believe how long this took to hear anything.

Biopsy was 2 weeks ago. Total disaster. I was in LOTS of pain and awful nausea. Scheduling nurse and I had talked 3 different times about taking my MJ vapors, so I wouldn’t vomit. She said she would make a note of it. Next time, when I brought it up because I remembered the ‘circus’ when having a CT scan.

Once there, however and barely registered, I was taken to the Financial Office to ‘see if they can help me.’ Well, NOT on that day! Just before a procedure.

Again, this ‘nurse’ came up to me as I was waiting on the Gurney to admonish me about ‘smoking’. GOSH! NOT again. I just moaned, cried and rocked with pain. I ‘think’ they finally gave me something for nausea. Speaking of nausea: This last bout of ‘bowel problems’ has been responsible for me losing 35 lbs in 5 weeks. This had me so very worried and concerned. I finally put the symptoms in search engine and there was a NEW word. (New for me.) ‘CACHEXIA’. This is the terrible ‘wasting disease’ caused by cancer. Cancer cells feed and suck the protein out of the healthy cells. NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU WOULD EAT, even if you could, it would not matter. You starve to death. Being so passionate about food and a decent cook, I thought this would be the most cruel end. Many a night I cried with terror of this death and no one told me different. This was an older dated research and I’ve not had time to find more. BUT, other than some Opiates which they say may or may not be effective, what I did see was that this ONE medication for this ‘condition’ has shown good promises: “CANNABIS”. At that time (2006) it was only legal in Europe. Well, was I happy to see that. I’m already on my way. Then, after a break through 2 weeks ago, when I finally had some peace and less pain with bowels. Three days ago, I strted eating ‘NORMAL’ (organic) food. Just small plate but ‘plate’ never the less. My weight had spiraled down to 155 lbs. I’ve gained 5lbs since. I cannot convey the PURE JOY of feeling ‘Hunger’. I’ve also learned, that I have to have 3 different forms of MJ.

First: ‘Tears of Phoenix’ cannabis oil for cancer. One grain of rice-size about 5 times a day. Ingested with applesauce, 1 mini, tiny piece of ‘European butter’ (fat content is higher.) I found the perfect way to get it down without ‘gagging’. I cut off a slice of lemon, suck on it, throw down the ‘cannabis’ and suck on lemon again. THAT way, no taste of MJ.

I’ve also learned, that when you are so very sick, you cannot eat from a plate or ‘chunky food.’ I was still drinking this powerful bone-meat-veggie-broth. In the middle of the painful night, to soothe my poor abdomen, I would get my beanie bag heated and then 1/2 cup of thus HOT broth.

When Cameron was here and we sat down to eat and I couldn’t, he looked at me with such naked fear and tears brimming, that it broke my heart that I can’t do better. But then, if it had been this disease, nothing matters. I took a photo of my ‘first food’ and posted it on FB. 🙂

Meanwhile, I have also had an appointmenbt with my ‘regular’ doc whom I beseeched to help me get better with the ‘other stuff’. Also asked him, if he would ‘monitor’ me and note changes and improvements.

I guess, we are still doing the CA 125 even though the Diagnosis is in question. When I learned, that even though the Liver has lesions, it is not cancerous. Once I had shared this, I received many ‘congratulatory’ mails and phone calls.

This does NOT mean, I don’t have cancer anymore but only that not now, on the liver. Everythinbg else was still there, last CT scan. The one with the MOST worrying feature, is the tumor on the aorta. No help for that. This is why the Cannabis has to work because THAT could be my death sentence.

I had asked a friend from the medical field to look at a few things. He graciously did so. Since I don’t have a ‘workable’ diagnosis, I asked what it could be? He answered:’ Lice and Fleas!’

WHAT!? “Some people have a definite cancer (lice) and some people have a definite cancer ( fleas) and some people have LICE AND FLEAS!” Best medical explanation I ever had. Thanks.

Had to get another batch of cannabis. This one seems to be much improved and so am I. When you consider, that ALL I am taking for the remaining bowel problem, is ONLY 1/2 of an Ibuprofen and ‘maybe’ 1/4 of a Tramadol, then be assured that’s my entire PHARMA. Less and less pharma pills.

Still envisioning going to Germany and Austria. I guess I will know more after next week’s test.

At the hospitas, later, I vomited all over the place. Horrible experience. I made some decisions. I will have all my tests done here, at home. That will reduce the ‘Misery time’ of about 3-4 hours or more. I live only a few blocks from our Hospital. (They are NOT as rude, either.)

I am supposed to have another Biopsy. (Will call my surgeon and ask if he does this as well.) Not sure if I shoud have before or After the trip. (I will interject that if the ONLY option they will offer me is chemo, I probably won’t take it. My bowels and blood clots would not withstand a new toxic assault.

The other day, I felt soo good, I put some ‘Strauss’ on and I cleaned my fridge, kitchen, changed guestroom, made Pear Strudel, cleaned my bathroom and THEN….. then I danced a waltz. Alone in my kitchen, the pale sun shinig in and tears running down my face for the JOY of just doing this simple, little thing.

“Chemo never felt this good.’ Cannabis can do a lot but it cannot sew. Healing (sewing) damage. Researching new concepts and treatments.

Lost a few ‘friends’. One, because I take Marijuana. (Gateway to Hell) hahaha. The other one, because I won’t play the Political-Hate game. I JUST do NOT care right now. I am trying to save my life and ignorant opinions do not interest me.

Sure wish I could see my grandkids. It’s been over 2 years with Kaleb and 3 years for Brianna. (Dylan is working, still and busy in the high country.)

Camino Not Chemo

Posted on February 16, 2014 by admin

This took much longer to do than anticipated. Every turn and test was either lost or Doctor was out of town and left us hanging without results.

Meanwhile, I had received a new batch of cannabis/hash oil. Three vials to see which one I would respond best to. I took the first syringe and tolerated it well. I noticed that small improvements happened. A wart on my index finger disappeared. Blood clots gone. Whatever type of horrible, painful bowel obstruction that was, it’s nearly gone. Thanks to cannabis. It’s all I take.

Second syringe hash oil was still alright and I started feeling hungry. Great feeling. By now, I have lost nearly 30 lbs. A great downward, scary spiral. Just the mere ‘thought’ of food made me ill. However, I know what happens once you can’t eat. So, I would cook these great, tasty bone broths and I would sip out of a cup. The heat of the broth felt so nourishing, especially in the middle of the night.

Now, it was time for the third syringe with cannabis. I took the first ‘grain of rice size’ and felt just a momentary ‘burning’ but then it was O.K. When I woke up around midnight with the same rollercoaster spasms, I took the prepared hash oil, which I had near my bed. Barely had landed in my stomach, when immediately I became so very nauseous and the feeling of hell fire burning me alive in my stomach!! I vomited all over myself, the bed and was so sick I thought I may have to go to the Emergency room. By the time I changed my bed, got into a bath (warm, not hot!) and went back to bed, I was totally exhausted, shaking and crying.

I was very upset with this batch. THEY FORGOT TO BURN THE ALCOHOL OFF!! That is nearly 95% PROOF that hit my stomach full force AND without food.

Lost so much valuable time just trying to figure out what type of strain and oil to use. How much of it to use? With food? or not? No one to ask all these questions. What if people cannot take 1 gramm per day? Will it still perform? Meanwhile we had the new CT scan. Finally had it interpreted. I may have had a ‘mis-diagnosis’. I may NOT have Ovarian cancer, which was treated with a non-working chemo for nearly 1 year. But, instead I have lung and liver cancer. (Oh, still the tumor on the aorta too. It’s been there so long, I tend to forget.)

At least I can eat. I am starting to ‘think’ about food again. I wonder what people do, that don’t cook ? Or know what to eat? Had friends over yesterday and cooked ‘crackling pork roast, potatoe balls, Sauerkraut and mixed salads. I ate 1 potato ball with sauce. MMM. I guess comfort foods it is.

The CA 125 (which stands for ‘ovarian’ may not be the proper test anymore either. Right back to where I was, nearly 4 years ago. After diagnosis, going to Europe. I still have my frequent flyer mile ticket and am planning going this spring. As I said to my oncologist ‘come hell or high water.’ Want to celebrate my 70th birthday with whatever family I have left, and old school friends.

When I had my INR finger stick to determine how well my blood was running (clots) my local doc was soo amazed how quickly this had healed. I had questioned the nurse to take less of the Warfarin but she argued and insisted. So, for another week I took the strong dose only to measure 8.6 which is WAY too fast.

I am losing energy. This is getting so very long. Friends are still close and caring. Some of my family, not so much. Hurts but ‘it is, what it is’.

So, for now I feel so very much improved and the thought of even having to go onto an ‘Oral chemo’ just really has me in a ‘flight mode’.

Cameron still having to do all the hard stuff. I can’t even begin to imagine, how it would be or where I’d be, if he were not helping me. So, this ‘crap shoot’ keeps going and we’ll see what comes next.

24 Hours in the life of….

Aside

As days passed in a haze of pain and misery, not knowing why I was hurting so bad.. and why the Vapors were not working. Coupled with such debilitating nausea and loss of appetite that I rapidly lost 22 lbs before one month was out. I was trying desperately to slow, halt this slide toward starvation…As a total Foodie and passionate cook, not being able to cook/eat was so sad. Cameron came to help out and take me to the store. It had been days since I’d been out. But only a few minutes in the Grocery store I had to leave very nauseous. Sight and smell of food was ‘disgusting’ to me. I asked to hurry home.

Weak and sick, so sick. So much in pain. PLEASE-DEAR-GOD-MAKE-IT-STOP-PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE…..crying and snot running down the same time. That’s all I have against the pain. If I take morphine, constipation so severe, same pain.

I had been off the cannabis for 3 days and decided to restart with the original ‘rice size’. I swear, that only 3+ hours later , pain subsided and I could ‘go’. But, at night, still between the hours of 1-4 A.M I was in Painhell!! I noticed, that this pain was like a ‘rollercoaster’ peaks and valleys. I thought: this is NOT the cancer, this is the COLON trying to PUSH and if it is blocked, then the matter pushes against your stomach, which immediately makes you sicker than a dog! Being nauseous from NOT eating is different. Learn to listen to your body. The cycle continues IF there’s no relief. In the pain category,

I would judge this way: 1. Kidney stones, 2.Bowel obstruction, 3. Childbirth. (I’ve had all 3.) Bowel and Birth pain is about the same with ONE HUGE difference: After labor pains you get a lovely, little baby and then it’s over. With bowel obstruction, all you may end up with is a bag that doesn’t match anything you have.

As lay helplessly weeping and hiccupping, Cameron came to sit with me, talk and hug me.

Then I learned these small but oh so important improvements.

First: I manage the pain throughout with smaller portion but more times. Right now, I take this times 4, so it covers me DURING the spasm time. Then, I take some ‘vapors’ against the NAUSEA. I’ve cooked a strong beef-bone stock and this is what I divided into 2 batches. I take 1/2 cup of hot stock and the warmth that I feel going down, is priceless. The instant relief one gets is miraculous. So. Now I could start to eat. (Cameron did not inherit any cooking genes.) When I woke in the morning without ANY pain nor NAUSEA, I sank to my knees, just overwhelmed with blessed, heavenly relief.

BRAEKFAST: 1/2 cup stock. 1/8th Melon, a few vapor puffs, wait 10 min then 1/2 sandwich. ( A few vapor puffs, wait, then LUNCH: 1/8 of Melon, 1/2 bowl of Spaghetti with only a little garlic taste and butter, plus 1 German Hamburger. Later: Tea with 1/2 slice bread.

DINNER: Left over Spaghetti, same way with 1 more hamburger.

I have learned to PUREE my food so it will NOT become a harsh mass. BE kind to your colon and learn to eat ‘different’. Your brain only knows ‘what was’. That’s why we want to ‘sit down with the family and eat a nice dinner.’ Well, of course you can sit down with them BUT you cannot EAT like them. We now have a new way of eating. Small portions, pureed so I can have (organic) meat-protein as I’m not allowed much Vitamin K. (Blood clots from chemo). When my friend Silke took me to CT scan and then out to Lunch, I’d asked to have this great soup ‘pureed’ and they are more than glad to do this.

To fight cancer successfully, you should really RESEARCH well. Go to: www.phoenixtears.ca learn how to make it. http://phoenixtears.ca/videolibrary THIS IS NOT IN A DISPENSARY. You have to find someone to make it. IF it is NOT high in THC content and it’s not been decarboxylated FULLY— then it is NOT Rick Simpson’s oil (RSO). Suggested is 95-98% of INDICA strain .( SATIVA is what is used more for brain matters such as Epilepsy, Alzheimers.)

The latest link is from a Swiss clinic, which reports marvelous successes. When you click on link, there are little Flags which depict language uses.

http://www.qcmaf.eu/our-swiss-clinic-opens-on-the-28th-october

Friends have asked, how much do you take? Well, it is different for everybody. That’s why you start so small. But, rule of thumb: If you ‘poop’ like an elephant, it’s too much, if it’s like a Hummingbird, not enough. (That’s one of the ‘side effects. Great, huh? FOR US it is. I have managed to get it nearly right after 3 mos of hit and miss.

Still waiting on CT scan results. SOO many desperate phone calls and messages. SOOO many people in PAIN. SOOO many ignorant people. Be at least open minded. Research. You may just save your or your child’s life. There has been an Exodus to Colorado by parents who bring their very sick children to have this PLANT medicine. NO one should be denied to help themselves and their child. I had to make a decision, when Chemo was in-effective, I remembered this quote: When you are on the edge of a cliff and there’s no way out, you better grow wings OR take a LEAP of faith. This is what I did.

48 harrowing hours

Posted on January 16, 2014 by admin

I am astounded that I am still here. I am not exaggerating. The whole past months I was continuing with cannabis, I was in so much pain that I was just an exhausted, weeping mess. Every night, between 1:00 and 4:00 A.M I woke up with great abdominal pain. I would try to take 1/2 Ibuprofen, with a half of Tramadol. Might as well spit into the wind. I would put heating on it, I would fix tea, etc. I twist and turn and I could not sleep. Could not figure out why MJ was not helping much.

The next thing that happened was as I was on the couch and my abdomen was extented and I had ‘gained’ 17 lbs starting chemo. I kept telling the nurse, I don’t know why I gain as I can hardly eat and have to have Marijuana vapors just to get a few bites in. Well, December 29th, the day when this ‘hard knot seemed to ‘snap, break, sharp pull, etc. I nearly blacked out with pain. Some time after I had the urge to use the bathroom. Seemed like an elephant got there first. I had lost 16 lbs in 2 days. I am holding my ‘old’ weight even though appetite is still a problem.

The way I am dealing with food is different now. It occured to me that we always expect to sit down and eat our plate. When you’re nauseous that way too much food to look at. So, I wouldn’t eat. BUT you HAVE to eat. Then I had the idea to minimize. I am using my small, tiny prep bowls and would put 3 grapes in one, 2 apple slices in the next, banana, etc. In between, I would use my MJ vapors to produce appetite long enough so I can eat a few bites but I ate throughout the day. I’ve become addicted to Wendy’s Chili. When I can’t cook, that’s is great to have.

The other worrisome change that happened was my mental agility. I felt as if there was a steel band around my head. Pressure. I would talk to my friends and after every 5 seconds I would ask, ‘what was I talking about? Where am I going with this? It made my friends pay excellent attention as they had to remember. NAUSEA. NAUSEA. That was my companion all day. I just did not know why. Then came: Depression, anxiety, paranoia, nausea, loss of appetite, I was getting scared as I felt I am falling into an unknown hole. But by being unable to eat, I was nauseous because I had no food. Terrible catch 22. Since I was already up, I researched Rick Simpson again. I had always used the You Tube video info. I knew that one cannot overdose on Marijuana. You may get really sick, they said, like bad drunk but you will not die as one would with alcohol. I am the living proof.

There were the ‘Side Effects listed, if you take too much stuff. I had overdosed regularily for 2 months. All of the symptoms that are listed further up are the ones. My goodness. Trying so hard to save my life- may kill me! But from chemicals NOT MJ. I stopped right away to hydrate and try and flush it out. But I was so nauseous. VERY surprising, I had absolutely no withdrawal or anything like one would with some REAL BAD drug. Not addictive UNLESS you decide. When I’m well, then I’m done stuff!

Doctor exams, all well. They said not to try to diagnose myself. I said, well, I’m sorry but I had NOT HAD the best of luck with proper diagnoses. Besides, that’s what we do. When things are not really helping, you just want to do it to get it done. Just want the pain to stop. Just that tiny bit of ‘mental problem’ the weeping, etc. is so very painful (even if it is not you) that ‘anything’ would do to ram it in there to STOP.

My blood pressure , three hours later when I saw doc, was still 190/95. She said, she could not believe that I did not have a stroke. Also, the horrible, horrid abdomina pain was an “bowel obstruction’, which is fairly common with chemo. (Also, chemo injures the colon. A woman from my support group, died because most of her colon had become thin as paper and then broke when fecal matter moved through. Because I had been regular I did not know.

CA 125 cancer marker numbers were UP but not much. Doc said, what with all that trauma of colon and nausea and a new Lab may be responsible. I am NOT starting another chemo. My colon is trying to repair itself. I did say again, that I did NOT think that this was the ‘Cancer’ . Maintaining that 1/2 of an Ibuprofen would not help managing cancer. Besides, it would also be painful during other hours. (Oh, excuse me. I just ‘diagnosed’ again. :-)I think it’s healthy LOGIC. I’ll just keep it to myself. Tuesday CT scan to see ‘inside’. At the cancer center I was so manic and wired, that I had to ‘suck’ on my vapors to get rid of feeling. The problem was, that there was too much SATIVA in it. This works on your mental receptors. That’s why they are using it on Alzheimer patients now. INDICA is the one for cancer and many other illnesses. It is usually mixed because Indica seeds are very hard to come by and GOVERNMENT does NOT allow the cultivation. So, we have a ‘lower’ quality. I suppose, Gov wants to make money too.

A friends’ 95 year old mother is on this for Alzheimer’s and doing pretty well. (She still has Alzheimers but not so severe and has bright times.

While I was gone, my sweet friend cleaned the whole house! Vacuumed. Had taken the morning off to give me this gift. THIS IS WHAT WE NEED. Someone to help. When I walked in, I cried. She also came after work to stay with me until my other friends came. They had gone out for their anniversary dinner. (My friend texted if it was possible t come, not knowing. ) I will cook you a 5* menu when I’m better to make it up. Love you guys.

Also had to get back on Warfarin because ‘those numbers’ were too low.

Trying to get cannabis after my son left for a little time off, turned out to be a very stressful circus. It has become harder and harder for me to get this ‘paste’ down, even with aplesauce. My gag reflex is the best working thing in my body. I was anxiously awaiting my appointment for blood work to see new results. Also had appointment with my ‘old’ Oncology surgeon who gave a big hug and smile. I had wanted a CT scan to see if the tumors had less or more activity. I mean, I had 2 hours between appointments and I didn’t want to make an extra trip. Not till Tues.

The night before my appointments, I was not feeling well. But, as usual since there is nothing else I can do, I used my homespun tricks. Finally, I got up at 1:28 A.M to take a hot bath with epsom salt, which always helps. I ran the water into the tub, added salt and could hardly wait to go into that wonderful warmth. I figured since I’m already here, I might as well shave my legs, now that’s it’s growing agin. Suddenly I was overcome with a nausea so severe that I thought this is BAD..black spots in front of my eyes and I could hardly breath. I propelled myself out over the rim of that high, old tub, as I was afraid of ‘blacking out’ and drowning. There I was. The skin of my whole body was Lobster red. Never experienced anything like it. I looked over to the tub and all I said was, ‘well, that won’t do.’ I crawled to the bedroom because I was shaking uncontrollably and felt like fainting. I need HELP I thought. I called my good friend Bonnie. There are REALLY friends you can call at that time. She drove right over. She stayed with me until my other friend Berle, came to take me to Grand Junction. As we were sitting there, talking, I remembered suddenly a sentence in a conversation that I had with a nurse friend, right after the blood clot incident. I was telling her about my tub/salt preference. She looked at me funny and said: YOU CAN’T TAKE A HOT BATH WHEN YOU ARE ON CUMADIN! WARFARIN!! I had a severe reaction and nearly had a stroke. That’s what that bright lobster red was. I had taken the pill the evening before.

Some people received wealth, Beauty, talent at the time of their births. I? I received 9 Lives. THANK GOD!

This is for my support group “TEAL Warriors:

Dear friends. I’m using this way to answer requested info.

Marijuana is the plant. Cannabis as a product, divided into INDICA and SATIVA (many otherstrains and combinationa.) ONE product dowes not work on everything. It’s like cooking. Let’s sa, recipe calls for Parsley and Dill , they go well together but if you add some curry that’s not good. The right strain for the ‘right’ illness. You need the TEARS of PHOENIX model, not just ‘some oil. I can’t afford Rick Simpson’s oil as it is %4000.00 for 3 mos. Still WAY cheaper than chemo but WE have to pay this. I needed an EXTRA $1200 per month to buy my cannbis. My son thinks, that these prices were before it became legal in a few states.

My son gave me the Link to a Foundation to help financing the treatment. I can’t access the link right now but I will later.

You remember how you start? a small rice-grain size with European butter to take it. The higher fat content will intensify the healing properties. What cannabis does, is to instruct the cancer cells to committ suicide without harming surrounding cells. This could have been the reason that my first month on it, the numbers were lower.

Tears of Phoenix is NOT like cooking OIL. It’s a dark, dense PASTE. You take it x3 a day. Also supplement with Tinctures, Vapors and WEW. (What ever works.)

Victoria, and all of you precious friends try to get this. I cannot promise ‘it’ will do exactly the same with you guys. Everyone is different. The break through from blocked bowels was the prolonged (2.5 mos) use of cannabis. The properties of the LEAF PLANT had worked it’s way through, THANK GOD. After that, the terrible pain was gone, the nausea dissipated. Oh MAN, I can take a deep breath without thinking I’m throwing up. Just the next day, I’ve eaten more than the other 3 days combined.

Research : Rick Simpson but this time NOT on You Tube. There’s a new web site full of GREAT info, testimonials. Go to www.marijuanadoctor.com If you need more info, CALL> xxxooo

CANNABIS vs CANCER

Posted on December 31, 2013 by admin

At first, I wanted to wait until I had results from CA 125 blood test. But, meanwhile, things change and my memory is not the best these days. In 2 weeks, I will start my 3rd month on cannabis oil ONLY. People have asked me why I would not take anything else with it. Like, chemo or pills. How would we know WHAT had worked? I need to know that it was the cannabis. It’s vitally important to many people who are waiting to ‘see’ how things turn out with me. Of course, many cancers are different and this treatment is too new but we do know, it works!

I don’t understand it. Someone has cancer. They do all the conventional treatments. Then, one day, while they are settling into their chemo line and sit there, while Toxins run into the body and they’re trying so very hard to use gentler Visualization of this ‘liquid’; why they would NOT run out and get something far less damaging. I thought, once they see that it works and cancer numbers are coming down, that this would convince them. Well. Knock me down with a feather!! That did not happen. I suppose people will do what they KNOW. No matter that it fries their intestines, damages veines, loss of hair, appetite, sick, sick, sick till the cows come home. And you want to use it again? How many people know that Chemo comes from Mustard gas??

Well, then comes the day that they tell you, you have become “Chemo resistant’. When you have no choice, then you eat dirt if it helps!! Wouldn’t you think that in over 50 years of cancer reserarch and the BILLIONS of dollars for research, they’ve not come up with something better and more humane. Already in 1989 the Cancer Industry made more than 100 MILLION per year from cancer, in the US alone. What does that tell you? Huge business.

Christmas was a quiet affair and sad. Grandkids are too far away, and so is family. No tree this year. No money for frills. It all goes to ‘Cannabis.’ This ‘new’ batch though was MUCH more pleasant to ingest and it only takes applesauce to get it down. The taste for that split second in my mouth, gags me. I would never make a ‘Druggie’.

Here is a BIG shout out of THANKS to the group: German Girls Living In America.’ It is due to their compassionate collection and donations, that have made this possible. Ihr Lieben. I cannot thank you enough. Also, your never wavering Belief and support means the world to me. Other friends have made generous christmas checks and so I could have another month.

Cameron is in New York. A well deserved Respit. I’ll try not to bother him while he is there. (Hope you have LOTS of good times, son.)

To get a refill on cannabis, I called the producer of this oil. (Usually, Cameron does this for me as it takes over an hour to get it to Montrose.) This turned into a circus of frantic messaging. But, finally that nice guy got a ride and DROVE all the way to bring me my medicine. At $550.00 this makes it very expensive and NO Ins pays for this. (NOT even Affordable Care Act. 🙂 This last about 2 weeks.

I’ve read that to be better equipped to fight cancer, one needs to be ‘comfortable’ with death. Accept it. Only then can you move on. (Seems paradox but, if that’s what it takes?)

So. I’ve written and determine what is to happen with my (meager, few) possessions. I’ve decided, that this spring I will go to the gorgeous Black Canyon, find me a pretty spot and when the time comes, put the Ashes there. Take a photo of the area and breathtaking surrounding of the canyon and its Billion year old rocks. But, of course this little excercise is not what is meant. Taking stock, asking and giving Forgiveness.

In pondering this one, it surprised me how many people are holding on to ‘Stuff’. Someone very dear to me, brought up an incident which happened over 25 years ago! It was nothing earthshattering but obviously bothered enough for so many years. Need to forgive. The heart is big and elastic. It will adapt to any size. Just not too small.

I’ve been doing pretty well for most part. Twice, there was an episode and always at night, that the pain was so excrutiating that I layed on the floor, in fetal position, just howling. I put my feather comforter over my head, so the neighbors wouldn’t hear. But, there was nothing else I could do. This took about 2 VERY long hours before it abated.

I have had big problems with loss of appetite. (One of the 4 symptoms of ovarian cancer.) I look at food and I’m hungry but then it nauseates me. No matter what it is. THIS is what is soo debilitating for cancer patients. They starve to death. If I did NOT have my MJ Vapors to produce appetite, I could not eat at all. This way, I can eat small amounts and get appetite. Even though, I’ve lost 15 lbs so far. Cannot and am NOT allowed Dairy as it produces painful inflammation. (Eggs are not dairy.)

Yes, I have Morphine, Tramadol, Oxycodon, etc. I cannot take ANY of it. The side effects are too severe. All I have, is my little 600 mg Ibuprofen. I don’t ‘like’ it either. It damages your liver and I already have a ‘cancer leasion’ there. But, what to do? At some point I said, ‘Dear God. I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t stand it anymore. It’s been (nearly) FOUR years with this bout. I just want the pain to stop! Yes. Cannabis helps and I do take it when I go to bed. But then, it wears off and by the time I get more in, I’m already in pain. (GOSH. This is sooo BORING to talk about. I’m sick of it myself. 🙂

Wishing all of you the VERY best of 2014. Make it YOUR year. Change your lifestyle. Walk a little more. Be kind. Be tolerant. Thank you for sticking with me through this journey.

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

cancer, marijuana and no GPS

Posted on December 11, 2013 by admin

What a month it has been. I had problems with ingesting the cannabis ‘paste.’ Just the smell or the taste had me gagging. Peanut butter nor Nutella worked. Now I am only having it with applesauce, that way I don’t need to chew, just swallow.

The same ritual applied. I take my ‘paste’ and then I have to sit on the couch. I have all necessary things close by. Remote control, water, meds. Since I don’t function well in this state, cooking and eating have become a challenge. But more so, is not having an appetite. No matter what I look at to eat, I lose all interest. Some foods ‘gag’ me. NOT the food itself, just whatever causes this. (Went to my regular Doc here who then says:’ Well, it’s the cancer’.) We are both very pleased how my leg is doing. I am getting closer to ‘speed walking.’ Friends and my neighbor bring food. Sometimes, they even attempt conversation but most of the time, after 2 words I lose the continuing thread and have to ask constantly:’ What were we talking about?’

Each night, for about two hours I wake up from a sound sleep because of abdominal pains. When I asked my local doc about it, he said: “Well, it’s the cancer.’

Last week, as I put my measured amount on the spoon and looked at the syringe, I noticed how little was left. Cameron had just brought it to me, 2 days prior and here it’s already low. I dashed off a spirited message to call the supplier and tell them they shortened me. He replied right away, ‘Mom, you are taking a lot more than in the first month. That’s why it’s less. ‘ I was a little chagrined at that. Had not thought of the doubling every 4 days. (Well, at least until you take as much as you can. ) The closer time came to have the blood work done, the antsier I got. New Lab person. (Would that interferr with result? ) What if he drew it wrong? And then we wait……

Yesterday, was the appointment. I didn’t take the ‘paste’ so I could drive. Met with my Carrie for Lunch and she went with me to Cancer center. Finally time to go in and see Oncologist. She came in with her papers, asked how I was doing, etc. Then I said:’ What are my numbers? I’m not saying another word until I know my numbers. ‘

‘Didn’t I give those to you , yet? She smiled. I shook my head as my heart started to hammer. What would the answer be? What if this stopped working too? What will I do? Should I start give away my worldly goods? Make a will? (Of course I am sure that MJ had a play in that mental conversation. )

IT’S 99 !! she said. OHHH, Oh, YAY, YAY a 99 a 99 a 99!!! We hollered and danced and my nurses teared up. (I suddenly remembered the German song about : ’99 Luftbalons’. The number 9 is the highest number in Numerology. Someone said, this was an excellent number. 🙂

THIS IS HUGE! Imagine. A little plant. Natural. NO side effects. NO trauma. Just a little, woozy feeling. “THE NEW CANNABIS CHEMO”.

My Oncologist said, ‘One more test, next month and if that’s lower too, I’ll change everyone’s treatment option.’

I asked for direction to their MJ Dispensary and was told that in Grand Junction, the ‘Powers that be’ reneged on their voting MJ in and brought Authorities in and raided the dispensaries. WTH?? Now, these people, who so desperately need it, have to go out of town. (Come to Montrose. We’ll help you.)

Shall we compare? 1 chemo- $5000.00 (Ins pays, medicare pays 80%. Blood tests, scans, appointments, etc. The effectiveness of chemo, questionable now. 1- month of Cannabis Treatment $1,200 and it WORKS but no one pays, except me. Wonderful ‘Tears of Phoenix’. THANK you to Rick Simpson to have fought the fight. I was so worried and stressed to figure out, how I would pay for this. I put a wedding ring set up for sale (for half its worth) and posted it on FB. No one wants to buy it. They all want me to keep it and are outraged that I’d have to resort to this. I told them, it didn’t ‘mean’ anything’.

Enter the ‘German Cavalry’. These women got busy and immediately went about to set up for donations. I cannot tell you ‘Girls’ how very, very grateful I am because in essence, ALL of YOU are saving my life. DANKE.

To my son, my daughter, grandson, granddaughter, BFF Irene, and all my wonderful, beloved friends “THANK YOU FOR HANGING IN THERE WITH ME.

Meanwhile, getting now ready for Christmas. A friend is coming today and we’re baking Stollen. We will have a wonderful Christmas. In January, next test. Then I’ll go on a Road trip to spread cannabis miracle. 🙂

….the envelope goes to???

Posted on November 18, 2013 by admin

How different time seems when you have different things to do. Like, trying to figure out how to get the ‘canabis oil’ past my tastebuds? This is what I have the most problem with, the taste. I have hidden it under Nutella, butter and peanut butter as well as applesauce. But, I always said I would eat dirt if it would help.

Finally the day approached when I was to go and have my CA 125 (cancer blood test marker). I had the whole CBC panel done as well. Just to see how I functioned without chemo. I tried to stay busy but with taking this ‘oil’ I was un-busy most of the day.

I was having doubt-thoughts too. ‘What if? what if this does not work? what if there’s no other chemo? what if …..

Meanwhile, what with absence from chemo, my body is feeling much relief. My leg is so much better.

Finally Monday was here and my grandson went with me. When I was called into Dr. M’s office, I chatted with her for just a minute and then said: ‘Well?’ What are my numbers?? She smiled and said, ‘I don’t know what happened but it went down 28 points . (I say 30 as no one was quite sure of the previous number.) WOW. Lovely surprise. I twirled just a little down the hallway. NO chemo this month, either. Another month off and keep taking this cannabis oil. Took my grandson to Telluride as he found a job and staying with Cameron.

Bought some more oil and sure hope the numbers keep tumbeling down.

My main goal is to sit on the couch and not fall off. What I like about it, is, that there’s no ‘Hangover’ feeling. Dreamless, restful sleep.

Gearing up for Thanksgiving. Whether there are just the three of us, or we end up with half the neighborhood for ‘Thanksgiving’, I have LOTS to be thankful about and for, and I am. Very much so. I want to thank ‘YOU” for hanging in there with me. For all of your support, encouragement and prayers as well as the recent generosity with donations. Received a beautiful ‘care package’ from an anominous ‘German Lady’. THANK YOU>

Look Ma! .. No net!

Posted on October 23, 2013 by admin

So. How does this saga continue? On Oct. 14 th with Cameron in tow as well as Adam, who was visiting, I showed up at the Cancer Center. I visited Sue first.

Sue has had ovarian cancer over 3 years ago and dealing with a recurrence right now. It is really upsetting and worrisome that NOTHING was detected. She had her bloodwork and tests, she had her CT scan and all showed ‘clear’. She had complained about pain but also ‘diagnosed’ herself… thus saving docs the trouble and cost of medical school. She kept telling her oncologist that she may have ‘appendicitis.’!!!! I believe that ANY time a cancer patient complains of a long lasting pain, you don’t send her home. They all trusted these tests. And then, she had emergency surgery and it was finally noticed that she has new tumors. So. Now a much worse scenario. But she’s fighting the fight. As one motto says in our group: Fight like a girl”. Big shout-out to Gerald, her husband, who is such a tremendous help with everything.

We’ve lost 3 of our ‘Teal Warrior’s. Wow. So young. There’s Sonya, not quite 48 years who did not get to see her grandchild being born. Not even the measly-amount of 3-6 mos ‘given time’, was upheld. We are all reeling. Of course, the unspoken fear is, that ‘YOU’ are next. We’re all moving in a little closer to each other, as if for protection. Who will the Boney guy pick next? You all duck!!

Here I am, after a whole month being absent from the ward and visiting Sue, I went to Doc’s office. Cameron was there. First thing: Scan shows no new growths. No significant changes. I asked her if she thought I could stay off chemo for another 6-8 weeks and give this Tears of Phoenix’ a chance. If we start chemo and, at the same time, take this, I won’t ever know if it really worked. Since the last 2 chemo’s did not work anyway, I’m not losing a lot.

It does feel odd. No chemo. No radiation. No magic pill. Only a tiny, dark powerhouse. I spread that grain of rice-size cannabis on my cracker and the taste of it, errupts in dramatic shakes all over me. I do not like this at all. Yuck. I have now sheduled my ‘waking errands and chores’ before I take anything because I am totally useless, once I have it.

It’s a good thing, one can’t overdose. I thought I was ready to doulbe my dose. It had been 10 days, although when I have an appointment or some things to drive to, I won’t take anything because I cannot function. After about 35 min there was this pressure around my forehead and my surroundings were compromised. Like swimming through Molasses. I tried to get up but couldn’t. It took all I had to GET up! When I finally managed to be upright, I bounced off the wall like the bumper-game machine. That night was really horrible. Dreams and images, torn and loud.. …but I noticed that was me coughing my lungs out. Terrible cold to boot.

My grandson, nearly 19 years old, is here to help me. All the way from Alabama. They move 10 years ago but he’s till our Colorado boy. Have not seen him in a long time and I sure hope he can withstand my present life. We had the ‘booze-drug’ talk and a few others. Done. He has worked in the yard, cutting down some of those silly trees that have thousands of seed pods to procreate and they’re such a nuisance.

What if ‘Tears’ of Phoenix’ does not work? Well, there are a few chemo’s left (that may not work either.) Meanwhile I now have problems walking with these compromised legs. Still taking Werferin but can’t go far. Maybe around the block. I really have to increase my distances. I am just tired.

I borrowed Pumpkin. My best Poodle buddy. He snugggles up and stays close and is totally devoted. I wish he could fetch and carry. But, I have to get up and go for a walk with him. (NO! Please. No dogs for a gift.) I have Cassie next door, whom I love and visit. There’s Bruno, another fun dog and Pumpkin. Those are enough.

Chemo Limbo and Tears of Phoenix

Posted on October 7, 2013 by admin

There is always something else to rattle my brain and make me shake all the way to my “argyle socks’, if I had any. I’ve had another CA 125 (the cancer marker blood test) after my second ‘Doxil’ chemo to find out how it is working. Well, the Hawaiian Punch carried NO punch. My numbers went up a few points. In itself not a drastic change were it not in the middle of CHEMO treatment!! Now what? I can’t quite understand it. This had never occurred to me that chemo may not work. Doc is not giving me another chemo until we find out why this one has not worked. She will say:’ Cancer cells got smarter’.

What is our option now? Atom bomb? Next step is CT scan. Is there, perhaps a new tumor? Is this the preventing factor that cancer cells don’t die? In a few days, this question will be answered. Wait for blood test, wait for phone call, wait for news, wait for next step. Wait for CT scan. Wait….

I had researched the ‘Tears of Phoenix’ quite a bit a few years ago but

THC and CBD mixture the size of a grain of rice

could not find anything on where they make them, who makes them, what it is exactly. Meanwhile, there is a LOT of information on You Tube. The founder’s name is Rick Simpson. He had to leave the country, years ago because the Fed’s were after him. This goes with all the horrid meds are allowed but let someone invent something cheaper that actually helps, well there’s hell to pay. Of course, Medicare (Nor any other ‘care’) will pay for this. So it was out of my budget zone.

Then, something absolutely wonderful happened. A Facebook friend told me that she and a few of her friends were talking about my situation. The exorbitant cost of being sick. She asked if I had a Pay Pal account because her friend would create a “Widget’ for me. (A ‘what’s -it??) Never heard of it. But soon, there was this Widget on our Camino page (under ‘Read our Story’) as well as on the group page.

Pretty soon, I heard the ‘ding-ding’ of e-mail alerts on my I-phone. I looked and saw names I did not recognize, sending money. More names, some I did recognize from my German Group. ‘German Girls Living In America.’ Had not known much about the other group called ‘Laester Schwester’. Seems they are at odd with another. BUT, for my sake, this time, there was only the desire to help, putting aside their differences. (Unlike the Government, this seems to work.) So, with utmost gratitude and waves of overwhelming feelings of so much kindness and sharing of even a few dollars, had me crying. Their generosity now allowed me to purchase the very concentrated Hash oil to ingest. For the amazing hash properties to go in and tell this ‘smart-ass’ cancer cells to commit suicide.

I really, really want to thank all involved of helping me so I could buy this stuff. I was a little apprehensive. Here I am again, taking and trying more ‘stuff’. Going on some Internet info and FAITH that this will not only work but better and cheaper than chemo!! –which does not work.

Help Inge get treatment that works. You can do so here (ignore the ad on top) where it says “Pitchin“:

I take this on a cracker, with just a little butter. The size not much larger than a half a grain of rice, and take it 3x per day. The tiny Powerhouse looks like a ‘ mouse-turd.’

So. I had my first cracker with the oil on it. My son took me out for breakfast. Not knowing what to expect, I thought oh, this is not so bad. Other than a little off center, I didn’t feel anything. Luckily not, till I got home. Then had to sit on the couch. Fog descended, things seem to move much slower. I felt like I was talking very slow myself. My son, meaning this in a good sense gave me a double dose for lunch… just before he left to drive to a wedding. Well, I sat there much later, still. I thought, ‘good Lord, I sure hope somebody comes and feeds me’. Couldn’t get off the couch. Fell asleep in the middle of one of my favorite programs. I’m thinking, the world needs more of this. They won’t argue, fight, kill each other. My foot started to feel much better but I’m not sure if this is a coincidence or some ‘early healing.’ I can’t believe that this tiny, eensy =weensy bit has that much POW.

So. After 4 days, we double the dose. I hope I have enough time taking this hash oil, before someone decides to throw chemo after it. I want to see how it helps but if I do get another chemo, I won’t know for sure whether the cell death is due to chemo or hash oil. But then again, if chemo does not work…again… except make me miserable and sick, I may ask for more ‘non-chemo’ time to allow hash oil to work. I guess, it depends on the CT scan results.

Meanwhile A BIG, HUGE Thank you to my German ‘Girls.’ Ich druecke euch alle in tiefer Dankbarkeit, das ihr mir diese Lebenschchance ermoeglicht.

Great Kindness at the POW WOW

Posted on September 23, 2013 by admin

For the past 15 years I have visited the annual POW WOW, which was only 30 min away. I may have missed one or two when I went on the Camino and once when I went to Germany when my brother died.

Always loved the colorful Ragalia. (I was told by one Native American whom I’d asked a few questions that these were NOT called ‘costumes.’ It takes a very long time and skill to sew them and especially all that wonderful bead work.

This year I had also fully intended to go but I had also had painful ‘issues’, again after chemo. But, I thought this may distract me. So, I took my umbrella as it looked very much like rain and walked the 5-6 blocks to our Fairgrounds where the Pow Wow was held the last couple of years.

I was a little early and so walked around the huge hall and looked at all the beautiful jewelry, paintings, blankets, good smelling grasses and sage bundles. I picked out 2 necklaces for my granddaughter and her beloved. I went to the kitchen section and was greeted by one Native American woman, whom I’ve known for years. She came out the side door, beaming and enfolded me in a big hug. “How are you?” she asked. I pointed to my blond wig and said, ‘I’m surprised you recognized me with this on.’ She answered, ‘I would recognize your beautiful smile anywhere. ‘ She gave me a cup of mint tea, from leaves she had grown herself. After a few minutes conversation I moved on.

I had not gone the whole perimeter as I had leg pain and sat on the bottom step. As I looked around I saw some more booths against the back wall and since I still had time before the Grand Entrance, I got up and went there to see their wares. A friendly Native American came toward me with a beautiful necklace but I held my hand up, smiled and said that I was sorry but simply could not afford one since I had lots of medical bills.

He asked me, what was wrong? I told him that I have cancer, now the second time. He nodded and told me, somberly that his wife too, had breast cancer and died 5 year ago. He said it was the worst but also awesome experience he’d ever had. (Awesome???) He said with their ritual and her grace, how she dealt with it. He turned and picked up something and then handed it to me. I was a long, gray feather with two smaller feathers, one yellow and one green bundled and fastened with a leather strap. He said that this was his gift to me. It was a “smudging Feather” and meant to heal. I immediately became emotional, and tears ran down my face. He took a step toward me with wide open arms and said, ‘ Come here, sister.’ Made cry more and I was so embarrassed. Here came a younger woman, also hugging me from the side, and a third one and she said, ‘this is a healing circle.’ I had told them that I had wanted to go to Santa Fe (weekend before) to try to find a Shaman. That I had wanted to visit Santa Fe for a long time and that it almost felt like a ‘pull’.

After a few minutes I had myself in better control again and he handed me a napkin. I smiled and thanked him. We exchanged a few more words and as I turned to leave, the younger woman approached me, with a Native American man in tow and told me that he was a Shaman and that he would take care of me. I said, that I had no money. ( Because I’d read in my Santa Fe research, that they could demand $300-450.00 for a session.) He shook his head and took my hand and sat me into a chair, at a little more private area.

He told me that he could see my aura, the rainbow colors and black spots which were blocking me. He took my newly acquired ‘Smudging Feather’ and waved it up and down my body, chanting in his native tongue. He stopped one time, looked at me and said, ‘your chakra is way out of line on your right side and it has been that way for quite awhile. I will try to align it.’ On went the chanting as he moved the feather from head to knees. He said, ‘oh, there is a big blockage in your leg. ‘ I said, yes, this where I have blood clots. ‘ (How could he know?) He told me he would now ‘give me over to the ‘Great Spirit’, to heal me.’ That’s when I started crying again. He too, had tears in his eyes as he looked at me and said, ‘if the Great Spirit would not be filled with love for you he would have not put you in his (Shaman’s) path.’ He told me, what a beautiful spirit I had. He asked me, if I felt the heat of his hands (which never touched me) and indeed I had. He apologized as he had had many sessions the day before and was thus weakened. I told him, that I was grateful for anything he could give me.

After about 30 min he got off his knees and asked me, if he could hug me. I totally said yes. I took the only $20.00 bill I had and handed it to him, saying that this was all I had but wanted him to have it. He thanked me big time and said, that most people didn’t even say Thank-You and that I was only the second person within those past days that had given him a GIFT. He also gave me his phone number, in case I wanted to have another session. Imagine my delight to see that he only lived 30 minutes away, and I was prepared to travel 700 miles.

I sat on the bleachers and enjoyed the rest of the program and felt very much at peace, marveling at the set of many ‘coincidences’ which had brought me there that Sunday.

Yellow Love and 2nd ‘new’ chemo

Posted on September 19, 2013 by admin

After my ‘new’ chemo, I was trying to be as ‘normal’ as I could. Doxil, the charmer had different ideas. The depression and deep, spiral to darkness had me scared and overwhelmed. I absolutely can understand when people, who hurt like this, committ suicide. Even though a tiny part of my brain did whisper that this is ‘chemo effect’, and interlectually I understood, it is very hard to deal with it. I’d go to the store and as I stood before the pasta a wave of such sadness came over me, I started weeping. I ran to the bathroom to control myself.

It also happens while watching T.V., going for a walk. Even in the tub and the howling that was produced scared even more. I definitely need to ask what is available to help. (Probably Xanax or another drug which will have its own side effects. Maybe hash oil would work, if I took a larger amount to put me to sleep.

On the other hand, however excrutiatingly real this feels, it is NOT a reliable emotion. The brain has been altered by chemo and therefor we need ‘sound minded’ family and friends to help differentiate. Those people who know me best and can sort through this mental mess.

On the tail of this darkness comes paranoia. ‘I’ll probably die. I won’t be able to get well, this time.. and other, similar thoughts. I think of my daughter, grand daughter, grand sons and my son. And I weep because I already miss them so much. I weep because, well, because. A song, a bird, a flower, a word, blue sky, rain, the mountains , because I have cancer, because I have blood clots, because I feel sorry for myself and because of no reason. My emotional equilibrium is way off. Its pendulum swinging from one extreme to the other. Friends call and ask ‘how are you?’ I don’t know what to say anymore. This has been going on for sooo long. I want it to be over. I want some semblance of my life back. I want to walk and just enjoy nature around me. I definitely want the pain to stop. Backache, abdominal pain, constipation, heart burn , on and on and on. I am exhausted by it. And now the question remains whether this chemo would work. I have no date scheduled for the nextinfusion, since we don’t know. Added stress. (What do you mean, it may not work?? What is in that bag? Sugar water?)

I get so tired of people complaining about such small and crazy ‘problems’. I know it is not their fault that I am in this situation and I really don’t blame them for getting tired of this long journey. Not as much as I am.

So. My wonderful friend, Bonnie came last week, holding out a plastic container with paper towel cover. I asked what was in it? She told me that her 2 grandsons (9 and 5) Harrison and Mason (whom I know and love) had gone mushroom hunting with their dad. They remembered that I LOVE chanterelles. They had walked 8 miles ( 4 in and 4 out) to find these for me. Imagine. Walking that far and that age. I was in tears from this gift of LOVE. Impressed and proud as well. You can’t PAY for this sort of thing. I cooked them the next day and ate them with great appreciation.

Then, it was time for my 2nd Doxil. Short check up: Heart, lungs, prodding and pushing on abdomen, blood tests (which were ‘excellent’.) Then, off to Infusion room. After the pre-meds, here came Hawaiian Punch colored Doxil. It woud not go in. Something wrong with the tubes. After a while, new tubes were attached and then it flowed pretty quickly. Had another CA 125 drawn to check whether cancer marker went up? Oncologist told me ‘not to freak out, if it went up because usually it take the 2nd one to bring marker down.

Meanwhile, I saw on my support group posting, that 2 more ‘Teal Warriors’ had died. Had me very upset as I had just ‘conversed’ with them, not so long ago.

Then there’s my friend Sue, who has a recurrence. Shout out to you Sue. Fight like Hell. If you want to know other and or additional information, call or come.

After the 2nd chemo, Cameron had to leave for a couple of days and invited me to come along to Silverton, where he had an offer, for the free work he had done, to stay in this B&B.

A very nice, Victorian house, blue and white trim. Lots of flowers and gorgeous views. Since this was short notice, the owner had previous engagement and so we had the whole house to ourselves. My room was lovely and next to it a huge bathroom with BIG tub and jets. I was (what else?) in a lot of pain and so Cameron got some Eucalyptus Epsom salt and I took a hot bath and felt some better. We took a couple of drives around the area and we saw just the most gorgeous surrounding. (We are on the ‘Western Slope which is many hours away from the devastating flood zone.) We went to the grocery store and I fixed our supper. I tried to go into a couple of stors but my back was killing me and so, frustrated and upset that I simply cannot DO anything, we went back.

I believe now, that this has to do with high altitude. Silverton is nearly 10,000 feet. My veines are compromised due to blood clots and the thin oxygen may deprive organs and extremeties of needed blood flow and thus cause pain. (Right? Dr. Inge??)

My Bonnie came Tuesday, punctually as always and for so long now. She took me to diner and then a movie. “The Butler”. Except for Eisenhower, the rest of the presidents is the same time I have been living in U.S.A . September 16th marked my 50th year. I went through all those growing pains and historical times of this country.

One week after chemo, the horrid depression has disappeared. THANK GOD. I have not called for my cancer marker result. Same reason as before. IF it went up, nothing I can do (except get upset). On Sept 30th when they draw new test, THIS one will show what has, or has not, happened.

New Chemo… and no Germany

Posted on August 27, 2013 by admin

I had 2 weeks in between being thrown out the ‘carbo/toxil’ chemo club and had to wait to set up the new ‘Doxil.’ Had to have a heart test prior to receiving this new one. Tech said, I had a good heart.

So. Tuesday, August 13th Cameron drove me to Grand Junction. I was pretty anxious. How would I react to this? What side effects would it give out? What IF this one does not work either?

Saw my Oncologist and we took blood tests to see what happened in the 2 ‘off” weeks. Then on to the chemo room. Sat in a recliner and waited to be attached. The chemo nurse wanted to tell me all the things and side effects that ‘could’ happen. I told her, I did NOT want to know. She said, ‘really’? I nodded and said, well, if it’s not in my head then I can’t wait for it to happen. Otherwise every twitch or sudden cramp will mean ‘is this it?’ I knew one of the side effects. Painful, swollen red hands which will crack open. (Of course, my old chemo companion ‘constipation’.)

Here came the nurse and she hung the clear, liquid bag with pre-meds. Saline and other things which I can’t remember because I have also ‘chemo-fuzzy brain’. (Oh, yes, there it is.. Benedryl.)

Soon after, here came a bag with red liquid in it. Leaning way back in my chair, I asked “what the hell is that?’ They should have told me that the chemo would be red. Just like ‘Hawaiian Punch.’ I had to really breath and work on my psyche to allow it in. Even to bless it.

We went home and then worked the next few days on loosening up constipation. I am soooo tired of that. It’s painful and uncomfortable.

We had also drawn the CA 125 cancer marker. I did not call to ask what that number was. Usually, I’m on the numbers like a tick on a dog but not this time. If it’s up, I reasoned, there’s nothing I can do, if it’s down, goody. (They did not call me either, following my lead.)

As always, there are my good friends (Bonnie, Silke, Monika, Inge and more) as well as my Support Group ‘Teal Warriors’. Then, lots and lots of cheerful messages and support from ‘German Girls in America’ group. It sure helps a lot keeping some of the fears in check.

But, I had a real strange feeling as if something had shifted, internally, irrevocably. As though, all my cells ‘moved’. I can’t explain it any better. But, it had given me night mares. (No, no drugs, pills or whatever.) I have also had two dreams of my own funeral. THAT was weird! And upsetting. It occured to me, that ‘this’ could get me. Maybe I can’t outrun it. Maybe it’s nipping at my heels and I can’t run any faster. Premonition? I don’t believe so. Hopefully, just a strange time. Oh, I know. Let’s blame it on the chemo.

I had asked about Germany trip. She said, you have 28 days in between chemo. At first I was happy that I could still go but then, abdominal pain started again and every night, pain would wake me about the same time. I got my beanie bag and heated it, or when it is particularily worse, a hot epsom salt bath. I had asked my local doc for pain med. By the time I picked it up, 3 days went by and then they had ordered the wrong pills. I decided not to do anything as I remembered that any of these ‘stronger pills’ also caused constipation. So I would have to take one due to the pain of that source, just to have the same problem. I asked about Ibuprofen. Not really allowed on my regiment with Werferin, as Ibuprofen would also be blood thinning. But, perhaps I could take a half one? they allowed. Sure enough half a one helped.

When I gave up being worried about eating this or avoiding that because of the blood clot and vitamin K, my test for that improved as well. I eat what I want but careful about K and so now my number is ‘excellent’.

After figuring out that I would NOT have 28 days to go to Germany. I called and heavy hearted canceled. I could not have chemo and run to the plane and leave. The same on the return. I would need a few days either way to feel up to it. That way I would only have 2 and half weeks. Not enough to do what I wanted. Then too, I do NOT want to come back to chemo. I want to be DONE. This is now the 3rd time I have to postpone. Hopefully I’ll get there in May.

A new friend, Michele was coming all the way from Abu Dhabi to meet in person and visit for a week. I got things ready and was going to pick her up on Monday, then spend the night with the Lane ‘girls’ as I had an appointment with Oncologist, last Tuesday, early morning. Saturday, I went shopping so I would have a few things and finished Cameron’s frozen meals as we were going to Telluride Wednesday. As I left the store, I thought perhaps, I should get chicken, in case we needed some more food. Back I went and bought organic chicken. Got home unloaded groceries and then did not go anywhere the whole weekend. Monday morning I got ready to pick up Michele. As I walked to the car, (wanted to clean it out a bit) I was assaulted by this horrid smell. Well, it was Garbage pick-up day and I hollered to the neighbor, ‘ man, it stinks like something died’. I looked in my shed, worried an animal got in there and couldn’t get out. Nothing there. We decided it was the grbage because it had been hot.

I walked to my car and opened it and LORD have mercy!! I got so nauseous, that I was worried I would vomit my toenails. Not sick from chemo but .. chicken. There it was, the plastic bag, laying on the front seat, forgotten to bring it in. I rushed to the grocery store to buy ‘Febreze’. You’ve seen the commercials? Blind folded people being put into raunchy, dirty, smelling cars or kitchens. They all exclaim how wonderful and spring like it smelled. Blind fold off, BIG surprise. Yes? Well, NO!! This is not true. I emptied half a can till I was sick from the mixture of rotten chicken and Febreze. But, I had to leave for the airport. I turned on the air conditioner, all the windows and as I drove, sprayed some more. OH, I thought, to be a dog and hang your head out the window. Luckily, by the time I arrived, it was not so bad.

I recognized Michele right away and was teary when I hugged her. We met up with Laurel, Carrie, and her new boyfriend and precious Hayden. We had a lovely visit with the girls and nice dinner.

Next morning, cancer center. I told Michele, I only take her to fun places. I did ask, this time what my numbers were. Sure enough, during the 2 chemo free weeks, they had doubled. After the first Doxil, no change. But, it was too soon. Maybe test after 2-3chemo’s. My blood test were ‘excellent’. Right to the pint of where my bone marrow is still producing red blood cells. I am grateful that inspite of everything, my body/Immune system is trying to help.

I took Michele to the Black Canyon and next day to Telluride. Went to Karaoke and watched as Cameron (and others) sang. Lots of wolf whistles and female appreciation. He’s got good moves, my son. (Of course this is from me.)

Cooked a nice dinner for the gang but after 2+ days and the altitude and not being able to hike, etc. I needed to come home.

Cameron brought Michele back on Saturday and I took her to the airport Sunday. Sure glad she was here. House is empty and still.

Meanwhile, my son’s and (ex) wife’s book came out in German “Die Katzenfluesterin”. The Cat Whisperer. I am so excited and tickeled. I am going to order it in German.

Next chemo, September 10th. I have all this time to spoil my body and be gentle and kind.

BIG Rollercoaster ride…

Posted on August 9, 2013 by admin

As I was envisioning the end of chemo, other forces were hiding, internally and getting ready for a big surprise.

Oncologist had ordered a CT scan to find out why cancer markers are going up. (In the middle of treatment!) My friend Inge B. drove me to Grand Junction last Monday, to do just that. I put enough Lidocane cream on the port side to last a week. I don’t like the needles. It sure works. After that, she treated me for lunch and then we drove home.

Chemo Tuesday, my friend Lynne took me, dropped me off while she ran some errands. Nurse came to prep for chemo, when Oncologist came in with paper in hand. I looked at her face and my heart started pounding. She shook her head just a fraction but enough to have icy cold fingers grab my heart.

‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Seems that there is a new lesion on the liver. It was there prior but now it is 10 mm and positive for cancer, she said.

“LIVER??” What the hell happened there? I had problems assimilating the words in their proper order. But as if that wasn’t enough, she also told me that chemo quit working. We took another CA 125 test and it came back, again elevated. So. That means, that the 6 rounds of chemo (18 in all) stopped working because the cancer cells are ‘getting smarter’, she said. I told her, that if this Crap wasn’t inside me, I would definitely be in awe of so much brilliance.

I was absolutely stunned. Shocked. Scared. What to do? Well, she said, we’re going to have to use a different chemo-DOXIL. Once a month. Your hands may get red (inflammed) and skin peels off but you won’t lose your hair! HA I was silent. Just thinking of the misery and wasted MONEY of these chemo’s.

She gave orders to stop the chemo as there was no use putting me through it, when it’s not working. So. I left the chemo ward and felt like I had been thrown out of this ‘exclusive club’. All others were getting their (workable) infusion, except me. I just didn’t know what to do. I called Cameron and told him. I called Bonnie and Monika. Each time it felt more unreal.

Back home, I just wandered around the house, trying to absorb the shock. I had asked about Germany. The whole six month of mental preparation and Joy of being able to go. She said, I could still go, if I can handle new chemo. I would have 28 days before the next chemo and have to be back. We’ll see.

My childhood friend, Irene would also go and that would be the first time in many years we’d be there together, revisiting all the places we played at as children.

I was not thrilled having the whole week and week end looming before me, waiting for new instructions. I did not want to think about, research nor deal with it. My friend Lynne was going to Salt Lake City to visit her parents and she invited me to come along. So I did. Forgot how long a drive this is, for nearly 6 hrs. But, it was nice. We went to Cosco and next day, to the German Deli.

Back home, I was still waiting. So I called them, left a message and Oncologist called back and told me Tuesday- 13th we start. I feel like I got a big chink in my Armor. Things don’t fall together as well as they did. I feel that my body betrayed me. No matter how good I treated ‘it’. I am getting so exhausted by this whole thing. It’s over 3 years now and people are getting bored by it, too. It’s a though I have a whole sack full of rocks and must climb the mountain, only to slide more than half way down and have to repeat, repeat, repeat.

I need to go ‘somewhere’ and regroup. Be still, think and refill my ‘fighter tanks.’ That would be the Black Canyon. I’ll get off the beaten path and sit and look at the awesome surroundings. I will do the best I can.. the rest is up to bigger sources.

Yesterday, my Sydney came and worked in the wild looking yard. She also took me to Dispensary as I needed more Hash oil for this pain in my pelvis and couldn’t drive. (What’s that all about?) Peggie brought me some fruit and other goodies. My Teal sisters surround me with their love and support as do the ‘German Girls’ and my FB friends. Huge support and I am so very grateful.

Not so nice changes

Posted on July 24, 2013 by admin

After I have had such a nice week off chemo and doing what I like best, I had to return to my 6th cycle of chemo. To ordinary folks that means 18 of those cocktails. That day was uneventful, aside the toxins.

I woke up 2 nights later to use the bathroom. I usually go in the dark, since I know my way so well. This time, I felt strange and thought it was my eyesight and the dark. I turned the light on and the whole room was spinning. Like a BAD drunk. But, I had to go and bumped against the wall and could barely get there. Back in bed, it continued. I tried placing my foot on the floor and sat up but this got worse. Little, black spot, cold and clammy and I thought I’d pass out.

Was getting anxious and freaking out a bit. Who do you call, at this ungodly hour? It was 1:00 o’ clock. Went mentally through the list of my friends, who had assured me that I could call ANYTIME but they all lived a distance away and I thought I needed someone fast.

So. I called my nice neighbor, Nancy. Asked her if she would come over. She was here fast, in nightgown. Sat on the other side of the bed and rubbed my back . I was getting nauseous as well but took some hash oil and that worked in a few, miracilous minutes. At least no vomiting the bed.

She asked, ‘what do you want to do? ‘ I said, I didn’t know but we could call Doc’s office here and night operator would know how to get ahold of one.

Luckily, my old doc was on night shift and therefor I did not have to explain all the way back to Adam and Eve. Although, he said, he could not determine over the phone what this episode was. I should come to ER. This ‘could be Vertigo’ OR this ‘could be a tumor on my brain!!’ Great choices in the middle of the night to be told! ( I tallied up the several thousands of dollars this would cost.) I said, NO, I think I’ll wait till morning and come in. If I pass out, my neighbors will drag me to ER.

Nancy stayed with me all night. I told her to try to get some sleep, I would wake her if something happens. The hash oil put me to sleep as well. Woke early and though I was still dizzy, it was not as much. At 8:00 A.M I got a call from doc’s office with appointment.

I went (different doc) and they took Vitals (bloodpressure, pulse and finger stick to see how blood thinners work. He had no clue as to what to contribute this episode to. “Probably from chemo’, he said and that was that.

I hung around on my couch pretty much all day. Was listless, fatigued and still off kilter. Tried to figure out, as so many times, what could have happened and why? Well, I don’t have the answer either.

Went on with my business. Tried to clean house a bit, had to go shopping, cook something. Every time I go to the store, prices have gone up. A few tomatos are $3.99 (Do they really think that one cent difference to $4.00, makes us buy with joy??)

Cameron came Monday eve to take me to chemo Tuesday. I was a bit anxious as CA 125 blood test was on the plan. (To measure cancer marker.) I packed my ‘chemo bag with bottled water, a few yoghurts and cherries and 2 pieces of coffee cake. I can’t leave to eat and I can’t eat what they offer. Salad and an awful potatoe bisque.

I was kidding with receptionis as I had not received the usual ‘reminder to come’ call. I said, Chris didn’t call but I came anyway. They said laughing, they were happy to see me. Lab tech came and we filled 4 vials of blood. (I’m thinking, each week that much, wonder what to eat/drink to replendish? Beets came to mind.)

Then visit with Oncologist and retelling of episode. She also thinks, it’s an accumulative effect of the chemo. I said, I think I reached my tether with chemo and I hopefully could stop and CA 125 would be in normal range! She said, will you kill me if it isn’t? I said NO, that’s against the law and I want to go to Europe NOT jail.

Then we went to the infusion room and hooked up for my cocktails. Cameron went outside to work and calls.

After a little while I saw Oncologist come in and holding a piece of paper. I looked at her and said, YES? what is it? She shook her head slightly and for a second a cold hand twisted my heart. IT WENT UP!! I felt a little betrayed by my body! Ok. Ok. I said, 8 points is not that much. We all know that this is not an exact science and other factors could have contributed. Change in diet, which has me upset since all the ‘healthful foods are almost off the table. Because of the vitamin K and blood clotting factor. Also, taking Warfarin. I’m disappoined but this will not change my plans. Instead of waiting to the end of chemo (which we anticipated by having a good number) to have a CT scan to see what the tumor is doing, she scheduled a CT scan right away and as soon as they call with appointment, I’ll have that to contend with.

Cameron came back in and saw the expression on my face. He hugged me and said, this is just a temporary, little set back. We’ll do this too.

I had sent a message to my support group, my TEAL sisters and immediately the comments and loving support poured in as was the same with my FB friends. Nothing from some family members but it seems they have a different priority.

My good friend Bonnie came with food. We had decided on a baked potatoe with all the trimmings, since this is what I’m allowed to eat. Had a good visit and talked this new thing over. It’s so good to have good friends.

I have decided to regroup and circle the waggons. I will renew my efforts and eat as closely healthy as I can. I KNOW this makes a difference. I have proven it before. This is just a little ‘hiccup’. I have 4 weeks before the next CA 125 and hopefully can walk as leg and foot feel better. Some may think that this sounds like ‘Denial’ but I asure you, it’s not. Coincidentally, I saw a man on T.V. who said, YOU CAN DO ANYTHING THAT YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO’ , as he levitated several feet off the ground. The MIND is more powerful than anything. We just have to learn to harness more of it. “You can think yourself well and you can think yourself sick.” I will do what I can.

Hot days and cool cooking

Posted on July 8, 2013 by admin

The continued heat makes everything harder to do. There is a certain inertia, when you step outside and a hot slap assaults your face. No rain since May. I am going walking early in the morning while it’s cooler.

Last Tuesday, was chemo day and a friend drove me to Grand Junction, so Cameron can have some days ‘off’. I was so sure, that the scheduling nurse had made a mistake, I called her over to ask what happened to July 9th? I didn’t want to get it all confused and somehow miss having a chemo. She and another nurse checked and it was my ‘chemo brain’ that had lost an entire visit there.

While I was waiting in the lobby of the cancer center to sign in, a woman spoke to me. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘where did you get that shirt?’ At first, I was bit puzzled because this is an old shirt, white with two colorful parrots painted onto the right front. ‘Oh, my niece painted them a long time ago. She’s very talented’, I said smiling.

She really liked that shirt. A man was sitting across from her and a younger one opposite. She asked me, what I was doing there? Waiting on someone? I told her, no, I’m waiting on chemo. She said, you are too cheerful to have chemo. Ohhh, I said, ‘not always.’ But, I can decide, each time with which degree of fear, dislike, etc. I approach this treatment. I then told her of the lifestyle changes I had made. I told them about walking the Camino de Santiago. I really had their attention then. She told me, that her husband also was just diagnosed with colon cancer.They were there to find out all the hard stuff. Stage, treatment, possible surgery, etc. They looked like they been hit. Which, of course they were.

Before too long, they were called to their oncologist’s appointment. I quickly tore a bank deposit slip (had my adress, phone number on it) and told them, that if I could help in any way, to call.

Meanwhile, it was the 4th of July celebration, which I was invited, first by the neighbors and then later that afternoon, at a friend’s house. Ate hot dogs, a burger, beans, and 6 salad leaves (because of the Vitamin K thing.) Then, they talked me into a slice of home made apple pie. At first, I was steadfast and said, ‘no thanks, I think I quit while I’m ahead.’ Well, that didn’t last long when I heard all these happy sighs. So, I did eat a slice… with whipped cream and a dollop of ice cream. My Goodness. Nausea hit like a well aimed arrow and I ran for the bathroom. Luckily, I had my hash oil pen and immmediately took some deep puffs. After a few, I coud feel the nausea receding. Just like someone threw a soft blanket over it. A little shaky but otherwise restored, I went back to the kitchen. I tell you for sure… Pure Magic’. I was upset with myself for eating like that. I had not had a hot dog in over three years. I had not eaten as much in long time.’ If you dance, you got to pay the Piper’.

Yesteray, I was invited to a concert, given by a very talented Bob Milner. Plays some ‘mean’ piano tunes. From Blues, to rag time to Boogie-Woogie. Had us snap fingers and tap toes. Nice break in an otherwise boring Sunday.

Came home and sat back with a good movie, when the phone rang it was the son of the people I’d met at the cancer center. He told me, that theye were now ready to change lifestyle and would I consider coming to Grand Junction and show them how to do this. Of course, I said, I would be delighted. (Of course, they will pay me.) He told me, that his parents (as well as he) really liked my positive outlook inspite of the C world. His father could really benefit to be around me, especially since this was my 2nd time around, dancing with the ’emperor of all maladies’. I told him that having cancer was not automatically a death sentence. It is a definite change in ones life but we have a choice how to react.

We decided on Saturday. Sure hope my car will not be expensive to fix as I first, drive to Telluride to visit and bring (frozen) dinners to Cameron and hopefully go up into the mountains and see those awesome wild flowers. ( I really want to see Cameron singing Karaoke.)

I am thrilled to be able to ‘cook’ and teach about healthier lifestyle, so at least bump up the Immune system to have a fighting chance.

I am still struggling on finding something to eat which does not throw off the ‘Cumadin’ blood thinning med. Can’t eat too many greens. Can’t eat too much fruit which contains K. I never even thought about ‘K’ and now it absolutely controls my life.

I am excited to design menus for my new friends. I love having a ‘purpose’. And, just in time, my leg feels much better to where I can stand, walk for more than 30 min. Life is good.

CA -125 Ovarian cancer blood test

Posted on June 26, 2013 by admin

Last week, was my OFF chemo week. I felt somewhat like I was playing ‘hookie’. I felt pretty darn good, well except for the bum leg but even that one is improving. For the first time, in many months (nearly a year) I walked 25 min. I had my old camino poles and set out for a few blocks because I was ‘lazy’ and then I rememberd how, only a short few weeks ago I had to lay on that couch, not being able to walk at all and I pushed myself onward. Ended up going longer. I was pretty proud of myself.

I visited friends and did some ‘normal’ stuff. I went to second hand shops to find a lamp and night stand for Cameron. I cooked and baked. A friend of mine had a yard sale and I put some things in it but hardly anyone came. I think, she sold a few of my books. Not enough to help with costs.

A lovely surprise was the visit of my long time friends Garwen and Garci. Have not seen them in several years. Had a nice few hours. Always too short but better than nothing.

Also trying to stay cool as temps are up in the 90’s and the daily hot, strong winds are a great fire danger. Very low humidity makes a tough job for forefighters in Eastern Colorado and trying to contain the “Black Forest Fire.”

As the day to another cycle of chemo came closer, I also became more anxious as I also had a CA -125 scheduled. This is a tumor marker and stands for : Cancer Antigen, which is measuring the protein in a cancer cell to determine how much is floating around. This test is NOT an exact science and it has its faults but it’s the only one we have. Different cancers have different numbers. Beast cancer has CA-138.

My whole system had just returned to normal. Everything was working well. But… I had to go back on Tuesday. Cameron came from Telluride, Monday eve and we took off at 8:00 A.M for that 1.5 hr drive. At 9:00 A.M it was already 90F. Another hot, dry day.

I had baked a dozen Muffin shaped, little white-chocolate-raspberry cheese cakes for Oncologist and nursing staff. They said, it was more than delicious.

I put the Lidocaine cream on about 1 hr before we got there so it can really numb my port entry. Most cancer people are not that worried about chemo, since it does not hurt going in (side effects later) but the needles going into port causes anxiety. My blood pressure, which is a nice 120/78 most of the time, went to 147/94. Anticipation. Even though outwardly, not even I can tell.

I requested that they would call me as soon as they had the result as last time it took several days of nail biting worry and phone calls before I found out it was 116. Not as bad as some but not as great.

As I sat in the Lazy boy lounger attached to the IV’s, the nurse came and handed me the result. (Oncologist had rushed it through). She also came by my station with a big grin. We had made a little bet. She had said, it’s probably around 50 and I had said 45 (well, a little more hope.)It was a LOVELY, lovely 59. Normal range is 0-35. Next time, next month there will be another one and GOD, let it be 30! or, lower. There is an end in sight. Later on we will also have a CT scan (racking up those test costs) to see what the tumor is doing. I am envisioning that it’s dried up, shriveled and useless, even to the ’emperor’, hanging by a tiny thread.

I also asked Dr. M. to check on CT scan picture to see if there’s anythting left of the small lung tumors, which I had called ‘seedlings’. None there as far as she could determine. Ohh, a pocket full of miracles.

So. This morning, I have to go for a little finger prick to check on slow moving blood. Professionally, it’s known under: prothrombin time test, PIT for short. It is reported as an International Normalized Ration (INR). Hopefully, this too has improved and the blood clot is disappearing.

I have also ordered a ‘Cumadin cook book’. It’s annoying having to consult the Internet each time I want to prepare food, to see how much ‘K’ Vitamin is in stuff. All these numbers, what a crap shoot.

I am not complaining at all. This gives me renewed energy and hope and strength to think, that this is NEARLY over. Only a few more months before I want to go to Europe. Use up my frequent flyer miles and staying with relatives and friends. I could not afford this any other way. I will have to go to a medical facility to have my port ‘flushed’. It’ll have to be in there for several more month, just to be sure. I am not sure if I’ll have it removed, which would be another invasive surgery and then the worry, “What if IT comes back?” Then I would have to go through all that again. I would have to have it flushed once a month though. I’ve had 10 years of remission ( very rare with ovarian cnacer) but also know that each time there is a recurrance, time is getting shorter in between. But, I’m not thinking about that. I’ll have at least another 10 years.

I am very grateful again. Not getting caught up with superficial stuff. Thanking my friends, who go through the hard stuff with me, as well as Cameron. Never complaining as he drives 6 hrs round trip.

Also, my support group ‘Teal Warriors.’ A fine group of ladies with some bad, crappy cancers and side effects, many far worse than mine. We lost a dear ‘sister’ a couple of weeks ago. They are there when I want to whine and complain because I KNOW they understand. That’s one place we can unload, ask questions, get great, joyful Hurrah’s when tests go better and each tiny improvement is celebrated. Thank you, dear sisters.

Eyebrow….wigs?

Posted on June 14, 2013 by admin

The other day, my friend Bonnie came for her weekly visit and to either take me out to dinner, or picking up something.

This time, I felt well enough to go out. After ordering our dinner, we talked about ‘everything’. She asked me why I had not posted anything. I looked at her, a bit puzzled and replied ‘because nothing is happening and I don’t want to just whine what I can’t do, or used to do, etc. Well, she said, people don’t know that and they are worried when they don’t hear from you. When you suddenly stop.

I was properly chagrined. So, I apologize. But, I do have ‘sort of an excuse’. Chemo is messing with my brain. My memory is faulty. I have a hard time thinking of the word of the moment. In one sentence in can happen that I’m searching, or my brain searches for several words. I feel like we’re playing charades. (Just a moment ago I had to look up ‘apologize’. Couldn’t remember if it’s one ‘p’ or two. I have learned to be patient (most of the time) with myself. I was wondering aloud, to Bonnie, if there would be someone to invent ‘eye brow wigs’? We have false lashes and mustaches and hair but nothing for brows. Mine are all gone. I try to pencil them in but am not good at it. Oh, let me tell you what had happend 11 years ago, when I had now brows either, (from chemo.) After I had had my last chemo, a couple of weeks later I visited Cameron in Portland, (OR).

I was still bald as well. Put on my hair and my make up. The bathroom lighting was not the best, so I did most of it by memory.

Then, cheerfully went shopping. I noticed that people were really looking at me. After awhile, when this kept on happening, I worried that I may have something on my nose, teeth, etc. So, I went to the rest room and looked into the mirror. Ahhh! I had grabbed the wrong color pencil and instead of brown, a bright blue. Really noticeable.

My birthday was absolutely wonderful. I’ve received so many (paper) cards and flowers, books and chocolates and a French coffee press. Then phone calls from Hungary, Switzerland, Germany and a few states in U.S. Lots of Facebook birthday comments and pictures. I felt truly special.

My friend Peggie and husband took me to a Puerto Rican restaurant for lunch where I had a great ‘fish ceviche’.

Cameron’s aunt Jayne came from Rangely and we packed up food and other important stuff to take to Telluride and visit Cameron and be spectators for the grand balloon festival. Cameron had asked us to bring his bike, which had wintered in my cellar. Jayne has a big pick up and we could haul just about anything. I went to the cellar and saw the he had chained and locked the bike around some pipes. I texted and asked for the combination. He send three. None of them worked. Jayne tried, the neighbor tried. Nothing. Could not unlock that bike. I saw in my minds eye, the bike would be there, still in 150 years, chained to the furnace.

Jayne remembered that she had bolt cutters. So, this was brought down. It totally cut through the rubbery part and exposed 4 shiny, thin cables. I tried, she tried and the neighbor tried. Nothing. That is one good lock! Wondered how they steal bikes so easily when we couldn’t get one milimeter out of it.

I researched ‘how to unlock cable chains.’ Most of the websites suggested to go to a bike shop.

Meanwhile we took off and drove to Telluride. A most beautiful day. The majestic views of the mountains, still capped with snow, the blue, blue sky, then the greening trees and meadows. Never gets boring.

I cooked lunch, which I had prepared ahead of time and only needed to reheat. Then, out on the town. Gosh, Mercy! That altitude had me huffing and puffing. ( It’s over 8000 feet)My leg hurt but I wasn’t about to stay inside. We went to see the beautiful library. Since we had time before the balloons, I asked if we could go to ‘La Marmot’. A long established Restaurant. A bit pricey (like so many things in Telluride) but I had always wanted to go. Cameron said, sure, let’s do that, since it was my birthday present.

I had ordered French Onion soup and a Goat cheese and caramelized onion Tart. Cameron had the Squash soup. The tables had white linen, beautifully folded napkins, sparkling glasses, flowers and the ambiance was nice. The waiter gracious and polite.

When the soup came, in a small bowl ($12.00) I didn’t recognize it. I got the waiters attention and asked ‘Is this a classic French onion soup?’ He pointed out that it had stated Creamed’ on the menu. Well, I guess my eyes just ran over that word without recognizing it. In the middle of the ‘cream ‘ soup was a small ball of melted cheese.

Cameron asked me to try his soup. It was bland. Oh! I said, how disappointing. He asked me what I would put in to perk it up. I said, well, a bit of nutmeg, cinnamon and Sea salt. (Starting with a good stock). My soup was bland as well with just a ‘hint’ of caramelized onions. Every seasoning had galloped past the Goat cheese tart. I have no idea how much Cameron paid for the whole thing. We don’t mind paying for food that is GOOD. I don’t have to have that again, any time soon. (I’ll cook it at home.)

After we came home and Jayne went on, I went to the bike shop. I told the owner our problem and he offered to bring his bolt cutters. I told him, we already tried that but he said, HIS bolt cutters were the best. Asked me to come back the next day. I did. He forgot to bring them. He said he would go home at noon and get them and call me. He never did and I was tired seeing his face.

After Peggie and husband brought me back home, he had brought his bolt cutters. Down we went. The first couple of trying did not produce results. Then, oh, brilliant idea!!! He cut through the ‘plastic’ tumbler part and VOILA!! The bike was liberated.

Last week was my ‘chemo OFF week.’ I was treating my immune system especially well with juicing and eating spinach, etc. Well, the spinach was not a good ida. It has too much vitamin ‘K’ and slowed blood flow more. I MISS my greens but can’t have them right now. Not going to whine about other side effect of chemo. Next week, back for more. (My 4th cycle) Each cycle is 3 chemo’s. (That’s $15.000 each month for only that.) On June 25th, thorough check, lab and CA 125. That’s the one I am really curious about. The ‘cancer marker’ blood test. Asking for good thoughts and a couple of prayers that the numbers have gone down. I am soooo ready to stop chemo.

My hair, inspite of the toxins, wants to grow. I look like I have baby-chick-down. This had better not be permanent.

O.K. Enough rambling. Just so my friends know that I am still kicking.

Door Number 1-2 or 3?

Posted on May 26, 2013 by admin

A few years ago, there was a T.V show with that title. Contestants would go through a series of differnt question they had to answer correctly and then they got the choice of the 3-curtained doors. Two had nice and sometimes valuable prizes, one of them a ‘boobie’ prize. A bale of hay, or a pile bricks.

I feel like I got one of those doors.

Two weeks ago, I had a CT scan to determine how well (or not) chemo therapy was doing and, what change, if any, about the ‘tumor.’ As many scans as I have had, this result was very much anticipated.

Lab person was going to use my port to access veine for dye. Not sure what happened but the pain and burning sensation was so severe, that I yelled and came off that chair. Startled, nurse pulled it out quickly. To allow her to do this again took great effort.

My friends and I went to have lunch down town and theybought bought this delicious Gelato for me to minimize ordeal.

After I got home, I waited for the call which would give me results. There was Tuesday evening, Wednesday, Thursday. Nothing. Friday I called Oncologist’s office only to find out she had left.

Then, I called local doc. I knew they also would get a copy. Left message. Then I went grocery shopping. Walking is still an effort. Although swelling has receded, there are places which are painful and I have to wear compression hose, which go up to the thigh. After walking some, they roll over and then there’s a big, red indentation and I constantly have to pull it up. Annoying. I need one of those stocking holders. As I drove home, my cell phone rang and it was the nurse from local doc. She said, they were looking at scan and that blood clot had not dissipated. Was still there and in precarious place. I needed to go to Hospital as soon as I could and have another Ultra sound. I was really confused why they would see the ‘clot’? She said, that scan reaches a larger area.

So. Went to hospital and got scan. Waited till they send it to doc before I was allowed to leave. He did tell me that tumor had receded. But not how much, or anything else, since this was not his expertise. Waiting some more.

Tuesday, chemo day and appointment with Oncologist. So. This is the good news. Tumor has shrunk from 5 cm to 2.2. Doing the happy dance for that. Now I am hoping, that these 2.2 cm will be gone in another 2 month. Then she says, that blood clot did not originate in the leg but in the abdomen. It was very unsusual that the clot would travel DOWN instead of UP. Which would’ve been very dangerous. I totally believe, that I had my little miracle. My blood tests, which I have to have prior to each chemo is ‘perfect’. (I asked what I was doing there if everything is so perfect!!)

The down side is, that the chemo is destroying my veines. There’s the catch. I can’t stop chemo now but for the veine, it’s a horrid thing. Which door to choose??

After so many rounds, the effects from the chemo are felt more and more . Most of the time I am very fatigued and can’t catch up with house and yard work. For 2-3 days, bones hurt and I am freezing form the inside out. Depression is marching in as though it belonged. Watching a commercial the other day, I started crying although there was nothing about it to cause this. At the store, suddenly there are tears. My nose is dripping constantly, until we figured out it’s because I have no ‘nose hair’. No eye brows, lashes … nose hair. Now that it is getting warmer, the pretty wig feels like a fur cap. My memory is becoming faulty and this what we call ‘chemo brain’.

Bills are piling up and that one night stay at the Hospital cost a whopping $6800.00 and of this $1,133.00 which I have to pay fully. I am feeling overwhelmed. It shows that one cannot be allowed to get sick in the ‘Golden U.S.A.’ I’ve not opened the bills from St. Mary’s.

I have had wonderful and caring support. Some from people I have never met. (I received a $25.00 donation from a ‘Stranger’. I was so very touched.) I get uplifting and caring posts nearly every day from a new and precious friend ‘Michele M.” Two days ago, I had a particular hard time, when a beautiful sun flower appeared on my Facebook wall. This helped more than any pill I could have taken.

I also got to drive to Telluride to visit my son. A dear friend drove as she was certain, this may be too much for me, to start. (She was right). A most beautiful, perfect day and drive. His new apartment is gorgeous and roomy. I had prepared lunch to take up. (Hungarian Gulash, Spaetzle, cucumber-tomatoe salad and fresh strawberries for dessert. We drove to the end of town to see the many waterfalls. Azure sky and awesome surrounding. Good to breath and be out of this house. It was slow going as the altitude was making walking more labored but I did walk from mid town to the apartment. Small victories.

In a few days, it’ll be my birthday. I am totally grateful that I get to be here and celebrate, although this will be the first time in many years, that I won’t (can’t) host a party.

I still try to reconcile the actual number of my years with my internal years. Where have the last 20 years gone??

‘Lawd… Lawd have Mercy’.

Posted on May 3, 2013 by admin

Before anyone thinks I am making fun, that’s not so. This came to me the other day when I was still hugging the couch.

It was a long time ago, when I first arrived in Long Island, N.Y. as a nanny. After I was there a few months my aunt and uncle came from Munich to visit and we took off to see New York.

It was a hot, sweltering July day. I believe it may have been the 4th because I remember a long Parade with music, drums and everything. When it was over, the people dispersed and we were thirsty and started to look for a diner or Cafe. Not knowing the area and had no map, we got lost.

We ended up in a very different neighborhood. Not another white person. We were watched and looked at but had no idea why. No one bothered us though.

We came upon a building with multi-colored windows. From inside we could hear a Tamborine and singing. I thought it was a bar. We stepped inside. Right away I noticed that this was not a bar but a church. Filled with Black people. Dressed in their absolute best. Hats, gloves and pretty dresses, the men in somber dark suits. We just stood there, not knowing what to do. The Pastor was saying that someone should start giving ‘Testimony’. My English was still in its infancy, so I was not sure what that meant. Suddenly, a lady got up and started shouting’ :Lawd, Lawd have Mercy!’ She was looking toward the ceiling and lifted her arms, while repeating. (I thought she said ‘Lard’ and couldn’t understand why someone would shout to heaven, to get it.)

My aunt and uncle who spoke no English asked me where we were. Before I could answer, the Pastor waved me forward and greeted us nicely. Asked where we were from and how we found our way to their church. I told him that we were glad to be there. The congregation gathered around us, talking and smiling and being very friendly. When the service was over, the Pastor walked with us to the edge of Central Park and pointed us to the right direction. We did stop at a diner and had a Cola. We had got lost in Harlem, in the 60’s. It was for us a very nice experience. I still smile when I think of the ‘Lawd’ and hope whatever that Lady wanted, she got.

When I started walking, with the bum leg painful and heavy, I too said ‘Lawd have mercy’.

I couldn’t write anything for awhile as a horrible tragedy happened to a very good, dear friend of ours. Just a few days before his wedding, his Fiance’was murdered by her sick and violent ex-husband. Shot in front of her teenage daughter, in broad daylight, in the parking lot of the dressmaker where they had gone to try on her dress. (He too was shot by Police after he opened fire.)

I was stunned and cannot imagine the grief and sadness over such a senseless act. Instead of the wedding, there was then a funeral. Anything I had to say about my problems, paled immensly in light of so much pain. I was supposed to be there for the wedding and had so looked foreward to a visit and to get to know this beautiful, vibrant lady that our friend had chosen for the ONE in his life. Due to the Thrombosis, I couldn’t go. My son had flown to be ‘best man at the wedding. What does one say? What words can possibly be used? What sense can make someone out of this hellish act? So many people who will miss her. The mom, the daughter, the aunt, the good friend to so many. I’ve cried for days. For her, her daughters, her family and our good friend. From the very beginning when he told me about her, I loved her name– ‘VIOLETA.

For the last few days, the leg has improved. I am doing ‘baby-steps’. I can now walk 3 blocks. In between, I had chemo. The blood test shows that the numbers are down. I am grateful. In 2 weeks I will have a CT scan to check on tumor. I envision that it is ‘dried up’ hanging by a thread, and I can stop having chemo.

Meanwhile, life goes on and my beautiful granddaughter is now 22. My daughter will have a birthday soon and then, it’s my turn. So much has happened in that year. And, we are molded once again by all the happenings in the tapestry that is Life.

Couchsurfing…

Posted on April 17, 2013 by admin

‘Couchsurfing’ – Travel the world- explore your city and host new friends. Couchsurfing is the world’s largest travel community.

Well now. My couchsurfing has been everything BUT that. I am counting now 16 days, on this rust-terra cotta colored couch. It’s a nice one really. It has big, fluffy back cushions and seats are comfortable. It also sports a Queen size bed. The fabric is micro-suede. Easy to clean, should there be spots.

My day starts early in the morning, since this is when I wake up (thank God.) I take my Levothyroxin and read another 20 minutes so the pill can work. Then, I go and brew my ONE cup of coffee. It’s nearly a ritual. NO automatic drip pot for me. I boil my water, add 3 scoops of (German mild, non acidic) coffee, a few salt crystals and a ‘breath’ of cocoa. I heat my cup, so the coffee won’t be luke warm when it hits the cup. Just a dash of half and half. That first swallow is sooo good.

See? How much my life has shrunk? Not much happening when you lay on the couch. I bought a big pillow to rest my leg on, which is encased in Ted-hose. Those white stocking that prevent new blood clots from forming.

I can’t stand long, well, not even short time. So, most mornings, I eat Oatmeal or cereal with coconut milk. I try to get dressed, which is not easy to lift that leg to fit into pants. It still seems to weigh 50 lbs. It is still swollen and very tight, and that is the source of the pain.

Now, that I spend those first few minutes on whining, I will also talk about the good things happening. My friends come with food. (I’ve eaten more Kentucky fried chicken the last two weeks, than I have the last 10 years!) But, that’s what my chemo brain wants.

I get home made chicken, potatoe and other soups. I had my favorite Mike come, with family and bring ribs. (Do you all remember that I had NOT eaten meat in nearly 3 years??) Right now, it’s all by the way side. No juicing. Not many salads nor veggies. Chemo has changed my taste buds and I have very little appetite. I still have to have MJ vapors to get ‘hungry’.

I watch T.V. and can’t believe all that mindless crap that’s on. I have read and re-read books. My family calls from Germany and friends and relatives call, so that takes up some time. I watch German T.V. which is some better because it’s not all about killing, blowing up stuff, etc. Sometimes, I wish people had a little more time to spend with me. Like, the length of a movie. But, I am grateful I have so much help and support. My friend Berle is a champion. She cooks and does the vaccuming like a little dynamo. She shops and puts it away and spends time. People do what they can. I am rich beyond measure. My friend Marie came while I was getting chemo and she cleaned house, put fresh, beautiful flowers on the tables and I was so touched and emotional when I came home. My friend Peggie made a late Spaghetti run because my taste buds wouldn’t accept other food.

I never did get Home Health because they don’t ‘help’ . They will give medication, help with bathing but not food or a little cleaning. I only take 1 pill and can bathe, so this is not for me, even though Medicare would pay 100%. But just because I CAN, I won’t squander resources. I thought, they would be the same as in Germany. My dad, brother, cousin all had Home Health and it’s a very efficient, good help with everything. A new, lovely friend is Michelle M. Lives and works in Saudi Arabia. Beautiful, eloquent and so tender hearted. My personal cheerleader.

I want to thank my other friends, who donated money to reduce some of the medical cost. It’s a bit humbling but I so appreciate it.

The other ones are my TEAL sisters. My Ovarian cancer support group. Great ladies. Each batteling her own, tough fight but they’re always there. Supportive. Non Judgmental.

No one has looked at my leg. They say, ‘just keep taking your Warfarin and we’ll see you in 2 weeks.’

I WAS going to go out but a short trip through the kitchen and looking out the window… I see SNOW!! Dang it. My apricot tree blossoms froze and we’re not sure about the other things I had planted last fall. This is a LONG, cold winter. I am ready to put my toes into some turquoise, mild ocean water. But, that will remain a Fantasy. Bills are coming by the droves and just to tell you: ONE chemo is nearly $5000.00 I have had 9 so far. This is why cancer won’t be ‘cured’ that fast. It is such a money maker.

Just reading this, shows what a boring life it is, right now. I only complained the first week and was very depressed. Mainly, because I did not know what the matter was and have never had anything like that. After that hard week, I decided that I would change my attitude as this would be more beneficial to my mental well being.

I fervently hope, that by next week I can walk. Just normal steps. Nothing huge. Sending out hugs and a heart full of gratitude.

Too close for comfort.

Posted on April 6, 2013 by admin

If this were not my life, I would believe someone made it up! What more can possibly happen?

It’s nearly two weeks ago, now, that when I went for chemo, we noticed my right leg being really swollen. All the way up to the groin and down to the toes. Immediately an Ultra Sound was ordered and performed to check on blood clots. I could hear the return ‘swooshing’ of the blood. NO obstruction, they said.

By the time I got home, it was worse and I was in a LOT of pain and could hardly lift that leg. I called twice on that Thursday, needing help and asking what to do?

They said, it was ‘probably’ lymphatic blockage and I needed to go have it ‘drained.’First, there was this thorough process of marking and measuring certain points, up and down the leg. By the time it reached the groin, we had 68cm. (Used to be almost my waist size.)

The massage felt rather pleasant and I was happy that finally something that didn’t hurt. Came home and was miserable.

I cannot move. Cannot walk. Two steps and I’m done for. The skin is so very tight that I’m afraid it may just crack open. I was to have another massage on Friday. Cameron took me there. When the Therapist saw the leg, which now sported a huge, red-hot area of 20″ inches, she became very concerned. Thought it might be cellulitis. (I thought that meant ‘fat-handles’.) Absolutely no massage. I was so worried and requested that this leg should be seen by a doctor. Easter was coming up and people go out of town and help may be scarce.

She called over to the E.R and then wheeled me over. They inserted an IV. (They did not access the port as that may bring a different problem.) My ‘old’ doc came and I sure was glad to see him. He just knows my whole history. They decided I should be admitted and stay for observation overnight. They were not sure whether this red area was an infection. The Ultra Sound showed at least 3 blood clots. What? Where do they come from? Well, that’s the $64,000 dollar question. Could be from chemo. Could be from the port. Could be from not being able to move a lot. Could be that when I stopped the Ibuprofen, the blood thickened? Well, just a guess. I feel ‘betrayed’. I was soo good to my body the last few years and this is how it pays me back? Childish outcry.

I felt so removed from reality. This is now my LIFE!! A leg that is the size of small tree. Luckily, cellulitis was ruled out. (Staff and hopsital were great.)

A friend, who is a retired nurse had agreed to stay with me, so I could have help. That fell through. Cameron had already left for Telluride. He has to find a new apartment since winter season is over. We were supposed to fly to New York for a dear friends’ wedding. Certainly I can’t go.

As I layed there, leg way up and in white TED hose, totally feeling sorry for myself, the thought came to me HOW VERY LUCKY I WAS! Yes. In all of that, I was so very close to disaster. IF she would have massaged the leg, the blood clots could’ve been set loose and traveled to lungs, heart, brain. BOOM!

Had I ignored all the little signs, at that point and went to Germany, this could have turned into a full blown disaster. So, even in all of that, I was protected. Now, all I want, is to just walk again. Do all of the mundane chores. I would LOVE to clean the toilet.

Friends have been a big, big help. Sending food and coming by. But, there are many hours in the day to fill. I have never been so ‘still’ in all of my life. Whole different reality. Having a problem adjusting to these blows, one after another. Back on pain pills. Of course, there’s MJ. My good buddy. Have very little appetite but this could be because I am not busy enough.

I had to give myself shots. Twice a day, in the abdomen. There were 8 shots in all. That cost? $611.00. There’s nothing generic or anything else. Either that or you could die! Also taking Warfarin to help thin the blood. It did come up from 1.1 to 2.8.

I think, somewhere along the lines, I lost a portion of my positivity and good humor. I am cranky and whiney. I am in pain and general discomfort. Now, I have to deal with constipation from the darn pain med. (I don’t know me like that either!!)

No breaks to catch…

Posted on March 25, 2013 by admin

I was finally on board with bald and cold head and all inclusions thereof. I was being strong and gracious (except a tiny fraction here and there).

Back in December, on one of my visits to Cameron in Telluride, I had noticed that my upper thighs seems to be really heavy. I thought, this was because I had not been able to excercise since the last two surgeries. I blamed the high altitude and steep incline to his apartment. When I was back home, it disappeared only to repeat this on my next visit.

I had mentioned it to Cameron because this puzzled me but did not give it more thought.

I was starting to feel better. The different pains in my abdomen were GONE. I thought ‘O.K. that’s one good point for chemo.’ Still awful stuff but hey, no pain. I could finally stop the 600 mg Ibuprofen. Felt great about that as at that point ALL I was taking was my daily Thyroid pill. No other meds.

After a couple of days, the pain in my thighs returned. Funny that. I walked a few steps, had to stop and rest before I was able to walk another few steps. What the heck?? I thought, it would ‘go away’. I thought, this is only temporary. No such luck. I could not walk much farther than half a block.

Now this really scared me. I had walked 500 miles only 18 mos ago and now couldn’t even walk around the block? I was stunned. What to do? What IS this new calamity? If I can’t walk, they may as well shoot me. No matter about the ‘hair’, no matter even about chemo. THIS was a real big, black shaky fear. My mind could not even go there. Ever since I was a child, I hardly ever ‘walked’ I ran, skipped, jogged. As an adult my strides were always longer and faster than the person next to me. (Except my son, who is always ahead. )

I could not think straight. My mind was crowded with terror. I remembered Doc’s urgent words when he had called me that Sunday. ‘ The tumor is pressing on the Aorta and can restrict blood flow to your legs. Once the damage is done, it cannot be reversed. You must have chemo and it must be soon’.

Was this that point of no return? Is this going to be my life? Had I brought this on by my own ‘stubborness’ NOT to have chemo sooner? Am I to blame for this? ‘Oh GOD. OH GOD.’

I had foot therapy and could barely do the exercises prior to being hooked to the machine.

Last week, I had had enough and called Oncologists office in Grand Junction. No live person to talk to, so I left a message. Nurse called back and I explained this in very careful words. I had told her that this was NOT due to chemo since I had this before I started. She passed the message to the oncologist and then called me back. Onc said ‘this is probably neuropathy, caused by chemo’. I frowned on that because it was opposite of what I told them. I had also asked to have a CT scan to see what the tumor was doing and if chemo was helping with anything. Too soon for CT scan, they said. Chemo had not had time to really work but we will do a CA 125 this Tuesday.

I could not find anything online that would give me an answer or, even a starting point. My legs hurt and I took a bath in Epsom salt. My veines were more pronounced and there were ‘blotches’ on my upper thighs. I think I need oxygen to my legs, is what I thought before I absolutely broke down and horrible keening bounced off the bathroom walls. I screamed and cried and thought I would lose it completely. Only a few times in my entire life had I felt like this.

So far down in despair. NO one near, no one here. Very alone and felt abandoned. ‘Always have to go through the hard stuff by myself’ , is what I thought at that point. Of course, that’s not really so. But then, I also have chemo brain and along with it, comes its faithful friend ‘depression’. There is absolutely no way to cut this tumor off and out. There is no way I can have radiation. There is NOTHING anyone can do. The perfect Storm.

I won’t be able to travel. I won’t be able to go walking, hiking in Austria when this cancer part over. I may never be able to leave this house. Those were my darkest and blackest thoughts. It seemed unbearable and I wished I would just die.

I also took a break from Facebook. Couldn’t deal with people’s petty, little problems. Talking about if they couldn’t find the perfect, water proof mascara, that this would RUIN their day. That was the last straw. I know that this is not their fault. They just do their lives. But, when one battles on so many fronts, this was just too much.

Other people just stay away. Don’t even visit or call. I am ‘pruning’ my frienship tree as well.

I sat on the couch, took some ‘puff’s of my vapor marijuana’ so I could just calm down. Had a fitful night.

I had an appointment with my Foot Therapist early in the morning. I ranted and complained about not knowing what ‘this’ was and what to do? Where to go?

He looked at me thoughtfully and said, ‘I think, I know what it is you have. Give me a few minutes to research’.

He came back with some medical research. ‘Here, he said, this is what you probably have.

ATYPICAL INTERMITTENT CLAUDICATION.

What? What? What the hell is that??

‘Claudication or limping . The Term is associated with the Roman Emperor Claudius, who was notably lame. As a medical term it refers to a cramplike pain in one or both legs, which developes on walking and may eventually cause a limp.

The usual cause of claudication is typically that theyhave to stop walking a set distance because of pain in the calves. After a short rest, they may be able to walk another few steps. This is called Intermittent Claudication.

A rarer cause is spinal stenosis (narrowing of the canal carrying the spinal cord, causing pressure on the nerve roots that pass into either leg.

My cause is different, that’s why it’s ‘atypical’ but the end effect is the same. With me, it’s the tumor that’s pressing on the aorta and restricting the bloo flow.

Oh, my goodness. That’s IT, I said. I was so relieved that ‘it’ had a name and a starting point for me to research and get help. He gave me some pills “Argenine Plus’, which is a cardiovascular aid. I looked at that little, brown bottle as if it were Manna itself.

I took 2 Pills that Friday without noticing anything but then, it was to soon.

Meanwhile, my best and childhood friend had flown in and what a rock she is. We met in Kindergarten, in Germany 60+ years ago and went through all the trials and tribulations good, bad and horrid times. No matter what, she’s always there. I was soo glad to see her.

Saturday morning we got ready to do some shopping and I stopped at the bank to get a few dollars. I came back out and as I approached the car, suddenly I noticed I was ‘running’!! My usual fast stride. Ohh, I cried out loud, ‘did you see me? Did you see me running?’ Tears yet again. Joyous ones. Once, the pills wear off, then it’s the same but in between, I can almost walk normal. So. I am hoping that with the next 2-3 chemo’s that sucker in there, is GONE!!

Then, finally the book which my son had ‘ghost written’ came out. That was a proud moment. ‘The Cat Whisperer’, by Mieshelle Nagelschneider My ex-daughter in law. A beautiful and great expert on cat behavior.

Next book? “Camino not Chemo.” Maybe not that title but our adventures. Cameron will unveil the new working title soon.

Tomorrow is chemo day. Friends are coming with me. My relief and new hope were so enormous, that I planned and had a wonderful Lunch for friends and my son on Sunday.

The worst nightmare in recent history is receding. THANK GOD!

Goldilocks no more.

Posted on March 17, 2013 by admin

As the days were bumping along and I was just about to catch my emotional equilibrium, there came the next surprise, courtesy of chemo.

Went to take shower and got my stuff ready and shampooed my hair, when I felt something weird and unsusual in my hand, as I wiped the soap out of my eys and looked, there it was. A whole big fist full of hair.

Now, of course I knew this was going to happen and I had told Cameron, that I would definitely lose my hair ( I remember saying that this would happen in 3 weeks and 20 minutes) but he had said, ‘you don’t know that. Maybe it’s different this time.’ Cancer people cling to every little lie. So. No matter what you tell yourself and how strong one deals with this, when hair loss happens, many say, it’s the toughest part of chemo. It’s tied in with the little girl brushing her dolls hair, her friends hair, the dog’s hair. It’s having good and bad hair days, when just a few strands look out of place. It can ruin the first good moments in the morning, when after gel and curls and spray, the outcome is not what people expect. So very much is tied up in hair, or the lack of it. The feminin thing. Guys always look good bald. Hair is overrated.

And so, I stood there with water running furiously, and sobbed. I felt very vulnerable, exposed and naked. Eye lashes will follow and brows as well. Well meaning people say, oh, it’ll grow back’ and they have so many new things now’. Others, who had cancer previously would say, Just embrace your baldness’. But, we must be allowed to moarn. It’s not business as usual. There’s no strength that lasts 24/7. No matter how old you get, you want your mother at this point. A pain that runs that deep that it goes all the way back to childhood and needing that comfort. (Besides, I already embraced it once, with grace.)

I had asked my Ovarian Cancer Support Group, what it was that they wished people would NOT say to them. Here, some of the comments. When you want pople to hear you and not for them to keep saying how strong you are. When people dismiss their feelings because they don’t like having to comfort. When they say, ohh, you look so good. Which is quite suspect because, how on earth did I look before this? They are also annoyed because they do not want to talk about cancer all the time. Or, that someone elses’ grandmother’s brother’s cousin had this cancer. They don’t want to hear every cancer story in the universe. Meanwhile we do stay strong because there’s not much else to be. Once in a while, you just want someone to take your hand and tell you, ‘it’ll be alright’.

Thank you, Sue for your warmth and wonderful comforting e-mail.

When I had sufficiently gathered myself, I thought I would like to walk to the Post Office. Had to return the wig, that my daughter chose because it was too narrow, too tight and the color did nothing for my face.

I was about a block and half, when the pain in my upper thighs was so severe and felt like they weigh 50 lbs each, that they just went out from under me and here I sat on the street. Forget the hair. THIS was serious. If I can’t walk, then we have a huge problem. Since it was right by my Beauty shop, I was helped and sat on their chair to collect myself but then it was just too much and a torrent of tears came unbidden.

I remember when I had the frog ‘Timothy’ in my throat while walking the camino at certain times. Here he was back. I just could not talk. My Beautician offered to do my mailing for me as well as re-do my wig from last time. I also found a few scarves/turbans. They sure got expensive. Up to $30.00 each. Everyone cashing in on cancer.

My neighbors saw me come back and came to check on me, since they had not seen me. No word was needed, they just enveloped me in a big hug and told me how much they cared.

My good friend Peggie came by to cheer me up and took me to a new wig shop. I didn’t even know we had one right on Main Street. I’d tried a few on and chose a blond one, that they all really liked on me. ( My daughter said, do NOT get blond.’ Sorry, Sweetie. There just isn’t anything else that looks decent.)

My friend Silke came to take me to foot therapy. This is called ‘Sympathetic Therapy’. I like that name and it really helps with neuropathy.

Yesterday, a gray and dismal day but here again, my friends show up. Peggie took me for a walk while we had ten minutes of sun and then, my favorite Mike came with wife Jodi and son. They brought chicken and we spend a few very nice hours. Thank you. This means a LOT.

I am alright now. Got over the hair-thing. Come Monday, I’ll call my Oncologist to find out what this weirdness is in my legs.

Then, I’ll find out how many chemo’s she thinks I should have.

After Chemo..

Posted on March 10, 2013 by admin

The cancer ward at St. Mary’s is a depressing place. Not one little, ol’ plant. No nice, soothing colors. Nothing to feast the eye on. There’s a row of Lazy-Boy chairs against the walls and that’s it. Nurse’s station in front. When I remarked on the bleakness of it, one Nurse said, that as soon as it’s nice, one could go outside. (What to do in winter months?)

Once we came home, I rested since it was somewhat tiring. I was a bit apprehensive waiting for the second day ‘boom’. I was on tenderhooks to see if this awful nausea would appear. I was given prescription and instructions how to take them. Compazine at bed time and Zofran in the morning. In between I would take some Marijuana as I’m always worried about side effects from pills. I only felt a small ‘tinge’ of nausea which disappeared later on.

It went pretty well, I must say. NOTHING like the first time, when they threw the whole chemo truck at me.

Friends came with soups and flowers and warm hugs. Took me for walks to get things moving. That is the challenge now. This awful constipation caused by chemo. By the time it’s finally working, then it’s time for the next chemo. I thought a bit ahead and took a softener and small laxative on the day of the 2nd chemo. I figured by the time it would shut down, I would be a little ahead. As well as eating Prunes. My Oncologist advised that I should drink warm prune juice, first thing in the morning. Well! I don’t think so. That is truly a horrible thing to do. My gag reflexes work very well on that one.

When Tuesday came for 2nd chemo, Cameron drove me to Grand Junction. Blood draw and waiting for Lab results before going in to be attached. This time, there were quite a few people there, a lot of them, men. Older and younger.

Cameron and I worked on the ‘Camino Book’ until I fell asleep. (He had ghost written a book with his ex-wife, which is now on Sale everywhere. ‘The Cat Whisperer’ by Mieshelle Nagelschneider. A truly fantastic book for any and all cat problems. Without Cameron though, this would have never taken place. Even though he was barely mentioned, we know of his contribution and efforts. )

Two days after chemo, there were the first signs of ‘side effects’. Almost nauseous. No appetite and tired. Joint pains and Neuropathy on my foot soles. Those are like electric currents of shooting pains. I am going to have treatments for that. There are pills and good creams but who can afford it? Medicare does not pay for that.

My dearest friend, since childhood (now, over 60 years of great friendship) called and told me she was coming to visit. I am soo happy. There’s nothing like a good, ol’ friend who knows you inside out and still likes you.

Friends ask me, what can I do for you? I am so very lucky and blessed by so many wonderful people in my life. My neighbor, Rob who comes to my aid, no matter what it would be. Small repairs and taking care of the garbage to the curb. My favorite Mike, who comes and checks on me, texts funny stuff and repairs bigger things but also giving me his friendship along with that of his wife and son. Then, a aprade of wonderful friends. My Bonnie, who comes like clock work each Tuesday, either to take me out or brings food and good cheer in.

Yesterday, my friend Monika came with good soup and a few grocery items, instead of flowers. (Thank you.)

When people are sick, there are a few things which would really perk them up. These are my suggestions and thoughts. A gift certificate for a pedicure, massage or Accupuncture. A few could get together and pitch in, that way it’s not so costly for one person. As I look around the house, even though it’s fairly clean, there are things left behind. Just don’t have the energy or I am near nausea and have to keep still so as not to invite it in. A gift certificate for house cleaning would be awesome. My friend Inge B. showed up yesterday with a Orchid plant, fresh, organic strawberries and a British movie.

This is a very expensive illness. Even with GOOD Insurance, which I don’t have. I am constantly stuggeling to make ends meet.

My friend Berle made an awesome Ginger veggie soup with chicken ‘meat balls’. My friend Lynne came with a very good carrot-ginger soup. My little buddy comes, just to be near and we watch companiable T.V. So far, so good. I have now 3 good days before next chemo and then I have 1 week off. I going to ask how many chemo’s my Onc has in mind. I would agree to six or eight but NOT 20!! It’s too soon to test the effectiveness, so I don’t know what the numbers are.

(I try to write with minimal mistakes/typos. But, I did notice that when ‘chemo brain’ happens, things get fuzzy and sometimes, I cannot recall a word or know how to spell it, whereas before, there was no problem. So, for those mistakes I appologize.)

I aslo want to thank the people who send uplifting e-mails and comments. Most of them, I have never met but you must know how much this is helping.

Port and Chemo

Posted on March 1, 2013 by admin

February 22nd was a cold and snowy day. My friend Lynne came to pick me up and drove to Grand Junction. I was extremely anxious. The whole idea about insertion of Port and then Chemo, was a hrash tig to swallow. During the ride I made liberal use of my MJ.

The day before my little buddy and Annika came to visit. Their mom had just told them about my situation. When I opened the door, I saw the solemn faces and the minute they came in, started to cry. I asked what was the matter and he said;” I am so sad’. I patted the couch beside me and told him to come sit. I actually put him on my lap and held him as he cried and being scared for me. I told him, that even though this was not what I had wanted or planned on, it would be alright. That I would do all I could to get well and he could help me.

I saw Annika sitting there, crying as well and I told her how I remembered the last time, when she was only 3 years old. She had asked me, if she could see my bald head. I said, sure and took my wig off. Ever so tenderly she touched my head and petted softly, saying “awww.’ Brought tears. She said, she remembers it too.

Blood pressure was still 159! I asked Nurse, who approached with IV, if she was any good with inserting the same. She said, ‘yes’. Well, she lied. It took her several tries and finally called someone else.

As we were waiting to be wheeled into OR, there came the ominous ‘Code Blue’ over speakers. Not something you want to hear before going in.

The surgeon came to talk with me and to explain procedure. Tears came unbidden and this Doctor said to me:’ We don’t force anyone to do this. If you don’t want to continue, then we’ll call Dr. M and tell her you want to stop.” Well, being chided was not what I would expect. Do they not teach compassion 101 anymore? But, I can imagine if you put people through like cattle, there’s not much left. I told him, that I’d only had 3 days to get used to this whole thing. It was also, the inevetability of it. That nothing would stop this now. That after 3 years of out running chemo, there it was.

The Twilight sleep was very nice. I did feel gentle pulling on my upper chest but no pain. Afterwards, I was starved and we went to lunch.

Next anticipation was the dreaded chemo. Cameron came Monday afternoon to take me next morning to GJ. I woke early, as usual and when I looked out the window, fat, thick snowflakes and everything white. Geez. What else? We had a white-out as well but got there very punctual.

One of my support group ladies had told me to have a cream (Lidocaine) prescribed, which goes on top of the port, so that way I would not even feel the ‘Poke’. Anything I can have and take and do to minimize the trauma, I will. (Got me a MJ refill and I used that a lot as well.)

Nurses in the chemo ward, were not sure about this protocol but I told them since it is NOT smoke, I would use it. The ward itself could use some nice paint and some greenery. Some pictures and ‘warmth’. Very generic and blah. Had some very nice and compassionate Volunteers. Ready to give you anything you’d want. Among a few documents I received a beautiful quilt. Sewn by Lutheran church ladies. I must send them a nice card. I was very touched.

Then it was time for all the ‘liquids’ to be hung. Saline, Carboplatin, Toxil. I worked very hard not to resist. For that chemo to come in and do it’s job. My Onc promised I would not get sick. She said, ‘I know you’ll be pleased how easy this will be, this time.” I assured her that I really wanted to believe.

We came home right after chemo. In the back of my mind, I was wondering if I can really go past the nausea which was soo very debilitating, the last time. I had prescriptions for anti nausea but 20 pills are $91.00 so I’d left them there. Cameron said, no, I’ll get them for you, in case you need them. Plus he bought all supersize Miralax and Softeners, etc. (That has been more miserable than anything else. To be in that situation again, after I’d just got everything to work normal.)

This morning, now 2 days after chemo, just a tiny bit nauseous but immediately took a pill.

Now, waiting for Tuesday and round two.

I do want to say a few words about the great social media, when it’s used to the good. I have so many, many people, most whom I’ve never met and don’t know personally, wishing me well, cheering me on and supportive with words and deeds.

Now, that the decision has been made, I’ll try not to whine or become a Prima Donna!

My daughter picked out two very nice wigs and I shall order those.

GOTCHA!!

Posted on February 21, 2013 by admin

After that little pondering session in my last post, I was still clueless about what might come, running over me like a dump truck.

I was waiting for the doctor to call with results but figured what with the weekend and then a holiday, it might be Tuesday before I would know.

Sunday, early afternoon, I was watching this great show on T.V. when the phone rang. Unsuspecting of anything, only mildly curious who it might be (I canceled caller ID since it’s over $10.00 a mos.), I heard a long-forgotten voice of my former local doctor. He asked pleasantly how I was doing. He’d given up Private Practise to work at the hospital, so I didn’t even know he was still involved but then, he been still listed as my Primary Physician and he got the results. He always works on weekends at the office, clearing things up.

He told me, he as looking at the result and it was NOT good. At this point, my breathing became shallow. He continued to say that the tumor had increased and pressing on that veine and it would cut off my blood supply to legs. Worse, the return of said blood supply would be near impossible and legs would fill with fluidds and that would be disastrous. My CA 125 blood test had risen to 159. Nearly 2.5 times higher than previous. Alright! He now had not only my attention, he had me scared to death. All I could think of was: I already booked a flight to Seattle and then a flight (with frequent flyer miles) to Germany.

He said I could not go because this tumor was creating big problems and I had new ‘spots’ on my lung and liver. He urged me to have chemo. He said that I would be fine, that a lot was different than last time. That I was in good shape and that my Immune system was great and I could live ‘forever’. (Now there’s a lie 🙂 I said I didn’t want to live forever but a little longer.

When we hung up, I was shaking and my brain was truly fuzzy. I nearly hyperventilated with fear of CHEMO! I called my son who told me he would come.

I cancelled my flights, barely being able to talk. I thought I was in a real dangerous place and my system kicked in with that ‘flight for life’ response. Only, I wanted to run away. (Yea. And then what??)

Cameron arrived and then called Oncologist’s answering service for her to give us a call back.

I called my family and told them I could not come after all. Set off this upsetting motion.

Mom listens to her oncologist, Dr. Melancon

Then everything went very fast. Hardly time to think. Met with the Oncologist Tuesday, early morning. When she came in, the first thing she said, was “Who scared you to death?”

Although things do need to be dealt with, she was NOT as dire as my local doctor made things out to be. I was really angry that I fell for this, in the end. He’s been trying to scare me into chemo for nearly 3 years and now, that’s where we are. But, for these reasons. The tumor on that vein does need to go. We can’t do any other localized treatment because there are a few spots and they need to be gotten at once. I do not want to have to worry about this on and on and on. She promised that this would be ‘gentler’. Funny, that. To use in the same sentence as ‘chemo’. We will do a lower dose of carboplatin and Toxil, same stuff I had last time. Once a week but for longer. I ‘may’ have constipation or diarrhea. I may be nauseated, I may get neuropathy (very painful) but all in all I will be fine! (In what way has chemo changed?? Sounds like the same horrible side effects I had!) Except this timeI have marijuana for the nausea. A few, little pills she had called in are $91.00. Pot is cheaper, better with no side effects. It is a NATURAL plant.

I had finally got the Diverticulosis under control where everything worked well. But, I do have pains in my lower back now, where tumor sits. So, I am now symptomatic. This bitter cup does not pass me by. I can’t be ignoring things just because I want it to be different. Could I have waited another few months? Possibly but then, perhaps would have had more unpleasantness to deal with.

Friends are gathering with their love and support, like a beautiful coat. My son will be

Carrie and Mom reunite for another camino, or path

here this time to help as well.

But look, I say. How many things I have done those last 3 years, while running away from chemo? Germany, Holland Venice. The following year, Camino de Santiago. Wow! Would have never done this except for cancer. Cameron says, there will be another camino now. The North Route. It’s just as long, perhaps even a little longer. But, I don’t have to do the whole thing.

I am calmer now that the decision is made. At the same time, I started to juice Marijuana leaves. Went to Dispensary and got me some fresh leaves. I washed them and juiced them with a little apple juice to sweeten the bitter taste. Only a couple of ounces. I would have needed 40 days for this treatment. There are lots of great testimonials about this.

I made a wholesome Lentil stew with Kale leaves. Then drank my juice. It was pleasant. The name not so much. This strain is called “Agent Orange’. Good thing I am not superstitious.

So family and friends, we have started a new journey. A detour I had not planned and am so reluctant to go. But, I can’t fight the chemo otherwise it’ll be that much harder to tolerate. Friday morning I will go to the hospital to have to port placed (in my chest.) They put you into a Twilight sleep, as they do with Colonoscopies. Tuesday then, is my first chemo.’

( It occurred to me, that maybe I need to change blog name? camino not chemo only fitted for 3 years.. Now, that I have to have it, what name can I choose?)

Green light for Green Juice

Posted on February 17, 2013 by admin

The last few weeks have been mostly uneventful. (Aside from whining silently as everyone, including myself is getting tired of the ‘same ol’ thing.’

There were also some pleasant days. When Rebecca and her friend came to visit. When we celebrated my son’s birthday. When I received a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from my friend Peggie. When friends just dropped by…. because. And, when my granddaughter send loving messages on FB.

Then came the appointment at the Cancer Center. CT scan and CA 125, last Wednesday. I am just a little anxious as I had not had a CT scan in 7 month. Strange pains in the back, in the abdomen. But, I don’t think it would help to get appointment with doc. What would they say? Unless we could look inside, they wouldn’t know. I don’t want drugs, so, I use my stand by heating pad. (I already burned up one and my Beanie bag as well.)

Still wake up, each night out of sound sleep, due to harsh, abdominal pain. I wanted to get off the Ibuprofen but can’t quite manage without any pain med.

Meanwhile, some other exciting things have happen. I was invited to fly to Seattle to help an aquaintance manage his health problems/ weight loss, etc. They are very interested how to do this Lifstyle ‘diet’ I’ve been on. Although I have been somewhat lax with it, due to Diverticulosis. So, soon I’ll be doing just that. It will help me to restart too.

I thought, I would wait until I had the results of theses tests to decide whether I could go to Germany. I have some frequent flyer miles and wanted to know the value. I called UA and got ahold of a very nice, young man who checked and worked on a good deal. He then told me, I had enough miles for a Round trip. I was ecstatic and told him to go ahead and book. Especially, when he told me that the miles would expire in March. Lucky call. So. I decided I would go, no matter what the results were. If they were not good, I’d go because I wouldn’t know when I could go again. If they are good, I’d go anyway. So, I’m going. Running away again.

I am also lucky to have good friends and neighbors who help with house and plants and stuff.

While I am researching all the time for new options or treatments, I came across the newest Marijuana treatment. To juice the leaves. Each day drink some juice. It is purported that this would kill the cancer cells without harming healthy cells. Shrink and or destroy tumors. NO side effects. (Unlike chemo!!) One could also use the fresh leaves in a salad. One does NOT have to smoke it. Many, new options. There are many testimonials reporting this awesome success.

I’ve read in the newspaper that a lady, who is suffering from debilitating Fibromyalgia, tried marijuana pills. It stated, that she was (as are many) reluctant to try this because of the ‘stigma’ but has not had any uniterrupted sleep in years and the pain was getting worse. Well, she came back to the Dispensary the next day, in tears and ever so grateful as she had had her FIRST good night’s sleep.

It’s really unfortunate that Medicare would pay for devastating chemo, approximately $5000.00 EACH to the tune of $30,0000 for the course of treatment but not for marijuana juice that’s much cheaper and harmless.

I am starting next week. Another adventurous decision and becoming my own ‘Guinea Pig’. It sure appeals to me a LOT more than the thought of chemo and /or radiation which would destroy my colon among other vital things. I am optimistic that it will help. I definitely will let you know. We will have plenty of P.E.T scans and CT scans and blood test to compare.

Any feed back?

A most amazing gift…

Posted on January 12, 2013 by admin

Several weeks have past since I had anything to post. Various reasons. My health condition was the same and to whine about it seemed pointless. Epecially in the face of ‘Sandy’ and Newtown shooting. Compared to these horriffic disasters, I’d feel guilty posting something so trivial.

Christmas was a quiet affair. My daughter and grand children could not come and therefor I did not even decorate. Aside from one, tiny, fake tree in my living room, on the small corner table top. Cameron came from Telluride and we were invited to friend’s house on Christmas eve. I’d offered to cook. (Menu: Smoked Salmon roses with capers and lemon. Beet salad. Then, Champignon pork loin with bavarian bread dumplings and red cabbage in red wine. Chocolate Mousse with raspberry coulis for dessert. Hmmm. Good.) Nice conversation and cozy.

Just on cue, when we left it was snowing. Large, soft flakes. Lovely. Cameron was invited at a friend’s house in Telluride for Christmas dinner and so he left early that day. I went out to shovel snow. I went to my little buddy’s home for christmas dinner. His grandparents had come from Utah. Beautiful table setting and very nice dinner and talk.

I have often talked about my ‘little buddy’ but seldom about his older sister, Annika. The reason being, that in the past few years I’ve hardly seen her. School, extra curricular activities, friends and out of town sports made it nearly impossible to catch her. She’s very bright, excells in school subjects and sports… and gorgeous. I sure missed her but this is how it goes when they start to grow up.

After dinner, they both gave me a lovely, silver- heart necklace and I was touched.

As I got ready to leave, Annika came downstairs with a red folder, which she handed to me. I opened it a littleand just saw my name in fat, black lettering. I wasn’t quite sure what it said but I wanted to read it at home. So I did. And, became a total puddle. Even at the chance that this will make it a bit long, I want to share this extraordinary gift. I’d received a few, touching poignant cards, letters over the years form my family and grand children but this is the very best from a ‘non-relative’. (Except related by heart, as they say. And there it is:

“INGE”

Throughout my life I have been positively impacted by many people, non so much as my beloved Inge. She has been with me for nearly all my life, and without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. She has inspired me persevere through the hardest of things, and to try my hardest to achieve my highest standards. She taught me the courage to stand up for my beliefs and opened my eyes to new experiences. Inge is caring, she is selfless and she is determined.

Some have to try to be caring, but for Inge it comes naturally. It is a cring so honest and sweet, as well as comforting and protecting. It is something only Inge is able to create. For my little brother and I she has been our base. She is someone that can always be relied on. When I went out to try something new, I could always count on her loving arms to be there for me if I stumbled along. I remember being sick; her caring hands spooning me tea and broth as she nursed me back to health. Even with her kids grown and gone she always had that motherly touch that I still hold so dearly. Inge was a huge part in my growing up. In a world where people fall unknown and lost she made me feel important. She made me feel as if I were part of something bigger than just Montrose.

Never in my entire life have I met a more determined person than Inge. She has endeavored the most horriffic misfortunes and every time she is able to pull through and remain the strong, beautiful woman I hold so dearly. She has overcome cancer and other health complications without giving up or losing sight of her goals. When Inge sets her mind to something, it is accomplished. No matter the difficulty of the task or the obstacles that are thrown at her along the way. Inge never fails to impress me. She is an inspiration to me, to my family, and all the citizens of Montrose who know her. Her endurance and determination are truly unique. No matter what it is, Inge will overcome.

To put everyone before yourself, to give what you have to others, and to be able to care about the needs of others even when your needs are far greater is something that very few people posses. This influence is selflessness and it is something that Inge displays every day. She cares about everyone, and no matter her condition she is always willing to lend a helping hand. Inge is a supportive, kind caring and non-selfish friend. She gives everything she has to make others happy. Amazing people like her are very hard to come by and I am so fortunaten to have her in my life.

I have grown up with Inge. She’s seen me learn to read, learn to play sports, learn to sing, and she has seen me growing up. She has always been by my side through all the ups and downs and I am eternally grateful for this. An anonymous person once stated, “To the world you might just be one person, but to one person you might just be the world.” Inge has been a huge part of my world ever since I can first remember. All my life I have wished to myself to grow up and be like Inge. I wished to grow up to be a strong, caring, determined, courageous, selfless woman just like Inge. She is my role model and a huge positive influence for me. I will always strive to be more like Inge”.

Can you imagine how I felt reading this? My heart beat like a drum. There is not enough gold, nor diamonds to compare in value. This is the BEST medicine I could ever have received. And, it humbles me, to be so large in a ‘child’s life. She used this as a school project. I know she got an A. But aside of being the focus of her story, it is wonderfully well written. I have been fortunate as well to be allowed in her (and brother’s) life, for 11 years now. She was 2 and a half when we met. Annika. You are my heart ‘child.’

Finally, Diagnosis.

Posted on November 13, 2012 by admin

As days went by, in October, I was just holding on to make appointment. After the 6 week wait, then finally the day to meet with Gastroenterologist. Nice doctor but no help. Expectation fizzled. We talked about health background and what he would suggest. Which was, to wait for Colonoscopy result and go from there. (Waited SIX weeks for that.)

I ‘almost’ looked forward to that procedure as it would give answers to a host of problems I did NOT want. i.e. colon cancer? (I’ve had some cancer cells on the sigmoid colon in 2001.)

On the day of procedure, I was, unaccountably weepy. I can only guess that I had had my fill of needles, hopsitals and mis-diagnosis. This journey to run down the source of maddening pain took its toll. Not only in misery but cost.

Nursing care was excellent and compassionate as they handed me kleenex and told me not to worry about having these emotions to begin with. Procedure itself was uneventful. (Had more problems with the ‘cleansing’ and drinking 64 oz of horrid stuff.)

Was just a bit groggy coming out of anesthesia and then dressed to go home. They gave me the discharge sheet and the nurse pointed to it and said:” Looks like you have some Diverticulosis.’ I said, WHAT? She pointed to the attached photos from internal colon and sure enough, here, for all the world to see, pockets!

After ALL that time and seeing primary doc twice and E.R. doc, etc. and YET they were all wrong. I just shook my head. But, finally had a diagnosis and a name. Once you know your enemy, you can map out a strategy. I started with renewed vigor to research and learn everything I could about this, very common disease. Which amazed me even more, that the medical PROFESSIONALS missed it. Each and every time, I recounted the symptoms. I was very precise in giving them the place, the pain, the feeling.

I started to eat differently, once again with the help of my German cookbook. YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT. I re-read the book about cause and cure of Immune illness. I know that I have to go to the source of the illness, not mask it with pills and stuff. I’ve tried to impart this research and what I’ve learned with some friends but they are resistant. Rather go along with their disease than TRY something for only 2 mos. I don’t understand it. They must like where they are.

I had a lovely respit time in Telluride. The weather was gorgeous and invited to go for walks. But, since I still have bowel issues, I couldn’t go far. I have to map my walks according to bathroom availability. More difficult now since the Public restrooms are closed for winter.

Now, the next test that came up was my CA-125 cancer test. I had not had one in nearly 6 mos. Understandably I was anxious to see what that result would be. What with all the inflammations, infections and trauma my body went through since the surgeries. Stess too and all of that can very well change the outcome.

When I had not heard anything a few days later, I called and got the result. So, it is 62. (Normal range is 0-32). Last time, it was 68. When I had cancer in 2001, stage III the number was 29!!) So, not very reliable. Which means, yes, there is still cancer but it has NOT changed. Despite all of that, it’s still sitting still. What a glorious day and what a fine Thanksgiving this will be. I wish I could have all of my family here to celebrate. Will have this test every few months to keep taps on it.

I am so glad that doc was wrong again, when he kept saying: ‘It’s not Diverticulitis, it’s the CANCER!”

Hopefully, I get on top of things and can enjoy future days and travel. For a while I had nearly given up visions of travel because I could not imagine, going anywhere with that awful pain. Now, I hope to go to Austria, Germany, in Spring.( While I can before something else falls apart. )

Hope very much that I can now write about different and better things than boring pain and long journey to find cause.

Really grateful to my son, unwavering by my side. As is my daughter through concerned calls and her love. My granddaughter who writes beautiful, loving notes. My friends, who did not desert me when I whined and complained but took me out, or stayed in and brought food when pain was so bad I could not move. (You are a Gem, Bonnie.) And then, my favorite Mike who came and repaired things and visited with wife and son. Indeed grateful and lucky to have this extented family.

More E.R.- More questions

Posted on October 27, 2012 by admin

I know it’s been over a month since my last entry. I’ve had technical difficulties with log in etc. Writing this on my old, little lap top and hope it will hold on. The other reason was, that being in constant pain just does not translate into excitement to write, or sit. I was getting grouchy and irritable. ‘I’ve had enough’, I would yell.

Since last month, not much had changed healthwise. Constant pain and sliding into depression as I had seen Doc twice but no answers and no suggestions. Meanwhile, Cameron had decided to rent an apartment in beautiful Telluride. He had not ewanted to leave until we would know what was the matter with me. Not far from here but having his own space and different places to go and climb, write, meet and visit people. Also, to give me a place to come to and relax, having a bit of a respit from this nightmare.

First, there was another visit to the E.R. I was doubled over in pain but refused to take ‘Narcotics’ as the following constipation (even taking all sorts of help) was just as, if not more painful than the actual pain. ER doc respected my wishes not to give morphine (or others) and I received IV Ibuprofen which did help. Also had a CT scan. Upon reading the results he said, that there was NO sign of Diverticulitis!! Instead, his diagnosis was: Retro peritoneal Fibrosis. Huh? Meaning, way back in my abdomen there were adhesions. So. Nothing new, only different language for the same thing, for which I’ve had 2 surgeries. Meanwhile, since I had no idea what to do, I had written the German Professor an e-mail. Just as many times before, this busy man answered right away with suggestions, empathy and up lifting support. (Have I mentioned that he’s the only one NOT getting paid??)

Made an appointment with surgeon. Cameron went with me. She was puzzled as to what could be the source as well. But, no answers as I have to see the Gastroenterologist. (Finally, after 6 weeks waiting, it’ll be Oct. 30th.) Then, Nov. I will have a colonoscopy and after that, cancer test. If things have changed surgeon said, I may have to have radiation. (Maybe back to Cyberknife as they only radiated the ‘spot’ and not the whole abdomen with the danger of burning bowels.) I am not ready nor wiling to get a ‘bag.’

I went to Telluride the first weekend after Cameron had the Apartment. Lovely place and all furnished with a nice kitchen, two generous bedrooms, a large, sunny window with breath taking views of the mountains. Nice living room and dining area. The drive was beautiful through autumn colored forests. The town has quaint shops and Cafe’s. Lots of great places to walk. (Only parking seems to be a problem.) Of course I went shopping for groceries right away. Slow going with altitude being over 8000 feet. (I remembered my discharge instructions which noted: Avoid high altitude places.) ha. Didn’t seem to matter whether I was ‘high or low’ the pain the same.

I belong to an online Ovarian cancer support group. You probably have not seen the color of that ribbon. It’s Teal. It gets so lost in the sea of PINK and breasts. I posted about the malady and what I could do. Prompt reply from several ‘sisters’. It seems a very simplistic treatment but I was willing to try anything. A piece of Flannel dregded with Castor Oil, then a heating pad. I did this for a week. Heat feels very good on the spot anyway. Two days ago, when I woke up I had a strange sensation. Could not figure it out right away, then I knew. NO PAIN!! I could not believe it. I didn’t dare to get up right away for fear it may return but when I did, I only felt a tiny ‘twinge’. I was elated, hoping for perhaps an hour or two. Well, I got a whole day of this priceless gift. NOTHING compares to the absence of pain. I did some cleaning, laundry, shopping, writing and walking. It was also enough time to pick up some renewed hope which had fallen around my knees. It does spring eternal.

Yesterday, was not as good but also not as bad. I am also taking mineral baths with a whole host of different salts and additives. The other new thing is a new marijuana device and cartridge. No more Bong and no more smoking, which I detest. It burned my throat and my lungs. This one looks like an e-cigarette holder and it’s vapors only. No smell (which I dislike) and no going outside in the middle of the night. Between these 3 new treatments, any one could’ve made the difference but I’m not going to analyze. I am just so very happy to have less pain right now. I am still taking Ibuprofen (600 mg) but no other drugs. I have also been on many of my friends’ prayer list and credit those as well.

Hopefully submitting myself to all these tests will bring answers. I KNOW there is ‘something’. It could be ‘just’ more scar tissue (adhesions) but I think it’s too isolated. It could be a crimped colon or maybe it twisted? Well, I can guess as good as the docs. As I’m writing this, the pain is returning. Crap. Well now. We just have to wait and see. I had told the surgeon that she had better get me well so I can go to Europe in Spring, actually what I’d said was: ‘Come hell or high water.’ Neither one would be advisable.

Up-Down-Sideways

Posted on September 23, 2012 by admin

Mom, “bonging and banging”

Another one of Colorado’s beautiful Fall days. Colors are just at the right Peak and I miss the picture posting function. It stopped working when computer crashed due to virus.

Not much difference to report since last posting. I am just trying to breath and eat. I’ve lost more weight since I have so little appetite. The days run into each other with the same complaint. Pain, nausea, constipation if I take meds, doubling over if I don’t.

The only thing that helps is Marijuana. I still don’t like to smoke it. I don’t like the smell of it, the taste of it so in this sense it’s not enjoyable. BUT, after four puffs, the nausea is gone. A little later, I feel hungry and so I hurry to prepare something that I find interesting enough to eat. It’s a challenge. Portion size has decreased dramatically. Sometimes, I crave ‘junk food’. (Let me state here quickly, that the idea with Baby food did not work. It’s awful. Salt-free, taste-free and just plumb boring. I remember now why babies spit and we unrelentingly scoop up the bits and re-enter it, making plane or car noises. ) I thought I could invent a really good diet for this Diverticulosis but it’s different from person to person.

I decided to ignore my local doc’s advice to forgo Gastroenterologist. I need someone to help me and I need answers. On the last visit he repeated that he thinks it’s the cancer and I should have oral chemo.

Knowing how nauseated I am already this idea is the last thing I want to have reality. Talk about SICK!! There are no Gastroenterologists in this town and so I made an appointment in Grand Junction. Of course, being a new patient, I have to wait until the last of October to get in.

When I wake up, the first thing I check is whether I’m nauseous. The other day, it was really bad and the first thing I did was to go outside and have some marijuana. That stopped the nausea immediately and then I could breath. I experiment with food. Liquid, soft, then more fiber. Doesn’t seem to matter much. It’s really depressing that as a chef I now find food repulsing a lot of the time. When I do manage to eat, it seems to go right through me.

Yesterday, I walked a few blocks to visit the annual Pow-Wow. I sat there and listenend to the strong pounding of the drums and the singing-chanting. Beautiful, colorful regalia of the dancers. Hopefully, today we will see the gorgeous fall colors.

Cameron is getting ready to leave soon and I am torn as I am so used to him being here, especially at night. I know I will miss him terribly but, he has a life and must be able to have some more fun things to do, than listen to me retch.

Missed my grandson’s 9th birthday and the distance seems longer each year. I am delighted by his intelligence, good grades (looks) and now football. I miss hugging him.

Finally!! Discovery of pain source.

Posted on September 5, 2012 by admin

For the last couple of weeks I felt very sick. Nauseous nearly every day, all day. No appetite and still this horrid pain. After these TWO surgeries and now still..

I’d called Dr.’s office in Grand Junction and got the nurse, who said I should make an appointment with my Doc here, as surgeon is on vacation.

The day of the appointment was a particular bad one and I just could not sit still. I was soo sick I was afraid I’d vomit after every second breath. I could not find joy in anything. It was simply too far away. Cameron went with me just in case I’d pass out.

I told Dr. of all these things. We asked if this could be Diverticulitis but dismissed it after he said that I was on a good diet. When I had researched this malady, I was puzzled how I could have this when I walked, ate healthy, etc. Research states that Diverticulitis comes with a ‘typical American diet’. Little or no fiber, couch potato. That was not me. Dr. was going to rule out Diverticulitis and said, there were so many other things that ‘could be wrong’. Also, that he was not very happy that I don’t have chemo. He gave me a copy of the pathology report whic states the existence of ‘mucinous cancer cells present’.

I remember telling him (and my two other doctors) that ‘if the appendix were on the left side, this would be the very spot of the horrid pain and it feels like someone was stabbing me.’ Also, the lack of appetite.

We were all so concentrated on the scar tissue/adhesions, that everything else went by the wayside. One must remember that I am NOT a doctor.

I went home and even though had doubts, started to research many web sites on this disease. Came across one particular one from University of Freiburg/Germany. What caught my eye and got my attention was the describtion of the symptoms. ‘ Patients will complain of severe pain in the left, lower abdomen. Often they will say: If my appendix were on the left side, this would be the source of the pain. It also feels like someone is stabbing me.’

These two symptoms are the most important to recognize and any good doctor, who listens, will be able to diagnose. Diverticulitis is an Auto Immune disease like fibromyalgia and many others, when there are small pouches in your colon that have filled with fecal matter and has become inflammed. This then, is that excrutiating pain people feel. Nausea, (vomiting) lack of appetite, chills are more symptoms. First thing to do, no fiber! Liquid diet and later soft, easy food. It is manageable with food. The clincher was, that my Vegan diet, which was so tremendously important and helpful for cancer, is mostly the wrong one for Diverticulitis. Too much raw fiber. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. But, I was so very glad to finally put a name to this and get pro-active. I got stool softeners, antibiotics, pain meds but stopped taking it since it makes me constipated and that hurts a lot.

I got a prescription for an antibiotic for Diverticulitis (‘in case you have it’.) When I took the first pill, I got so sick I ran to the bathroom and …. I felt I was going to faint and called Cameron. He was right there, holding me up and cooling my face and neck. He also heard mecry, late one night when I hurt so much. Role reversal when he held me and soothed me.

We went to the Dispensary, after the doctor’s visit. I was so sick I could barely stand. I bought different things, since I couldn’t eat the oral marijuana stuff due to nausea.

So. Against all earlier protestations, I would start smoking it so it would get into bloodstream right away and deal with this nausea. It took awhile to get the hang of it but then, after only a few puffs, nausea was gone. The world looks immediately brighter and better.

Now, I am into revising my diet once again to settle the colon. I am working on menu selections for, maybe seven days and then go on from there. In addition of the Vegan diet, which I have these recipes on the blog, I will have some for Diverticulitis as well.

One of the first things I cooked, that really appealed to me, even in this nauseated stage was a home made beef stock. I bought a nice beefy bone (man, is that a turn around from no meat!) and small pieces of stew meat. I also had leeks, carrots, onions, root of celery and green celery, bay leaves, a little tomato paste. I sauteed the meat, veggies, added water and cooked this for over 2 hrs. Then, I strained the broth. I had not been able to eat for nearly three days at this point and was a bit apprehensive that this too, would not be the magical food. I slowly sipped this wonderfully hot broth, that also smelled so good and lo’ and behold, it stayed down. I felt I was warming my whole insides. I had another cup. Wow. I am also adding more Probiotics. I am sure that as time goes on I will have more information how to help oneself.

I came up with ’emergency food’. When I am nauseous, can’t eat much, don’t feel like cooking and need something in my stomach, I will eat Baby food. It’s clean, non toxic and all pureed for the ultimate soft diet.

So. Rather than being done with this blog, it seems that there are more things to help with and share. It’s been over a months since the second surgery and finally I have an answer. I had been in bed most of that time, either dealing with nausea, pain or both. Clutching my heated beenie bag and wishing I were somewhere else. A few times, I just broke down and cried when the pain hit. I’ve not been out of this house, except for grocery trips since I came home. The walls are closing in. I’m fighting depression when I think of the long, long winter ahead. A few friends have stopped by but most of them have not. When I asked where they were, they told me ‘because my son was here that they did not want to interfer’. My goodness. My son is busy with his coaching and other things and why would that be interference? Hurt my feelings.

It’s been nearly a YEAR since the odyssee of running down this pain. Surgery was still not in vain because she did cut out a lot of messy adhesions and repaired the urethra. Another couple of days of barely voiding would have shut down everything.

I am trying to go on short walks. I am trying to figure out how to best help myself. I cannot believe that no medical entity picked up on those symptoms!! And so, the saga continues. I am getting bored by it, you may be too.

I thought, when I woke this morning, that this would be a better day but I can feel the nausea starting and sitting in my throat. —-I will stop for today.

Second surgery

Posted on August 19, 2012 by admin

The problem with time is, that over the span of a few days the mind’s focus is on something else and not being able to take notes, things become a bit blurry.

I missed a couple of key points with the first surgery. Of course, important news was, that there is no new cancer growth.

The other strange thing happened was, one night, when I was in extreme discomfort and pain, I’d rung the bell. It took 25 min to get answered. I fleetingly thought, I was glad I’m not having a heart attack. I asked the nurse’s aid to tell nurse I need pain meds. She trotted off. I was holding my expanding belly, moaning, crying in pain. Nurse came after many more minutes passed, only to tell me she had to call Dr. H. Came back and said, I was not getting any meds because : Dr. H. had said, since I’d taken morphine prior to surgery, the pain imprinted on my brain and this was NOT a real pain I felt. I looked at her in disbelief and said, it didn’t even make sense.

She left the room. I was doubled over at this point just crying helplessly and wondered whether I was in TWILIGHT ZONE!

I rang the bell again and again nurse’s aid came after a while. I said :’ I need pain medication right now! After no one came, by now it’s 2:30 A.M and I had no pain meds in nearly 6 hours, I rang the bell again. This time I said:’ This is a hospital and I am in distress. I am hurting very much. If I do not get any pain meds, I will call my son, my daughter, the administrator.’ Finally, I was given Dilaudid.

(In retrospect, this was the time my abdomen was filling with bloody fluids.)

Next morning, Stuart came on durty. He was there when I was in recovery at the first surgery and witnessed how very sick I’d been. I’d requested that the nurse from previous night not attend to me again. I am grateful for his excellent care.

After walking in the hallway and going to bathroom by myself, it was decided that I could go home. That belongs to first part. ———–

Back to Montrose Hospital and being told that I needed Emergency surgery and needed to go back to Grand Junction. This time, by ambulance with flashing lights. The road to Grand Junction is really, really bumpy. Of course, my main worry, in the ambulance was, that I either get sick, or have to use the bathroom.

Nice EMT Rick assured me and talked with me. Made me as comfortable as he could. Gave me a big hug when they unloaded me and wheeled me to surgery. This time, a woman anesthesiologist. I pleaded to give me something different than her peer had. She said, not to worry.

I woke up, sore, in pain but not sick! What a difference. When I saw my abdomen, it looked like a trussed turkey. I had staples, stitches AND a red, plastic hose woven through. WOW. Dr. H. said, she was not taking any chances.

By now, I had not eaten anything in 5 days. ( I.V. fluids don’t count.)

I’d given anything for a hearty, nice, wholesome, home made chicken-noodle soup. But, nothing but the same awful, unhealthy choices.

Finally, I was allowed to come home a second time. My good Julie came to stay with me. I still had nausea and pain. I was still dealing with constipation. I was so scared of THAT, that I didn’t take anything stronger than Ibuprofen.

One very early morning, I felt like I couldn’t breath. Could not get my breath nor breath deep. That scared me. Off to doc for H2O saturation test. I had to walk around the office with and without oxygen. Level fell to 86 (should be over 96).

Went to get oxygen and for 2 days, it helped a lot. Next morning, I breathed easier on my own again. Whatever the obstruction was, or swelling due to tubes, was gone. I could not envision my life on oxygen. Can’t travel.

My son Cameron had called and he was going to drive to Colorado to help me. Julie had to go back as her Grand father had passed away while she was here. Cameron arrived Friday evening and Julie left early next morning. I really appreciate that he would interrupt his life, yet again to help me.

On Friday, Julie took me to Grand Junction to have the whole stitchings out. The incision burned like hell. Felt like the scalpel slicing through. THAT had memory! The nurse said to use Orajel. We got some and indeed it helped some. It’s been a few painful days and slow walking. Each night, I pray that when I wake, it’ll be easier and better.

The BEST news of all of that is, that my Oncologist and Gyn/onc/surgeon both have said, I DO NOT NEED CHEMO!! I am doing so well with my lifestyle and cancer is growing sooo slow, that I can MANAGE it without chemo. It took a few days to really sink in. That I had won! The whole, long journey, the ridicule by some medical professionals, the head-wagging from acquaintances and some friends. The loud, sarcastic exclamation from Dr. Giggles:’ YOU CAN’T CURE CANCER WITH FOOD!!’ Well, perhaps not ‘cure’ but certainly we can help ourselves doing the best we can for the Immune system.

I have been told by doctors, that I was in very good shape and how it made all the difference. Once I am recovered, I will then continue this lifestyle.

Now. I want to count my miracles. One: Camino de Santiago. To be able to walk all that way and NOT have any pains (other than normal ones). TWO: Even though the cancer is not gone, it certainly has not moved or grown since I’ve returned, last October. Three: That my body responded to this healthful way and is healing itself. Thank you God.

Yesterday, was the first day that when I woke up, there was NO pain. At all. I layed in bed and cried grateful tears. I get a few more years. I can travel. I can function. I can visit and interact with my friends. I can do normal, every day stuff.

People just do NOT know how precious health is. They moan and complain about silly, un-necessary things. Forgetting the wealth they posess. Or, stuffing themselves with enough junk food and toxic crap. In time, the body repays this horrible treatment and falls apart.

I am most happy to end this chapter with a heartfelt : CAMINO NOT CHEMO. Hard work and faith.

Surgery….part I

Posted on August 12, 2012 by admin

The day of surgery my friends Inge and Monika picked me up and off we went. Lovely day but I was somewhat apprehensive. (I was also already hungry.)

First stop the Cancer Pavilion to check in and complete paperwork, then across the street to St. Mary’s Hospital, Surgical Unit.

We didn’t have to wait very long before they came and got me for surgery prep. Had a little problem finding a ‘workable’ vein for I.V. Then the anesthesiologist came in and we discussed anti-nausea meds in my IV so I wouldn’t get so sick, as I had been on previous occasions. One more hand wave to friends and wheeled into OR.

I remember voices, saying ‘take a deep breath’. I was in a LOT of pain and asked for pain meds. Was told again, as soon as my Oxygen level was alright, they could give me something. Then, I was wheeled into the room.

Suddenly, one huge wave of nausea hit and I’m coming up into sitting position, in spite of my just incised belly and vomited. On and on. I was SICK! I tried to hold my belly and its stitchings but also had to hang on to Basin. At one point during retching, I heard this sound: “drrrrrrd”. I knew I had busted a staple but was also concerned about the noise-feeling.

I had told the nurses and my surgeon as well. Since my incision was doing well, no one thought of anything else. (I’d asked one nurse’s aid to measure my belly as it seemed bigger to me.)

Dr. H. told my friends and me that I had one of the worst cases of adhesions (scar tissue) that she had ever seen!! Also, my urethra had been totally encroached and choked with this stuff. There was one tiny place where urine could seep out but I was very worried at that time. Only a short time later and I would’ve been unable to void!!

I had the catheter removed and could do other functions (except one vital one). Was given uniform discharge instructions and a friend came to pick me up and bring me home. We stopped at a Cafe, so I could have a little breaksfast. Hospital Liquid and soft food leaves a LOT to be desired. Their “fluids” are made of canned soups! Beef, Chicken, Vegetable. Salty like all get out! They do have low salt but the taste of canned made me nauseous.

At home, walking in, the house looked so very nice as it was cleaned and waxed and polished. Had all my friends lined out to come in and help while I’m in bed.

As the first day went on, I became bigger and bigger. My belly was extended to about 8 months pregnancy size. I thought, at first, that I was stopped up. Constipated from meds. Discomfort became such that I asked Connie to take me to the Emergency room. Nice, young Lady doctor, who then had the job to help get me started. Undignified procedure, to say the least. Also, at one point, when she advanced toward me with all the periphenelia, for a second I was that 8 year old child again, being manhandled by a nurse. That’s when I started to get teary. I didn’t want her to think that I was being difficult, so I told her what had happened. Sure is funny, how long any childhood trauma can linger.

I had also received a small bottle of Citric Magnesium. To help clean me out. This is the very stuff they give you for a colonoscopy. Came back home and for the rest of that day, into the night I would take small swigs from that bottle, plus suppositories. (I know. I know, it’s really indelicate but I can’t find a way around it.)

I had started to have severe pains and asked Connie to take me to ER. Got pain meds per IV and after that felt well enough to go home. (I kept thinking, that something was wrong with the size of my belly. Friends suggested that this was ‘swollen’ and due to having surgery.) As did the ER crew. Everyone looked at the incision.

About 4:00 A.M I had an 8 lb Alien and then went to the bathroom twice more. Totally clean!! I was so elated that this was working.

As Connie had to leave in the afternoon, I called my friend Berle and she came for shift-change. Barely had changed my bed when I got my second BIG wave of nausea. I was so sick, I thought I’d die. Projectiles, wouldn’t stop and then, painful, dry heaves. I also had to use the bathroom and when I came back to bed, I thought I had missed the pot as I was soppy wet all the way down but upon checking, my GOD, bloody stuff running out of my navel wound.

I looked up at a worried Berle, who couldn’t keep her concern in check and started crying because she was so scared for me.. I declared that I need to go to the hospital and be admitted as I could not keep coming back to ER and SOMEONE needed to help figure out what had happend.

I was admitted and put into a very nice room. My friends came, as I had put the call out. Dr. T. came and looked and requested a surgeon to look at me. Handsome surgeon came. He took a long Cotton Swab and put it into the belly hole and there was no bottom. He figured that I had ripped every INTERNAL stitch. I showed the nurses how, with just a little bit of pressure, a whole lot of bloody-water came out. Took a video of it so no one would blame Montrose Memorial Hospital. Surgeon called my surgeon and she wanted me back in Grand Junction to repair this herself. Since she knew what all was there and needed repaired.

(There is a picture and video on my Facebook, caminonotchemo page.)

I would like to say a BIG thank you, to my camino friends in Canada. (Sorry, I accidentally deleted your wonderful e-mail. Please send your e-mail address.)

Tomorrow…

Posted on July 24, 2012 by admin

It’s getting very close and I’m getting very antsy. Hospital called yesterday with pre-op instructions. NO food/drink after midnight, tonight. I’m already worried about food or, the absence of it.

I’ve requested that they add anti-nausea meds into IV so I won’t get so sick upon waking. (I also worry about waking, or not waking.) I remember, some time ago when I saw a medical show where the patient was given anesthesia and they started to cut him open and all the while he was wide awake, felt everything but couldn’t move. I really know that this is silly and I don’t know why my mind conjurs up these oddities.

Friends have been steadily visiting and asking how they could help best. It’s great to have this circle of friends embracing me with a big hug. They will clean house while I’m in the hospital, also shampoo carpet and work in the yard, trimming tree limbs and bushes. (That alone is worth going to the hospital.) Others will prepare soup.

Last night, when I woke with pain and took meds, I was so hoping that this was the very last time I’d feel it. That, in a few days, other than the soreness of the incision, I’m done. My son Cameron is offering for me to come to San Francisco after I’m healed as a Reward. I am so excited. Also, making plans to go to Austria. It may be cutting it a little short with time. May have to postpone it until spring.

Professor Koebe wrote a nice note to wish me well. Still laments the fact that he can’t personally do this surgery. I am definitely going to go to Wuerzburg to see him again and Marion, his secretary.

My daughter called the other day and we had a nice, long talk. I know that her not being able to come is tough on her as well. Grandkids sending notes of love and support.

So. I’ll meet you all here, in a few days. Gung-ho and ready to roll.

I will put myself into the hands of our Lord.

Full circle and Dr. Two

Posted on July 15, 2012 by admin

I drove to Grand Junction myself, the other day for my appointment with Oncologist/GYN/Surgeon. (I had been there just two days prior for a CT scan. )This was, after all, ‘number Two’. This was the one, I had meant to see when Dr. Giggles insisted that I go to Denver, ‘because Dr. D. was ‘number one’.

We all know how that worked out and ended. Wasn’t too impressed by number ‘one’.

So, I was a bit curious how I would find this good doctor? Would she be brusk? Unfriendly? Arrogant? I sat in the treatment room and nurse did the vitals. Bloodpressure up a but it seems to match the surroundings.

After that, I sat there and waited. Nothing so boring as to sit and wait. Not even a magazine in there. My cell phone didn’t work in that little room. I took my checkbook out and tallied the sums. Not very exciting nor fun. Noticed how much I spend on medical bills and holistic stuff. I just heaved a sigh and put it behind me. Light knock on the door and in came Dr. ‘Two”. Nice smile, handshake. Then we discussed the lengthy tirade of my futile visits so far.

She examined me, then told me that she could not tell the source of the pain. There are many choices. But the CT scan was alright. No changes. No new growths, or movement from the old one. THAT is good news.

Here are my options: Try to manage pain ( not an option because it’s not managed.) Or: have a laparoscopy, go in, look and see’ then discuss further steps. (WHAT??? Go in twice? No. No.) third: Make a larger cut, so she can get her hand in (too much information!) to feel around. She said, they really can’t ‘see’ much therefor have to also ‘feel’. She wants to remove the cluster of small lymphnodes. They are no problem at the present but could be. Then, take out that piece they placed there over 10 years ago, for the adhesions to grow onto. (Should have been taken out and exchanged for a newer one, years ago. Maybe that’s the culprit??)

She will then place a new material in the abdominal cavity, the material being similar to ‘Saran Wrap’ so adhesions can’t form. We will NOT touch the ‘errant lymphnode’ which is too overgrown with veines and blood tissue.

Surgery would take under two hours and I’d have to stay there 2-3 days.

So. Our number TWO doctor has no such hesitations to help me, as did doctor number One in Denver, or my GYN here, or, even worse Dr. Giggles with his arsenal of chemo.

I like her and I absolutely trust her to do her best for me. Finally. Someone to help alleviate this horrid pain. She asked me to think about it and then let her know. I was already pretty sure when I left, that I would do this surgery. She also assured me that we’re not doing chemo until ‘absolutely’ necessary. That was balm to my fearful soul.

I met with Carrie and Laurel, Gracie and a couple of their friends for lunch. Fun to have young, vibrant people around.

When I came home, I called Cameron to discuss these new options. He said they sounded good to him, too. He offered to come out again as well but I can’t ask so much for just a few days. Besides, sometimes we need a woman to do ‘womanly’ things.

Friday morning, I called Angela, her nurse and said I’m ready to set the date for ‘redecoration of the pelvis.’ She laughed and we settled on the 24th, July.

Now, that this is settled, once I have passed the unpleasantness of waking up right after, which is always so bad as the pain hits severely before they can give you anything. I remember this from every other surgery I’ve had but yet, this is not enough to deterr me.

Now, I’m setting up the friend rotation schedule, for after when I’m released. I so wish my daugher could’ve come to help me physically (she helps with the writing of my story with her brother) but with the children and no money for the trip, it’s not possible. Cameron can’t come this time as he has to move. But, I think it’ll only be for a couple of days. Friends have offered right away to stay the night. Even from far away, like Boulder, my friend Rebecca has offered. Many, many well wishers and so much kindness.

Of course, sneaking into my brain are the thoughts that I usually have before any surgery. That very thought that woke me, early this morning before even the birds were up. I sure hope I will wake up. What if I don’t?? Well, I wouldn’t know about it but the (even remote) possibility makes me sad with missing my children, grand kids and friends already. And then, there’s my little buddy.

I better push all that out of the way and concentrate instead on my trip this fall. I’ve seen some pictures of ‘Meteora’ and ‘Valley of the fog’, in Greece. I really, really would like to go there. But, I speak no Greek, ‘that’s Greek to me,’ ha (even less than Spanish!) So. I better stick with Austria. Just the thought that I could plan and actually go gives me new vigor. A very nice Facebook friend, from Austria, who’s a singer- (You Tube-Peter Martell) wrote the nicest comment. He told me that when he recorded ‘Amazing Grace’ he was thingking of me and praying that I’d find relief soon and asked the Lord to listen. Touched me to tears. Also said, when I come to Austria, he and his lady friend would sure show me around and help me find reasonably priced rooms.

It seems a long time now, since I’ve started this ‘cancer-health-journey, to now. I told my friends how grateful I am for their loving, never wavering support. For listening to my woes and tirades. For coming and helping, no matter how big or little the problem. In this, especially my ‘favorite Mike’. My son, who took a big chunk out of his life and time, to come and help me find treatment. My friends, Monika and Inge, who always take me for tests. Others who bring food, laughter warmth. Strangers, who, after reading the blog have called or written e-mails with suggestions and links to doctors and or Naturopathics. Others, who have become new friends and presented me with a Pedicure. Others again, bring vegetables, soup, cage free eggs etc. Or, bring the dogs when I had a particular low day, to cheer me up.

(I’d written an e-mail to recommended Naturopathic doctor in New York but have never received an answer). Never again heard from that woman Dr. in Boulder. That 15 min phone call cost me $75.00.

So. Next week, I will pack my bag. (They have T.V. computers in the room). I can wear my own PJ’s. Hopefully, this will be my last surgery. I sure would like to have a few years without pain or some other health problem. As long as the cancer behaves, I’m good to go. I will write after surgery, as soon as I’m able.

Thank you all. Hugs all around.

Oh, I want to mention that it rained yesterday. A true ‘Gully-washer’. Everything looks brigher, greener and grass is finally green and not brown. Birds are singing and the scent of fresh washed air is coming in through the open windows, carried by a light breeze. Great Sunday morning. Thank you GOD.

Rain, finally and new Doc

Posted on July 6, 2012 by admin

After the long, long dry conditions and the horrible fires in our beautiful state, finally it rained. Yesterday, thunder crashed and lightening all over but with it blessed rain. I ran outside to take pictures as the earth opened to receive the long awaited rain. Parched as it was, water ran in thick and heavy rivulets down the street. A cooler day is here and all week our Monsoon season.

Fourth of July was subdued due to all the people, houses and forests lost. Also, no fireworks as it would have ignited the rest of the state. Some people actually were complaining about that. Fools.

On Tuesday, (my friends) Inge and Monika and I, set out for my appointment with Oncologist. We chatted and looked out at the dusty, dry fields. Almost in Grand Junction, each time we turned on the air conditioner the car sputtered and so the trouble began. It was a sweltering 102F and no air. We pulled over, let it rest, started again. With its last power we pulled into the parking lot where it promptly died. But, we were there.

I explained to Dr. D. my whole, painful dilemma. She examined me and pounded front and back checking and after all that we agreed to have the OB/GYN Oncologist/Surgeon have a ‘look-see’. Well, I’m certainly hoping that once, on this fact finding mission, if she sees the problem and it is adhesions, she will snip it on her way out.

I really like Dr. D., who is competent and compassionate. She told me she would talk to surgeon herself and then that office will call to set up appointment. Sure enough, Thursday they called. I am impressed with the speed and efficiency of taking care what they promise.

I am trying hard to get my excitement back for healthy living. Due to this pain and lack of appetite, I was eating other foods as well. Not too far away from my ‘lifestyle’ but yet enough to make me feel guilty. After a stern talking to (myself) I am now back on track. Neighbors were grilling BBQ and that smell nearly drove me off the edge. I just wanted to run over there, grab that piece of steak (or chicken) and run off. HA. But, I did no such thing!!

Friends come by and spend some time. Also, taking me out to dinner. I had a nephew and his wife and their wonderful son, Zane, come visit. I have not seen nephew in 30+ years. It was a nice visit. I cooked Schnitzel and several salads and we had a great dinner.

When the hot water heater broke and water was flooding the basement, the mice came up. I am so squeamish when it comes to those critters. (..and snakes… and spiders.) But, I couldn’t let them run free and ruin my sleep, running over things. I had bought humane traps. But, could never tell if it really worked. Had my ‘favorite Mike’ come over (husband of a friend of mine) who repairs, fixes and in other ways is very helpful and kind. His 8 yr old son comes with him and takes out the traps with carcass and re-sets them!! I feel only slightly embarrassed that he can do this and I can’t. I think, we are successful and for the last two nights, I slept very well. Of course, that could also be due to the new, colorful Marijuanan candy. There are soooo many different edible things to choose from. Yesterday, when it was cooler I also walked for 45 min.

My daughter is busy trying to keep her children entertained for the summer and work at the same time. She lives far away and won’t be able to come. Cameron is on business in Venezuela.

I suppose my friends will take me to the hospital and bring me home and take care of me for a few days. I plan to start hiking again, once the damn pain is gone. I told Dr. D. I need to be all improved by mid September as I have plans.

I will be so very glad when my ‘whiney’ season is over and I can concentrate on the ‘cancer’ instead. So far it’s behaving and I really am thankful because I don’t think I could handle both.

I also want to thank all of you for the kind messages, suggestions, comments and support from ‘you’ out there. Most of you I don’t know but am really humbled by so much kindness. THANK you.

Enough is enough.

Posted on June 27, 2012 by admin

Last week I had my CA 125 (cancer marker) test. I am very relieved that it is ‘the same’. Actually, it went down a couple of points but this is not of huge importance, in this ‘crap shoot’. I was worried, that, perhaps due to this continuous pain, it may be affected.

Each day, I was hoping that ‘whatever’ this may be, would ‘just go away’. It didn’t. At odd hours of the night, when meds had worn off, it came back with a vengeance. I was walking in circles, crying and howling until, finally the morphine kicked in. I simply can’t understand WHAT this could be? My doc here seems to think ‘it is the cancer’. He suggested to call Oncologist, have a laparoscopy and ‘mark the interior with clips, so it would show up when doing radiation’. I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it as if a snake was going to crawl out. Always, always ‘the cancer’. I so want to prove him wrong but not to the point of being stupid.

Even though I do not believe it is the cancer but this also could be based on denial. Right now, I don’t care what the source is, I want it removed. So. Whatever it is I have to do, I will do.

Last Sunday, a couple of friends (and favorite dog ‘Pumpkin’ and Max) set off to the black Canyon to see if I could hike a bit. I wore my camino T-shirt and had my poles and ‘Quasimodo’. Bittersweet, at once so familiar and yet already in the past. It was around 6:30 a.m when we parked the car and started walk to the next look out point, which is nearly 2 miles. After only 10 minutes or so, I could tell how much out of shape I was compared to one year ago. We stopped at the picnic benches and had our breakfast snack. We could smell and see the dark plume of smoke from all the wild fires that are burning in our beautiful state. No humidity, no rain in months.

On the way back there were a couple of times when I thought I need to stop and let my friend get her car. It was getting hot and the incline seemed more steep. But, then I thought, ‘just another few minutes’, just keep going and I did.

I was hurting and tired. My dear friend Bonnie came and helped clean my house. I’ve been having problem bending, mopping, pulling weeds. She didn’t do lengthy speeches of ‘ let me know if I can help you’, she just came. I wonder how many people actually would call and say ‘remember when you said….?’ Actions are needed so much more. If you know someone who is not doing well, words don’t matter a lot. Help with shopping, driving, or just visiting do wonders. (Most of us will not call.)

Laying on the couch, having taken some meds and my VIP Beanie bag, which gets heated in the microwave and feels soo good on my abdomen. I could hear her banging around in the kitchen. It’s an unsettling feeling not being able to DO this myself. Having done pretty much everything ‘myself’ for so many years, it’s tough letting go. But, she’s been steadily by my side for so many years and especially the last cancer-rodeo, years ago. A simple, heart felt Thank you for her.

Sunday night, when I finally could have had a good night’s sleep (with a little ‘tootsie-roll’ marijuana) I woke to some rustling. There it was again, the MOUSE! Ever since my basement flooded, they’d come up into the house. Hiding during the day and dancing around the traps at night. Jumping up or down and it is very un-nerving. I had bought every ‘HUMANE’ trap as I can’t bear to see the squished, little body with bloody tongue sticking out. These contraptions are nice as one can’t see anything. Mouse goes in to try to eat Peanut butter and ‘wham’ it closes. The whole thing get’s discarted. Well, this didn’t work anymore. Then I had enough sleepless night and brought in the BIG guns. ‘d-CON’ toxic and powerful. I had a good night, last night!

Next morning, I took an early walk as it is so hot during the day. Pain. Then I got furious at that too. I thought about ‘why am I waiting until August’?? If it is the cancer, then I just have to submit and have oral chemo. If not, then go in quickly, get these adhesions out and leave. I remembered Dr. G. saying that ‘we shouldn’t open up, worried what we may find’. But, when I had the last surgeries, they didn’t know I had cancer and we opened up the whole abdomen TWICE! I have to take a chance as I cannot live this way. Not at all.

Hopefully, this will all be over with (whichever way it goes) so I can go to Austria this fall. Well, I’m not sure anymore if it will be Austria as Cameron found this gorgeous place in northern Greece. The Valley of the Fog, I think.

Venus in Transit

Posted on June 11, 2012 by admin

It seems that a lot of time has passed since my last entry. Actually, not really. If I start to recount the past days and describe these painful bouts, I will get very bored with myself. I can’t believe that there’s nothing else to talk about than constant pain. But, it is my life right now. Just trying to work the meds to where I can ‘outsmart’ it, is a full time job.

Yesterday morning I managed a 40 minute walk. (Last year, I managed 8-10 hours). I miss, really miss this good feeling and energy I’ve had. I have very poor appetite!! I feel like I’m slipping and can’t get a good hand-hold.

I spend a lot of time in my back yard. Now, that the Medicine Wheel Garden is finished and so lovely, it gives me such pleasure.

This past week, there was all the attention on Venus’ transit. I had brought free newspaper home and started reading. Good things are going to happen to me, I’d read in my horoscope. Venus is in MY sign. It’s always nice to read something nice. I was really very pleasantly surprised when this ‘love’ promise actually started to become reality.

I had befriended a young lady over FB and would share comments, pictures, with Lori A.H. She had sent me a message asking if she could meet me. After a little scheduling back and forth, she came Thursday. With a potted plant in hand and big, lovely smile.

We got along like ‘a house on fire’. She was so complimentary and credited me with lots of wisdom. The time was too short before she had to leave but, there will be other times, I am sure.

Then, Saturday I received a letter from Amber. She is the daughter of an old acquaintance who’s life I had saved about 28 years ago, when his two gas tanks caught on fire under his pick up. Lonely, empty stretch of highway, on a Sunday afternoon in January and the Superbowl on, no one else traveling.

Her dad and a few family members and Amber were coming through Montrose and wanted to visit. I put up all six people, fed them and next day they left. That was 2 years ago.

She had just found my address. The letter is filled with Thank-you’s. She states that even though the time was so short, I made a profound difference in her life. In part, she writes: Thank you again. You are a special person who really makes a difference. Please know how truly amazing and inspirational you are. Thank you a million times over!

I was totally and wonderfully surprised. To think, whatever I had said and done in these few hours, made such a difference in this young Woman’s life. (I think she is 29).

So, how very accurate this Venus Transition was in my life as well. I felt warm and appreciated, even 2 years later or maybe, because it was 2 years later and she still remembered. So, I am glad that I was kind and hospitable. I have no clue what in particular I’d said. This letter and Lori’s and Julie’s visit really made my day(s). It buoyed my stale energy. Another new friend (met her through the blog) invited me to have a pedicure, next week. It’s raining Love and Kindness. Venus in Transit.

Oh. With all of that, I nearly forgot the awful day I’ve had. For days I smelled something musty. I kept saying to Julie,’ I smell something wet’. She couldn’t really smell anything so I let it go another day. Then, Thursday morning when she left, I thought to check the cellar. I went downstairs, turned on the light, openend the door And … WATER. Lots of it. All over. Immediately I called ‘my favorite Mike’. He came at once and at least shut off the water. All hot water. Hundreds of Gallons. Water heater valve had broken and so it kept running over. He called the Plumber. Luckily, the warranty was still in place. I was overwhelmed with all these tasks plus hurting like the dickens. I called my friend Bonnie, at work, trying not to cry and asked her to come help me for a bit. Which she did. She handled the Insurance company and just to have someone here, had me much calmer. Is it the meds? Is it my age? I seem to have a harder time dealing with sudden mishaps, or changes.

Meanwhile I had yet another appointment with Dr. Michael. He has performed several colonoscopies and my lung surgery, last year. It’s actually on the same date this July 5th, that I will have a colonoscopy. I am sure, my colon is fine. But, ‘just in case’ as the last one was 6 years ago.

Another doc, more tests and CA 125

Posted on May 30, 2012 by admin

I can’t believe how unraveled my whole life is becoming. More questions than answers piling up. I have faithfully taken those Chinese Herbs. (They look like little BB’s.) I’m sure that some of the debris from the kidneys got out. It gave me temporary relief and I thought, I nailed it. Until the pain came back with a vengeance. It feels like some little gerbil is biting its way through the abdomen. Really. Although not much faith, I called my OBGYN for an appointment. This was de ja vue of 11 years ago, when I came to his office, crying in pain.

Well, we now know how that ended. This time, I already know that I have cancer, so I just needed help with this pain. He was not encouraging. Would not advice laparoscopy because they may encounter something much worse, i.e. cancer stuff and won’t be able to deal with that kind of surgery. He suggested a colonoscopy. Wow-yay! But, since I’ve not had one in 6 years I said O.K. I am not, at all looking forward to that procedure.

I remembered that I had some dealings with pain two years ago, which had me visit the Emergency room. I got my diary and went back and sure enough I’m describing the very same symptoms, place and severity. They hooked me up to Morphine and I remember saying , ‘Thank GOD for drugs’ as it flowed through the veines and I could feel the relief at once. No diagnosis though. As I was still losing weight at that time, it seemed to disappear after awhile. I wonder, if these is the same scar tissue that I’ve had so much problems with, over the years. I’ve had 2 surgeries to alleviate that pain but it always returns-worse. Research shows, that it’s a chronic disease. To think, I may have to live like this, is not an option. I wouldn’t care if I got ‘just’ another 10 years out of it, I’d go for it.

I will have to call my Oncologist and see what she says. We know, this has nothing to do with the cancer, although my Doc, here, always seems to want to place it there. I’ve had my CA 125 blood test (cancer marker) the other day and doc called me yesterday to give me the result. It went up. He said to start thinking about oral chemo. He thinks this is the cancer pushing on something or has grown to where it gets in the way. I am going to be contrary again, and say no, these are adhesions. My oncologist says: This is not the cancer. Radiologist and her went over that CT scan with a fine tooth-comb and nothing has changed. (Except numbers are a bit up. But we won’t worry until numbers go up 35-45 points.) They went up only 6 points.

I was not surprised as my Immune system is fighting this inflammation and taking these meds will always change numbers. I can feel myself slipping. I wonder where all this great energy went? I am uninspired about cooking. I feel no great need to eat. (That worries me a bit). I am not motivated because I am in pain so much that nothing else seems to matter. I just want to reach in there and rip it out. I tell myself to ‘buck up’, to get over it, to stop being a wimp’. But time is starting to wear me down. I can’t concentrate on helping myself against the cancer, as I have to get my energies toward this issue now. If it isn’t one damn thing, it’s another. I am starting to feel overwhelmed, again. Since I have not been able to walk much, I’ve gained weight. That has to go so now I am back on track. But, my friends are not making it easy. They invite me, either out or to their home and surprise me with wonderful food, but not the kind I’m allowed. Then they say, oh, go ahead, it won’t hurt you this once! Yes, it does. And it’s not just once. I’m struggeling with low appetite and so they want to tempt me, so I’ll eat. Loving gestures but I need to get back into my lifestyle.

My friend Julie called and she will come on June 2nd to help me for a week. Help clean, cook and go walking with me. I wish my family lived closer.

My BFF Irene, send a birthday card with money and although I told her NOT to, she ignored me and did anyway. I’ll use it to have acupuncture since that is helping a lot. (And, maybe a pedicure because my feet hurt.) All these extra treatments and herbs and supplements are costing a mint. Not something that Medicare pays but yet vital to me, in fighting this fight.

I still try to envision my trip to Austria, this fall. I can’t seem to see myself there, yet.

I’ve been walking again because I can’t just sit here. I need to move. I’m taking Ibuprofen before I start and hope I can finish.

Tomorrow is my 68th birthday. I look at that number and it looks so strange. I don’t feel ‘that old’. On the other hand, two years ago when I didn’t know where this journey would take me and the ‘C’ loomed huge and scary, I am sure glad to see 68. If I just get to feel better, I don’t want anything else. Ever. I don’t care about a new house, or furniture or keeping up with certain people. I don’t care about sleek cars and who’s got more. I just want to feel better. In that is a richness beyond compare.

I am trying to get my ‘umph’ back.

Calling Dr. House.

Posted on May 21, 2012 by admin

When the TV series ‘House’ started, I watched each week, applauding the cleverness of this Diagnostician and super medical strategist. But after awhile his rude behavior got on my nerves and I stopped. Of course, there was a reason for this behavior. I remember he had a medical condition that caused severe pain.

NOW I understand what it must be like for someone who is in constant pain. How it eats away all the good feelings and joy. As well as appetite.

It took a few days for the dismissive way the Urologist handled the visit, to sink in. He had insisted on a bladder scope ‘to rule it out’. I’d told him, there’s nothing wrong with my bladder. Another test, that was not necessary. He gave me a precribtion for PT! Yes. Physical Therapy. I looked at it, then him and said ‘what?’ I can barely function due to this pain and I should do therapy???WTH? I may need a laparoscopy to figure out the cause. My oncologist is firm with her statment that this is NOT cancer related.

I am just sick of the whole thing.

My friend Lori, who works at Organic Grocers recommended a natural treatment. It’s for kidney health. Uva Ursi. Not to be taken longer than 2 weeks. So, I’m trying this right now. On Wednesday I’m going back to have acupuncture as well as the herb he had special ordered. Of course, there’s a lot of advice from friends. Try Asparagus. Try this tea. Try this herb….I am my own guinea pig.

Can’t concentrate on what to do and a new plan against cancer as I have to put this ‘fire out’ first. Yesterday, was a bad day. I am fighting against falling into depression. I believe that when I take morphine, it ascerbates this feeling.

I feel shut in. No real plans, since this is really holding me back. Can’t travel this way. Going to bed with pain, getting up with pain.

I still walk, some. When I think, that just a few months ago I was walking 8-10 hours a day and now, barely get 35-45 minutes in, I am really sad. Two years of medical dealings is now taking its toll. Can’t get my ‘oommmph’ back. How can anything keep hurting like this? Sharp pain. Am I whining now? Yes. Do I feel sorry for myself? Just for a little bit, at least until the pill is working. I want to say, stop! I don’t want to play anymore. I don’t like this game. I am tired.

Mainly what I need is a good doctor. Gosh, remember Dr. Welby? He made house calls. I’ve tried the ‘Symptom’ checker online. But there are too many possibilities so there’s no answer to be found.

If any of you know a good doctor, do let me know. I’m almost out of ideas.

Fiesta–Test results–new malady

Posted on May 9, 2012 by admin

We sure packed a lot of activities into the last few weeks. Filled with happy anticipation to see our camino friends again, I drove Cameron’s old Land Rover to Grand Junction to pick up Julio, Marie Anne and a little later, Cameron as well.

I’d bought a few flowers to greet MarieAnne and a bottle of Rioja wine (Bilboa) for Julio.

When I entered the hotel, they were already seated in the lobby, waiting. A big, cheery hello with a few tears from Marie Anne. They had visited New York for 4 days, then came by Amtrack to Grand Junction. Julio told me that MarieAnne, while looking out the window, kept saying ‘so big, so big.’

We stopped at a Diner and had a genuine American breakfast. Then it was time to pick up Cameron. What a happy reunion all around. Carrie had seen them the day before and spend a few wonderful hours touring the Monument.

Next morning after breakfast we took them to Ouray and Box Canyon. Amazing how that water rushes and is pounding with great force through the hole in the rock that took millions of years to create. They were duly impressed.

Saturday morning, they were helping to set up the yard and cleaning, etc. for the Fiesta. Carrie came with her sister and her dad. Their mom came later with marvelous Truffels.

Pretty soon, all guests had arrived and we introduced our guest around, mostly to people that had read the blog and had many questions for both.

Sunday, we went to the Black Canyon and also had a picnic. Cameron decided that they should see The Arches in Utah’s canyonland. They took off Monday, while I took care of things here and also had several blood tests and an up coming CT scan to determine, whether there has been any growth.

Blood test results were great. Cancer markers had not gone up. Stable. On May 2nd, we all drove to Grand Junction for CT scan and an appoinment with oncologist afterward.

Dr. M. showed us the scan and was reasonably sure that there too, was no sign of growth. BIG exhale for me. I did tell her about the ‘new’ pain in my left, lower pelvis. I thought and believed that I had a kidney stone(s). After viewing the scan, she said that Radiologist pointed out some small stones in the the Urethra. Thus, the horriffic pain. I told her, that I was afraid turning into a Junkie trying to stay on top of this pain. I am not going to live like this, is what I said. I figured out the best way to medicate: 1 Ibuprofen (600 mg, followed 45 min later by 1/2 of Morphine (10 mg). I nearly cried with relief when the pain finally stopped. I also came down with a unpleasant chest cold. This constant pain is taking a big chunk out of my ‘cheerfulness’ and up-beat, positivity, etc. These pills are making me not only dizzy but weepy. I’m going to try a brownie, laced with Marijuana. No nightmares and bad side effects.

Well, smiled Dr. M. looks like you have another 3 mos before we check. Keep up what you’re doing. Although I had not been doing that well and kept falling ‘off the wagon’ with eating all sorts of ‘regular’ food. But, now I’m back on it. I don’t feel very energetic when I don’t get my ‘greens’. She said, I want you to think about taking ‘Tamoxifen’. It’s an oral chemo pill. You can’t just keep having this cancer and even though, you’re doing well, should think about this option. I want to talk to you about side effects, when the time comes.

Well! I did check on those side effects: Stroke, peritoneal/ vaginal cancer, and a host of other possibilities. How can this be called a ‘life saving’ med??

I have 3 months to do something and try to get the numbers down, the tumor reduced.

My Acupuncturist was ordering herbs to diminish stones. Now, I must call and cancel. I wonder if Dr. B. could be wrong? I’m just stunned.

Those few days were over too quickly and Julo and MarieAnne had to leave. They couldn’t say enough about wonderful, colorful Colorado and awesome Utah. We were marveling at the fact that last year, in May, none of us knew each other and yet, here we were, darn good buddies and an experience that has bonded us for life.

Friday, I had some nice friends here for lunch from Utah.

The Aunties came from Rangely for 2 days after, so we still had nice company. Then, they too were gone and took Cameron to the airport. Wow. The house was still and quiet. Everyone has abandoned me. I wandered through the rooms and not even the mouse is back.

I’ve finished my medicine wheel garden. Not all the planting as it takes a lot of plants (money) but I have time. When I checked on a peace pole, the lady offered to come with the Indian Society Members to perform a ceremony. No charge. I am so tickled.

I had an appointment with Urologist Dr. B. whom I had been to a few years ago. I couldn’t take any meds before driving 1 hr and 20 min. By the time I got there, I was in agony. The usual bloodpressure, vitals were taken. Dr. B. came in and after the cordials he looked at the CT scan and said that there were NO stones in the urethra. Only 2 small ones in the right kidney but they could easily get out if needed to. So? I asked. What is this pain? Classic symptoms of reduced urine flow, horrible, prolonged pain. Tiny, pink droplets. That does not mean stones? That’s right, he said. Well, I wanted to know, ‘WHAT is it?”

” I don’t know,’ he says. You need to go back to Dr. M. and find out where this is coming from. I can’t believe it! Back to square one! Where do I go? Whom do I see?

Last night, as I woke with pain again, I wondered whether this could be caused by scar tissue? I had this before, 10 years ago on my right side. Left over from a pediatric Ruptured Appendix surgery. These now, could be caused from the debulking surgery from Ovarian Cancer/Hysterectomy

I can feel the meds taking hold and numbing my brain and thoughts. I better stop before all sorts of nonsense appears.

Time’s up…

Posted on April 24, 2012 by admin

Although it seems long, these past couple of weeks went rather quickly. There was the usual laundry to do after my son left and things to straighten up. Having my schedule and life back felt pretty good, although the house was quiet and empty. No one calling a cheery ‘hello’ and I had no one to tell little newsy things to.

I couldn’t go walking because there was, still, this pain in my left pelvis. Whatever medication I tried, did not work and so I wandered the living room, the kitchen, the bath, bedroom and back because it’s all I knew to do.

Instead of having a nice, few weeks off before tests and CT scan, etc. I’ve been dealing with this ‘thing’. I’ve decide it is (probably) some remnants left from kidney stones trying to get out. It wouldn’t help to go to Urologist as I need to deal with cancer issue first. Not more tests and more x-rays into body. I finally figured out that if I took one Ibuprofen (600 mg) and one half morphine (5 mg) that I could function. I don’t like to take either one. Someone from my cancer support group told me to research medical marijuana.

There are many different ways one could choose to take it. I was surprised to find out how much it was used in the medical field. For depression, PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). For chemo side effects, the nausea, the inability to eat, neuropathy, the horrible pain and all other co-hosts of this toxin. The side effects of the meds I am taking is not such good news.

It’s suggested to take marijuana at bed time so it can help repair while the body is trying to do this anyway. I may just really find out as much as I can and then decide. I am tired of pain. And, I can’t go walking as it starts its hellish descent and I have to stop, clutching my side and moaning. A couple of times, when I tried walking, I thought I couldn’t make it back home.

Meanwhile, I’ve also had my first Acupuncture. It was a pleasant experience. I realize that just one treatment won’t help much so I have 2 more before my CT scan. I am also taking 20,000 units of Vitamin D3 (at bed time) as recommended by a Naturopathic doctor. I am still trying to out run chemo.

Then, a terrible tragedy has come into the life of my very best friend. Another, had a massive stroke and fighting for life. I was thinking, that there are worse things than my cancer. More immediate.

As it is with life’s tapestry, weaving other threads into our day, there’s the happy news that Julio and Marie Ann are coming this Thursday. Our camino buddies. Julio called a few days ago, as they were boarding the train in Chicago to go to Yellowstone. “Are you still alright with kind invitation of us coming?” he asked. I responded in the affirmative. He also told me, that Marie Ann is saying that this country is soo big. Too big.

So, I am planning a few outings as they’re only here a few days. I need to cook ahead so we have something to eat as they’ll be late that Thursday. Cameron is coming in as well, so I pick him up first at the airport. (Must not forget to go to have several blood tests done that morning.)

Hopefully the aunts can come, as well as other friends who have been so supportive, loving and kind. The timing is good as I’ll have the CT scan and appointment with Oncologist May 2nd. Then we’ll have all the answers. Iwill ask Radiologist to concentrate on my left side. Maybe we can see what’s going on. If not, I guess I shall make appt with Urologist. (Julio and MarieAnn are leaving May 3rd.)

If tumor has not grown I will have another 2 mos.

Saturday, I have planned a little Fiesta for my friends.

Different days

Posted on April 8, 2012 by admin

Even though surgery is off the table and I am very relieved not having to got through all of that, the chemo boogie-man is still hovering close by. But, those fangs are not as sharp and big as they were.

The house is still since Cameron’s departure. Having lived alone for so long, it’s rather different having someone here. I have my old schedule back and my odd time keeping.

Since I nearly had one months before having bloodwork, CT scan, etc. I figured I deserved some time off and perhaps go to a cancer retreat. Get acupuncture, breathing techniques, raw food-juicing, emotional cleansing as well just in case there were unknown remnants. etc. I’d found a place in California. Sonoma Valley. Burbling brook, bird singing, lovely surroundings and peaceful. I envisioned myself on long hikes through a tall tree forest, doing all the above described things. I’d send an e-mail for more info and the owner called. After hearing some of my story, he was going to lower the rates so I could afford it. I’d also found a reasonable air fare and was so excited and looking forward to this marvelous respite… when…. I had to cancel everything. Sudden onslaught of a sharp, poking pain which nearly had me doubling over. I was hoping it would ‘just go away.’ But days later when it became worse not better I was scared and canceled the ticket, the retreat, not knowing what it was.

I finally had to go and seek medical help . From my back, to my side, to my lower front pelvic region. I would start out with Ibuprofen, then when that did not help at all, called the office to request stronger pain meds. Well, he called in some pills that made my head rummy and dizzy but did nothing for the pain. By Thursday, all day and through the night I thought I’d have to wake Cameron to take me to the Emergency room but then, held off because that would cost several thousand dollars. Friday morning, I called my GYN’s office to try to see him but discovered that they don’t work on that day. So, I called my Dr. They booked me for the afternoon. Those hours stretched painfully before me but finally I got to go.

Examination, Urin sample, blood test, including CA 125. I had shown doc the written order from my oncologist and asked if I could do these tests out of his office, the end of the month. He agreed but then ordered the very same tests!! I said, we didn’t need those now since I was going to have them the end of April. He answered, ‘well, we’ll just do them again’. This is the same Dr., who, a few weeks ago was trying to save Medicare’s money when Dr, D. ordered a CA 125. Go figure.

I had a thoughrough examination, including rectal which was a total surprise and produced groans and eye-rolling from me. Well. He didn’t know. Could be Diverticolitis. Painful, chronic attacks. I said ‘what??!’ I wouldn’t have anything I couldn’t spell, I told him. Or, it could be some infection, or if the pain won’t go away, it could be the cancer. He wrote a prescription for infection control. Cameron picked it up and when I saw the one page and a half warning, I was queasy.

I researched Diverticulitis and it stated: ‘Caused by a total ‘American based Diet’ of too much meat, too little fiber, not enough vegetables and chronic constipation.‘ I laughed out loud. Come on!! I’ve been on a Vegan lifestyle (except for a few times) for 2 years now and with detoxing I had enough roughage to fill Noah’s Arch. Had he not listened at all? I decided, right then and there that this would not be what I had. I was a little un-easy about the cancer since there are some other tumors in there, they just have not lit up the PET.

Then I remembered, when I had the Lithotripsy a couple of years ago, to blast way kidney stones. A couple remained on the bottom of my left kidney, they could not go up and then out. The pain I remembered as being the same excrutiating, writhing thing. I also remembered that the Emergency room Doctor, prescribed Flomax. I had thought that this was a med for males only but he said, no, it would make passing the stones a lot easier. Right he was. So. I searched and found the vial with some left. A little out-dated but I figured this was not Yohgurt. Sure enough by Sunday morning it was gone as sudden as it had appeared. What a total, happy relief.

Next day, I fell over the strung out garden hose and hit my knee and hurt my wrists. Just can’t have a day without something hurting or going on. Tiresome.

I was getting cabin fever as the weather was so unfriendly. High winds started up to 35-40 mph and I couldn’t walk. A friend called to ask if I would drive to Crested Butte with her. Sure, I said. Had not been there for years. That broke up the day.

Now, I try to keep busy until my appointment May 2nd. If tumor is table as well I won’t have to do anything for another 2 month. My life could be measured in 2-months increments. I’m planning a road trip with friends to Santa Fe.

Now it’s Easter Weekend. Inspite of this roller coaster ride, the terror and fears about surgery and chemo. The ever present cancer I feel at peace. The rising of CA 125 has stopped. This is my gift from God. Also, from my hard work. Happy Easter.

Dr. Very Nice

Posted on March 28, 2012 by admin

After the many days waiting for this appointment, it finally came. A very windy day but we made to Grand Junction. Cameron accompanied me for some ‘hand-holding’ if need be and to take notes.

Meanwhile, I had bought a book, Embrace, Release, Heal,’ written by a Grand Junction woman, who had horrible cancer with 3 recurrences. This is an amazing journey and after I read what she did and her decision to do Alternate and why, I felt totally re-invigorated. She spoke to me. She had the same fears, doubts and terrors….. and then, she had success and despite that her doctors/oncologist and other people tried to dissuade her, ridiculed her, she stayed the course. I applaud her. She made it. She’s well, for the time being.

After filling out some more paperwork we sat and waited. Wasn’t too long before I was called and went to the examination room. The nurse took my vitals and my bloodpressure was up a bit but nothing like in Denver (or Montrose Cancer Center.) I attribute this to two things. First, Cameron was with me and second, I have been at this Pavilion so many times, I should own a corner of it. The staff is very nice and ‘upstairs,’ know me by name. Dr. M. came in, introduced herself and we all shook hands. She told us that Dr. D. had not send certain scans (??) and they had called and asked for them.

To explain what I am dealing with, she drew a rough sketch of the body ( appologizing for lack of artistry) with the aorta running through. In the pelvic region she drew a cluster of lymph nodes next to it. Very neatly, tightly attached to the aorta. These I had not been aware of. You mean there’s more??

She told us, why surgery would not work. Even if they could get to the 5.5 cm ‘problem node’ and extract a portion, we’d still have to deal with the other ones and they simply cannot be excised out. ‘Cancer is a chronic illness‘, she informed us, ‘Similar to Diabetes.’

Even though she was aware that I did not like chemo, yet it was the only available option. Cyberknife would not work due to that cluster and one other area in pelvis. Chemo had worked well for me before, she said. She had me describe the after effects. She told me, that we could do the schedule differently. Instead of throwing the whole works at me in one sitting, we could do a lower dose over one week’s time and have 3 weeks off. At the same time, add anti-nausea meds into the IV, so I could or would tolerate it better. She told me of another patient, who’s abit older than I, who has tolerated this and functions quite well. Radiation would not work either, due to where it all was and the intestines would be damaged greatly.

She asked me how I ended up in Montrose. I’d told her, she didn’t have that much time. She laughed and said, take short route. I gave her the highlights. I felt so comfortable with this nice, kind spoken Doctor, that I’d told her what I was taking and what I was doing for myself. She did not even blink. I went a bit further and added that I take Tumeric/Curcumin, etc. No ridicule, no exclamation of ‘this is nothing but quackery’. Oh, I like her, I thought. She even gave me the name of a Naturopathic Doctor, in Ridgway, whom I can consult about the Vitamin C, Iscador and other vials that I had brought from Germany and had been sitting in my fridge ever since.

She asked, if anyone had ever suggested genetic testing? No, I said, never even came to mind. Well, since I have quite a line-up of family members with a cancer history on both sides, it would be feasible to have one. For my children and grandchildren. To find out if there’s a genetic reason. Medicare may not pay for this pricey test but we’ll go ahead and do this. I’ve had some ‘Angel’ friends visit me and others who send a check to help out with these expenses and bills that keep coming. Their love and kindness had me in tears.

I also told her about this new, piercing pain on the left side, in my abdomen. That one has me disturbed enough to mention it. I am taking my Ibuprofen 600 mg but sometimes, that’s not even touching it. I have stronger stuff but hesitate to take this as it will cause constipation and I feel so ‘rummy’ and fuzzy. I don’t like ‘drugs’

She said, that I could get just as many years out of this chemo.. and if ‘it’ came back, well we’d treat it again although the time span of remission in between would be closer together. Hey, I thought, ‘ Thank you, God’, I’ll take 10 years, to be with my family, to travel a little, to see the beauty of this world.’ I’ve made peace with my cancer and I will do things to help get better as this is another wake up call (unless it’s GENETIC) to change things in my life. No matter what its origin, now that it is here, again, I’ll try to deal with it as best and as gracious as I can.

Dr. M. suggested that we do a series of blood work, including genetic testing and a new CT scan as well as another CA 125. (Ovarian cancer marker).

When we were leaving, I took her hand and thanked her for being so kind, gave her a spontaneous hug and promptly burst into tears. I wasn’t used to kindess. It’s unsettling.

I felt a huge weight lifting. I finally had a plan. We were doing things. I was really relieved not to be cut open and have my intestines rearranged and to deal with the pain and accompanying discomfort.

I’m not sure, whether we’ll travel to Huntsman now. We have not heard from them and what could they tell me differently? I think, I’ll just stop resisiting and wrap my mind around this and work on being accepting. Camino NOT chemo. Well, family and friends (and myself) I sure tried. You’d have to say that. I gave it a good run. And, of course, I will seek alternate advice until all these appointments. I still have a little time until then. Hope does spring eternal.

Yesterday, the phone rang and, would you believe it was Dr. M’s office (already!) to schedule these bloodtests for May 2nd. Until then, I have time to work on me with a last ditch effort, to detox, take stuff, do acupuncture, cleansing and whatever else I can do. Maybe, just maybe… it’ll disappear.

I was telling Cameron, that this thought occured to me: When I was on the camino and walked up to the cross, offering that the tumor be taken and then when this did not happen, I failed to see that I’d already gotten my miracle. Although the tumor was not ‘gone’, it has stopped growing since October. I mean, I have 3 PET and one CT to proof this. The markers have gone down. I am grateful.

I want to go away for a few days. Have a vacation from cancer and all this intense talk and research and accomapying fear. I am calm now and feel peaceful. Another gift.

One day, like the next…

Posted on March 20, 2012 by admin

Sometimes, I can’t remember what day it is. They all seem to blend in to pretty much the sameness. Make breakfast, then again for Cameron. Clean a little, run errands. Shop for groceries (often). Bring them home, then prep, chop cook or not. Make salads.

Cameron is busy with his work and then calling, researching, answering calls, talking to Medical Professionals.

Meanwhile, I’ve acquired an odd pain which has me puzzled and Doc doesn’t know either. Since I’ve just had so many (and expensive) scans, I’ll not have another. He called in a new prescription which is a little stronger than Ibuprofen.

Last Saturday, we went to a friend’s house to photograph all the items I am selling to help defray cost of this cancer and treatment. We have posted the pictures on Facebook and the Facebook caminonotchemo page.

Buy Gorgeous Decor, Help Pay for Treatment!

Still researching prices. Will put some on eBay. Ask!

By: Camino Not Chemo

Photos: 145

Friends have been overwhelmingly generous. With Organic veggie presents and money, discreetly placed in envelopes, which allows me to ‘save face’.

So now, we wait. For the appointment on March 26th, in Grand Junction with Oncologist. Then, hopefully, we hear from Jon Huntsman Clinic, in Salt Lake City, soon.

The great thing about going there, is, that we have friends who have offered their home and we can stay while I am being examined, questioned and hopefully have a good solution.

This is getting really old. Not knowing. Not doing, and now having pain. Trying very hard to be patient, to be up-beat but once in awhile, like in the darkest hour of the night, I was caught in a weeping storm. I have nightmares.

Constantly Questioning What We Think We Know

Posted on March 13, 2012 by admin

Over the last week, Mom and I convinced ourselves of certain things about our interaction

Mom Checks Email and Facebook in Bilbao

with Dr. Chutzpah, and I summarized that thinking in the post Paging Dr. Chutzpah. However, the doctor, who I’ll now call Dr. Denver, phoned us back today and answered several of my questions. In the process, I realized that some of her earlier explanations had been merely unclear or confusing, and some of the conclusions Mom and I had drawn needed to be revised.

I toyed with the idea of leaving the original up to dramatize how information gets distorted by our thinking, and our thinking by our emotions, but I felt the disadvantages of being incorrect and unfair to an unnamed person trumped the advantages (the interest of generations of historians). So the post as written yesterday has been amended, and I’ll add the new information below.

First, we had not been made adequately aware that Dr. Denver’s decisions had come on the heels of consultations with a team of about a dozen experts in different fields in what I gather is a routine multi-disciplinary meeting to discuss difficult patient cases. I view the results of that kind of discussion more favorably. While the groupthink phenomenon is always a danger, and I have no way of knowing if other doctors at the meeting stood to profit from any decision for chemotherapy, the presence of numerous people from different fields does present less opportunity for a decision motivated even unconsciously by profit.

Second, while Mom and I both understood the doctor’s comments of last week as meaning that Mom’s mucinous tumor was as unlikely to respond to chemotherapy as most mucinous cancer cells, Dr. Denver appeared (now I must qualify everything, even though I took contemporaneous notes) to say that, because the tumor is a recurrence of her original ovarian cancer, it would likely respond as well to chemotherapy as that first cancer did.

Below are my notes from the recent conversation, expanded from memory and edited for clarity.

What is the primary cancer?

I noted that a pathologist said a few months ago that the spot on her lung – removed last summer before the Camino — was lung cancer. And that another doctor had deemed that nonsense, saying it had to be ovarian cancer. Dr. Denver said the pathologist had noted in his report that the spot “looked different from her original cancer,” and added, “if they say it’s lung cancer, they’re definitive.” The pathologists at her own hospital, in any event, had concurred that the lung spot was a separate cancer, lung cancer.

So what kind of cancer is in this largest tumor? Ovarian?

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Denver said, emphatically. The lung lesion had been quite small, while the cancerous lymph node in question is not in a place where lung cancer spreads to, but it is where ovarian spreads to.

Pelvic Spots

Proton therapy is based on high-tech particle acceleration, which, like pelvic spots, reminds me of the Sun

I said that we had contacted a proton therapy center in New Jersey last week and were told today that their radiation oncologist saw other areas of concern in the pelvis and sigmoid colon. He said this meant the cancer was metastatic, or had spread, proton therapy would not be appropriate. (However, I could not get, or did not understand, an explanation for why removal would not be better than nothing).

There is something in the pelvis, Dr. Denver said, but that’s “relatively easy to resect,” which is Medical Latin for to remove.

Are these stable unchanged nodules something of concern?

Dr. Denver said something about Mom’s “trend over the years” that I did not capture, and went on to say that Mom’s cancer was behaving more in “a low-grade, indolent fashion. If this was a high-grade cancer, she likely would have died of it by now. In that sense she’s fortunate. But where it’s decided to cause trouble is in a spot that’s impossible to get out without significant risk of just bleeding to death.”

Those other two sites, the doctor said, are another reason Mom “should get systemic therapy” to see if it “shrinks down.” (I now see ambiguity in that “it” — to see if what shrinks down? The cancer generally, or the difficult lymph node? Once again, I see a real benefit in a super-clear written explanation by the doctors.)

Oh – by “systemic” she means chemotherapy.

How did you know the lymph cancer was mucinous?

She didn’t have the reports in front of her (note to doc: buy a tablet), she said, but said mucinous was the histology of her ovarian cancer. “These tumors aren’t known for being chemo-responsive tumors,” she said. I believe she said the histology doesn’t change.

So, I said, are you saying that because Mom’s cancer, 11 years ago, was mucinous, and the histology doesn’t change, that this cancer must also be mucinous? I believe she said yes, but she was on to a discussion that to my lay mind seemed unrelated, and hard to follow.

She said that chemo 11 years ago should have been done after Mom had had “everything visible cut out?” I asked what she meant by “everything visible” (after all, Mom’s heart and other organs were “visible,” so surely she meant something more specific). By “everything,” did she mean everything that looked problematic? That was my understanding. I said that the original surgeon had spotted the lymph, but had left it there because he deemed it inoperable. This is Mom’s memory, and she believes it’s in her diary, but one of her local doctors said the spotting of the lymph wasn’t in the surgical notes).

Dr. Denver pointed out that she couldn’t know what the doctor may have been referring to.

Should We Get Surgery to Remove as Much as Possible?

If we left some of the tumor behind, Dr. Denver said, “we’re not accomplishing much. It will be all scarred in, it will grow back, and any attempt to resect will be even harder.” As I did many times on the call, I restated this to her in different words to ensure I had understood it. She went on: “When you operate and disturb the natural tissue plain, you create more scarring. If you have to go back in there again, it’s worse.”

“So you’re saying,” I said, “that if you go right up to the border of where you can cut safely, then when you are done that border will become scar tissue that’s harder to operate on in the future? And that you’ll have scar tissue immediately adjacent to the aortic veins?”

“That’s right,” she said.

I asked about something called Insulin Potentiation Therapy, a form of chemo that uses a far smaller quantity of chemotherapeutic chemicals. It’s also called “soft chemo”.

Insulin Potentiation Therapy

During my research, I had liked the idea of IPT (as Mom did), as it’s also called, but was not impressed with the dearth of science. The idea:

It consists of giving a patient a dose of insulin followed by a tiny dose of chemotherapy.

Cancer cells have 15 times more insulin receptors than normal cells. The insulin dose helps to target chemotherapy into cancer cells because they have so many more insulin receptors. So small doses of chemotherapy can be used that cause little harm to normal cells. With Stage 1 or 2 cancer, IPT is, I read, about 80% successful, mixed results for more serious cancers.

I contacted a company called EuroMed and a doctor there got back to me this morning. Ovarian cancer is very sensitive to IPT, he said – it’s the most sensitive of all cancers to chemo, but difficult to keep in remission. It can get aggressive and resistant to treatment. Almost every patient on IPT will go into remission, he said. They frequently take patients in Stage IV, already sent to hospice care by their oncologists, who are now surviving five to seven years later.

The most important element for a patient’s prognosis is the clinical picture, he said. He said it was very good that Mom felt well. If she feels well with no symptoms, he said, she’ll do better with IPT. “The way out [of cancer] is through a strong immune system, and that’s the key difference between IPT,” which aims to preserve the immune system, and conventional chemotherapy, which many say destroys it.

After Mom went into remission, he said, she would have her blood drawn monthly and be brought back for another “zap” in the case of “a flare”. She’d be given unspecified oral supplements along the way.

Science, Alternative Therapies, and Follow-the-Money

What about scientific studies? I’d been unable to find any original studies on the web, and only scant reference to any studies. I heard from the EuroMed doctor a variation of the argument I see a lot these days when people discuss alternative therapies. The arguments sometimes carry a conspiracy flavor that I find distasteful even if I can imagine them, in this case, being true. They go like this:

IPT [or insert other potential cure] is opposed by big pharmaceutical companies (who are now people for purposes of lobbying, per the Supreme Court’s decision in Citizens United). There is no money to be made in therapies that aren’t conducive to being patented. If something can’t be patented (e.g., a plant essence), it can’t be sold at a high profit margin because others can sell it too, at low prices. In the case of IPT, it’s not an entirely different therapy, but the small amount of chemicals used means little profit for pharmaceutical companies.

So big pharma, which allegedly (I have not confirmed this myself) funds the research hospitals that do all the studies, will not fund studies to prove the efficacy of competing, unprotectable technologies. Doing studies properly costs a lot of money. IPT [or other potential cure] providers lack the funding to do such studies themselves, and get no cooperation from university hospitals. And doctors like the one from EuroMed, who do IPT, are oriented toward clinical work, not research, in their limited time.

In any event, the doctor asked for her biopsy report; her recent bloodwork (her CA-125 is currently a very low 52); and a recent scan.

Dr. Denver on IPT and Chemotherapy

I had just gotten the words “Insulin Potentiation Therapy” out of my mouth when Dr. Denver said, “Chemotherapy. Anything else is just investigational. She can do that, but it’s way outside the norm for what we would do for a recurrence of this cancer.”

When would IPT be appropriate? I asked.

“I don’t know what it is,” she said. “It’s not something that would be used for ovarian recurrence.”

It’s clearly an alternative therapy, I allowed. That she hadn’t even heard of it proved that much. It was her job, of course, to focus on therapies with some research behind them.

“You’ve got to assume she will respond to chemo,” the doctor said. She also said, of Mom, “She’s got multi-focal disease and is not a candidate for surgery”: the systemic assault of chemotherapy was the solution to such a case.

Biopsy

What about doing the surgery in part to get out some of the tumor for a biopsy?

Surgery for the purpose of getting a tissue sample would be too invasive, she said.

But would you test a sample if you had one?

Sure, she said, for a chemotherapy-sensitivity assay. There are a variety of them in use; some are good and some are not. The University of Colorado Medical Center uses one called CARIS.

But you need a core biopsy, she said. A certain amount of tissue. And she was doubtful you could do that safely. She concluded: “I wouldn’t operate on her because it’s too much risk and there’s not an adequately identifiable benefit.” This is the kind of language I look for. It suggests she’s weighing both costs and benefits, and comparing them to one another.

She asked an oncologist in Grand Junction to contact us. We’re going to set up an appointment with the Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah.

Paging Dr. Chutzpah

Posted on March 11, 2012 by admin

I came to Colorado near the end of February because my mother’s Denver surgeon had

What I brought from Oregon

said, unequivocally, that surgery on the last of Mom’s tumors would take place “at the end of February or in early March.” Once I was already in Colorado, the doctor, whom Mom had told I would be flying in for the scheduled surgery, told us removal of the entire tumor would be risky, and was not viable.

Still, I’m glad I am here now to sort out this curious breed of people they call doctors, and to help Mom reason her way through important medical decisions. I am finding that being a patient-advocate means being a very patient advocate. Here I am, calling the proton therapy center in Loma Linda, California:

Me: What do you mean you can’t take people with Stage IV cancer? Why not?

Bureaucrat (not her actual name or title): We only do the proton therapy on Stage I and II.

Me: She’s not symptomatic. Another proton therapy center thought that made a difference. No?

Burcrat: We only do I and II.

Me: So is there some distinction, as regards proton therapy, that makes Stage I and II different from Stage IV without symptoms? Or could it be a distinction without a difference?

Burcrat: Stage IV is the stage we don’t do proton therapy on.

Me (trying another tack): Can you tell me why that is?

Burcrat: That’s our policy.

Kafka Was Lucky

The works of Kafka became famous for situations that make more sense than talking to someone who doesn’t know why her organization does what it does. If only the woman had uttered one of my favorite lines from The Trial, in which two mysterious men materialize in Joseph K.’s apartment and are unresponsive to his queries, the day would have been at least aesthetically perfect. In The Trial, Joseph K. eventually tries to leave his apartment, but the men tell him: “You can’t go out, you are arrested.”

“So it seems,” K. replies. “But for what?”

“We are not authorized to tell you that,” he is told. “Go to your room and wait there. Proceedings have been instituted against you, and you will be informed of everything in due course.” And then the hilarious line: “I am exceeding my instructions in speaking freely to you like this.”

K. tells himself this must all be a practical joke, or at least a mistake, for he lives in “a country with a legal constitution.” But no. K. is now in the surreal, irrational world that would come to be called Kafkaesque.

And I am in the world of American medicine, the bloated, inefficient thing we find ourselves stuck with in 2012. I’m an advocate for my mother in a different kind of trial. And one of the lesser trials is of our patience.

Witness our experience with the Denver-based gynecological surgeon and oncologist we met above. We’ve taken to calling her Dr. Chutzpah.

Dr. Chutzpah: Part I

Nearly two years ago, Dr. Chutzpah told my mother that she, Dr. Chutzpah, would not perform surgery on the tumor now in question unless my mother underwent chemotherapy afterward. (Yes, afterward. As if she could legally bind my mother’s post-surgery conduct). My mother told the doctor that she couldn’t go through another round of chemotherapy. The doctor said she would not operate without chemotherapy.

Last Monday, Dr. Chutzpah told us that the tumor is now too wound up with veins from the aorta to allow for a safe operation. She also said that Mom has a mucinous tumor, and that such tumors are usually not responsive to chemotherapy.

Dr. Chutzpah to a White Paging Telephone, Please

So Mom and I unpacked that as best we could.

In order to perform critical surgery, two years ago, that could have prevented the further growth of the tumor, had she required a likely waste of time, my mother’s scarce money, your taxpayer money (Medicare), and, not least, a great deal of statistically unnecessary suffering?

So what should we do now? we asked, two years later.

Dr. Chutzpah suggested that Mom should go through chemotherapy, just in case it worked.

Mom and I were perplexed. Hadn’t she just said this tumor was unlikely to respond to chemotherapy?

Dr. Chutzpah: Part II

In mid-January, Dr. Chutzpah told Mom to get another $8000 PET scan. Mom had just had a PET scan in mid-November.

Dr. Chutzpah then had Mom and her friends drive over the Continental Divide, in January, to Denver, for a pre-op procedure – and then sent her home, saying the hospital in Grand Junction had failed to send the critically necessary PET scan. Once Mom had arrived back home $400 lighter, Dr. Chutzpah’s office located the PET scan. It had been in her office all along.

But then Dr. Chutzpah said the $8000 PET scan that she had ordered, and which was necessary to the $400, two-day trip to Denver, didn’t show the right information. She called it “blurry”. Then Dr. Chutzpah did an interesting thing. She told my mother to get a CAT scan.

Now, you would think that if a PET scan had been the best choice all along, Dr. Chutzpah would have ordered another one. Or, if PET scans had a tendency to be “blurry” or to be unlikely to show the object in question, Dr. Chutzpah would have known that and ordered the CAT scan the first time around.

So far, two PET scans and a CAT scan in 60 days. Who absorbs this cost? We do.

In any event, Mom, her immune system struggling with the fearful thoughts this confusing process was causing her, immediately went to St. Mary’s Hospital in Grand Junction and underwent a $4000 CAT scan (thank you, readers!). The hospital again sent the doctor the CD. Then we heard nothing for several weeks. How to explain the time-sensitivity that says a November PET scan may not be current enough — but surgery can wait for several weeks after the third scan? Maybe there is an explanation, but if Mom was given one, she didn’t realize it.

Mom’s nerves were fraying. She wasn’t sleeping well.

Finally, Dr. Chutzpah left a message last Saturday saying she’d call Mom on Sunday. On the appointed day, Mom chained herself to her phone and did not go out all day. There was no call.

Late on Monday, Dr. Chutzpah reached Mom, said she’d called both of us earlier in the day (a curious fib in the age of missed-call lists), and said she hadn’t called on Sunday because, she said, “I thought you might be in church.”

When Mom (who does not go to church) got off the phone, she was incredulous. “Did she think I’d be in church all day?”

This, too, affected Mom’s sense of trust, and well-being.

**Dr. Chutzpah: Part III — Primum non nocere, or First, do no harm**

I watch these things with the eye of a consultant, a coach, a businessperson. (And a comic, sadly). I have been passionate about best practices and efficient systems since before I knew their names. I’ve devised the best ways of doing things, used them, recommended them, helped others build them for my entire career. And I too am incredulous — at the avoidable waste, inefficiency, and poor service I see in medicine.

Dr. Chutzpah, for example, does not have in place the fundamental operating policies a competently-run business has in place to make a real effort to respect clients’ time, money, and emotional energy (which is, or may as well be, the immune system). Leaving aside the possibly wasteful scans, here are just a few policies Dr. Chutzpah could implement as easily as creating checklists for them:

Waste no patient money, I. Establish a procedure to ensure that a patient does not even cross town, much less the state, unless the doctor possesses all the tools and information the appointment requires, including a PET scan.
Waste no patient money, II. Establish a procedure to ensure that a patient does not expend the time and money to come to an appointment unless all tools are in working order, such as clear PET scans.
Take responsibility. If doctor’s office does cause a patient to foreseeably waste time and money, the patient’s overall bill should be reduced to compensate for the increased expense caused by office’s negligence.
Pay attention to foreseeable consequences. If you know that a patient is making plans based on what you say, pay attention to what you say. For example, if you haven’t yet reviewed the CAT scan that would alone tell you if surgery was or was not possible, do not set a date for surgery that others will rely on at their expense.
Do not substitute authority for evidence. When you do recommend courses of action, explain why. Cite a scientific basis for a recommendation. For example, if chemotherapy doesn’t “usually” work for a particular situation, give the patient, at a minimum, statistics for your interpretation of “usually.” Better yet, provide the actual studies you are referring to. Otherwise we have to wonder how cutting-edge your knowledge is, how good your memory, and how well you interpret data. And because you’re a human being and I’ve read the research on medical errors when doctors don’t implement good systems, I don’t want to rely on you alone.
Have the courage to talk about ideas you disfavor. Please address those actions you do not recommend, even if you think they are absurdly alternative. Because we are going to find out about them, and we will want to know the scientific bases for your dismissal of them. We’re probably going to ask you anyway; why not be thorough and streamline things in advance? (Another doctor inspired this addition: When you are asked about alternative therapies, discuss them rationally and unemotionally, rather than with anger and contempt. The latter is about your ego. The former is about your patient).
Better yet, write it all down. It is madness to expect a terrified person to hold in her head everything you tell her, or to take flawless notes. The mind screams: What are you thinking?

Dr. Chutzpah’s Last Ride?

Because no doctor had clearly laid out the options for my mother, nor written anything down for her, we were left with a raft of questions. I called Dr. Chutzpah’s office and left a voice mail saying we had questions. I asked for her email address. I said that we would not rent, sell, or barter the email address, but if the doctor was concerned about getting inundated with emails, I could put the questions on a web page and they could view them there.

I mean, right?

Dr. Chutzpah’s nurse called, several days later, to say that I should leave the questions on their answering machine. Twice she stressed that I should not be worried about leaving “a long message”. In fact, I was quite brief. I read off these questions:

What is the primary cancer here? We have heard ovarian and lung.
How was the stage defined? What does it mean to be in Stage IV without symptoms? Is such a Stage IV not qualitatively or quantitatively different from more symptomatic Stage IVs?
Is this tumor metastatic (spreading) from the primary?
Why was chemo required 2 years ago when she’s saying now that Mom’s type of cancer typically doesn’t respond to chemo?
Why not do a chemo compatibility test?
What are your thoughts on partial removal of the tumor first?
Can a biopsy be done without surgery, or in this case is a biopsy about the same procedure as surgery? If the latter, does it not make sense to do the surgery in order to learn what kind of mass it is?

The next day, the nurse called us back.

“Dr. Chutzpah,” she said, “said that if you have so many questions you will need to make an appointment to see her.”

No, Seriously

“I’m disappointed to hear that,” I told the nurse, “because I think we shouldn’t have that many questions. Their answers should have been included in a well-thought-out presentation. And if there’s not going to be any medical exam, it doesn’t make any sense to travel all that way for a conversation that can be done by phone. Does it?”

Eliminating the only remaining reasonable objection, I added, “We’d be happy to pay her for her time on the phone, but it makes no sense to drive four or more hours to Denver when there won’t even be a physical examination.”

“I will communicate your views to Dr. Chutzpah,” the nurse said.

Eleventh hour cancellation and more questions..

Posted on March 6, 2012 by admin

Well. Knock me over with a feather! After waiting all day, Sunday for Dr.D. to call and being anxious about it, it never happened. Another beautiful day wasted and gone.

Monday morning I called Denver and left messages with Dr. D’s Onc nurse and the Co-ordinator. Another beautiful day was promised and I had enough of being cooped up. As soon as Cameron was finished with his coaching call, we got ready to drive to Ouray and have lunch. Mosey around that pretty, little town. I already had my coat on, when my cell rang. Dr. D. herself. She started out by saying why she had not called Sunday. She assumed I was in church. (Even if I would’ve been, I doubt it would be an all day service.) Anyway, I digress.

She then launched right into why surgery was not an option at this time. Seems that the lymphnode has wrapped itself in and around the vene (the aorta and therefor would be difficult and risky to remove.) I held the phone so that Cameron could hear her as well. She suggested ‘ a few chemo sessions’ first, to shrink tumor and then do surgery.

Although, this type of cancer may not respond well to chemo?? She said that it was a good thing, that the tumor showed so little growth in all this time. When I pointed out that my CA 125 numbers had gone down as well, she brushed that off as lab differentials, or something else. Funny, that! When these points had gone UP, my local doc and Ocologist, Dr. Giggles, both remarked how urgent it is that I see Dr. D. ‘You must do something soon’, they stated. But, when those same numbers go down, they’re dismissed. Of course, I never mentioned that I am taking these supplements.

I used many of those idle Sunday hours to research. What I found was this:

The Promise of Proton-Beam Therapy -Us News and World Report

I had filled out their online info sharing form and at one point they’d call me. Free consultation.

We drove to Ouray, mainly in silence. The thoughts were bumping around in my brain but didn’t find landing a spot. We parked and went up the street to find a place for lunch. The early March sun, in this high altitude was wonderfully hot. Felt great behind my cloesd eyes, to soak it in. And the fresh mountain air. Since it is still off-season, there was not much going on. A few stores trying to get rid of long kept merchandise, with offers of 20-50% 0ff. In one window, a display of rings made of semi-precious stones, caught my eye. Not too much for $75.00 but… I don’t need more stuff. There would not be much joy in wearing this bauble with tumors’ Damocles sword hanging over me.

The Vegetarian Bistro, that I’d been to before was closed. So, to Brian’s Pub we went. Semi Irish decor. The minute I went in, the cheap fry-oil smell was so strong, it made me want to get back out and breath. We ordered a Black Bean Burger with red pepper pieces and caramelized onions. I chose potato salad and Cameron had sweet potato fries. I ate half the burger (which was previously frozen and luke warm) left the bun alone. Cameron ate the burger but not the fries. By that time I was nearly nauseous from that hot-oil-grease-smell. Since I have not cooked with ‘industrial’ oils/fats, this is an assault on my taste buds and senses. (See my recipe entry about Oil Change in the Kitchen.)

We walked to the book store and I purchased two books. My sleeping pills as I read in bed, every night. Cameron expected another work call, so we decided to drive home and pick another day for going to Box Canyon Falls.

My little buddy came to have help with weekly homework. In between trying to make 10 word sentences with him and preparing dinner, the phone rang. It was the Protone Docotor.

He asked me some questions about first diagnosis and recurrence. I repeated the diffilculty of tumor place, etc. He said, oh, Inge, I can get this.’ Told me of the many success’ they’ve had with inherently worse tumors and cancers than mine. One of the worst ones he’s ever seen was a CA 125 (Ovarian cancer) with a 12,000 number! (Mine is 52). Then we got to the REAL point. Cost. One treatment would be $1200.00-1700.00 and about 8 treatments would be required. I quickly figure this to be around $10000.00 Of course , added cost the flight and stay at ? hotel? I thanked him for his time. He gave me his private phone number, encouraged me to call 24/7. No Medicare help on that one either.

Meanwhile, I had received my reply from Professor Koebe. Quick as always to reply. Never have to wait to hear from him. He’s adamant that no matter how little could be removed, to do so. Not to mess with Cyberknife and doesn’t like the idea to start out with chemo. He suggested a vene graft. I would imagine, he means to clamp off either side of the veine area, then cut it all out and graft a piece in between to make the bridge.

When Dr. D. heard that, she immediately negated that idea. ‘People can die doing this and it’s not standard practise of care. Then, post care would be near impossible.

What to do? What to do? Where to turn? Who has the best, workable treatment? Instead of final clarity, I’ve got more, hard questions. Where would I get this sum for Protone, even if I would want to try? We wasted nearly 3 months with back and forth. We wasted $16000.00 of Medicare’s money (hello, Dr. L) for 2 useless PET plus nearly $4000 more for CT. Already so much without any real help for me. (And, of course I have to pay 20% of all that.) The only one, working for free is Professor, Dr. Koebe. He gets a whole heart and ‘sack full’ of Thanks.

Prayers, Angels and Candles…

Posted on March 4, 2012 by admin

As I was waiting these many weeks for a surgery date, many people were waiting with me. In various corners of the world. There’s my family (what’s left of it) in Germany and Switzerland. With e-mails, Skyping and phone, they kept in touch. There are my FB friends who inquire daily. Everyone wishes me well, supportive with words, deeds and prayers. There’s my good friend, Ingrid in Csakany, Hungary. The rest sprinkled across the United States.

My sister and niece, drove to Heroldsbach, Germany. A place in the countryside purported to have had a sighting of St. Mary in 1949-1952 by several children. The spot, where St. Mary was said to have hovered, had supposedly brought forth a spring. She told the children that this would be sacred water. To heal. This sighting miracle was not supported by Rome. But, this did not keep people from coming to this small village, by foot, by car and later, by bus from all over Europe. I had never heard of it, until about ten or so years ago. I was in Germany when my sister asked if I wanted to come with them. I was curious and agreed.

The place is beautiful. Set on a large, sloping meadow, fenced in with a discreet, unobtrusive, wooden fence and a well trimmed hedge. There are the 14 stages of the cross with altars placed in between. There are flowers everywhere. There are also a lot of wooden crosses, in various sizes and weights, for serious pilgrims to carry, depending on what their self-imposed penance may be. In the middle is a small pavilion with several steps going down on 2 sides to the origin of the spring. You can see the small body of water underneath a polished, ornate brass grill.

I was having these undiagnosed, abdominal pains at that time and I placed my hand over this spring and said a silent, little prayer. A little further is a Glass Chapel with the statue of Mary inside. In front of her, huge profusion of flowers. Mostly roses. A large book, on a stand is right by the entrance, where people can write their concerns for prayer intervention, into the book. All that St. Mary required for her help is that everyone would then give written notice of any healing they received. There are plaques all over the place, running up to the ceiling, all 4 walls. Mostly with grateful, short sentences. Mary has helped. Or, with heartfelt gratitude for our miracle.

Since we finally had a date for the surgery, my sister had called with the promise of driving to Heroldsbach and placing my name into the big book. As well as spending 5 Euros for a candle to be lit on the day of surgery while the good nuns would pray for a successful outcome. I was touched.

Then Julio wrote a very nice e-mail, that he too, would go to the cathedral in Bilbao, Spain, on the day of surgery to light a candle on my behalf.

My friend Carla and her husband pray for me daily. The cashier at the Natural Market also offers prayers. As do many friends and acquaintances. I am sent Angels by e-mail, promising to keep watch over me. I should be well covered in Prayer Insurance.

BUT. There’s a bit more drama. Yesterday, I had just finished a nice, surprise call from Julio and Marianne with their happy news that they are booking their flight to the U.S. in mid April. First they’ll fly to New York, where they will spend a few days, then take the train to come West, ending in Grand Junction. We made great plans and I told them we would have a fiesta with friends to welcome them to Colorado.

Cameron was getting ready to go skiing in Powderhorn, which had just received about 2 feet of new snow. Sort of a last hurrah before the medical route with me.

I was scurrying around, letting my friends know that we have a pre-op date and went on last-minute errands.

When I came home, the light was blinking on the answering machine. Without much of any thought, I pressed the button. It was Dr. D. from Denver. She said that she and the Oncologist/Surgeon were looking at the latest CT scan. (She thanked me for getting it done as it gave them a different view and perspective of this lymph node that had gone beserk.) Then, continuing, she said that they had grave concerns as the tumor had intertwined with the veins in such a way that there would be great risks in removal. She would call me this morning to discuss this in person.

Needless to say I was stunned. I felt like I had been running and someone put a stick out to knock me off my balance in mid run. I just stood there and couldn’t even manage to produce a thought. The next thing, CRAP. What NOW? If there are grave concerns, should I even go ahead? Of course, I don’t know the detail of these concerns but I don’t like the sound of that AT ALL!! Next thought: Well. Maybe back to Cyberknife. Also. Write the Professor in Germany, ask him if he had received copy of CT scan and what did he think?

Then. Must do more research. Maybe alternate is my other only option? How do I get this damn blood-sucker out??? De ja vu! I was in this spot months ago when I agonized over the decision to even have surgery. It took such great, inner force to wrap my brain around being cut (“fileted”). Now, I have to again entertain different course of action? Should I have chemo first? To shrink this tumor and then surgery? Should I check into Proton Therapy? How is this different from Cyberknife? There’s one in Loma Linda, they’ve done this procedure longer than anyone else. As I understand it, the machine is 3 stories tall and cost EIGHT Million dollars. But is painfree. I filled out their online intake form. Someone will call Monday and explain it to me.

I’ve also drafted an e-mail to Cyberknife Oncologist. There are still all these alternate centers. GEEEZ! Nothing easy about me and my stuff. More prayers. More angels and more candles are needed.

Scalpel, just over the mountain

Posted on March 3, 2012 by admin

My son, Cameron arrived a few days ago in preparation to drive me to Denver and be there during surgery. We’ve had snowstorms for two days and bitter cold. We only ventured out to get groceries, in case we would be snowed in. (No really.) We took a short walk just to get aired out. The rest of the time, he was busy with work and I was busy with prepping, cooking and freezing meals ahead for our return, when I can not do these things.

My little buddy came to have help with his weekly homework. My friend came to drop her two dogs off. Pumpkin and Max. They absolutely enriched our days. Other than that, nothing exciting going on.

Friday, after noon, I’d asked Cameron to give Julianne, Denver coordinator a call to ask how we’re progressing. Then, suddenly we have a date. After all that waiting, it seemed nearly too fast. As in, ‘oh, I’m not sure if I’m ready for this!’ But, there it is. THE date. Pre-Op appointment is set for Wednesday, 11:00 o’clock in the morning. Anschutz Cancer Center in Denver. At that point I will find out everything.

This means, getting everything ready and set up for a Tuesday departure for the 5+hr trip. Hopefully, the roads and passes won’t be too stressful to get over. Luckily, we have a place to stay with a very generous lady, who offered her home to both of us.

I am ever so grateful to have my son there, to be my ears and common sense, when my brain turns to mush when I walk through those doors. To ask questions and to champion my cause. I will hang on to my daughter’s words, that I have her heart with me. I’m trying to figure out, how we can have her come, at least for Easter, so we can all be together for a little while. She’s so sad, that she can’t be here but we do understand.

Each time, that I’ve had surgery (meanwhile a few), I’ve had this fear of not waking up from anesthesia. At my surgey, ten years ago, to remove cancerous Ovaries and lymphnodes, I started to cry as I lay there IV in my arm, waiting to be rolled to surgery. My son was with me and asked why I was crying and I said “I am soo afraid of not waking up.’ I did, of course but I also remember the horrible pain.

When I was 8 and half years old, I had a tummy ache. Mom was getting ready to go to work, for a few hours and allowed me to stay in bed. (We had no babysitters those days.) I remember laying on the couch, vomiting vile and bitter stuff. Next day, I was already having delirious dreams. I do remember, vaguely, dreaming of large Gnomes. (Honest to God.)

When the doctor came, he pushed on my large, tautly swollen belly and quickly called an ambulance. I remember seeing neighbors gathered outside the apartment house, to see who was sick and I felt very important. I remember getting a thick- needled shot.

I’ve had ruptured appendicitis. Mom told me later, that it was already touch and go. Someone, meaning well in the most awful sense, had told her not to fret too much as she had three more children.

I remember waking up, in pain and after awhile, I felt overwhelming thirst. I’d asked the nurse for something to drink. I asked for peppermint tea as this was what I’d had at home. She said NO. I asked for something else but she said NO. Never explaining why not. After awhile longer, I just got up and went over to the faucet and drank …water. Lots of it. Well, the hoopla after that was bad. They rushed me somewhere but now I don’t remember what they did. (Pump stomach?) I remember, having this dream. I was walking toward a walled city. Everything was gold. Trees, houses, the river winding around, outside the walls, like a golden ribbon. Not made of Gold but like, evening summer-sun-gold. There was a bridge that I needed to cross to get inside. Suddenly, I heard my name . ‘Inge! I-N-G-E!’ I stopped walking. I woke to see my friend, Irene by the window. Since she was so young, she was not allowed to visit but I am sure that she saved my life, by calling me back.

After a few days without having a bowel movement, the nurse came with an enema bucket and hose contraption. At that time, I did not know what this was. I had also had developed an abcess. When she tried to insert the hose, the pain was so excrutiating, that I screamed bloody murder and wiggled to get away from that source. Well, this nurse came from Haides Hell. She hauled off and slapped me in the face. Hard. Then continued to ram this hose in. I sat in bed, sobbing when my mom came. She looked at the marks the 5 fingers left on my cheeks and asked how this happened. She took off. I could hear her shouting all the way. Mama-Bear. She went to the Administrator, she went to the Professor. She cleaned up!! I never saw this nurse again. (My daughter is a lot like her. The protectiveness is alive and well a generation later.)

After about a month, I was released. I needed to recouperate. So it was decided to send me to the country. Plenty of good, fresh air and wholesome meals. This was through the catholic ‘Caritas’. The small village was about 1 hr drive from Erlangen. Set in a very scenic and pretty village surrounded by forests, gentle, sloping hills. They call it the ‘Little Switzerland’. The little house was a kilometer or so, outside the village. Two nuns lived there. In their care was a small orchard with plum, apple and other fruit trees. Then, there was a small, lovely chapel. The ‘Sisters’ themselves were very firm and stern. (I suppose, never having had children, they just didn’t know how to interact.) It was not a good time.

My duty was, to ring the bell to assorted prayers. The length of the prayers, decided how long the bells wer to be rung and why. It all went well until another girl came. Then we both got into trouble because we were just not as pious as they expected of us. When we rang the morning vespers, we got to talking and rang and rang that bell. Village people thought there was a fire and ran outside.

When I was in Germany, several years ago, I asked my cousin to take me there. Pinsberg, fifty years later had not changed much. The village fountain, surrounded by geraniums and other beautiful flowers was the focal point. The houses, more modern and added on, white washed with brown balconies, with many, colorful flower boxes.

The Chapel still the same. Walking inside, the smell of centuries of francincense. A beautiful, crochet, starched, white cloth on the altar as well as flowers. Even though not used much, it was still lovingly cared for. It was emotional to see myself there, as a child. We had lunch at one of the ‘Gasthaus’ there. It was the best Trout I’ve ever had.

I can safely say, that there won’t be any slapping in Denver.

A new test, no date.

Posted on February 24, 2012 by admin

My days consist of the same, daily routine. I try to walk, depending on this fickle weather which is, at times, too cold, too windy, too muddy. Our regular winter weather. The monotony is only broken by short trips to the Organic store, Post Office and other errands. My light, happy moments come in the form of my little buddy. We do his 4th Grade homework together and then visit. (Are you smarter than a 5th Grader?) I find 4th Grade Math to be a challenge!! So different and strange from my days.) We’ve been friends for 10 years now. Practically since his birth. He says, we may not be related by blood but certainly by heart. Ahh. He does my my heart good.

I try not to be gone very long as I am waiting for the phone call from Denver. Two days ago, even after careful plotting my time, I came home just in time to hear a voice on the answering machine. Quickly I lifted the phone to my ear and it was Dr. D.’s Assistant.

But, not to give a date for surgery but to request that I call Grand Junction Pavilion, to set up an appointment for a new CT scan. As it turns out, the much lauded (and costly) PET, was an inferior view of the needed tumor position. I was to have this CT a.s.a.p and then the disc FED EX’d to the surgical team.

I immediately called and got an appointment for Thursday morning. Since I was not allowed to have any food nor drink 4 hours prior to the scan, I awoke at 3:45 A.M without an alarm clock. My brain and system at the ready for a fast breakfast as the interval would be very long until I could have sustenance. And, boy, do I need my sustenance. So. I cooked a bucket of Oatmeal and had a cup of tea and then coffee for good measure. Punctually at 4:30 I ceased shoving anything in.

Outside, the wind rattled and tore at the bare tree limbs. As soon as it was light, the clouds chased each other over the horizon. I really would’ve rather stayed home, on such a day. When I watched the news and weather, the report of strong winds and snow stressed me out.

Punctually at 7:30 A.M my friend Inge B. came to pick me up to drive to Grand Junction and be with me. As so many times before. Never complaining. Never using an excuse of not being able to do this kind deed. Monika had to work, so she had to miss out on this grand adventure.

We arrived early and were shown to the waiting area. There we settled in to wait for whatever would come next. What came next, were two women, who upon seeing me broke out in happy greeting and surprised exclamation. They were from Rangely. I had not seen them, in over 20 years. I said, I recognize you. I just can’t place you. Oh… I know. Rangely, right? You’ve friended me on Facebook, right?

Nancy has been fighting cancer for 12 years now. Has a port inserted in her chest for easier access of whatever needs to be pushed through. Her, daughter, who was in school with my son, faithfully goes with her, each time. Soon, the Radiologist came in with a huge, paper cup and gave each of us the ‘drink’. Gatorade with other tastes. Nasty stuff for so early in the morning. But, dutifully we drank large sips and both of us, making a face and shuttering.

Soon after, I was escorted to the preparation room. Needles, plastic hose for the veine insert. Then, off to the scan room. Siemens machine. Nothing but the finest. Laying down on the gourney-bed, I looked up and saw two panels with azure sky and white, puffy clouds. Nice touch. PET people don’t have that one. Radiologist comes and shoots the dye into my veine. Just one minute later, a very warm feeling goes through your entire body. This sensation makes one feel, like urinating on oneself. Always worries me, that I accidently would do so. Then, the voice command to ‘inhale’ hold your breath…………. breath. After about 15 minutes we are done. Needle is removed. (Thank God, I have good veines.)

By now it’s after 11:00 A.M and I am starving. Off we go to Apple Bee’s and celebrate with a big salad. Now, we wait, again. Meanwhile, my son is flying in on Tuesday. Everyone getting ready. I am somewhat antsy about the whole thing. Since I am feeling so well, I wonder how I’ll feel, afterwards. I manage to surpress worries and creepy fear during the day. But, the brain won’t be deprived of this ecclectic fodder. I dreamed: I was in the hospital, a day prior to surgery. A very efficient nurse came in, rolling a cart ahead of her.

On this cart was a long line of injections. Needles of various sizes. She looks at me and declares firmly, all these 20 shots need to be given within the next 20 minutes. All in preparation for the bag you need to wear after surgery. I woke, heart pounding and terrified that this could be a reality.

Nowhere that I can run. I am tethered to the hospital like with an umbilical cord.

I wonder, if my CA 125 has gone down more points, again? I wonder, if that would be enough to stall chemo.

I belong to a closed, Facebook Support group. Women with Ovarian Cancer. Some of them, like me, survivors of previous cancer. Many of them, like me also, have recurrence. They are very researched, knowledgeable about any and every form of chemo and radiation. They comment on their treatment. They comment on their hugely, elevated CA 125 (Blood test) numbers. Into the Thousands!! One lady’s numbers have gone up to 9000!!! The whole, horrible misery of this disease. Their cancer, unlike mine, goes rampant, aggressive and very fast. It’s in their liver, colon, lung, pancreas and other terminal places. They fear for their very lives and some, have lost the battle and their sons, daughters or other family member will post of their passing. The raw pain of their grief is more than I can bear.

I’ve decided, not to go to this site, for awhile. This is too scary and too close for comfort. I don’t want to have their painful echo and terror in my brain. I feel much compassion but this sucks energy and positivity from me. I fervently hope that they survive.

Meanwhile. I am continuing on my course. Healthful meals. Walks. Tumeric and Curcumin. I have added Black Raspberries and lemon loaded water (Alkalizing). Maybe just pitiful attempts to ward off the beast. But, so far, I have. I have done amazingly well and I’m holding on to that with all my might.

Cabin Fever…

Posted on February 16, 2012 by admin

The days drag on with no news of surgery date. Everyone is in limbo. Both of my computers had crashed with serious ‘Trojan’ virus and so I was without any communication for several days. When I went to pick up my little Notebook and didn’t have enough money, we agreed to barter. One Applestrudel for the remainder of the debt.

When I came home, last week from running errands, there was a crate at my door step. Filled with fresh vegetables. Carrots, Root of celery, egg plant, Mango, Apples, etc. The attached note read: Thinking of you, with Love. Your Friends. I was very touched and so grateful. These medical bill are leaving a big hole in already meager finances. It’s so heart warming that some people recognize the need without my having to spell it out. It’s a very difficult thing, to accept help. Since there is no date, I can’t even schedule cooking classes. By the time we’d get the word out and bring people together, it may have to be cancelled because of the trip to Denver. I really, really want to work.

Some friends have been with me through the last cancer journey. One, in particular. My friend Bonnie. Every time I had chemo, she was there all day, next to me, sitting on this hard chair. She had worked through her lunch hour, each day the week before chemo, so she could spend that day with me.

Yesterday, the trio went to Grand Junction. Inge B. drove and Monika texted and I sang along some German songs. We arrived ahead of the appointed time. I really am a very punctual person. That being one of my ‘virtues’.

I filled out the 3 page in-take form. (Should just have one copied and pass it out.)

Then, the nurse called my name and off we went to the exmination room. She sprayed my throat with very bitter stuff and thus I waited. Doctor came in with a smile, shook hands and chatted a bit. He then ran a thin scope with a small pin light through my nose, down the throat. It was just a bit uncomfortable but otherwise bearable. Then, the other nostril. Declared that I was doing great and that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. Not sure why the PET lit up. (Medicare does not pay for Consult. So this was on me.) But, to hear news like that, I will eat beans for the next week.

Professor wrote an e-mail and wanted to know what they decided to do with me… and why the wait? He also told me, that when he looked at the latest PET scan, he saw a slight tumor reduction. No one had told me that. I was very happy. Even ‘slight’ reduction is ever so much better than growth. It shows and is proof that what I am doing and all of this hard work is paying off. Let the doubters doubt. They cannot dissuade me.

More ‘what- for’

Posted on February 5, 2012 by admin

The next day I went about my business when the phone rang. It was my doc. He chastised me, once again and I answered the thoughts I’d had, yesterday.

Before I could launch into the financial aspects, he told me to ‘get on with it as he was in between patients’. I think, that was the last straw. I am looking for a new doc. Had enough of this verbal abuse, for which I am paying. Not much… after all it’s only Medicare but still, I am employing him.

It reminded me, when I was married, to ‘what’s his-name’. He was perfect in the art of verbal abuse. I remember one incident, now rather comical. He was reading something to me while having breakfast. So this was the sentence;’ This fakuhd had interesting structures.’

I asked, ‘fahkud?’ I don’t know what that is. ‘What!?” he yells, you don’t even know what a fahkud is? You always want to be so clever! Puzzled over this outburst, I said, no, I’m sorry, this is a word I’ve never heard, would you show it to me, please? He did and it was ‘facade’. Meaning: front. Spelled the French way with the accent under the c. “Oh’, I’d exclaimed, delighted, that indeed, I did recognize the word, ‘you mean ‘Fassade’, pronouncing it the proper way.

Before I knew what was happening, he picked up his cup and threw it against the sink. I was not allowed to be intelligent. He couldn’t handle it. He was throwing a whole, complete hissy-fit. (I’ve been divorced for many years.)

The rest of the day was spend in self created harmony. Feeding the birds and listening to their excited chatter, when saw me approaching the feeder. A walk by the river, azure sky and sun on my face.

I’d called Denver camp and they promised that Dr. D’s nurse would get back to me She did. Could not give me result of PET since Dr. D said, that she didn’t have the Radiologist there to interpret. My scan and case history would come before the board, this Thursday, to be discussed and then I would get their recommendations.

I’ve also made an appointment with ENT docs in Grand Junction. Another red flag for my doc, as he questioned why I wouldn’t go to local. I didn’t have time to explain, how that one missed the whole symptoms and only diagnosed ‘increase mucus production’, when it was the cellular changes of lung cancer. Why would I go back to him??

Fenruary 15th is my appointment. I really don’t think, it’s anything to worry about. This is ‘just in case’. A Raiologist and friend of mine, who had looked at the scan, told me he’d never seen anything, that would show cancer, ‘in that area’. This was later confirmed, by the nurse, who said, that Dr. D. noted, she had never, ever seen ovarian cancer end up in the throat. I have no symptoms of anything. (Other than some scratching-tickle, when I had a cold after getting back from New York.)

I got busy baking an apple cake and made myself a big salad. I’d called my friends, Monika and Inge B. and invited them for Coffee and cake for Saturday afternoon. Cleaned house, ironed and had a good evening.

Saturday, while setting the table with Bavarian China and bright, yellow tulips, the phone rang. Caller I.D. showed doc is calling. I didn’t pick up right away. Didn’t even want to talk with him but then, I didn’t want to have resentment brewing and be so little. I picked up and he gave me the result of our ‘disputed’, un-necessary CA 125 blood test.

SHOUTING FROM THE ROOFTOPS!! My CA 125 has lowerd 7 points. Seven, heavenly points. DOWN. Not the same, not UP but down. My Immune system is fighting like mad to get rid of mutant cell problem. I was elated. I would’ve cleaned the street to earn this money for the cost of test. The boost it gave me, the delight and joy of having my hard work confirmed, my faith substantiated is awesome. You cannot pay for this feeling.

So. What did he say?? ‘Don’t get too excited. You still need surgery.’ Gosh. I am going to find this golden nugget in the med world, who can be supportive and applaud my victories, whether they co-incide with his/her beliefs, or not.

I celebrated with a double amount of carrot/red pepper/celery juice. I had the music on and danced around my living room, singing along, loudly. More endorphins to shake up errant cells. Right now, I am a happy camper.

Thank you, GOD.

Odd message

Posted on February 3, 2012 by admin

Since I’ve not heard from anyone, nor from anywhere, I’ve had to make my own decisions.

No news from Germany, either. (?) But then, they have Sibirian weather there and perhaps the words froze mid -flight in Cyberpsace. Or, it was just too crazy trying to figure it all out.

It has been one month since my last CA 125 blood draw (cancer markers). So, I’ve decided to go to the lab and have one, should Dr. D. (Denver) need that as well. She had been unhappy that I had so few ‘recent’ tests done. After PET disc was send to her, again, it was placed on her desk, for review on Wednesday or Thursday and then, hopefully a word about decision to me, about yes, no, to do surgery.

Since my doc wasn’t there and I’d done this multiple times before, I just had the draw and left him a note for an order. I had a few more questions for him, as well.

This waiting is really getting on my nerves. Sitting home, waiting for the phone to ring. Just like in (long) days past, waiting for an elusive, unavailable boyfriend to call.

I went to lunch with a new friend. Then, came home to my (boring) vigil by the phone.

I thought to charge my cell phone, as I’d wanted to call my son about questions he had. There I noticed a message. Curious, I accessed my mail box. (Very few people call my cell.) It was my Montrose doc. He said, that I don’t need a CA 125 this time. Wouldn’t matter if it was elevated or, even if it went down as I had to have the surgery. ‘We must save Medicare money for your surgery,’ he said. And, why would I need a ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat) doctor? That Denver Dr. may not have excellent people skills but she does have excellent surgical skills and to wait.

Perhaps, they think, that since I’ve waited this long, a few weeks won’t matter now.

After I got over the sting and puzzlement, I was glad I wasn’t here to take this call. Here is my side: I’ve paid into Medicare my whole, adult life. It’s not charity. So far, I’ve not been a big burden nor expense to them. Then, if we needed to save, it would’ve been to dismiss the P.E.T scan of $8325.00 (German Professor said, I didn’t need one.)

Doc here also wouldn’t mind, that I use what little money I had and get into debt with charge cards, to go to Germany to have surgery and let them pick up the rest of the tab. Last time, with the cancer rodeo, I had NO insurance and was really crippled financially. Sold everything I had to help along and it was never enough. Cleaned houses and offices while vomiting from effects from chemo and cleaning supplies. Did baby sitting as well just so I would not end up a welfare case.

Friends were helping by leaving cash and checks around, hidden, easy to find but so I wouldn’t have to lose face. In return, I baked and cooked and baked and took these goodies all over town. Some church members, whom I didn’t know, donated $500.00. When I was feeling better, I baked 15 Apple Strudels and took them to their church, the following Sunday.

Then, I paid medical bills each month, for years. The State of Colorado stepped in and paid the rest. I felt very embarrassed.

I’d acted on my doc’s advice to have throat examined due to PET hot spot!

Had they all acted sooner on my symptoms, perhaps I wouldn’t be in this boat!

I was really upset and woke up early from stress dreams. To get rid of these negative emotions, I put Mozart’s ‘Le Nozze de Figaro’ into stereo with volume up. Baked an Apple cake.

I am ready for when he calls back today.

Flurry of e-mails

Posted on January 25, 2012 by admin

Since the last 12 days and most them of them without any word from Denver camp nor Montrose, I had Dr. D’s words running incessantly around my head. ‘Maybe we can’t remove this tumor surgically.’ I was in a deep shock. So, how else can it be removed? She did not address this issue. I imagine, perhaps it would be chemo and for good measure, radiation.

I had a call to my doc, here, well, we already went through all of that. I even called again. No answer. I felt totally alone in trying to figure out what to do with this huge problem.

Several e-mails were sent back and forth to Professor in Germany, who was my only link. He replied at once, every time.

I’d sent medical records and scan results. He answered promptly and was concerned, as the tumor had grown and did not see why we had to do another, expensive P.E.T. When I told Professor that Dr. D had stated she ‘may’ not be able to remove tumor, his next e-mail said, ‘if this is so, then to come Wuerzburg. I’ll be here for you.’

Denver co-ordinator had called Thursday afternoon to schedule a P.E.T scan, in Denver, for the following Wednesday morning. I was totally stressed out, how on earth could I manage to get there, again. Who could drive? Where to stay? How to get around? I don’t have unlimited funds. I’d spend over $350.00 on the last, useless trip. I asked, if I could have this done in Grand Junction. I said, I don’t live around the corner and to expect me to come there for a scan and then be told she may not be able to do surgery, was unreasonable. Unless they could tell me, why a P.E.T in Denver was more sophisticated than the one in Grand Junction. (I had called my son while coordinator was conferring with doc and he led me through the mental maze.)

She called back to tell me that this was alright and they’ll set it up. My blood pressure has been really high with all these stressful talks, then e-mails to figure out, if I had to go to Germany, where I could convalesce? How much would that surgery cost? All my adult life I’d paid into Social Security, to have some help in my ‘old age’. Now, that I was finally old enough for Medicare, I’d have to pay 100% over there? NOT fair. Not fair at all. But, to even have someone offer this kind of help has me very emotional. In one e-mail, he wrote that he could not open the disc and so could not look at it. But, he was sure he could do surgery.

(Remember? Dr. D. had not looked at it either but cautioned, that she may not.) I’m not giving up on her because she is good. I need good, or, as they said, ‘the best’.

Yesterday morning, my friends, Monika and Inge B. and I, drove to Grand Junction. They’ve been with me, for every P.E.T scan, starting nearly 2 years ago. It had been snowing when we left. For a large part of the way, there was very thick fog. I was so very thankful that I did not have to go to Denver, over those passes. I would’ve stressed out a lot more.

The ladies at the reception recognized me and were glad to see me, although not glad (she said) that I had to be back. The nurse, who inserted the catheder, also remembered me and said, ‘How nice to see you again. You’re just like a breath of fresh air when you come.’ I had to be poked 3x before it my veine finally agreed. She also gave me a large cup of (nasty tasting) thick, contrast. Then, to lay down, resting in the big chair. Curtains drawn all around. You can’t read. You can’t talk. Just laying there. For nearly an hour. That’s such a long time and feels like punishment for me. I’d tried to visualize the tumor hanging in there, dried up. This would be so ideal compared to what I’d be facing.

Finally, bathroom break and then into the room with the big, doughnut shaped, scan machine. At least, they’re not closed in any more, like those narrow coffin-ones they had, even just 2 years ago. Both arms go over the head and are strapped down. Then, mid section is strapped in. (I asked, if this was a straight jacket? Was I in the right place. ha.)

Then, the scan began. Of course, right away, my nose itched. Can’t scratch. Have to lie perfectly still. Then, my eye itched. I’ve tried very hard to ignore all those suddenly, itching body parts. It seemed like a long, long time. Finally the movement to get out of the scan. The nice radiologist, who has done my last 3 scans, assured me that he would give me extra discs, so I would not be anywhere without them. Of course, he can’t tell me what he saw.

My friends were outside waiting and after I received the discs we left. It’s a good place to go and I was not stressed at all. I know, it’s because it’s not so huge and impersonal like Denver University. It’s also because I know these people and they know me.

My doc had finally called Monday eve. He appologized as he was at the hospital all week. He told me all my decisions were really good ones, and ‘right on’ and to involve Professor, as well. He also told me, he would call me at once, today, when he received P.E.T result.

So. Pilgrims. Within a few hours or tomorrow, I should know where to go. Denver or Wuerzburg. My son has agreed to come with me, no matter where I go. My daughter, who has family and can’t leave, is close with support, love and keeping the home front.

( I am selling some ‘stuff’ to finance at least the ticket.) I try not to think about this huge obstacle of money.

I had a feeling….

Posted on January 18, 2012 by admin

After I had some time to rest and think, I became pro-active once more. Gloria from medical records at my local Dr’s called me, to assure me that she did, indeed, send the records. I, in turn assured her that I knew it was not her fault. Since it was a holiday, no one was at the office and I need to wait for my dr. to call. I’m still waiting. She worked on having records transferred on Tuesday as well. (I will bake her a cake.)

Meanwhile: I had send an e-mail to Professor, Dr. Koebe in Wuerzburg. I’ve described what had happend and asked for his advice, as I was really worried how I would get rid of this last cancer tumor.

With efficient speed there was a reply as I checked my e-mail, first thing, yesterday morning. My heart beat a bit faster wondering whether he would say, ‘so sorry but I can’t help you. You live too far away and it’s not my jurisdiction and I wish you well’. Something like that. But, what I saw instead was his reply to their incomptence and failure to communicate. How sorry he was that I had to drive so far for practically nothing.

He offered to look at my scans and surgical records, at the slides from lung surgery, etc. He wrote, to hold off on expensive P.E.T ($8000.00) until he could view all of my stuff. Then, he wrote, ‘Marion and I are always here for you.’ This simple, caring sentence made me cry. ( Marion is Executive Secretary and a warm, caring woman who has also written uplifting and cheering notes. I was so relieved that there was someone, looking out for me.

I also received a very nice comment/e-mail from a woman, who, as it turned out lives here, in Montrose. She has video’s of alternate treatments which she offered. She is convinced that traditional medicine helped to kill her son. After a few e-mails back and forth, I am invited to her home and we’ll look at this info together. I offered to bring Apple Strudel. Through this blog, I have met the nicest people.

Since Dr. D. (Denver University) had made the remark that ‘it may now be too late to remove tumor through surgery’, I started to research that very subject. (I can’t sit home scared and chew fingernails.) Why did she say this? Because she was cranky that I did not listen to her 20 mos ago? Really small of her. I have the right to look for the best, ost gentle treatment for my immune system. I have done very well until last October, when things started to move and I took immediate action, although it was ‘conventional’ treatment option because I was scared.

I’ve found CRYOABLATION. This treatment was first used in Bejing, China, about 9 years ago. It’s a process that uses extreme cold (cryo) to remove tissue (ablation) as salvage therapy when there is no other way to get to a tumor. It is also minimally invasive. (I’ve heard that one before). It’s injected at the tumor site then substance is released which freezes the tumor and it shrivels up and is ‘dead’. It only costs $26,000.00 plus air fare. Down went my excitement. But, further research showed that they also use this at Dana Faber, Harvard cancer center. My one shot to get into Harvard? 🙂 I will check this out. ‘Just in case’.

I’m also thinking of sending my records to #2 Dr. in Grand Junction. Dr. Giggles had told me that she was Nr. 2 and that Dr. D. was #1. But, just like Avon, maybe Nr.2 tries harder.

Meanwhile, everyone is on hold. My son, my daughter, my friends- me. Not knowing what to do, how to do it or where?

If Professor in Germany could remove it, do I go there? Would my son come with me? (note to self: ask son.) I could but have to pay myself and who knows how much that would be? Where could I go after surgery for convalescing? It would be so lovely, if I had their insurance and could go to one of those marvelous Wellness Centers. Maybe in the Black Forest? Upper Bavaria? Of course, if it works out that I can stay near home with loving support that would be most ideal.

Out from Under Myself

Posted on January 17, 2012 by admin

January 14. I write that to keep track. I’ve been sick for almost exactly two weeks, and in a sense I feel like I’ve missed 2012. I’m in the city now, that singular city, Manhattan. Standing before my MacBook Air at a tall, chairless table in Le Pain Quotidien, the kind of table meant to encourage executives to quaff their coffee and tourists to eat their croissant and then to get the hell out, I begin, suddenly, at long last, to write . . .

I was so happy to get into the city again, after over two weeks away. If I didn’t get a visual of John Travolta walking the streets to the sound of “Stayin’ Alive”, that’s about how I felt. Sometimes I can really feel the heels of my shoes hit the sidewalk, and at about 40^th Street and 7^th Avenue I was having one of those moments. When I realized my gloves were missing and turned to see my bus heading down 7^th I was just starting to listen, on my iPhone, to the guitars of Jet’s blistering “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?” What are the odds that, just when I need to sprint after a bus, on comes a soundtrack song from the Ski Dance Drive mix?

I leapt into the street, outran a taxi, and ran down the bus. Whew! That the gloves weren’t there (I’d left them on the first bus) hardly dampened my enthusiasm.

Afterward, I posted a photo on Facebook, of a different bus, which sparked general outrage that I would stop to take a picture of my prey before running it down. One person suggested the gloves must have been lined with rabbit fur, but the suggestion is patently ridiculous. They were actually lined with down harvested from a hundred virgins’ inner thighs.

As I continued my walk to the New York Public Library, I reached into my change pocket and without looking gave the contents to a sad-looking seated man who wasn’t even begging. Outside the library I would later set up a recurring donation to Somali refugees.

And I walked east on 40^th Street and soaked up the energy of the city.

Why didn’t I do this more often over the last two weeks? Was I thatsick?

Bryant Park Grill, with the New York Public Library behind it

You might wonder – well, you probably aren’t wondering, but lately I have been so self-absorbed I can readily imagine you thinking about me almost as much as I do – you might wonder, I was saying, if I, a coach, made New Year’s resolutions this year. In most prior years I’d have said no. This year, I have been putting together ideas, so I have a sort of plan, but it’s not done. It can’t be done until I figure out what the purpose of 2012 is, other than to scrawl on the wall another tally mark of years gone by.

My resolutions, that is, like me, are a work in serious progress. Whither Cameron? There are no yellow arrows here. “Snap back to reality, oh, there goes gravity,” sings Eminem as I write this. Exactly. Back from a camino, or path, with clear markings on it, I am still on this latest quest, the kind of quest outlined in the hero’s journey of myth and cinema.

When I left Bend in August, my plan, which I’d arrived at after visiting several cities last summer, was to move to the winner, San Francisco, sometime after I got back. That “sometime,” I suppose, holds the rub. In August I had no idea when my house would sell, but there I was, on an October 14 morning in Galicia, three days from the end of the Camino, executing the closing documents on my house and signing most of my considerable down payment into the recessiosphere. My wonderful Bend real estate agent, Kelly Neuman, hired movers to pack up my things and put them in storage somewhere in Bend.

At this point in telling my story, the language I overhear myself using with people is revealing:

I sold my house out from under myself.

I find it incredibly useful to watch thoughts, and to deconstruct them like a committee comprised of a literary critic, a psychoanalyst, a lawyer, and a writer (Freud was arguably all of these, the lawyer courtesy of his late 1800s Viennese Judaism). The metaphor I used – out from under myself — told me I believed, or felt as if, I had knocked the foundations of my life out from under myself, the way you might kick away a ladder you’re standing on.

When I got back to New York on October 22, I wasn’t ready to go back to Oregon on the October 25 flight I’d scheduled. I felt drained to contemplate it. Besides, what would I do there? My life, including my BMW, was in storage. The Land “World’s Most Expensive Ski Accessory” Rover I listed for sale on Craigslist. And if I would ever be ready to move to San Francisco, I knew it was not anytime soon.

After all the metaphorical running, running, of the past year-and-a-half, after the literal walk through Spain and jaunt through Portugal, I was, at last, without anything in particular to do. Oh, the coaching continued, but it was the next mission, the next purposeful and deliberate search for meaning, that was not clear. And as I tell clients, clarity is confidence, and confidence clarity. They are really two ways of describing the same phenomenon; you’ll never have one without the other.

In hindsight, it was probably unreasonable to expect that I would attain that clarity and confidence so quickly. Right. So, I’ll get back from the trip and I’ll be totally done with the past and completely clear about the future and life will just sort of proceed from there. There are measurable steps in life’s major transitions, and I was still, on all the evidence, engaged in some form of rest, recovery, recuperation, rejuvenation, perhaps even a subtle, low-grade form of mourning. Whatever it was, I was not my usually hyper-efficient, hard-charging self.

I tried not to resist this, because resisting reality always hurts. I should be different. I should be other than what I am. Even though any sentence that begins with “I” and continues with “should” is almost always untrue on arrival, I “knew” I should be writing. The following captured thought, repeated incessantly day and night, is how I knew:

I should be writing.

. . . multiplied, like horseflies and gnats and sometimes a mallet, by several thousand.

But what to write? The camino blog felt over for me. In title, intent, and practice, it had been a blog about Mom and the Camino and cancer: I hesitated to make it a blog about me. But even that was probably academic, because I didn’t know even what I might want to share with the world, or at least with the blog’s hundred-plus readers. I can see why all the gurus write their books from the perspective of having already reached their grail, after the fact, rather than showing us the dirty confusing embarrassing spectacle of themselves floundering about, flapping about like a fish on shore and in search of oxygen. Eckhart Tolle wrote his books after his enlightenment, and they’re fine, important books, but how do you relate to a Zen master?

Before the Camino, I had thought about keeping a blog on my journey of separation and divorce in real-time, to illustrate most pungently how a fairly normal person gets through, and to differentiate any related book from all those that show gurus dispensing wisdom in hindsight. It seemed to me that people don’t benefit from seeing or reading someone tell of their journey once it’s over as much as they would from witnessing the journey itself. But the Anatomy of a Divorce blog also was not to be.

I also toyed for a while with launching a blog about one of the few things I was , apparently, motivated to do while in New York, which was trying to meet women. But that idea too has languished, for reasons that need not detain us here.

Happily, for a while in May I had felt like working on “The Novel,” by which I mean the first in a trilogy I conceived of over seven years ago. I had worked on it peripatetically for about five years, but drifted away from it in 2009, as I spent my time being a senior executive in a start-up, being married, helping my wife run her business, and researching and co-writing a book for several publishers. I had a brief fling with The Novel during my two weeks in Israel, in May, felt great about it – but arrived back in Bend to reality. I also lost most of what I had written, after my new hard drive crashed. This was discouraging, but a drop in the bucket of everything else going on at the time.

And so the writing proceeds very slowly, though it is mostly about the Camino project, which I am tentatively calling Mom and Me, along with some subtitle, perhaps relating to divorce and other cancers. Could I finish it before the next camino season, say, by May, and get it in Kindle format so pilgrims could take it with them on the Camino? Could I get enough word-of-mouth and other buzz to sell more than a few copies? We shall see…

In early December, I decided to go to Bend to tie up many of the loose ends that had been grating on me. But that trip would turn out to be completely different from what I imagined.

Friday the 13th

Posted on January 13, 2012 by admin

Laurel, Carrie and I, left January 10th a little late but still in good time to get to Denver. Only had one pit stop in Silverthorn but boy was it frigid! Icy wind blowing and I was worried about the rest of the way, over snow packed passes, icy patches and ever more urgent warning for Trucks to stop and chain up.

Finally made it and stopped at the Marriott right across the Children’s Hospital and next, University of Denver Hospital. Huge buildings and a whole campus with medical facility for each body part.

We checked in and the room was at a ‘patient discount’. Offered Hot Tub, pool weight room and breakfast. The girls took off to check it all out but I had stayed behind, just to rest and get my thoughts in order. Later, we asked at the front desk, where they would recommend that we go for dinner. She mentioned a name, that I already forgot and the shuttle took us over there. At first, I thought it was a double wide with christmas lights still strung up, by the door.

It was an older, ‘established’ Western theme place. I noticed a large, gilded framed painting on the wall as we waited to be seated. It depicted a white cow, sitting up, short horns with a bibb around its neck and long, pink tongue lolling in anticipation of having a ‘good steak’??

I said to the girls, ‘I have this suspicion that they do not serve anything Vegan nor Vegetarian, here.’ They laughed and agreed. We observed the waitress as she went to another table and pronounced that this was a ‘verbal menu’. Rattled off the choices but not the prices. Well, with our turn, I did order Prime rib, baked potato, salad. Recklessly, I even ordered a Margarita but after 2 sips had enough guilt feelings to pass it to Laurel. Carrie and I shared one order of Prime Rib and she opted for her favorite Spaghetti (they serve it with Prime rib?)

Same waitress came to the table with this huge 3 foot peppermill to sprinkle on the salad but in retrospect, this cutesy idea did nothing to excuse the tough meat (and the mediocre spaghetti.)

My one fling before the long ordeal next day and that’s what I got. As we waited for the shuttle, people came to the foyer and looked at the pictures of past rodeo Queens and prize bulls. A whole row of this one, big black bull. Some guy remarked how the owners got quite a long run with this bull. I said, I think, we had him tonight’. The girls just doubled over with laughter, especially after some other patrons asked if our meat was tough?

I said, we should’ve called Gail and ask her where to go. Beds were great and so I had a good night. Woke up at my usual, early time and tried to be very quiet. Fumbled with the coffee maker, in the dark and then re-searched Dr. D. online. It stated that she has 27 years experience, Board certified and has, a generous 5 star rating.

Visiting the Surgeon and Oncologist

I was getting antsy and got ready to go down for breakfast. The girls just opened their eyes at that point. I went down and had some of the Institution scrambled eggs, a gray sausage patty but then felt really guilty and exchanged it for oatmeal. Promptly at 8:00 A.M. the shuttle took us over to the Cancer building. Huge. First appointment wit Dr. Lisa C. Intergrative Medicine. Her nurse came to take Vitals and remarked at my high blood pressure (168/95) I assured her, that this was only due to the surroundings and that I had very nice, normal numbers. Then, Doctor came and we went to Consultation room. (Girls came with me.) I thought, that this was akin to Alternate but no, that’s not so. Very nice doctor though. She recommended a ND. (Naturopathic Doctor)- Oncologist, in Denver for me to see but the subsequent events made this not possible. She was thrilled that I was already a a good diet, had all my thought process in order, seemed cheerful (not depressed) definitely not a couch potatoe and upon hearing of our camino adventure, exclaimed what an awesome thing to do. She kept saying, that this ND would absolutely ‘love me’ and what an inspiration I was. My blood pressure went down 30 points. She listened to my medical history and then gave me lots helpful material. i.e. Dieticians, Pharmacy, Supplemental advice and assured me, that all of this was free. Part of their program. She’s also a great advocat for Acupuncture.

Then, it was time to see Dr. D. We all went there and, after seeing this big CANCER CENTER sign, I could feel my blood pressure again. Luckily, not quite as high. All that talking helped. More vitals, weight, height. More forms to fill out. Back to Waiting area. I could see Carrie getting pale. Even a little green around the gills. I told her, she would not have to stay. This was not a nice place to spend some hours. But, she insisted on staying and even going into the room, once more, to listen to all this history, again.

They went out as I was getting ready for exam. There I sat, in the gown, in this bare room, dangling my feet and wishing I was miles away. Then, Dr. D. came in and greeted me formally and briskly. After examination, she asked her resident for P.E.T scan disc and OP slides from lung surgery. She responded in the negative, as it was not send from Montrose.

She shook her head and was upset and muttered, that ‘heads would roll’. But, she also told me, that now she had doubts, whether this tumor could be removed surgically. WHAT??

Well, it may be too big, she said and since she could not look at it, she had no idea how to proceed. They (Montrose) would need to get her this information, we also need another P.E.T scan, as the one I’ve had in October was too long ago. She said, it was really a shame that I did not have better info. Denver would now set up a P.E.T appointment, for middle of the week so I would have time and would have to do all these other tests and maybe, pre-operative, if possible. Coming on a Thursday was not a good idea.

My head spun as I tried to take all of that in. I also felt extremely guilty, stupid and ‘wrong’ to have wanted to try to help myself, in a different manner. Like, this is what you get when you go against medical advice. Good one, Dr. D. More to deal with on my full plate.

I was really shaken at that point. I felt the tumor like a monkey on my back, or more so, in my back. This was fast becoming a nightmare. I had psyched myself up, finally, to have surgery and chemo and now, we don’t even know what to do????

Now, I have to wait, again until all these appointments are in place and i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed. I think, I need something to keep me calm. I need to call some of the people, who offered their guest room, in Denver, so I can stay and get those things done. I may need someone here, to help me do all this. I think, this may be more important than having someone here at chemo. Heck, I don’t even know what’s up.

I felt very much alone, coming home this early morning. Some animal, probably a Racoon? came dashing across the road and I could’ve clipped it. Not sure. At least there was no thump, or, worse, thump-thump. But it was enought to start me crying all the way home. The dim headlights being swallowed up by the dark road and dark sky. Right now. I am out of ideas, cheery, little remarks, etc.

I am just scared.

Well, here I go…

Posted on January 6, 2012 by admin

After some bloody, scary days last week I’d found out I was detoxing too much and my colon was ‘squeaky’ clean. Stopped doing that and things went away. Still had to go to my appointment and since I was there, I had another CA 125 (ovarian cancer blood test).

I was really, really hoping it had settled downward. But, yesterday’s result was such that I have to hasten to have the tumor removed. In only one months it climbed another 9 points.

Everything is lined up for the trip and I have a feeling that, maybe I should take some more things with me, which I would need, in preparation to stay. I think, Dr. D. may schedule surgery fairly soon. I am working very hard to do a Brain change for these very different treatments than I had envisioned for myself, for so long and stay positive.

When I saw my Doc, I was telling him about meeting with Dr. Giggles and that we’re not a good fit and how insensitive, rude and condescending he was, inspite his Wall-Diplomas, or because of them.

I was also telling him of the compassionate, kind Professor in Germany, whom I had only seen twice. He must’ve heard something as he told me, that I was in the best shape to have this surgery now. We talked about surgery and I jokingly said that I hoped there would be someone there to hold my colon while she went all the way back in there, he seriously replied, oh yes. There will be a resident doing that.’ Wow. That’s a picture I could’ve done without. He walked with me to the Front desk and gave me medical copies to take to Denver and then said, You look very nice and healthy’. I replied ‘ in Europe they call this the blooming life’. So ironic and sad that my numbers have gone up when I feel (and look) so well. No swollen lymphnodes. No pain, which is good but realistically, this will change. I hope they have good drugs.

When Doc called to give me the result, he ended by saying again, that I am in very good shape and he was very optimistic about the outcome. I suppose, now that ‘ve raised him for 10 years, he’s starting to ‘get it’. He has become a little more compassionate.

I will drive to Grand Junction on Tuesday so we can leave early for our 5+ hr drive over two mountain passes and hope the weather will keep being as good as it is now. Carrie wanted to come along and I said, of course she can, she’s my little soldier.

Marriott Hotel is close to University and offers a discount for patients. Also, free shuttle to Hospital and anywhere within 5 miles, to shop or restaurants. I don’t think I have time nor money to shop.

If I have to stay, Bonnie and Jayne will come to help pull me through and wait until I’m done. Got to have someone on the other side of OP cheering me on .

I will try to inform everyone, once I consult with both doctors. Wish me well. Say a little prayer.

Bye, New York- Hello, Denver

Posted on December 29, 2011 by admin

I am a lucky person.

Met my grandson in Denver and we flew to New York together. Dylan grew so tall in the four years I had not seen him, that I did not recognize him and had to call my daughter, who called him, to find him. My daughter with grandson Kaleb came later. What a most generous present from my son, to have all of us together for the Holy days.

We stayed at the home of Cameron’s buddy from Harvard days. They generously moved to couches in the Living room, to make room for 4 more people. And, we did the town. World Trade Center with the perpetual pools. Somber mood and sadness, running fingers over the carved names of so many people.

Madame Tusseau’s wax museum.

Ripley’s Believe it or not. Carriage ride around Central Park. Fifth Avenue with Christmas splendor deco. Ferry ride and Statue of Liberty. A special treat, going to the movie in Greewich Village, ‘The Way’. Cried some just for the recognition of what we had done and places we’d been.

China town, twice and good Vegan food. I’ve just really loved every minute of it and we walked 4-5 hours each time. My 8 year old grandson was just fascinated with everything and chattered, asked, talked. He also walked every bit without complaining.

But, all good things must come to an end and so on my last day I caught a cold and brought it home.

Bills, lovely christmas cards and a few presents from friends were here. Also, a call from Denver University Oncology Dept. I suppose that my reluctance to do chemo had resonated with someone as I have two appointments. One with Alternate Doctor and one with Surgeon/Chemo Doctor. I also have been offered a ride and Laurel said she would take off work, if she had to, to take me. Others, living in Denver offered their homes.

So, on January 11th we shall leave and head over the mountains, once more.

I’ve come to a point where I will do whatever is necessary to make this cancer history. I will also use ‘meditation and visualisation’ techniques to help myself and not keep predicting that I would get so sick. Mind over matter.

I’ve received the nicest note from German Professor-Dr. Koebe, (Hans-Guenter) with good wishes, encouragement and general up lifting. I wonder whether he would realize how much these notes help me? The same for his secretary, Marion. These are people I’d only met twice and I know he’s a very, very busy man and yet, he takes time out to pen a few words because he’s kind.

I really can’t help but compare Dr. ‘Giggles’ to him. And, the former falls way short. Professor Koebe tells me not to worry about ‘stuff’ and concentrate on Austria/Tirol trip in fall. To look forward eating potatoe balls and ‘Palat Schinken’ (a really good speciality) as this helps more than any medicine. His good thoughts and wishes will accompany me and to keep my fine spirit. Maybe he’ll even read this and knows that I am really grateful.

My son is in holding pattern, ready to come on a moments notice. My daughter is helping with love and support. She felt sad that she can’t be here and help as well but there are children, school, etc.

Thank you, my wonderful family and special friends. My little buddy, who always lights up a room.

Happy New Year.

Musings

Posted on December 16, 2011 by admin

As I am waiting on word and schedules from Denver coordinator, I am in a fog-like state of limbo. I am still researching and still holding out some hope.

Cameron came, the other day, driving his big, red scout across the many miles from Bend, OR., to Montrose. He had brought odds and ends from his former life including his big, brown leather chair/office. It now squats in the living room as a silent reminder of his future presence and changes of things to come. His willingness, kindness to put his future and plans on hold is an amazing gift. Also not lost on all friends who will be involved with support and with chemo care. (At the same time, I am researching different chemo availability.) Now, he is en route to New York as we will spend Christmas together with my daughter and grand children, all put in place before these changes. I am very much looking forward to a ‘last fling’ before surgery/chemo.

We definitely need someone to help cook.

As I reflect on some of the parallels of last cancer journey to this one, I see many changes in myself. Last time I didn’t know diddly. Although being informed is not a doctor’s dream of a compliant patient. Now we can challenge and argue and ask and suggest, (for all the good it does.)

I’ve been corresponding with a friend from my courthouse days. (Bailiff that I was and loved it immensely). She’s going through cancer as I write. After my dis-enchantment with this oncologist, who in the last 20 min of our meeting talked solely to my friend, Monika and ignored me completely, an attempt of reversed psychology? Once home again and when the smell of the place had dissipated, the more I thought about his manner and behavior toward me, the less I cared for him. This is where my friend comes in as her experience was very similar to mine with same doc.

She is very happy and well cared for by Oncologist in Grand Junction. I shall call and ask to be accepted there as well. Tired, disppointed of these two, here.

One of the things I’d suggested to my friend was to have a visible goal to concentrate on and to look forward. This helps immensely on stronger brain activity, over powering negativity.

When I had cancer 10 yrs ago, I had taped a fold out from a magazine, showing gorgeous pictures of Tuscany, to my entertainment center. When the time was rough from chemo, in between vomiting and general misery, I would look at the pictures and mentally climb the stairs to the tower. There were 52 of them. I would imagine, walking through the colorful market and hear the cries of the vendors, offering their wares.

Three years later, I had the good fortune to go to Germany with my BFF Irene and my son. My cousin, generously loaned us her Lincoln Town car to use. We drove to Switzerland to visit my brother and sister-in-law. He was still Chef owner of this his little Chalet Hotel, Rubschen. We had 3 mavelous days there with the best food. He’s such a gourmet genius.

On we went through Italy. Staying at wondrous places, seeing beautiful, old towns, villages and country side. We came to Lucca (birthplace of Giuseppe Verdi.) The big car could not be driven through the small streets and we parked it outside the city walls. On we walked on cobble stone, narrow roads to the town square. And, there it was… the tower I had seen so many times in a much smaller version. I nearly fell to my knees with the joy of actually being there. Of being alive to see it. The gratefulness I felt was overwhelming. I ran over to see the steps and yes, there were 52 of them. Florence was anticlimactic to Lucca, for me.

Now, once again, I am searching and selecting a goal of a place to tape up, to strive toward.

A few years ago, I was in las Vegas visiting my BFF and we went out on the town. One place had a small, colorful tent with a ‘gypsy’ woman offering to read our future. Full of vim and vinegar the both of us laughed and said ‘oh, why not?’ I take these predictions with a grain of salt. But, a few came true. One thing she said, was that I would live to be 93, after a health challenge. I remembered that, the other day and so I wrote it on a large piece of paper and taped it to my kitchen wall. A visual reminder of what could be possible. In case you shake your head, I will hasten to tell you that I choose to believe this prediction in place of a more dire one a doctor told me, ten years ago. He’d said, that I would only have a 60+ percent chance of survival. Even though, for most cancers, this is a good number, I, who didn’t know diddly at the time, said to him, you don’t even know me. If I turn this number around, it becomes 90+ percent.

Just a matter of engaging different thoughts to take an entirely different course. It’s a choice. YOU can tink yourself better or you can think yorself into a dark place. I want a sunny spot for my future and, have some more moments of joyful recognition when I come upon a chosen place.

‘Gotcha’.

Posted on December 8, 2011 by admin

Looking at the title of the blog is almost mockery. My lofty illusions. My brave attempt to keep my body safe from harm. Yesterday, I folded. I aquisced. I capitulated. I gave up.

After more research for more natural treatments and found only slammed doors bolted with large money locks, I agreed to see local cancer center oncologist. Came highly recommended by my Dr.

A little before the appointed time, I arrived and my friend Monika, met me there (for support.) When they built this new Cancer Center, I used to drive by on my way to visit a friend. They had a huge thermometer looking board where they tracked money collected to finish this project. I remember thinking, I will NEVER go in there. Funny, isn’t it?

The appointment was for 11:30 A.M. I had to wait one hour. I found that to be rude and of course by that time, the place and its meaning had done their toll on my blood pressure. The nurse took my bloodpressure and fever indicator and pulse. Climbing up like my cancer marker. I wasn’t sure why I needed all that just to get information. But, … rules, you know.

Finally Dr.K. came in with a young lady (I imagine to observe how to handle a stubborn patient who clings to alternate medicine.

He took apart the treatmend possibility of Cyberknife. Too risky and not thorough enough to remove the ‘Squatter’ lymphnode, now a large blob. Only surgery will do this and also look into surrounding area for possible, espcaped smaller, cancerous culprits.

He took away Metronomic chemo, saying this is only for colon cancer. He took away holistic clincis as quackery. He said they used to try the hyperthermo treatment, where they removed the blood ‘to boil out’ the cancer but more died. So, they gave it up. ( My doc had informed him very well of what my ideas had been.)

He was, One of Those.

He alluded, since I’ve waited so long, maybe even Dr. D. (whom I ran away from 19 mos ago) couldn’t remove the tumor by means of serious surgery. That, perhaps radiation was the only way left. This intricate surgery can not be done even in Grand Junction. I must go to Denver and Dr. D. is the best. He said, I needed the BEST.

I’d told him, in the beginning of our talk, about the lifestyle change and its first, promising success. He said that, You don’t do away with cancer just by a diet!’ giving a dismissive wave with his hand. I replied, with all due respect, that indeed I had removed one tumor and even the ‘bad’ one had retreated a bit and no one was going to take that away. His expression was mildly condescending and I could see the words “Gotcha’ imprinted on his forehead.

I swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and I added, that even by waiting this long, it was perhaps to get ready for this fight as I am in the best shape I’d been in a long time. I imagined myself standing up and motion to pick up a mantle and say “I am the Warrior Queen, You may get me now but I will determine the rest.

They will send my medical records to Denver and in a few days I will know the date of my consultation with Dr. D. I wonder, if she’ll say, what took you so long? Or, I knew you’d be back. (Tail between my legs.) Right now, I’m just concentrating on breathing, in-out. So as not allow fear to rule. I don’t want to ponder the particulars of this ‘intricate’ surgery and all the things that ‘could’ go wrong. The ‘could’ word, with which they scared me into submission.

What did I do after this meeting? I went to the Organic food store and bought some more ‘Dessicated raw liver’. Then, I went shopping to buy a few things, luckily on Sale, for my trip to New York. I will do what I see fit as far as my food-lifestyle and supplements are comcerned. Maybe, after chemo, even go to a nice Wellness place, to remove the toxins and poision out of my body. I am going to have a Wellness Sale. (Anyone want a diamond wedding set? A men’s Turquoise silver bracelett? An antique painting with a scene from Russia, in Winter, with a Daka lighted windows?

Friends are gathering, once again, to help with loving support. To stand watch outside OP to pull me through with their Love. My daughter, sending up her own wishes in prayer and support. My son, prepared to come at a moments notice, to mop up vomit.

I will not dismiss God’s Grace in all of this. That, even though He did not accept my offer at the cross, that He’s given me all these months, to experience, to enjoy these marvelous gifts of travel and The Camino. That I am in the best physical health, otherwise. That was his generous gift to me. I just didn’t see it right away because I was so focused on the THINGY being gone.

I have my moments. Stark fear and shaking terror. I remember. I remember. I think, even Mother Teresa had her moments. Can’t be Pollyana 24/7. Must be allowed to deal with disappointment and change of venue.

Fifty reasons..

Posted on December 6, 2011 by admin

Sunday started out rather nice. I had found a German channel on T.V. that played snappy music. I cleaned house to that and gleefully did the polka and waltz while dusting and waxing. When I was done I watched a beautifully done fairytale.

A friend came by and we had coffee and just baked Gingerbread Muffins, which were divine. After she left, the phone rang and it was my Doc. After not hearing for nearly 2 weeks it startled me. So. He expressed his great concern and launched into a thorough explanation of what I should do and why. (I think I covered that in a recent post). The risks were covered as well. Surgery would not be an easy one and as previously stated, the lower bowls are in the way! Once the cancerous lymphnode was removed, clips would be used to mark the spot for later radiation. And then, for good measure the dreaded, long avoided, running away to do the camino, CHEMO! There it is. I can hardly stand to look at the word.

Then I fell apart. Just howled with the memory of pain and crap and that I would have to do it again. I could barely get my breath. If they slipped, horrible things could happen. That was a bad night and a very long one. Friends would say, why didn’t you call me? I’m open 24/7. I said, well I could not have talked. Dawn took a long time coming. This long time… the blue hours. I have to catch my emotional equilibrium again. Spirit, don’t leave me now. Strength and faith— where are you??? Someone else said I can imagine how you feel. NO. You. Don’t. I was just a quivering mass inside, scared out of my wits. I was caught. Just like an animal in a net.

I feel my control is slipping away. I have to bow to their treatment as the others are now too ureachable. Moonwater. I said to him, wow, now I have to go to Dr. D. with my tail between my legs to do surgery. (She was the Specialist from Denver University, whom I saw 19 mos ago.) The one that lit my fire to run away. And look, what all I have done in that time. So, no. I’m not sorry nor filled with regret. I am soo proud of what I’ve done and so very pleased all the places I went to think it over. But now, I am at the end of my tether. The things I ground up, swallowed, mixed, pureed, cooked and ate raw. The vitamins and irons I faithfully swallowed. The good thoughts I thought. The optimism I stroked so tenderly. I have to work hard to recapture this again.

As I commented the other day, they can kill me but they can’t eat me. I will be up once more and I will put my warrior coat on and I will fight for the best life I can have. To even get another chance is a blessed gift from God. That the cancer has not spread throughout is remarkable. To have removed the largest one JUST with lifestyle changes, was enormous. I am in the best shape, physically, that I’ve been in, in a long time. I am not defeated.

So. I start marching.

Thumbscrews

Posted on December 1, 2011 by admin

Flying to Denver

After many days of amazing peace and tranquility inspite of negative (or medical ‘positive’) news I went to Colorado Cyberknife in Denver. A good friend had secured buddy passes to fly there rather than our driving over snow-packed passes and enduring long hours. We would’ve spent more on gas. I remarked how rich I felt just to fly to Denver, overnight, and maybe even get a bit of shopping in.

The Hotel shuttle picked us up and whisked us away. Barely put our stuff into the room and set off by shuttle service that took us to the nearest shopping center. (Nice Russian driver, married to German wife.) I spent very little.

The beds were a dream and I slept really well, until… this sound woke me at 3:11 a.m. …. snoring! For a second I thought I was back on the camino. I clapped my hands a couple of times and that took care of it.

The transportation to Lafayette was a quite a problem. There are no buses, except to get a cab to Bus station, get on, transfer twice and then it would take awhile to drive those 26 miles and then walk back to Cyberknife address. Renting a car was out of the question as I would not be able to navigate through Denver with all these crazy, speeding drivers, trucks and everything else. Especially, not knowing where I’d be going. My friend couldn’t drive as she’d had surgery 2 weeks ago. Neither of us wanted any added stress and so we took a cab.

The driver had to use his GPS to find it as well. Cyberknife is a couple of miles outside Lafayette. Nothing else there. We wondered how other people would get there? My appointment was 2 hrs away. Luckily, we’d stopped at a German deli and brought food. The recepionist was nice enough to make us tea. There are no stores or anything close by.

Cyberknife Disappointment

The nurse took us to the examination room, took blood pressure (was up a bit and I suppose I was a bit anxious, or, as the nurse said “because you are here”. I filled out pages of medical forms and possible problems, which went fast because I don’t have ANY, except for the little c. I don’t want to name it the BIG C since I think I am bigger than it.

More manageable that way too.

The oncologist, Dr. S., came and we started talking. He asked me what I knew about this tumor. I told him that, according to my doc it was a cancerous lymphnode, now the size of a golf ball.

“What!? What?” he exclaimed, startled. “I don’t remember anything like that.” He turned his monitor on and there was my internal picture of organs, etc. Then, there it was. Colored in primary red. The Thingy, the cancer, the nodule, the beast. It seemed strange that this was really inside of me. I viewed it with curious detachment. But it was not a GOLF BALL. Not this round mass which I’d envisioned all this time. It’s smaller and rectangular and sits with squatters rights next to the aorta, feeding. Although that feast quite curtailed, lately. Starving it.

The risks are the same as with conventional surgery. The lower bowels are in the way to a straight shot to the back of the abdomen, to the spine. It would be a bit tricky but could be done, if not a desired 3-4 treatments but lowering radiation strength and having 10 treatments instead so as to not damage my bowels. Non-invasive and pain-free. This is the plus side. On the other side, it cannot detect anything else. My PET scan was clean in any other way, I said.

I asked Dr. S. about metronomic chemo, or RCT. He had not heard of either but was willing to check into it.

There could be recurrence and there could be this and there could be that. I would be treated as an outpatient. That means I’d have to get a hotel, nearby and for 10 days go there for 30 min a day. Then, nothing else to do in this ‘nowhereness’. Well, I guess I could walk unless the icy northwinds blow.

Survival for the Wealthy

I had researched and found another natural treatment clinic, in Arizona. The cost? A mere pittance. ONLY $8000 per week with a minimum of 3 weeks plus it’s out patient so there’s an added $1500 for an apartment. So, there I realized that all these gentler, healthier options are out of reach and felt defeated in that desire. Although, ther’s still Bad Mergentheim in Germany. Lot less and that includes plane fare.

I have not heard anything from my local doc. There was to be this meeting with medical professionals, discussing my case and giving recommendations. I had called to ask about CA 125 date. No call back. Nothing. I feel very much alone in this search and all the questions I would have. I called again and was told that Dr. had been out of town and was on an emergency call. Then, I received a call from local cancer center, telling me I’d missed my appointment. ??? I said, I have not been informed of one. We rescheduled for next week. This is on an information gathering only. I want to be informed of ALL options and newer technology and/or treatments. I want the BEST because I AM WORTH it.

Being on this poverty level has now taught me, that this is what it is. If you’re poor, you’re screwed. You have to do what mainstream says or live (die?) with the consequences.

I was not very peaceful nor tranquil yesterday. I feel pressured by my well-meaning friends, who called in a steady stream, after my return from Denver, to ask “What are you going to do? What have you decided?” I had said, time and time again, I am going to make a decision AFTER Christmas. That I was still researching and working as hard as I can to help myself. So. I will tell them, PLEASE. No more questions. Stop asking.

I had sent Dr. Professor Koebe (in Germany) an e-mail, asking for his advice. As usual, his reply was fast and kind. He congratulated me on my ‘fabulous spirit’ and to keep that one up. He also put another, seemingly disappointing outcome into perspective by stating: “You don’t know how things were and don’t know what may have happened and what it was before you went to the cross.” Ohh, that soothed my spirit again. His advice is still, open up and go in there after it, examine and take care of it.

Other people have been working on my behalf and offered advice and suggestions. I will follow up every lead, gratefully.

Next decision would be, where to have surgery.

Brain freeze

Posted on November 24, 2011 by admin

Can I trust my brain to make the right decision? Or, does it beat a path to least resistance? I think I’ve made good decisions over the past few years. I’ve tried to make the proper ethical, moral choices. In emergency situations, I did act and react with good speed and choice of treatment.

It’s amazing what one can learn when we start to educate ourselves and do not allow for pre-chewed ideas and opinions to cloud our minds.

Although I respect the genius of the cancer cell; it’s clever deception to sneak past the vigilant immune system, I do not want to get comfortable with it. Certain sources suggest that one should make peace with various, chronic illnesses. I feel that if I do this, I’ll become complacent. What with all this respect and mutual admiration, feelings of peace and light I am a complice and co-dependent in my own cell problem. Like a snake charmer who concentrates soley on the snake.

I shook myself free of this warm, fuzzy peace with cancer feeling and declared a serious Tumor Hunt. I have a few sneaky tricks up my sleeve as well to circumvent that tough, little outer wall of the C cell and obliterate it. So there. This includes different measures at the time being. Holistic measures until I have assimilated all information, main stream medicine as well. It also includes very different culinary tastes.

Starting in the morning, upon rising, I take 3 enzyme tablets. For breakfast, 1 cup cottage cheese with 5 Tbsp Flax seed oil (from Johanna Budwig, German bio chemist who states that this will carry vital oxygen to the cells.) Add 1 tsp ground flax seeds and whip it into a frenzy to combine. To hide the oily-cheesy taste, I add frozen blueberries or other berries and this makes it tolerable and looks like a nice smoothie. It is very, very filling and I have to work to get it all down.

Then, I continue with the ‘Hufeland Clinic’ protocol, plus Tumeric, Curcumin, Vitamins: C-E-and B12, followed by the metals: iron, zinc, magnesium, copper, etc. More recently, added visits to Hyperbaric oxygen chamber.

After 1 hour I continue with juicing. Mostly carrot with apple and add ‘Green Pro’. Foul tasting and looking but filled with important chlorophyllic properties. I take fermented wheat germ which looks like dirt and when you add water/juice, it tastes like sweet mud. Yuk. Have to try hard not to get nauseous. But… this is not business as usual. I am working with everything I have to help myself so as not having to be ‘filet’ and filled with Toxins and poision.

Radiation Oncology Sydney Cancer Center studied 5 year survival rates of 22 types of cancer in the U.S.A and Australia. They studied 154,971 Americans with cancer, age 20 and older that were treated with chemo therapy. Only 3,306 lived to the 5 year mark. Study results: The overall contribution and adjuvant cytotoxic chemotherapy to 5 yr survival in adults was estimated to be 2.3% in Australia and 2.1 % in the U.S.A.

Cancer is a message. It wants to show you that something is running off the tracks in your life. ‘You go ahead”, said the soul to the body “because it’s not listening to me.’ “Alright’, replied the body, I will become ill, then he will have time for me.’ Although how this translates into children, even babies having cancer, I don’t know.

Another study, in Germany: Group A- 389 patients who underwent conventional therapy . (41.38 %)

Group B-patients who denied conventional therapy, including patients that could not be helped w conventional therapy methods. 312 patients (26.7%)

Group C: patients who did not even appear to consult and who’s fate could not be followed: 312 patients (33.0%

After 8 years, group A -only 102 (26.22% patients were alive with conventional therapy.

Group B- after 8 years, 183 were alive (85.11%) these were treated ONLY with Biological Conflict Therapy.

This is part of a treatment used in Germany. Brain scan is used to identify the spot, which highlights where those signals come from ad being sent and then this exact spot is treated with above mentioned thearpy. They also use a whole battery of holistic ingredients. ( Dr. Andreas Puttich, Darmststadt.)

Prof. Dr. Charles Mathe, leading Oncologist and Specialist for Oncology, in Paris, France stated openly: If I were to have cancer, I would not allow myself to be treated in conventional cancer centers. Only those cancer patients will have a chance to survive, if they stay away as far as possible. (Scientific Medicines Nouvelles, Paris.)

NOW, can you appreciate my dilemma??

Futile questions

Posted on November 21, 2011 by admin

Yesterday, as I was walking, I reflected on the past 3 years. I was wondering, had my symptoms been recognized and not so easily dismissed, would it have made a difference? Instead of scrambling to find a treatment now and looking at so many difficult choices, not to mention extreme financial hardship, could I have had just a nice, peaceful, healthy life?

Three years ago, I had a backache. I ignored it for awhile, then it became worse. I finally went to doc. Told him my right kidney hurt. He couldn’t find anything. Went to another, who diagnosed some calcification in my “tailbone”. Still same pain. Went to doc again and was referred to surgical center to have a series of shots into my spine. I’ve never felt such pain. But, after one ($1800) shot I did not return. Did not help. I said, my right kidney hurts. I felt I was being passed around like an old shoe.

This went on for 18 mos. Then I had additional bladder pains and frequent bathroom visits. As many as 15x a day. My doc sent me to Urologist. He did a test, inserting the scope without local anesthesia. It hurt so bad I came off the table. His diagnosis was “Interstitial Cystitis”. A chronic disease where bladder membrane is “eaten” away. Medicine cost, per month, $450.00. It was a good thing I could not afford that. Pain persisted. Made my own appointment with a urologist in Grand Junction. They said my bladder was fine and healthy and after (finally) an x-ray, it turned out I had kidney stones. Removed by Lithotripsy as an Outpatient and still $16.000.00

Next. Many different symptoms. Hair falling out, grainy eyes, swallowing difficulty, heart palpitation just to name a few. Doc said, nothing the matter except “old age”. My daughter worked for an oncologist in Alabama who diagnosed a thyroid problem just from these symptoms. I insisted on a test. The doc did agree and then called and said “It’s Normal.” I said so was my cancer test. (Ovarian, 10 yrs ago. No one listened then either.) Base number is different than what is still used by many doctors. That’s why it shows normal; when it is not. All symptoms disappeared with a small dose.

Next: While in Seattle visiting my son for Christmas, I had a severe cough and spit blood. I thought, it was due to climate change and harsh cough. Ignored it for the time I was there. Came home and it continued. Upon rising I had so much mucus I was afraid it would strangle me. Scared me.

Back to doc, who listened to my lungs, knocked on the back a few times and said, they sound clear, but did send me across the street, to Ear, Nose and Throat doc to check. He did put a scope down my throat and said I had an increased mucus production. I questioned that, since this had never happened before. I told them that I did not agree with this. ( I believe this is when my lung tumor started. The cellular change.) When there’s cancer in ones background, would not a test be a good idea? We rely on the medical professionals to advice us.

Meanwhile, I was dealing with Plantars’ Fasciitis, which was hell in itself.

I was dealing with very stressful family issues. My whole body was falling apart.

Next. I was sitting on the couch, watching T.V. when I absentmindedly scratched my armpit. I noticed my lymphnodes were swollen. Well. I didn’t want to run to doc again, since I had the feeling I was thought of as hypochondriac. After a few days though, of increased swelling, I did make appointment. He looked and touched and said it was “barely” noticeable. Sent me to another doc, who said the same. Sent me home. My CA 125 (cancer blood test) was steadily creeping up.

I FELT that something was wrong and would not be quiet. It was on one of those appointments, when I asked the doc if he ever had someone say that their blood was singing, that he paid attention. Immediate blood test which result was such that he told me to rush to the hospital for another test. Scared the beejeezus out of me, as they were saying that it could be a blood clot, which could kill me. (Thanks for the nice way of telling a patient.) It wasn’t. Then he said, “Well, we’ll just go ahead and do a P.E.T scan so we know once and for all.” Just to appease me.

I did and that was the beginning of this present nightmare. P.E.T showed 3 tumors. One in abdomen (gone with lifestyle changes, never re-appeared.) Lung tumor, since removed with VATS, and now dealing with this last one.

Now I have Lymphoma stage IV. (is this a Roman 4?) Although I have not have had any of those symptoms. (Swelling has not re-appeared , except once or twice, since I’ve changed lifestyle.)

O.K. I got that off my chest and now I deal with whatever I must but I will have a say in my treatment of it.

Moonwater

Posted on November 17, 2011 by admin

I went about my business yesterday while the back of my mind was listening to the ringing of the phone. Somehow I knew it would be ‘Hiob’s’ news. That’s what we call bad news in German. Hiob’s Botschaft. Then, there it was and I knew who it was before I picked up.

In a clinical voice, devoid of emotion my Doc told me that the tumor was still there and grown to the size of a golf ball. (Cruz del Ferro did not fullfil obligation.) Julio had written a very nice card in which he stated that cruz del Ferro must fullfil obligation and future must be encouraging. Maybe would be a good idea long term pact requesting luck for a couple of decades. This is what I was thinking about, all the way to Grand Junction to have my P.E.T scan.

Doctor also said he would get me in touch with a noted Oncologist, here, so I could ask him questions. I’d wanted to know about metronomic chemo, or RCT regional cancer treatment/chemo. He had not heard of this as he’s not treating cancer patients anymore. Well, that was new to me, too. I told him I would meet and listen. I do want to know all my options.

Forget about the ‘New Hope Forever Center’ in Scottsdale, AZ. They called back with lightening speed and whooed me with soothing voice, to come. I was mesmerized until I heard the cost. A 12 day stay would cost $19000.00 dollars. Hard cash. (Although there are Financing companies available.) I have become a HOT commodity. It’s almost like ‘Moonwater.’ Going to the moon to harvest rare, healing water. They did, however offer to look at my scans, ect and advice what they would recommend, free of charge.

What to do? What to do. So many choices, still. I know I’ve stated that I had given up the idea of Cyberknife treatment but that was before.

Now that it is cold, scary reality once more, I am really chicken to the idea of pain. I’m going back to my original question: Why would I NOT want this? Non-invasive treatment?

Conflicting thoughts are still clamoring to be heard about natural, holistic treatments. Not to have my body polluted with poision. Of course, in all of this there are the costs to consider.

Doc said, that the Board would meet and review my case. This board is set up of Oncologist, Radiologist, Gynecologist (from ovarian cancer time) himself and some others. They will let me know their recommendations. I’m already thinking, how would I or could I argue against so many, learned men? However, I have to stay true to myself and not be brow beat into a quick decision. Doc said, not to wait too long now. Not to miss this golden time, or to wait until I had painful symptoms.

So. Now comes my next Camino. Steep, mental hills I have to climb. No one can help with final decison. I can weigh, I can throw ideas back and forth and still won’t know to 100% certainty, if the one I choose is the RIGHT ONE.

If there are any out there with opinions or ideas, that do not take up a lot of precious time. I am more than willing to listen.

Meanwhile, I will take advantage of a promised, beautiful day and drive to Ouray where I will hike up to a waterfall and gorgeous scenery. To sit and to think.

On Auschwitz and Cancer

Posted on November 15, 2011 by admin

For at least two weeks I have had in mind a post that addresses Mom’s PET scan and the expectations that so many people have about what will happen to her cancer now that she has been on the Camino. I discern these expectations in what people say to Mom, in her telling me, a week ago, that she felt “pressure”, and in our tribe’s utter inability to stop telling ourselves stories . . .

But for at least two weeks, I have not found myself writing anything. Why that has been so could justify its own essay. It wasn’t until I read Mom’s “Cheers and Kindness” post of this morning (about her experience with her friendly townspeople and her wait for the results of the PET scan), and found myself crying at the end, that I began to write this post. I don’t know where it’s going, but I begin anyway. “I can’t go on, I’ll go on,” as my master and hero Samuel Beckett once had a nameless character say.

Humans see patterns in everything. Hypnotize a person (as researchers did in a now famous set of experiments) and tell him to get up from his chair and walk to stand by a window, and when you wake him up and ask him why he is standing by the window, he will say, for example, “There was a cold draft, and I was shutting the window.” Of course this is not true, but we now know that the brain searches relentlessly for explanations of everything it does not understand or does not wish to grapple with.

Not so long ago, we prayed to the sun to intervene

Just today I opened The New Yorker to read “It was an article of faith among the [Libyan] rebels that Qaddafi had regularly used magic to prop up his long reign. What other explanation could there be?” Lacking explanation, man often turns to the supernatural.

Stories are easiest to see in beliefs about politics and religion — two areas that, not coincidentally, wise people know it’s best not to argue about. That’s because such beliefs are usually not arrived at by reason but by responses to emotion, and it’s pointless to argue with conclusions reached by emotion. Today I saw one writer’s interpretation of New York City’s shutdown of Occupy Wall Street, as he looked at the site that once housed the 5000 books of the Occupy Wall Street Library:

What a picture it would be . . . of police in riot gear gathering boxes of donated books and loading them into garbage trucks. A perfect metaphor for what appears to be the intention of last night’s raid: destroying the body of knowledge that had been collected by a movement just two months old . . .

If you want to spot tendentious, made-up belief systems, look for words like “appears to be,” as in “the contents of another person’s mind appear to be an intention to destroy knowledge.” A great many marriages founder on this one powerful impulse, that of imagining we know the meaning in another person’s mind. All storytelling arises from man’s wrestling with painful sensations of ignorance and uncertainty — which is fear. The results of this wrestling, this agon, we call myth, religion, fiction, cinema, psychology, ideology, doctrine, dogma.

So we see a woman walk across Spain on (and in) a dream and we

Mom displays good food on the Camino

continue the story. She has cancer, right? She wants it to go away, right? And look at all that bravery, all that effort! Look what a story so far, with all the blog posts illustrating the triumph of the human spirit! Why, we’ve even got her in high-definition video!

It’s a story fit for the movies!

What is left behind

Except for one thing, we think: we don’t have our ending yet. As the writer of the Gospel of Matthew well knew, adding, as he did, the all-important Resurrection to Mark’s far more abrupt ending*, there can be no meaning without a proper ending. And the only acceptable ending to this fairytale is, of course, that somehow, in magical ways we don’t need to understand but need to believe in, the walk across Spain – the exercise, the sun, the intention, the bravery, the purpose, God – cured the cancer. I would guess that nearly every reader of this blog will acknowledge in herself this secret hope, this small buried voice whose sister whispered in my mother’s head as she approached the Cruz de Ferro with the earlier PET scan, with the cancer, she hoped somehow to leave behind.

I don’t need to understand how it can happen, we think, but I would love to see a fairytale ending. I’d love to see God choose to play a role in this drama and give a woman her just dessert.

This is a way of thinking pilgrims were familiar with a thousand years ago: surely if I go to all this effort, God will reward me. The medieval Catholic Church validated this thinking, handing out “indulgences”, in its role as God’s mouthpiece on earth, to people who made some kind of effort – the Camino pilgrims, say, or the people, both wealthy and poor, who got karma credits with God for handing over their money to the Church.

Setting aside the Church’s confusion of money with divine will (and itself with divinity), all of this relies on belief in an intercessionary God — that is, a God who will intercede, or intervene, in human affairs, if we simply do something noticeable enough to catch “His” attention (a God who intervenes in human affairs is nothing if not person-like).

I would like to believe such a God exists, but then if such a God did exist, and either set in motion or stood by and did nothing for the shot, gassed, and hung-by-their-tongues Jews of the Shoah, or the Rwandans, or the victims of Stalin, Mao, and Pol Pot, I would find Him unworthy of the barest worship. Either he is weak beyond imagining, or he is capable of ending unbearable suffering but lacks all compassion.

It is this God who is said to have died in the concentration camp at Auschwitz, and for people who study history and its lessons there is no resurrecting him. Can there be a kind of divinity who intervenes in the cancers of mothers who do pilgrimages but ignores the cries of children in gas chambers? I do not think so. Not that kind, by that definition.

This is not to say divinity, or a consciousness that pervades the universe, does not exist. It is only to say that I’m not able to believe there is a person-like entity who intervenes in human affairs.

If Mom’s cancer does not reappear on her PET scan, there are a number of possible reasons for it, from what science now tells us of the power of the human mind (in science’s belated validation of prayer and meditation) to what we know love and purpose can do for the human immune system.

I create meaning and emotion just by inserting an image in a particular place

Love and purpose. Immune system. For those who don’t credit an intercessionary God, these are the building blocks of their hope, vague as it may be: Inge did that amazing walk, such great purpose, we all love her, we hope her cancer goes away now.

I do too. And I too don’t care how it happens or whether I could ever explain it. My mind bends toward the romantic and the idealistic as much as the next person’s.

But I have worried since the first moment Mom mentioned doing this trip that it would begin to work on her mind, whispering to her of salvation, giving her a hope — so powerful in the agon with dis-ease — that might turn on her if the outcome to which she had inevitably grown attached did not come about. I have worried for many months about us measuring the success of the trip, or Mom’s chances of survival, by the same meaningless yardstick, the PET scan of November 14. (See the end of my post a day before we reached the Cruz de Ferro, when Mom voiced aloud what until then had only been the whispers of going to the cross and leaving her cancer behind).

But the PET scan is meaningless, in the sense that it neither signals an objective truth — someone will or will not die — nor has within it a pre-fabricated storyline of what must happen next — of what it means. We create the storyline. Yesterday’s PET scan is just

Another Day on the Camino

another day on the camino, and just as there were days before it that did not speak of life or death, there will now come days after it that are silent on the matter. The PET scan is just data; we supply the meaning of it.

Mom is powerful precisely because she gets to choose what meaning to assign the PET scan. Doctors and others will look at a certain scan and say, “This is great!” They will look at different results and say, “Oh, oh, my, this is unfortunate.” They are, however, simply speaking from their own, inevitably blinkered, system of belief.

Mom can decide what storyline she will believe in, and as one of my favorite Taoist stories shows, her storyline doesn’t have to grasping for meaning prematurely.

Sometimes a horse is just a horse, of course

There was an old farmer who had worked his land for many years. One day his horse ran away. His neighbors heard the news and ran to see him.

“Such bad luck!” they said.

“We’ll see,” said the farmer.

The next day, the horse came back, bringing with it three wild horses.

“How wonderful!” the neighbors said.

“We’ll see,” said the farmer.

The next day, the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the wild horses, was thrown, and broke his leg.

Here came the neighbors.

“What a disaster!” they said, patting the farmer on the back. “Your fields will rot if he can’t work the farm.”

“We’ll see,” said the farmer.

A day later, the emperor’s army recruiters passed through the village to draft young men into the army. They saw that the farmer’s son had a broken leg, and they passed him by.

The neighbors, again.

“Such good fortune!” they said.

“We’ll see,” said the farmer.

All this is to say that the Lord moves in ways mysterious, not ways we can divine in our desperate interpretations of this event and that . . . In the absence of knowing, then, what we’ll see, we can

Give it a try -- supply your own caption

only let go of the need to know, which sometimes comes in the form of patience and other times forgiveness, and cultivate those states of mind — love, compassion, positivity — that lead to healing.

The “unfortunate” PET scan of May has unfolded into some of the greatest experiences of Mom’s life, not to mention mine, Carrie’s, and many others’. Who, then, will claim to know that yesterday’s PET scan can be “bad news”?

That camino continues, and we’ll all be walking with Mom as she walks it.

* The original Mark ends with the women fleeing from the empty tomb, and saying “nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.” (How the writer of Mark knew what they saw when they said nothing to anyone is another story.) In Mark, there is no Resurrection, and without the decades-later additions of Matthew, Luke, and John, Christianity as we know it would not exist.

Cheers and Kindness..

Posted on November 15, 2011 by admin

Yesterday, I had quite a few errands to do. First on the list, hospital billing dept. Just to finish up previous agreements. I had just finished cooking a pumpkin, potatoe soup with dry roasted pumpkin seeds and I thought, well, might as well take some to that office. Then I packed up my pumpkin, hazelnut, cranberry and raisin cookies to drop off at Surgical Team.

I needed a bank statement, so that was first. Everyone smiled, waved and said a friendly ‘good morning.’

As I walked to the billing office and knocked, I said “Meals on Wheels, for the shut-in’. They have such small cubicles. One has to really work at not getting claustrophobia. The receptionist wanted to know about my lifestyle diet and that took up a bit more time. (Have some good leads for cooking classes.)

That business done and it was quite pleasant, I left for my next visit. At the Black Canyon Surgical Center, I parked and took my cookies. When I came in, I said ‘Good Morning. I’m Inge’. They smiled and said ‘we know who you are. We saw you in the paper about the camino.’ Another lady said, ‘we are so proud of you. I hope I would be in this shape when I get to be that age.’ Another chimed in with ‘what a teriffic accomplishment’.

I told them that I was absolutely thrilled and touched by their card. It was better than a shot of Vitamins. They said that Dr. Jay was the one who suggested it. I told them, I’d be by visiting but didn’t want to come for an appoinment. (Did anything like that ever happened in a big city?)

Next, Natrual Grocers and more people coming up to shake my hand and congratulate me. Then I saw Steffi (daughter in law of my good friend, Carla ) and she was just filled with praise. She said everything would be alright, she just ‘knew’ it. In the check out line, one lady whispered she would pray for me upon hearing about P.E.T scan appointment.

As I left the store, I reflected what a very nice and friendly place I’m living in. I think, that in all those years, there’ve only a couple of unfriendly or rude people. From the Post Office to Grocery stores and other businesses, everyone is nice and welcoming. I especially notice the difference when I go to another city or country. We live in a very nice place and people come together to help when needed.

I’d send my good friend, Shirley, an e-mail asking if I could stay with her, if Holistic clinic in Scottsdale accepts Outpatients. Shirley was my boss back in the days of Judicial employment. We’ve been very good friends since.

She replied with love and kindness that she would absolutely be there for me, take me there, etc. If she couldn’t, then her daughter (and my special friend) Garci, would. So, if things have to go that way, there are movements in place. It’s being pro-active that helps. Not just standing still and bemoaning ones circumstances.

I’ve had a few shaky moments this morning, wondering about the result. Wishing with all my might that I do not have to utilize all these plan ‘B’ preparations. ( a.k.a Let this cup pass.) But, I know I can’t change the outcome. Only my reactions and how I’ll deal with it. I only have 30 min left on my allowed time to eat. So I will make some oatmeal with grated apple.

Originally, my friend Monika would’ve been coming with me this mornig but she had an emergency operation. So it’s just Inge and Inge. (Yes. There are two of us in this town.)

I will let everyone know what the result is as soon as I get them. Either way.

Two days to go..

Posted on November 13, 2011 by admin

As I am waiting on P.E.T scan appointment I’ve been very busy researching my options.

Time is somewhat of essence now and no more playing with it, nor running away. There’s a wealth of information to wade through. Family and friends have been helping to find possible solutions. So many different approaches and everyone claiming theirs is best. Cancer, especially Lymphoma stage 4 as they claim, does not leave a lot of room for erroneous trials. I still do not have any of those symptoms.

I have had an offer for a holistic treatment, handed down by many generations from Shaman’s. Even for free. A most touching and generous offer. This person would even come to my home., or have me at theirs, or even go to Shaman.

In the end I must decide. That is a very scary thing to do. What if it’s the wrong decision? Should I have done anything different? I feel very much alone in this. Uncharted waters. So far, I’ve not had a strong feeling that I would be on the wrong track. So far, I’ve not freaked out. I am not trembling with fear as I have at previous times when results had increased. I am peaceful. Maybe this is what I brought back from the camino?

I have started on a new supplement, recommended by a trusted friend as well as the others I’m taking.

In yesterday’s mail, arrived an envelope from the Surgical Team. At first glance, I thought it was another bill and so it was with delight and joyful laughter that I read the card, which showed 3 letters on front -‘WOW’. Opening it, there was congratulatory sentiments over my accomplished camino miles and bravo’s to keep it up. ( I will bring them my wonderful Pumpkin- raisin- hazelnut-cranberry, low fat/low sugar, cookies.) Also, a lovely card from Julio and Marianne.

Going back to my research this morning, I’ve found a place in Scottsdale, AZ., called New Hope Unlimited. A different approach. A holistic approach under controlled circumstances with a huge medical team at one’s disposal. Combining traditional medicine with holistic but one is give a choice. This feels like a good decision. Tailor made for what I would like to have happen while my body is still ‘pristine’ without chemo/radiation and thus can respond readily. I am already on lifestyle ‘diet’. Now, we just have to find out if Medicare will pay?

Twilight Zone

Posted on November 8, 2011 by admin

Over the last few days, since my CA-125 bloodtest, I’ve been wondering about the result. Not stressing, more like being very curious.

Yesterday was doctor’s appointment. He wanted to know about my camino hike and said what a tremendous accomplishment that was. Then he showed me the paper with result, which was high. Another few points added to the fear scale.

I said, “Oh this just shows that there is more sugar in my blood.”

He just smiled but didn’t reply. Checked my lungs, which were clear. He noticed my weight and said I’d lost 8 pounds since May. I said I would hope so as I’d just walked nearly 500 miles. But, back to discussion as to what treatment.

I told him I did not want chemo. Should be the very last choice. He said that in his opinion I should have surgery. When I reminded him that the Denver specialist we consulted did not want to touch me without chemo, he assured me that we could find someone else. He was concerned about possible “seed pods” in the abdomen. He explained that P.E.T can’t “see” those and if they’d turned cancerous, I would be in a difficult place. Only through surgery could they look around and see other areas. Of course, this surgery would not be without dangers. The same is true, though, with Cyberknife or any other.

I asked if he would go “outside the box” with me and help me with alternate treatments. I still have about $500 worth of Iscador and other holistic meds I’d brought from Germany, and which have to be injected but ONLY by a Physician. He said he knew of 2 holistic docs in Ridgway. I said O.K. we’ll wait until P.E.T results and then I need to do something quickly. He said: “Inge, you really need to. This is cancer we’re dealing with.”

I told him that chemo had not done too well for my friend Phyllis, who died while I was on the camino. Different cancer but same effect, as for so many.

My blood pressure was up but I’d imagine it was due to anxiety. After my walk, it had dropped 10 points.

I’m scared but want to have ONE more chance before pumping poision or radiation inside and kill off half my cells and then experience those side effects. Once this is done, any holistic approach would be extremely difficult to remedy the situation. Of course, holistic means also very expensive.

I am still researching for places which have a different approach. There are quite a few choices.

I needed to breath and I needed to walk. I made a quick salad, a small sandwich, took a bottle of water, grabbed my poles, and drove up to the Black Canyon.

We’d had a week of rain, snow, gray and I couldn’t walk a lot. I drove in and parked my car. Snow-covered brush and canyon walls. Beautiful view, sun, and only a gentle breeze. I was the only person. I took my day pack, which was astoundingly light, my poles, and walked. I noticed soon that where I would’ve been slowing down or was out of breath, previously, after all, this is 10,000 feet. I just plowed through. It felt so good to just walk. Then, the familiar click-clack of my poles. Stillness, peace. I saw tracks in the snow from all sorts of wildlife. Rabbits and large tracks, probably elk.

I thought back to just a couple of months ago, when I walked and wondered what the camino would be like. Now, I was back looking around and noticing how similar the view and the absence of noise. I’d also noticed that I clipped that 1.3 miles in under 25 minutes.

I stopped at the picnic bench, brushed off the snow and had my lunch , I looked around and enjoyed the peacefulness. I walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The Gunnison river was like a small glittering ribbon. The walls of the canyon looked like they had been dusted with powedered sugar. It is so very beautiful there.

I didn’t come home with any answers to the decision I have to make but it sure made me more peaceful. I won’t be able to go up there when it snows again as I won’t have the proper boots and the terrain will be too difficult to walk. But, there are plenty of nice trails close to town.

Now, meanwhile, waiting for P.E.T scan and those results. That’s the BIGGIE.

Ode to feet

Posted on November 6, 2011 by admin

During our daily camino walk and climbing as well as blisters and other foot related maladies that I observed in other people, I was thinking about feet.

How unappreciative we usually are of our feet and the miracle they perform without us giving it a second thought. We spend a lot of money on hair, make up, nails. O.K. Some people have pedicures. I had my first one only a couple of months ago.

Usually, we just put on socks, shoes and run off. The first time I thought how very grateful I was for my feet was 2 years ago. One morning, while walking into the kitchen, I felt a sudden, sharp pain. I cried out and looked down what I’d stepped on. There was nothing. Puzzled, I looked at my right heel, sure that there would be a glass shard embedded. Nothing. The pain continued with each step and was so bad that I tried walking on tip toe.

I figured I probably pulled some muscle or small ligament and it would disappear after a few days. Well, it didn’t. I hobbled around doing my chores. I went on errands with the car and then hobbled into the store. I really have a high pain tolerance but this was getting worse. I had to stop walking. I had to stop volunteering at the soup kitchen, where I’d been chef once a week for 3+ months.

I took Ibuprofen, Tylenol, the usual. I was stuck in the house and getting depressed. I kept saying to my friends, ‘If I can’t walk anymore, they may as well shoot me.’ No one could tell me what the matter was. I gained weight for lack of walking. One day, I put the symptoms on Web MD. There was this odd name: Plantar’s Fasciitis. Now, I had a name but the prognosis was not very encouraging. I asked around and found a very capable therapist. For a month I went there and had electro-therapy.

While laying there, with nothing to do, for an hour, I talked. Poor guy had no choice . I’m glad to say that he and his wife became dear friends. Shortly after that, I changed my lifestyle due to cancer.

If someone would’ve said to me, a few years ago that what I was putting my mouth was wrong, I would’ve scoffed at them. I mean, I selected my vegetables carefully, I did not eat fast food, had no cokes or sweet tea, I didn’t even eat a lot but still had gained weight.

Well. Then when I did all that research on cancer and other immune illnesses, a light bulb came on. (Ten years prior, when I had cancer, I had eaten better and healthier but after my chemo and tests I thought ‘now, it’s gone’ and went back to my meat, sauces and oil/butter cooked foods.

It wasn’t long after I converted to Vegan, that a host of problems disappeared. Plantar’s Fasciitis has not returned.

I was absolutely certain that once people saw what it did for me, they’d be just so happy. They’d immediately copy it. (Some did.) Others were so full of resistance that I had to shut up about it. Others tried it for a little while and because it’s not easy, in the beginning, they stopped, or, they changed it without the getting the great results. That was huge surprise and it continues to amaze me how people just want to have their crap (and eat it too.)

But, when I think of what my FEET accomplished I feel so very happy and grateful that something made me listen and change. I am in awe, that they carried me these hundreds of miles without a whimper. (The blisters don’t count.) I treat my feet much better now. I don’t need expensive pedicures.

Days on the Camino, What I Miss (Part II), and a Secret to Happiness

Posted on November 3, 2011 by admin

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Useful links

Social Media

Root of Celery ‘Steak’

Posted on November 1, 2011 by admin

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Useful links

Social Media

Walking at home…

Posted on November 1, 2011 by admin

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Useful links

Social Media

Respite in Portugal

Posted on October 30, 2011 by admin

How Did the Camino Change Me?

Posted on October 29, 2011 by admin

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Usedful links

Must be fair about food….

Posted on October 29, 2011 by admin

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Usedful links

Good bye Spain and Hello to Portugal

Posted on October 29, 2011 by admin

Video of Mom at the Cathedral of Santiago

Posted on October 27, 2011 by admin

Casanova Mato, Arzua, Pedrouzo, and Santiago

Posted on October 27, 2011 by admin

Cathedral, St James and Certificate

Posted on October 27, 2011 by admin

Last kilometers into Santiago

Posted on October 26, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

By the time a judge brought down the curtain, my mother and I were six thousand miles away, standing at a waystation on a yellow-arrowed path, like characters in some 21^st century update to the Wizard of Oz. My mother wanted a cure for her cancer, or at least a break from “all the cutting and poison”, as she put it. I hadn’t believed there were any answers for my uncertainties high on the wild-dog-infested and wind-swept spine of a mountain range in northern Spain, so I had sort of convinced myself I wanted nothing.

Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

NEW ADVENTURE

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

The mound was pierced at its summit by a thirty-foot-tall oak post, about as big around as a telephone pole. The very top of the post was fitted with an iron cap, like the sort of hat an English bulldog might wear, if an English bulldog had scored an audience with the Queen. For a structure with the grand appellation of El Cruz de Ferro, an old Spanish-Latin term that means Cross of Iron, the cap supported an almost comically tiny iron cross whose three free arms ended in fleurs-de-lis. For thousands of years, some version of the Cruz de Ferro had spied on countless pilgrims – first Pagan, later Catholic, now mostly Pagan again – as they formed meaning out of this very waystation.

For thousands of years a mound of rocks marked the summit of this mountain range. A million pilgrims before us had built up the mound with hand-placed relics from their own private rituals of letting go: of anger, of grief, of resentment, of illness – letting go even of the fear of death. Because that is what people do on pilgrimages, of any kind, whether they mean to or not. They let go. That’s what the verb to forgive means. To forgive others, and, harder yet, to forgive oneself. Jesus was telling us what he knew about forgiveness, but the bastards killed him before he could show us how to forgive ourselves.

An ancient tradition held that pilgrims should bring to the Cruz, from their own homes, a small stone and a more personal item, and to leave them behind at the Cross. My mother was now placing, among the rocks, a small stone she’d carried from an ancient canyon near her house in Colorado. Previous pilgrims had also brought and left behind other, more telling things. A tube of lipstick. A postcard of Bruges, scrawled in a woman’s hand. Folded pieces of paper and fragments of words in Spanish and English, German and Dutch, Korean and Basque. Underwear that raised certain questions. A Matchbox car that looked to my inner-nine-year-old’s eye like a ’68 Corvette, give or take two years. A toy soldier – missing a leg, poor bastard – and the half-eaten cookie on which he’d been subsisting among the pebbles.

On the wooden pole itself I could make out a tacked-up orange baseball cap and a clip-less biking pedal, a gourd on a string, a black-and-white photo of a European peasant family, circa 1930s, a 1970s photo of a boy, in a shirt with blue stripes, holding a Bible, a pre-printed fortune cookie’s fortune: Do not throw the butts into the urinal, for they are subtle, and quick to anger. I saw a Prada label, an AC Milan futbol jersey, and a broken pair of cheap sunglasses. A German pilgrim had erected a small German flag among the rocks. Not to be outdone, so had a Belgian. Or vice versa, let’s not start another war.

My mother, still with her back to my cousin and me, had reached the top of the mound. The Iron Cross now loomed over her, standing stoutly in the wind. She bowed her head and pulled her second, more personal offering from a pocket in her field jacket. She cupped it with both hands and held it over her head, a modest proposal to the cosmos about what she should be allowed to let go of. When I saw her shoulders start to shake I began to cry, too, but quietly, because I was the expedition videographer, not to mention its chief biographer, photographer, legal counsel, and practicing podiatrist.

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.
And now the book, Ordinary Magic: Promises I Made to My Mother Through Life, Illness, and a Very Long Walk is finally here!

Just When You Thought It Was Over: Portugal

Posted on October 20, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

NEW ADVENTURE

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.
And now the book, Ordinary Magic: Promises I Made to My Mother Through Life, Illness, and a Very Long Walk is finally here!

The End of This Way

Posted on October 17, 2011 by admin

Supporting

” Inge’s most loving embrace. Reuniting with a fellow pilgrim “

Supporting Treatment

Inge is a fighter. She beat cancer after grueling surgeries and chemotherapy 11 years ago, and she walked nearly 500 miles across Spain, in late 2011, in part because she hoped the returning cancer might just go away on its own. But the Emperor of All Maladies, as it’s been called, is still with her.

She’s been sent to test after test, and there are probably more tests, and treatments, to come. We’ve been asked for an easier way for her friends and supporters to help out with the expenses, so here we invite anyone who has been touched by her or her story either to (1) buy the amazing book True History of the Camino de Santiago, written by Inge’s son, Cameron, or (2) donate any amount you choose toward her treatment. Subscribe with your email, above right, to watch Inge’s progress.

See what the True History of the Camino de Santiago book is all about: www.TrueHistoryCaminodeSantiago.com.

Donate:

Below are two little movies we made of Inge on the Camino de Santiago. We think they show her passionate, fighting spirit quite well.

Watch Inge Symbolically Leaving Her Cancer at the Iron Cross

In Santiago at Last: How She’ll Look Once She Beats the Emperor Again!

You can donate any amount you wish. Buen Camino!

Next to Last Day: Arzúa to Pedrouzo

Posted on October 17, 2011 by admin

About

ABOUT US

In early 2001, Mom (Inge) was diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer. She had surgery and then grueling chemotherapy. Already a gourmet chef, she changed the food she bought and how she cooked it. And she held off the cancer for a decade.

In around May 2010, the periodic tests she underwent revealed three new growths in her pelvis, lung, and neck. She responded by even more radically altering her diet, lost fifty pounds, and, six months later, saw one growth disappear and another grow smaller. One stayed the same. In July 2011, she had the tumor in her lung removed; a biopsy showed it had shrunk yet again, from 12 to 9 millimeters, but that it was cancerous.

In the weeks before her surgery, though, Inge had decided she wanted to walk the Camino de Santiago, in northern Spain. She began training on the trails around the Black Canyon, and convinced her son, Cameron, to go to Spain with her.

Inge was born in Erlangen, Germany, in 1944, and, after stints as a governess in Bavaria and England, as a student at the Cordon Bleu School of Cooking, and as a flight attendant in New York City, she emigrated to the United States, in 1963. She now lives in Montrose, Colorado.

CAMERON

Cameron is a writer (currently awaiting publication by Random House of a work co-written with his former wife), founder of career coaching, lawyer coaching, and attorney recruiting firms, Internet entrepreneur, and recovering attorney. He’s an avid skier and hiker.

Quick jump to Cameron’s posts.

Notes from Kilometer 18, Give or Take

Posted on October 15, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

NEW ADVENTURE

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.
And now the book, Ordinary Magic: Promises I Made to My Mother Through Life, Illness, and a Very Long Walk is finally here!

Leaving Mercadoiro; Rene the Eagle

Posted on October 14, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

NEW ADVENTURE

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new Nikon SLR, which I’d just bought from Costco via the rationale of this very trip. The video was on: Mom had talked about this moment for months, and I am nothing if not a catcher, or perhaps I mean a chaser, of moments. She was picking her way up the mound, through the powdery gray and white rocks. My fifteen-year-old second-cousin, Carrie, had abandoned her massive backpack and was watching the scene from my left. In a field to my right an older man, very tall, sturdy boots, backpack, was weeping.Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de FerroThe mound was pierced at its summit by a thirty-foot-tall oak post, about as big around as a telephone pole. The very top of the post was fitted with an iron cap, like the sort of hat an English bulldog might wear, if an English bulldog had scored an audience with the Queen. For a structure with the grand appellation of El Cruz de Ferro, an old Spanish-Latin term that means Cross of Iron, the cap supported an almost comically tiny iron cross whose three free arms ended in fleurs-de-lis. For thousands of years, some version of the Cruz de Ferro had spied on countless pilgrims – first Pagan, later Catholic, now mostly Pagan again – as they formed meaning out of this very waystation.For thousands of years a mound of rocks marked the summit of this mountain range. A million pilgrims before us had built up the mound with hand-placed relics from their own private rituals of letting go: of anger, of grief, of resentment, of illness – letting go even of the fear of death. Because that is what people do on pilgrimages, of any kind, whether they mean to or not. They let go. That’s what the verb to forgive means. To forgive others, and, harder yet, to forgive oneself. Jesus was telling us what he knew about forgiveness, but the bastards killed him before he could show us how to forgive ourselves.Sign up – or watch the new Camino movies on OrdinaryMagicBook.com!An ancient tradition held that pilgrims should bring to the Cruz, from their own homes, a small stone and a more personal item, and to leave them behind at the Cross. My mother was now placing, among the rocks, a small stone she’d carried from an ancient canyon near her house in Colorado. Previous pilgrims had also brought and left behind other, more telling things. A tube of lipstick. A postcard of Bruges, scrawled in a woman’s hand. Folded pieces of paper and fragments of words in Spanish and English, German and Dutch, Korean and Basque. Underwear that raised certain questions. A Matchbox car that looked to my inner-nine-year-old’s eye like a ’68 Corvette, give or take two years. A toy soldier – missing a leg, poor bastard – and the half-eaten cookie on which he’d been subsisting among the pebbles.On the wooden pole itself I could make out a tacked-up orange baseball cap and a clip-less biking pedal, a gourd on a string, a black-and-white photo of a European peasant family, circa 1930s, a 1970s photo of a boy, in a shirt with blue stripes, holding a Bible, a pre-printed fortune cookie’s fortune: Do not throw the butts into the urinal, for they are subtle, and quick to anger. I saw a Prada label, an AC Milan futbol jersey, and a broken pair of cheap sunglasses. A German pilgrim had erected a small German flag among the rocks. Not to be outdone, so had a Belgian. Or vice versa, let’s not start another war.My mother, still with her back to my cousin and me, had reached the top of the mound. The Iron Cross now loomed over her, standing stoutly in the wind. She bowed her head and pulled her second, more personal offering from a pocket in her field jacket. She cupped it with both hands and held it over her head, a modest proposal to the cosmos about what she should be allowed to let go of. When I saw her shoulders start to shake I began to cry, too, but quietly, because I was the expedition videographer, not to mention its chief biographer, photographer, legal counsel, and practicing podiatrist.I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother. And now the book, Ordinary Magic: Promises I Made to My Mother Through Life, Illness, and a Very Long Walk is finally here!

Inge – Rabanal to Mercadoiro and the Iron Cross

Posted on October 14, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

NEW ADVENTURE

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.
And now the book, Ordinary Magic: Promises I Made to My Mother Through Life, Illness, and a Very Long Walk is finally here!

Sarria to Mercadoiro to Ventas de Naron

Posted on October 13, 2011 by admin

Supporting

” Inge’s most loving embrace. Reuniting with a fellow pilgrim “

Supporting Treatment

See what the True History of the Camino de Santiago book is all about: www.TrueHistoryCaminodeSantiago.com.

Donate:

Below are two little movies we made of Inge on the Camino de Santiago. We think they show her passionate, fighting spirit quite well.

Watch Inge Symbolically Leaving Her Cancer at the Iron Cross

In Santiago at Last: How She’ll Look Once She Beats the Emperor Again!

You can donate any amount you wish. Buen Camino!

El Acebo to Ponferrada: More Jamón and What I Miss

Posted on October 11, 2011 by admin

Supporting

” Inge’s most loving embrace. Reuniting with a fellow pilgrim “

Supporting Treatment

See what the True History of the Camino de Santiago book is all about: www.TrueHistoryCaminodeSantiago.com.

Donate:

Below are two little movies we made of Inge on the Camino de Santiago. We think they show her passionate, fighting spirit quite well.

Watch Inge Symbolically Leaving Her Cancer at the Iron Cross

In Santiago at Last: How She’ll Look Once She Beats the Emperor Again!

You can donate any amount you wish. Buen Camino!

High Up in El Acebo, We Are Served a Human Heart

Posted on October 11, 2011 by admin

About

ABOUT US

CAMERON

Quick jump to Cameron’s posts.

Mom at the Cruz de Fierro

Posted on October 11, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

NEW ADVENTURE

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.
And now the book, Ordinary Magic: Promises I Made to My Mother Through Life, Illness, and a Very Long Walk is finally here!

The Cross of Chemo

Posted on October 10, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

Camino de Santiago start
Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

Nikon SLR, which I’d just bought from Costco via the rationale of this very trip. The video was on: Mom had talked about this moment for months, and I am nothing if not a catcher, or perhaps I mean a chaser, of moments. She was picking her way up the mound, through the powdery gray and white rocks. My fifteen-year-old second-cousin, Carrie, had abandoned her massive backpack and was watching the scene from my left. In a field to my right an older man, very tall, sturdy boots, backpack, was weeping.

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.

Mom Approaches El Cruz de Ferro — the Iron Cross of Letting Go

Posted on October 10, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

Camino de Santiago start
Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.

Mom: Navarette, Azofra, Santo Domingo, Belorado, Burgos, Leon, El Acebo, Astorga

Posted on October 10, 2011 by admin

Online school
that really teaches

Any really short description of this school
which will interest the user

Strategy and Planning

Teach for any ages

Get more knowledge

ADVANTAGES

The Future of Education

ABOUT

Why you should join us

Pellentesque sagittis morbi pretium mattis ut duis nulla. Risus dolor tortor congue venenatis egestas bibendum sed.

Gravida bibendum pharetra pharetra, vulputate. Amet orci,
odio diam mattis.

Tellus ullamcorper dui at enim laoreet mauris sit.

Pulvinar ullamcorper lorem tincidunt libero at ornare. Varius ac justo
feugiat fermentum, nunc.

LEARN MORE

qualified teachers

0K+

graduates

study hours

universities

ABOUT

Let’s see How
the Learning process goes

Nulla arcu ullamcorper non vestibulum consectetur a tincidunt bibendum elit. Eget euismod in massa risus non.

LEARN MORE

COURSES

Top Categories

IT and Programming

Mathematic Sciences

Languages

Art & Drawing

Law & Social Studies

Physics & Chemistry

Let’s learn together

Augue gravida a arcu tellus ac.

SUBJECTS

Choose the subject you need

SALES

First lesson for FREE

Mauris, egestas euismod tincidunt semper. At arcu neque diam feugiat tellus id commodo eget. Nisi pulvinar bibendum eu nibh orci sapien.

PRICE LIST

Pricing plans

Basic

Proin viverra pellentesque lectus pretium, sed ullamcorper pellentesque.

$99

/ monthly

Medium

Proin viverra pellentesque lectus pretium, sed ullamcorper pellentesque.

$99

/ monthly

Premium

Proin viverra pellentesque lectus pretium, sed ullamcorper pellentesque.

$99

/ monthly

TESTIMONIALS

Students’ opinions

During our cooperation, the company’s employees have established themselves

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus ultrices ligula est, at mattis orci varius quis. Nullam non erat neque. Maecenas a ipsum a odio interdum lacinia. Sed tincidunt, eros in venenatis pulvinar, tortor ante posuere magna."

"Tortor ante posuere magna, in laoreet tellus ligula in metus. Ut tempor blandit eleifend. Donec fringilla elementum porttitor. Aenean lobortis rutrum dolor, ac viverra metus semper ut. Etiam faucibus erat vel ante dapibus porta."

NEWS

Our Latest News

The Last Camino

The last Camino. Her final chapter. A son stops writing for a while because he simply has nothing new to say about grief. Continue reading →

To Ferry to the Other Side

To ferry to the other side. The last post before the last Camino. She was almost there, and she wasn’t afraid. Continue reading →

Words Seem to be Important to Me

Words seem to matter most when the body is failing. Language is the thing that stays when everything else goes. Continue reading →

Follow our Social Networks

Stay in the know and check us to get news

“I Want to Go to that Cross and Leave My Cancer Behind”

Posted on October 10, 2011 by admin

The Energy Meridians of Mother Earth

I had heard people say that the Camino runs along on one of earth’s energy meridians, also called ley lines. I’d heard that in pre-Roman times, people of the Pagan religions, and, later, Christian mystics, walked the Camino route from Santiago to Leon, and which in its entirety, as it covers seven sacred sites corresponding to the seven chakras of the human body, is called the Celtic Camino.

The ley lines of the earth are said to correspond to the energy meridians of the human body, as in Chinese medicine. Throughout the world, indigenous peoples have viewed the earth as a holographic representation of the human form. The great travel writer Bruce Chatwin described the connection between the Australian Aboriginal people and the land they walked, and sang out loud — in a wonderful book called The Songlines. Lucien Lévy-Bruhl, speaking of the Aborigines, said “The land is a living book in which the myths are inscribed . . . A legend is captured in the very outlines of the landscape.”

The Camino is also said to perfectly parallel the Milky Way, and some people believe that by following a path so powerfully charged with energy, a person is more likely to have intensely spiritual or religious experiences. One etymology of the name “Compostela” argues that it comes from Latin campus stellae, “field of the stars”.

Does this refer to the Milky Way, or to the belief that the bones of St. James made their way to Santiago from Israel (in a boat, in seven days) and were found when a shepherd spotted a star and somehow deduced that the star, billions of light years away, hung in the sky over a specific spot — the spot where the bones were interred and where the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela now stands? If you are able to replicate this feat at home, please leave a comment in the Comments section.*

I picture a line of druids solemnly walking the same path, oak staffs in hand, white-haired and regal like Gandalf in “The Lord of the Rings”, to Finisterre, literally “end of land”, or what was then believed to be the end of the known world. But the Celtic Camino actually runs from west to east and back again: it stretches from Santiago – its start, in the first chakra – to Leon, Spain and Toulouse, France, and finally to Rosslyn, Scotland. Even today, some people walk this route, which has them walking against the current of the Camino de Santiago pilgrims.

Some people believe that the tomb that allegedly contains St. James’ bones (again, a dubious claim) does not, in fact, house the remains of Saint James, but of a pagan priestess, and that the Catholic Church, as it so often did with Pagan churches, symbolism (e.g., the fish symbol, Christmas in place of the winter solstice, the god-man born of a virgin and a god) and rituals, took advantage of the pre-existing meaning assigned to the Camino to spread Christianity as far and wide as possible. Yet another theory holds that if there are any remains on the spot, they belong to Priscillian, an ascetic from Avila who was beheaded by the Church as a heretic in Treves, France, in 385 CE, but who was venerated as a martyr in Galicia and other parts of northern Spain.

Here’s what I found on a website discussing the matter of energy:

As we walk and travel along this sacred path, we offer a healing to heal the split for Mother Earth, as we simultaneously heal our own split. We walk up Her chakras, and as we do, we offer our healing, our light and love to ourselves, and to the Earth along this powerful meridian of energy.

And this author quotes another, one Peter Dawkins, who says:

A certain pilgrim's footprint

A true pilgrim who pilgrimages in love leaves footprints of light. Many pilgrims leave many such footprints, and a well-walked pilgrims’ way can become a path of light. There are multitudes of pilgrimage routes crossing the earth, with thousands of people pilgrimaging them every year.

On the other hand, “Some of these meridians are polluted with . . . negative vibrational toxins such as battles, massacres, and the like. These vibrations are stored in the records of the land itself” – much as illness may be viewed as the storage of negative emotional energy – “reflecting back to its inhabitants and causing serious illness . . .”

If the history of the Camino tells us anything, it is that war was nearly continuous along it. Christians fought Christians, Moors and Saracens fought Christians, Christians persecuted Jews, and so on, ad nauseam. For most of the history of Spain, these wars were more about land and strategic advantage than religion. The Camino runs through an energetic wasteland of battles and massacres.

“Fortunately,” according to the same source, “these currents respond positively to spiritual impression.” And here we come back to the pilgrims, who walk it with prayers, mantras, and good faith in their hearts and minds. Once again, a practice that was originally Pagan has been superseded by Christian symbolism. Instead of walking along one of the great planet’s lines of energy, pilgrims redefined their seeking in a new narrative, a new storyline: We are seeking the legendary bones of St. James the Apostle.

The Human Scale

Mom said she’s been visualizing the energy blasting through her tumor. I’ve been told by more than a few people that my energy is palpable and can be felt in whatever part of a person’s body I direct it. I don’t know what to think of this, but I make a Cartesian wager when I place my hand on Mom’s lower back and visualize blocked energy getting unblocked, or see light and love flowing into her: there’s no penalty for being wrong, but what if it works?

Like the Catholics who would come later, Pagans often placed altars and other symbolism on the tops of mountains. Thus was the current site of the Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross, originally the site of a Pagan monument. It sits on the highest (or second-highest) point on the Camino.

The Cruz de Ferro, by tradition, is the place where pilgrims leave something behind. The place where they agree to let go of something. For months now, Mom has said, “I’m going to leave my cancer behind!” She has duly brought a stone, from home, and a paper copy of her PET scan with the third and last tumor circled in red.

And all of this has me worried.

* Another etymology is compositum, “the well founded”, or composita tella, meaning “burial ground”.

Astorga to Rabanal

Posted on October 9, 2011 by admin

Astorga to Rabanal del Camino, 22km.

Friday, October 7, 2011. I thought I’d have a solid night’s sleep, but I didn’t get to sleep until nearly 11, and between Mom’s snoring, Barbara’s (according to Mom), and apparently my own (per Carrie), the morning hours came far too quickly. Mom got up far earlier than we did, as is her wont, and went to the kitchen to make some German-style potatoes. She found the kitchen a disaster from the pilgrim revels of the night before (Mom thought “guitar-playing and drumming” would be too charitable, but there was strumming and banging involved). The kitchen was the classic tragedy of the commons, but, Mom being Mom, she cleaned it.

We were on the road at about 7:40a.m. It was cool, cool enough for two layers of Icebreaker wool. Unlike in days past, when, after 30 or 60 minutes I’d take off the top layer, I wore both layers the whole 22 kilometers. In fact, after my hands stopped functioning in any way but to hold my poles, I added gloves. And my five-toed socks. My nose ran the entire way, ran so hard and fast I feared it might reach Santiago without me.

Mom was pleased with the new Salomon trekking shoes she had bought yesterday. “Oh,” she

Mom's dancing in the shoe store blurs the shot

said. “I’m going to sleep in these!” For the first time since we began the Camino, she walked an entire stage in one pair of footwear, and did not resort to her sandals.

Even before we’d left Astorga, we came upon a wonderful aroma of fennel. It was like walking through a licorice factory. The blue of the dawning sky was beyond description. The power lines sizzled and buzzed overhead – something I’ve heard only in Spain. In Murias de Rechivaldo, we stopped for Second Breakfast at a small but cozy café run by a woman named Pilar. She addressed me as “senor,” and the bathrooms, to Mom’s delight, had both towels and soap, a rarity on the Road. (As long as I’m wearing wicking wool, I find towels unnecessary). These things would earn her a larger tip.

Pilar was playing Tibetan mantras on the stereo. “For patience,” she said, pronouncing it “pot-ience”. “And for compassion.”

Senora Pilar

“There isn’t enough of that along the Road,” Mom said. Pilar agreed. They discussed Pilar’s liver problems, and her efforts to remain positive, and they shared tips on alternative medicine. Pilar said that good food had changed her life and her health — notably, she no longer ate jamon. Meanwhile, I talked with a Galician who has lived in Alberta for many years, his Canadian partner, and an Italian woman from Bologna.

The countryside between Astorga and Rabanal is sparsely populated. As the earth’s population climbs, I hope that people, especially those in China and India, will keep Spain in mind. The semi-arid terrain reminded me of the land in and around the Great Basin of the western United States: yellow grasses, light-green shrubs, heather, broom, wild

Stone corral

thyme, desert flowers, and a few types of dominant trees, none of them very tall, such as scrub oak. In the distance I saw a few copses of aspens.

It should have been no surprise to see a sign, in El Ganso, advertising a Cowboy Museum. (I couldn’t do it. Not after the chocolate museum). The soil was now red, too, reminding me that Colorado got its name from the Spanish – color red, color rado (red is now rojo in Spanish, but their explorers swept through the Colorado territory centuries ago).

We stopped for First Lunch in El Ganso and I took some notes and checked my email. Mom fed stray cats bread with butter – “Have you noticed they only eat it if it has butter on it?” – and the cats all ended up standing on my feet because she was throwing the crusts between them.

For the first time since before Burgos – that is, since far on the other side of the plains of Castilla and Leon – we saw walls made of stone. Some were in the fields, too large to have been a house, too small to enclose an entire property. I decided they must have been corrals for sheep and cows. The villages, too, were made of stone. Roofs were made of mined slate or even thatch. In the distance, hills, the ridgelines of which were covered with modern windmills too large for Don Quixote to tilt at.

We came upon a tree under which a young man in long curly hair had set up a table. He had been to Santiago and was now making his way back . . . to somewhere. For a donation, he was offering coffee, chai, hummus, and cake. Nearby, and much more alluringly, a slender, raven-haired woman played a haunting flying-saucer-like

Spanish woman plays a hang in the middle of nowhere

instrument called a hang. Invented by a Swiss, it had small dimples spaced around its perimeter, and by tapping the places in between, she caused it to make different notes. The sound wasn’t too unlike the music played by the alien ship in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. Hank, a young Dutchman, tried his hand at it, too. I bought one of the woman’s CDs, and we moved on.

Hank and I walked for a while. He told me about a man who was on the Camino with his daughter’s ashes, and who was walking an astonishing 75 kilometers per day.

He told me he himself was on the Camino to prove, as he put it, “that I can finish something.” Shin splints had resulted in his early departure from the army, and his confidence had suffered.

“You thought something was wrong with you?” I said. “You worried that it wasn’t just the injury but that you were weak?”

“Something just like that,” he said. He was now traveling the world for a year, and filming his exploits. He said he wanted to learn how to meditate, and for about an hour I talked to him about it. Hank is probably the first person I’ve ever heard say, of English, “I love the language.”

“Why?”

“It’s just so easy and smooth. Dutch is like German, they both sound so harsh.”

“To my ear,” I said, “Dutch sounds a little like German, but also a little like English, so in the end it sounds like the kind of language I would make up, if I were going to make up a language that sounded like complete nonsense.”

Rabanal Albergue entrada

Rabanal

The albergue in Rabanal was utterly charming. Stone walls, wooden beams, an outdoor bar and patio, flowers and flowering bushes scattered about. There’s even a mistletoe tree, about twelve feet tall. I thought mistletoe grew only at Christmas, and near doorways. The proprietress didn’t speak a lick of English, or anything other than Spanish, but she was all smiles, as was her mother, who must have been in her eighties. The daughter, who was in her late fifties, walked through the dorm and would cry Hola!, and Mom and I answered a few times, until we realized that she was playing peek-a-boo with pilgrims sitting outside the windows.

Once I’d dropped my pack I headed to the restroom. The light switch was not in the same room as the toilet stall. That should have been my first warning. Sure enough, after a few minutes of contemplation, I was cast into darkness. This saves on electricity, but it necessitates the use of more paper. I need to research how the Spanish are apparently able to do their business so quickly. Is it all the oil in their diet?

Mom sat down at a table next to Barbara, the Bavarian woman, and Rainer, from

Okay, girls, this is a whole mistletoe tree. You know what to do.

Cologne. He’d had a hard day of walking, he said, after having had too much of a local spirit. Rainer said he was on the Camino because he’d had a rough two to three years, and he wanted to stop thinking about all his problems.

“Is it working?” I asked. He shrugged.

Barbara had beaten cancer four years earlier. She initially wanted to walk the Camino in order to spend some time by herself, but now, she said, she was feeling dankbarkeit, thankfulness or gratitude, for her life. While away from her normal life, she realized how good she had it. She had been married 26 years and she and her husband still felt about one another as they had when they met. She had wonderful daughters. She wanted everything, she said, to stay just the same. There, I thought, was a dangerous thought to attach oneself to.

Atop the iglesias in Rabanal, the little churches, were more storks’ nests. One of them, inside, was crumbling and rustic — perfect. We went there for a Vespers mass, blessedly short, and attempted, in Latin, that odd reading/singing-without-a-clear-melody that Catholics are somehow able to do, perhaps right out of the womb. We read a Psalm about the Lord crushing our enemies, and then we read from Romans about always doing things to please our neighbors.

“You did that really well,” Mom said to me. “Like you’ve done it before. But that priest was not going to let you be lead singer, no way.”

As we exited the church, another group of worshippers was waiting outside. Two women looked at my footwear aghast, as if I’d just walked across the face of the Lord, stopped, backed up, and wiped my feet. Soon the whole group had turned to watch me walking away, for all I know clutching their rosaries and crossing themselves. It’s this sort of thing that could make even a sociopath self-conscious.

Across a narrow road from a hotel that had wi-fi, I sat down with my computer in the cold. Vodafone charges me by the gigabyte, so when I want to upload pictures to Facebook or the blog, I use free wi-fi. A cat sat across the road from me, near the door of the restaurant. We exchanged a knowing glance, we two scavengers.

Morning in Rabanal del Camino: An Ode to My Fellow Pilgrims

It must have gotten into the 30s last night. Even with a blanket and two layers of clothes, I was cold. There was very little snoring, at least that I heard. I call this a miracle, and credit St. James himself. Mom said Rainer was sawing away because he’d drunk two bottles of wine the night before. In the morning he was nursing both a café con leche, from the bar and, in his left hand, a Coke. He said he felt awful and didn’t know why.

“Alcohol?” I said.

“Could be,” he said.

Although we’re no longer at risk of walking in hot weather, at this altitude and with current weather reports, pilgrims continue to insist on going to bed before 10 and getting up before 7a.m. to begin walking. And thus begins the second movement of each night’s Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark (shout out to Yuka for the 80s reference). At first, one tentative soul glides around, quiet as can be. He is soon joined by another pilgrim or two. There is rustling, but it’s tentative.

But then the broken-window phenomenon sets in. With each new person, and each new noise, comes more permission for the next person to be louder. Soon the rustling turns into a manic stuffing, and then a loud zipping, and sotto voce voices turn into whispers fit for artillerymen, and eventually, no matter how many bleary-eyed people are still enclosed in sleeping bags, pilgrims are now calling out to one another, stomping about, slamming

These are externalized costs, in economist-speak.

doors. It’s truly amazing that these are the same seemingly normal, well-adjusted people we have met the night before. Then again, once on the trail, some of them will also be unable to bury, or even to lift a rock to cover up, their used toilet paper.

I’m used to a wilderness ethic, at least in America, that says you pack out whatever you bring in. In true wilderness areas, that even includes your own waste. That’s what plastic bags are for. The Camino, by contrast, needs either to educate pilgrims better or to provide trash cans. Pilgrims disrespect their fellows, the locals, and the environment with their trash.

Tomorrow, we will finally reach the Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the Camino and, by tradition, the place where pilgrims leave something behind — where they let go of something. It is probably the most important part of the Camino for Mom. “I’m going to leave my cancer there,” she said, a few months ago. But will she? And isn’t the hope itself dangerous?

León to Astorga, City of Chocolate

Posted on October 7, 2011 by admin

León to Astorga

To give Mom’s toe more time to heal, and because walking from León to Santiago would

Gaudí's Palace

have required an aggressive 18 kilometers a day, every day, for 12 days, we took a short bus ride from Burgos to Astorga. Astorga is a pleasant little town. Marie Anne had recommended that we be sure to stop here. There is an embarrassing wealth of cathedrals and churches for such a small town, and a Museum of Chocolate, which Carrie was determined to see. The old town in which we’re staying sits on a bluff overlooking the surrounding countryside.

Legend has it that both Santiago and St. Paul preached in Astorga. Both legends seem to me unlikely, but the city did merit a bishopric of its own. Because it’s at the foot of two very steep climbs, it became a place on the Camino for travelers to rest up before the next ascent. As a result, there were once more hostels here than anywhere but Burgos.

Astorga was originally a Celtic settlement and in 14 BCE became a Roman stronghold in what was known as Asturica. Still visible today are the ruins of a sumptuous private home, complete with baths (featuring, as in the baths I’ve seen in Israel, hot, cold, and

Ruins of a Roman Villa

even tepid water), and the town’s walls. Plinius called the city urbs magnifica, “magnificent city”, but most of what the Romans built was destroyed when the Visigoth Teodorico II defeated the Suevi tribe that had settled the area after the fall of Rome. The Moors later destroyed the Visigothic city. After the campaigns of Alfonso I of Asturias (739-757) against the Moors, the city was abandoned until the 11th century, when it became a major stop on the Camino. The city was unusually welcoming to its Jewish residents until 1492, when all Jews were either forcibly converted, killed, or expelled from Spain.

Astorga has a fine cathedral, to judge from the outside. But both times we arrived it was

Astoga Cathedral

closed, so we’ll never know what’s inside. It might have held the Holy Grail, or a BMW Z8. We ran into the same problem at the neo-Gothic, fairytale Bishop’s Palace designed by the great and whimsical Antonio Gaudi.

Happily, in Astorga there is a fine little albergue. The owners or managers are a Spanish couple, and the volunteer hospitalerosare German, this time a couple from a town near Koblenz. Mom was utterly delighted with the kitchen, which led to a patio with a view for

Mom and a view of and from the Patio at the Astorga Albergue

many miles, and she could not have been happier about immediately going shopping and making lunch – German-style hamburger patties with onions and German potato salad, along with white asparagus, raw red peppers, banana slices, and grapes.

We got a room with a view – and the room holds only four people, the fourth being Barbara, a woman of a certain age from near Munich, whose daughter was once a satisfied exchange student in Iowa. She has that Bavarian accent that reminds me of my relatives, and childhood, in Bavaria. Barbara’s crown has broken, so she is off to see a dentist. Curiously, this happened to another pilgrim just a few days ago.

I’m tired today. I didn’t get much sleep last night. At least one man, and maybe two, sounded like nothing so much as a motorcycle starting up. I am becoming an aficionado of snoring sounds. It’s like Nabokov, collecting and documenting butterflies, only with more rage. Truly, hostels need to provide those little anti-snore strips and require that snorers use them. It should also be made kosher for other pilgrims to wake a snorer without a strip and ask him to get one or to banish himself from the albergue, if not from society entirely.

I am looking forward to a greater probability of a full night’s sleep. It would depress me beyond measure for Barbara’s crown, say, to get broken again.

Counting another bus trip, we’ll have about 169 kilometers to go, out of the original 800+. If we budget 11 days (we leave from Lisbon on October 22, but wanted to spend some time in Portugal), then we need to cover 15.4 kilometers per day. That’s easily doable, if we can avoid injuries and other health issues. Apparently one must cover the last 100 kilometers to get the special badge of the pilgrim. Or maybe it’s an embossed certificate from the Pope, along with an accounting of the sins remitted (and how does he know? But then, Santa Claus knows, so why can’t the Pope know?) Julio told us that in Santiago, the townsfolk offer to host pilgrims in their own homes, and that there is some kind of ceremony at the cathedral where the pilgrims’ names are called out publicly.

XOCOLATL

One proud native informed us that Astorga was the site of the first manufacture of chocolate in Europe. (He also said the first shop was in Aachen, Germany). I wasn’t able to confirm this with Google, and the Museo de Chocolate, for which we had high hopes, was of no help. The museum appears to have been carved out of the living quarters of someone’s home, and it offers less an education in things chocolate than a collection of old chocolate-making tools. But its curators’ primary interest seems to have been Spanish-language chocolate advertising in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. Somewhere in the world, a Ph.D. student with an esoteric thesis will be very happy someday.

The Spanish were the first to bring chocolate to the Old World, and like so much else, they got it from the Aztecs. Montezuma drank the stuff eight times a day, and believed it was the key to good health. When Hernán Cortés, the conquistador who destroyed Aztec civilization, broke into Montezuma’s palace, in 1591, to rob his treasury of its gold and silver, he was astonished to find only a truck-load of cocoa beans. Cortés brought Xocolatl! to Spain, where the bitter stuff was made more palatable to European tastes by mixing the ground roasted beans with sugar and vanilla. When more and more sugar was added, it became edible to Americans.

León, Our Favorite Hospitalero, and a Brilliant Cathedral

Posted on October 6, 2011 by admin

Content area

Catching Up: Logroño and Navarette

Posted on October 5, 2011 by admin

Logroño

Checking into the municipal albergue is now old hat. The one in Logroño was staffed with more unfriendly, unsmiling volunteers who speak a rapid Spanish that none of us can follow. What it boils down to is, we need to show our credentials and show our passport, then take a shower and come back to pay. We received throw-away sheets and pillowcases, which is what some albergues do now. We had arrived so quickly that we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. The 9 kilometers were so easy, but I was still tired. We tried to find a notary for Cameron and a grocery store.

This albergue has a nice big kitchen, but the two stoves have been removed and only a slow microwave exists. We bought veggies and salad (tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, and chorizo, and bread, of course). I haven’t eaten so many carbs in a long time. But there’s absolutely no choice. I wonder if the veggies are sprayed. I am so far off my diet, I don’t even see it anymore. My energy level is down, and I would even consider eating meat just to get something of substance into my stomach. I bought two large, lovely red peppers to eat on the way in case there were only the uncovered mayo tuna tapas.

The guys took off to do business, and Marie Anne and I went to a café in the square. We were people-watching while we had our café con leche and mousse. It’s a lovely afternoon and people are busy going to and fro. Most of them are very nicely dressed. The more mature women as well. Their hair is coiffed, clothes match, nice shoes. We don’t see many overweight people. There was a beautiful cathedral with an ornate façade.

After washing our clothes and arranging the service to take Quasimodo to the next village in the morning (who has been replaced by a fat-baby daypack). We had another salad for dinner, and I went to bed to read for a while. There are three dormitories and probably 36 people in each. There were only two toilets and two showers for women, and as many for men. Toilet paper is a rarity, and one had better bring one’s own or be caught with one’s pants down. I hear people speak Spanish and laugh, some in broken English, and finally lights are out, and all is quiet . . . until midnight.

The snoring concert begins, and it’s awful. I went to the bathroom and then tried to go back to sleep. The Irish guy who was up a little while ago, tending to his injured foot, is now talking in his sleep. At two o’clock I’m still awake, and all four snorers are snoring at the same time. Nothing helps. I even contemplated dragging my mattress into the kitchen.

Even though I had only 13 or so kilometers to hike the next day, it’s a lot when you’re tired.

The flax (which I call “my dirt”) started to work, so I was up again. Finally, I took ibuprofen, and slept one-and-a-half hours before the plastic rustling began. I tried to go to the bathroom first, so I could take care of my dental issues. I snuck back to my bunk and retrieved coffee. There was not a pot to heat water.

A young Spanish man pantomimed that I should place a glass of water into the microwave. “Ahh,” I said. “Good idea.”

And then I decided to take my flax in the mornings, because I believe it will work much better, and won’t give me so many colon issues.

Logroño to Navarette

Marie Anne, Carrie, and I left Logroño while it was still cool so we could arrive before the hot noon sun caught us. Cameron and Julio were once again dealing with the notary. We made decent progress, and only stopped several kilometers out of town. The landscape changed back to being hilly, with lots of vineyards. We stopped at a bar, luckily open, and had our morning café con leche. I had to take of two blisters on my right foot. It was a beautiful spot by a pond, surrounded by green hills.

Then we started again and the Camino ran along the highway, divided by a chain-link fence. Every link had a hand-made cross in it, some made of wood, others of plastic bottles. I fashioned one from yellow flowers and placed it there as well. I remembered my visit to Oklahoma City, where people had done the same thing. I tried to explain that the bombing had hit the sangre de couer of the people of Oklahoma City, and she understood.

I was thinking as we were walking about the ancient pilgrims, and their hardships. How they were often robbed, and if they didn’t have enough, they might be beaten and thrown into the river. So in spite of all my issues, they were much worse off.

I was also having a food obsession: where to get it, what I would do with it, if they didn’t have what I wanted, what we’d do instead. Once that problem was taken care of, then came the bathroom obsession. Where to put it all, when there was not even a tree.

Everywhere the harvesting of grapes had begun. The weather was still perfect, and I’m sure they’re very happy to have such a great year.

Navarette

We arrived in Navarette early, and the albergue was still closed. We waited at a nearby café, where other pilgrims sat, and got sleep in the warm noon sun. Soon, we saw Cameron and Julio. Both made the 13 kilometer trek in 2 hours – a serious butt-kicking. “Cheesus Crise!” Julio said as he sat down. “Jour son is trying to keel me.”

We heard some music that sounded like from an ancient time. We hurried to check in, but there was no hurrying the process. And so we got another lesson in patience.

I had had two blisters between my toes, so the going was a bit tough. When we reached the square, situated right by the church, under some very old trees that shaded a stage, we saw children in elaborate, very starched white dresses with colorful flowers on them. They danced some old folk dances while throwing shy glances at their beaming parents. We were starving, but found out that everything was closed due to the fiesta to come. I would have thought that a priest or two would care for these hungry pilgrims. What are pilgrims to do on days like this? I had read about locals coming with water or food to greet the pilgrims. Well, I don’t know how long ago this was, but we sure haven’t seen anyone, except hungry feral cats. We did find a restaurant open and ate a fairly decent meal, but it cost 50 Euros. As Julio says, “the fleecing of the peregrinos”.

Carrie is catching a cold, and I hoped wasn’t getting worse. I can feel my throat tickle, and I groaned inwardly about yet another malady. We showered and changed, washed clothes, and arranged Quasimodo’s ride to the next town, since I really can’t carry mine with all these issues.

We wanted to visit the church, but due to the fiesta, it was closed. This is a smaller town, and rural, so I would imagine they would take their fiesta pretty seriously. During the fiesta, I had two bowls of the best soup ever!

Julio and Marie Anne Leave Us, So We Can Evolve

Posted on October 4, 2011 by admin

From Burgos to the Inquisition and the Aztecs

Posted on October 4, 2011 by admin

Belorado and Jamón

Posted on October 4, 2011 by admin

Santo Domingo de la Calzado to Belarado – This Post Sponsored by Ibuprofen

Posted on October 2, 2011 by admin

Privacy Policy

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex. ea commodo consequat.

Navarette, Azrofa, Santo Domingo de la Calzado

Posted on October 1, 2011 by admin

Supporting Treatment

See what the True History of the Camino de Santiago book is all about: www.TrueHistoryCaminodeSantiago.com.

Donate:

Below are two little movies we made of Inge on the Camino de Santiago. We think they show her passionate, fighting spirit quite well.

Watch Inge Symbolically Leaving Her Cancer at the Iron Cross

In Santiago at Last: How She’ll Look Once She Beats the Emperor Again!

You can donate any amount you wish. Buen Camino!

An Audience with El Notario

Posted on September 29, 2011 by admin

El Notario was a very sober man. Small, neat, with a short-sleeved white shirt and a modest tie (so modest it bordered on immodesty), he exuded authority and self-assurance.

Julio made sure to legitimate me right away.

“El es un abogado de Princeton,” he said.

“Harvard,” I said. The Spaniards thought this was funny.

El Notario placed before us the documents that Eva had drawn up. He verified Julio’s identity and made him swear to translate faithfully (Julio would violate this by saying “blah blah blah” over extensive portions of the document). The documents contained so much legalese that even when they were upside-down, an American lawyer could read them: Latin is still the lingua franca of the legalist. They said that Don Cameron Christopher Powell did not understand Spanish, and that Don Julio Angel Redondo Garcia was acting as interpreter and translator. They also appeared to say that they had no real legal effect.

When all the preliminaries had been completed, El Notario reached for a Bic pen and held it up before me as if he were putting Excalibur into my care. He held up my passport before me and pointed at my signature as if to say, “It should look like this”. (Perhaps he did say that). I signed my name in two places.

He appeared to think we were done.

I explained to Julio that a document with only my signature on it would not be useful to the American authorities, who rather expected that the State, County, signature, and commission expiration would be filled out by a notary on the same document, and who would neither look at nor understand the beautifully produced four-page instrument that Eva had so carefully prepared for El Notario’s stylish signature.

To my dismay, El Notario was not reaching for his pen. “Notaries in Spain never expire,” Julio translated. “Their license to print money is forever, perhaps beyond death.”

“Could he write ‘No expiration’?”

Sadly, he could not.

He told us to come back in an hour, so that the separate, Spanish documents could be changed to reflect the fact he would be applying his pen to the English-language document. Like a man sitting in a cab from New York to Washington, D.C., I could see the meter ticking upward.

But there was one good thing to come of it all. “For the rest of Camino,” I told Julio. “You will call me Don Cameron.”

From Pamplona to “Ave Maria” in Los Arcos

Posted on September 29, 2011 by admin

Pamplona to Cizur Menor

I didn’t walk from Pamplona, as I was feeling very shaky. I thought perhaps it was due to low

Lunch in Cizur Menor

blood sugar (the H’s hurt with each step) and I just couldn’t face even walking four miles. Carrie, Marie Anne, and I took a cab with Cameron’s pack too. In Cizur Menor was a lovely albergue, with a small pool filled with goldfish and turtles, blooming hydrangeas and other lovely foliage. It was more like a small resort. Julio cooked again and we sat outside and ate pasta. I was pretty tired and in bed by 8:30. I slept well until all the snoring started. I got up at 2 for the bathroom again, then at 3:10 and once more at 4. At 5:30 I gave up to handle my dental issues and have a cup of tea.

To Puente La Reina

We started out at 7:30 and walked approximately 8km, had a decent lunch, and walked through beautiful countryside that reminded me of Tuscany. We had to climb up another hill, and down a rocky path, but the view on both sides and around us was well worth it. Large fields, now empty and harvested, cypresses and blackberry bushes. My foot started to hurt and it was getting hot, but I will not complain.

Finally, we came to Puente La Reina. Beautiful old monastery. Upon arrival we were told that our backpacks hadn’t made it. Julio took over, helpful as usual, helping us immensely with language. We had the packs brought by taxi. Marie Anne and I tried to find a grocery store, but, it being Saturday and a fiesta for running the bulls, everything was closed. Lots of movement in town, with people sitting all over outside, picturesque houses again, with lots of flowers.

We went to see the old bridge and I took pictures. Got the rest of our little family and

Puente La Reina

went to see the bulls being run. A DJ played good loud music and Marie Anne and I danced. It was so much fun. Then the two little bulls came running up and down the street as young men tried to touch their horns. The bulls sure looked tired after a while, but it was all in good fun.

Julio found a store and we invited a young man who has been walking from England since June. Carrie has made a friend. An older gentleman and artist.

Estella

Estella. I call her the elusive, because I was under the impression that the town was only 19km from Puente La Reina, but the walk seemed to go on for a long time. Problem was we got a late start due to some miscommunication, so we were behind everyone. The path looked in some places like Douglas Pass, or in any case like the road to the Black Canyon. We walked up the hill and I was really breathing hard. When I reached the top, there was the little family giving me a standing ovation. Then

Julio interrogates an olive tree

we saw lovely vineyards, hills, olive trees, and figs. Julio picked some of each and offered them to me to make up for the lack of veggies. Later, Julio cooked a whole pot of pasta, which we shared with others.

My legs are sunburned and red like lobsters.

The Way of the Camino

The way of the Camino is such that everyone, regardless of nationality or religion, is

English lasses with ready medical supplies

immediately helping. The sharing and caring makes it so worthwhile. They don’t ask your interpretation of the Bible before they’re willing to help. No one holds himself above another. Sometimes the aid is as small as a band-aid. Other times, people stop and dig through their entire backpack to find what you may need. People call out a friendly “Hola!” when the pass, and everyone wishes you “Buen Camino”.

When I rest for a minute to catch my breath, the ones who pass always ask if I’m okay.

The Long Road to Los Arcos

Morning came early and we hurried to get started, as I could not face another day with most of the time in 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Our journey today will be 21km to Los Arcos. Again we made a good start in the cool morning mist. The stars were shining and we heard the click-clack of the walking poles. (I have two BFFs, Preparation H and ibuprofen). The many hills that I have to climb don’t elicit any more comments from me. It is what it is.

The last two-plus kilometers were really, really hot, and it was all I could do to place one foot in front of the other. Finally, we see Los Arcos, and I was soooo glad. (It turned out to be 24km).

When we got inside the albergue, Julio was already there, helping us with the credentials. The front desk was staffed with volunteers. When it was my turn, one of them barked at me, “Do you speak English?” I said “Yes”. Then she said, “Well, how come he” – Julio – “has to do this for you?” I didn’t understand her attitude or what she was getting at, and I said, “I’m sorry, but I feel really sick, and right now I can’t even manage my name.”

She looked at me and said, in the same tone, “What do you want me to do?”

I was so exhausted and in pain that this was all it took to make me tear up, and I said, “For what I have, there’s nothing you can do.” Tears flowed freely, and I wondered whether we had walked into a prison camp by mistake. Then my son took over and told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of her and her sour attitude. Then Julio, in Spanish, said many words. I stumbled off to find the dormitory before I collapsed, led by my son.

The Mourning Father

After a shower and a rest, I felt somewhat improved once more, and we decided to go and look at the cathedral. When we opened the heavy, ornate door, I stood speechless in front of the golden splendor and beauty. Gold, carvings, painted walls, and stunning decoration. As we stood to gaze at some statues, Cameron put his hand on my lower back, where the tumor resides, and I felt the energy, and I was choked up and couldn’t speak.

I lit five candles, for four of my loved ones who had passed, and for the son of my friend Pat, her only son, who died last year not long after his marriage. She misses him so. After he died, instead of giving her a card, I had given her a small, potted tree for her to plant.

We sat in silence in the pews, when suddenly, there was this grand voice, starting “Ave Maria”. We looked up in surprise, and I saw a lone man with both hands stretched before him, imploring the statute of Mary, who had her place of honor in the center of the altar. His voice was brimming with emotion, and I started to cry. I was remembering how violinists played “Ave Maria” at my brother Gunter’s wedding to Elfriede, and they were so beautiful and young.

Looking over at Marie Anne, I saw her crying too. Everyone had stopped to sit or stand and listen. Then the singer paused, and after a moment, he started another “Ave Maria”. He went on for over ten minutes. His voice carried, and the acoustics were phenomenal. By this time, I was no longer thinking that he was singing from religious devotion, but from some other emotion.

He came down, and people approached him to shake his hand and thank him for his beautiful gift. I also shook his hand and he said something in French, which I didn’t understand. I just placed my hand over my heart to let him know how he touched me. We walked to the courtyard and I was still wiping my face when I found out that he sang as a tribute to his son, who had died a short time ago, and that today would have been his birthday. I looked at him as tears streamed down his face, and there was such deep pain (I cry as I write this). I folded him into my arms and he sobbed, in English, “My son, my son”.

I could only touch my heart in silent communication. Everyone – Cameron, Julio, Marie Anne, and a few others – was openly weeping now. Later, when we returned to the albergue, we told the story, and everyone wanted to hear him sing. They were affected the same way.

Morning Meditations in Logrono

Posted on September 29, 2011 by admin

It’s a crisp morning in Logrono. It’s going to be another beautiful day in Spain, if perhaps a bit hot, especially given our late start. The women have gone ahead, while Julio and I sit in a café-bar called Ibiza and consume bocadillos and café con leche (me) and hot chocolate (Julio). Julio reads El Pais, one of the national papers, and translates for me the occasional outrage. Julio often sounds outraged, but you don’t ever detect

Julio sweetly presents Carrie with a stolen flower

real anger, resentment, or bad faith. It’s more of a stance, like performance art done by someone who’s a comic at heart.

I’m now sitting at a table outside Ibiza, opposite a park. The streets are largely deserted. The dearth of thinking I have done on where I shall live, or what I shall write, or what direction to take next in my vocations, is more than a little surprising. There was a time when I could not get certain topics off my mind. Now I can walk and have nary a thought enter my head that’s aimed more than a few hours into the future.

But I must credit my instinct with knowing what I need, and apparently what I need is, truly, a break from the thinking and weighing and analysis. Indeed, yesterday I had an intimation, a sense, that the detachment I feel from the life I led before the trip would prove to be fertile ground for feeling my way into what’s next. I had the sense that I needed to quiet the chatter of before so as to be receptive to the whisperings of what I might want now. This is a change from what I expected, which was to have ideas drop into my head via the alchemical process of walking meditatively.

Some of the Spanish cheeses are delicious. Yesterday I discovered ventero, a soft cheese reminiscent of freshly-made parmesan.

I’m hoping Mom’s ailments do not worsen. It would be ironic if, on this spiritual-

Mom claps along in Puente La Reina

emotional-health pilgrimage, her health deteriorated simply because she could not get access to the food she needed. Her diet in the U.S. is so rarefied and esoteric (compared to what now passes for nutrition in our country) that she usually has to shop and cook for herself to stay on it. It’s even more difficult to be a vegan in Spain than in the U.S., and that’s not even counting the pilgrim’s diet. To eat as a vegan here would require her to do more investigation in each town, walk farther, and spend considerably more.

But her spirits are indefatigable. There is so much life in her that it’s unimaginable that it could leave her anytime soon.

Soaking the feet

A Visit to the Notary

Posted on September 29, 2011 by admin

ADVENTURE

ABOUT US

EXPLORE THE WORLD

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in perspiciatis voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur.

From Viana to Logroño

Posted on September 29, 2011 by admin

ADVENTURE

ABOUT US

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis,
enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec id

210k Shots taken

782 Friends met

EXPLORE THE WORLD

WHAT PEOPLE SAY

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec.

Julia Duncan

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec.

Miranda Collins

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec.

Ryan Dyson

The Mourning Tenor on the Camino de Santiago

Posted on September 28, 2011 by admin

Media

THE MOMENTS

Viana and the Monastic Life

Posted on September 27, 2011 by admin

Recipes

I don’t know for a fact that the food I eat will reduce or eliminate your cancer or other illness, but I do know what healthy food has done for me and many others. I’m a gourmet chef, with training at the Cordon Bleu School of Cooking in Paris, and I’ve put together some amazing menus of food that

tastes great and
is based on the latest science on how to starve cancer cells by depriving them of their primary foods: fats, sugars, and other toxins.

I share my recipes, the stories behind them, in the blog. Click here to enjoy!

La Bruja en Los Arcos

Posted on September 26, 2011 by admin

ADVENTURE

ABOUT US

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis,
enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec id

210k Shots taken

782 Friends met

EXPLORE THE WORLD

WHAT PEOPLE SAY

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec.

Julia Duncan

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec.

Miranda Collins

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec.

Ryan Dyson

Toward Los Arcos and the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle

Posted on September 26, 2011 by admin

The End of Childhood is the End of Certainty

I won’t get into how, but I found myself explaining to Carrie what I know of the imago, or our image of what attracts us in a mate, and the operation of transference, rationalization, the unconscious, and denial.

The moment we realize that our parents, teachers, or other mentors are flawed – that they are human – is the end of innocence. The god-like are seen in all their messy humanity. To come to see the limitations of those we look up to and depend upon is a necessary, if painful, rite of passage. But not everyone makes this passage. Not everyone is ready, in this sense, to grow up.

The fundamentalist, the narcissist, the dependent and the victim for example, will simply double-down, insisting on their belief in certainty, such as in someone’s infallibility (in the case of the narcissist, his own), or the inerrancy and clarity of a text. The fundamentalist purports to see absolute clarity in texts that are not only not clear, but were never claimed to be clear by anyone at anytime before Darwin. The entirety of modern-day American-style fundamentalism is not “fundamental” to the Bible at all, but a relatively recent invention of the mid-1800s. Rapture theology, for example, did not occur to anyone before it occurred to the Englishman John Darby in the 1830s. How clear could it be?

But in the black-and-white, in easy answers, there is comfort and certainty, and comfort and certainty were never needed so much as when Darwin’s natural selection and geologist George Lyell’s dating of rocks, in the mid-1800s, both showed the earth to be far older than a literal reading of the Biblical myths would suggest. Indeed, before the advent of science and reason in the Enlightenment, which was terrifying to some of the pious (and which Republican presidential candidate Michele Bachmann recently, and revealingly, identified as the root of all of America’s problems), no religion ever insisted upon the historicity of their sacred texts. They did not take it literally. They saw the tales as mythos, the stuff of finding meaning and of understanding the sacred, and not as logos, the province of fact, rationality, history – or science.

Once you confuse mythos with logos, it becomes difficult to think clearly. Once you start building museum dioramas, as one can now find in Kentucky, in which humans frolic with dinosaurs, purportedly only a few thousand years ago, you will have so successfully rejected science that you are now at liberty to dispute without either evidence or science-based rebuttal the nearly universal conclusion of scientists worldwide that the earth is warming dangerously. The same science that sends people into space, powers GPS, runs your cell phone, and heals the sick is dismissed when it runs into conflict with our beliefs, tribal mores, or other indices of identity.

If we are meaning-seeking creatures, then it is great comfort for meaning to come easily, and for answers to be readily at hand. Humans fear few things so much as uncertainty. The unknown has always been terrifying to our species. And so we may seek to remain in, or return to, the comforts, the lack of uncertainty, of childhood.

On the Cushion

Yesterday morning I found myself once again thinking, Now, why am I doing this again….this Camino? Is it fun? If it is, will it remain fun? Is fun even the right question? I have slowed down a great deal, but apparently not so much that I have stopped craving more stimulation than is available. Rural trails, small towns largely emptied of the young (or the middle-aged), few cafes, no night life. I don’t even have books. I suppose I could download more onto my MacBook’s Kindle app, but lights go out at ten.

Here is what is different. I am not doing much on online dating sites. I don’t check my phone for emails or texts – there are none there. I’m not doing any coaching, and sending and receiving few emails about it. Some of the Tourette’s tics (but only Type I – I don’t get to shout or curse, damnit) are largely in remission. Because Tourette’s is exacerbated by stress, I take this as the clearest, most objective evidence of change. One tic that had become quite prominent over the summer arose from an urge to pop my left knee as you might crack your knuckles. I haven’t seen it in about a week.

Yes, this is embarrassing. I’m out now.

And I’m still not giving much thought to where to live. The house in Bend already seems a memory. By the time I return, it will be completely out of mind – just as my things will be out of the house and in storage. I may never see it again, and that’s all right. The letting go really sped up in the end, surprising my expectations.

Nevertheless, I am reminded of meditation retreats, where people may at times find themselves wanting to run away, screaming. But that is exactly the point of watching the mind. You will eventually see things that you aren’t keen to see. Resentment, cravings, attachments, irritability, annoyance, jealousy, rage, desire, rejection, discomfort. Meditation doesn’t make the unpleasantness of the outside world go away – it brings our relationship with the outside world into sharp focus. The path to any kind of enlightenment isn’t filled with peak moments.

You could even say the path doesn’t go anywhere in particular. The goal may simply be to stay on the path, the middle path, in which we neither cling to, indulge in, or identify with, nor push away, reject, repress, or condemn. We may choose either erroneous path out of a craving for certainty, whether the need to have an identity or an explanation we can cling to, or the need to reject what is going on in order to hold on to the storylines we have, or to avoid painful feelings. The middle path is the one where we observe our experience without judgment (pushing away) and without attaching ourselves to it (clinging). Only then can we see clearly, and make decisions rooted in what we know to be best for us.

To Los Arcos

Monday morning. Woke up many times in the night, and knew I was sick. I can feel it in my chest. Further dreams of seeing clearly, and of letting go. I decided to take the bus to Los Arcos (“The Bows,” named for the decisive role archers played in winning a great battle) rather than suffer through a 20k walk. Mom and Carrie sent their bags ahead and the group of four left me at the bus station. At the bus station I ran into three young Israeli women whom I’d seen prior albergues, and two Lebanese women I met last night. I helped them find the right bus and introduced them all to one another. The countryside we passed through was gorgeous, all greens and browns and yellows, everywhere rolling hills and citadels and iglesias, and granite cliffs in the distance.

Once in Los Arcos, I walked around for a bit, finding the stores (drinkable yogurt,potato chips, muesli bars), the public hostel (albergue municipal, always the cheapest), and a Café-Bar called Abascal, where I had a green-and-red-pepper omelette bocadillo and tea. I leafed through a Spanish magazine and got caught up on which American celebrities are sleeping with which other American celebrities. I still don’t understand who Kim Kardashian is, or why she is. I especially can’t understand what would justify the Spanish caring.

In the tiny plaza outside Abascal I sit abreast of my new amigos, or the local retired community of hombres. A seventy-something man walks back and forth over the 35 yards as if counting steps, as if trying to catch the distance in the act of being different on just one of his passes, and thus reveal even una plaza to be subject to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, one big cosmic joke.

Puente La Reina and the Running of the Small Bulls

Posted on September 26, 2011 by admin

On Saturday night in Puente La Reina we walked the 300 meters to the main plaza, where carpenters were putting the finishing touches on elevated platforms in the shape of a rectangle with three sides, with the missing side opening into the main street. In this street two mid-size, or at least economy, bulls were run back and forth to exhaustion by a band of teenagers, gelled up, in sneakers and soccer shorts, and a few old hands, one of whom did actually get one of the bulls by the horns for a few seconds. A brass band comprised of men in their fifties and sixties, and a long-haired youthful tuba player, was entirely drowned out by a DJ spinning modern pop for a group of dancing adults, each holding a beer in one hand and the beat in the other.

In the same plaza, in 1315 and again in 1345, two Jewish men were burned alive as sodomites, so the use of running bulls as public sport could reasonably be seen by some as an improvement. Last night, it was a young man who got the raw end of the deal when he didn’t get out of bull’s way soon enough, and found its horns dug into his back, throwing him face-down onto the street, where he could be seen lying until he was surrounded by the locals who ran to him.

In semi-autonomous Catalonia, the last bullfight was just conducted last night. The Catalonian legislature has outlawed the practice, though it’s unclear if it was on grounds of animal cruelty, the subsidies the sport was increasingly requiring from local governments, or the EU’s opposition to effectively subsidizing farms that were producing bulls for activities illegal elsewhere in Europe.

In the morning, Julio was dyspeptic. It was going to be nearly 100 degrees, he said, and we were starting much too late. “We should have started at quarter past six,” he said. “It’s going to melt all the Camino.”

The Walk to Estella — 24km

Puente La Reina to Estella. 24 km, very hot, some climbing and descending. The country has grown drier since the lush riverside we found on the way to Pamplona. We walked through vineyards for much of the day. The others found the heat overbearing, but for some reason, perhaps that I was the only one wearing a thin wool shirt (which wicks and breathes), it didn’t bother me much. My feet offered me the least pain of the trip so far.

In Cirauque, a Basque term meaning “nest of vipers,” we came upon the cobbled stones and flagstone borders of a Roman road, and, after a while, a Roman bridge. While most of the Camino follows the Roman Via Traiana, the best-preserved remains of the entire route are here. But the Roman road continued only for a few kilometers, until “improvements” by Camino designers covered it up. Then we wound through more dry, beautiful country, through hills where hermits came to live a thousand years ago, including in the still-extant Ermita de San Miguel.

In a tunnel, amongst the graffiti, someone had written, “The Camino has nothing to do with Compostela. The Camino is right here, right now.” Which is true. The camino, or way, is not about where you end up. It’s how you choose to perceive and respond to the right here, right now.

Communication on the Camino

Communication on the Camino can be a curious thing. Many languages are spoken, but the main two are Spanish and English, the latter being the lingua franca in most conversations in which the speakers aren’t from the same country. The Asians seem to be the most at sea; very few of them speak even a little English, and they have no Spanish at all. How brave they are to come here anyway. They keep largely to themselves.

Communication between bikers and walkers is almost non-existent. So far I have heard only one biker use a bell to signal his approach. None have announced themselves by words. And what would they say? Even among English speakers, it can be confusing for hikers to share a trail with bikers.

“On your left!” bikers say, signaling where they are.

To the left a surprised or even terrified hiker jumps, right into the path of the biker.

Or take this example of on-trail communication. I was in the lead, and passed a lone sneaker that someone had tossed onto the orange furrows of a ploughed field. “Shoe alert!” I said, pointing with my right stick.

“What did he say?” my mother said, in third position.

“I think he saw something but I didn’t catch the first word,” Carrie said, in second.

“Oh!” says Mom. “A bird?”

“What bird?” demands Julio, in fourth position.

This is how legends, myths, and religious stories get passed down, not to mention fabulist tales such as that of President Obama being a foreign-born Muslim planted here nearly 50 years ago by Al Quaeda for nefarious ends.

Walking into the Future: Pamplona to Puente La Reina

Posted on September 25, 2011 by admin

We spent a few hours yesterday in a café-bar in Pamplona. The woman tending bar there thought I looked like a certain actor. I left to get a haircut. Several places offered them for 30 Euros, but I found one that was available for only 18 if you were willing to get your cheek cut with a razor. When I got back to the bar, the bartender said, “You are very handsome today.” Today. Mom thought this was just grand.

Morning, Zubiri. Is it really necessary that pilgrimages begin before first light? I can just as well do my penance in daylight.

“Well,” said Julio, from his bed, “there was no concert,” said Julio, “last night.”

“Oh yes there was,” Mom said. “David and my son. My son snored all night. I was hoping someone would adopt him.”

An ever-smiling woman from Salt Lake, Lela, heard of my mother’s struggles to get some healthy food and handed her some packets of greenness, some kind of dietary supplement. She refused to take payment. She asked to see the calf.

“Got some mental blocks today, eh?” She was under the impression that my calf issue was, in addition to being psychosomatic, something new.

“If I’ve got mental problems they pre-date today,” I said. “But I was very handsome yesterday.”

She began to massage the calf. “Oh, it’s very hot,” she said. “You do have some inflammation there.” After a bit, she hugged and kissed Mom, saying, “You’re so cool!” and took her pack and was off. I don’t think she had stopped smiling since the day before.

We said goodbye to the turtles in the pond, to the grounds of the albergue in some disrepair, and the hopeful, half-finished second-floor addition that had been interrupted when the Jesus y Maria albergue in nearby Pamplona came about. And then we left Cizur Menor.

Stiff and tender. The left calf, of course, and now a flash of pain in whatever that part of the foot is called that’s at the very top. Thankfully it was on the same foot, so one limp took care of both of them. So I had that going for me. We had 19 kilometers to cover.

It was beautiful country. It put me in mind of both Northern California and Tuscany. Once again we were blessed by the weather gods. Stick, stick, stick. I did some walking meditation as I’d learned it from the Shambhala Center in Portland, attending to the feeling of the feet hitting the ground, the way they rolled, the feel in my ankles and knees and hips. It was good.

“Walking into the future”. A nice thought, that of walking toward Santiago and arriving in my future – with firmer ideas of where

I’d live, for example, and what writing projects I might do — but it’s still just a story, not a reality. I have thought many times that I have seen or felt the last of something, or someone, and been wrong. For example, coming here I thought certain things were behind me. But there last night, defeating all storylines, was an email from someone who shall remain nameless, declaring me responsible for all the bad that had happened in the world in the last half-century, with the possible exceptions of the Kennedy assassinations, the modern concept of jihad, and U.S. representative Michelle Bachmann.

So sometimes I was not in the present, the only place joy is found. Sometimes I was in the past, and at others, I was in the future.

Ungrateful . . . take responsibility . . . victim . . . ow . . . foot . . . get those personality disorders under control . . . hungry . . . interesting landscape . . . wind turbines . . . like north of San Francisco . . . OKCupid . . . New York . . . thirsty . . . chocolate . . .

Mom sang German lullabyes. I filmed one of them. “I used to sing that when you were young,” she said. “Before I started yelling.”

“Ah, you didn’t yell that much.”

“I know. I was just always so stressed out. I always wanted it to be later on so I couldn’t be in the moment. ‘If it was only ten years from now,’ I’d say. Now I’d do anything to get those years back.” Stick, stick, stick. “But I could never have imagined in a million years I’d be here.” She then gave thanks to her beloved brother Gunter, now deceased fourteen years, and his wife Elfriede. “Because Gunter earned it, and Elfriede saved it and then passed some of it on to me when she left.”

I asked Julio about women.

“Well,” he said, as if approaching a subject of some enormity. “I am using –“ he stopped and searched for a word. “I have been using—“

“In English we say hookers,” I prompted.

“No, not hookers. That was in Cuba. Recently I put an advertisement for someone to travel around the world. For one year. Man or woman. Most of the responses I received were from women. And they were not so interested in traveling as in finding a husband. So that’s that. Maybe I will try again.”

“But what about dating?”

“I tried twice and it did not work.”

“I don’t mean Marie Anne. Dating now.”

What he said was complicated, but it seemed to involve his lack of interest in women who either spent all day before the mirror or wanted men to repay several hundred years of chauvinism immediately. “And when they start talking about a family I go the other way,” he said.

“Do you think you could be what we call a commitment-phobe, Julio?”

“Maybe,” he said. “It could be.”

“I used to think I was. I thought the solution would be to get married.”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Puente La Reina. The public albergue charges only 4 euros, and we sleep in rooms of eight. I met a social worker from Tel Aviv, Schlomit, who had heard of the Camino only two months ago, a young Brit, Jethro, who’s been walking for three months, from Britain, and an Italian, Marco, who runs a hostel in southern Brazil. Mom and I explained to Jethro that English accents make everything sound more intelligent and more funny. And he was in fact quite witty. He said he was out of money, so I invited him to join us for dinner with the understanding that he would entertain. He didn’t disappoint. Marie Anne had somehow turned rice and mushrooms and other ingredients into something like a great risotto. Marco also joined us for dinner. He and Jethro and I watched YouTube videos of James Brown, and then we all went to bed.

Real Obstacles

Posted on September 24, 2011 by admin

I don’t mind pain. It’s damage that concerns me.

Today I seem to have struck a new collective bargaining agreement with the unions that operate my right calf, but the left is implacably opposed to my designs. In past days it would warm up once I began walking, until at some point I usually could barely feel it anymore. But today the soreness and tightness persisted for all of Julio’s and my 5K walk from Pamplona to Cizur Menor. I suppose it’s possible to limp another 470 miles. I can manage some pain and inconvenience. But is it wise? Could I be doing permanent damage?

Pamplona

Pamplona is a fine little town of around 200,000 people. The old part of town has narrow cobbled streets and a cathedral with fine examples of medieval art. The other jewel is the Plaza del Castillo, surrounded by fine buildings with metal work and balconies reminiscent of New Orleans.

Hemingway wrote of the town with great affection. He is the one who drew worldwide attention to the Festival of St. Fermin, also known as the Running of the Bulls. The places where he ate and drank – and Hemingway seemed to enjoy only writing about shooting and killing more than he loved writing about eating and drinking – have been prominently marked by their owners. We tried to have a morning coffee in the Iruna Café, full of elaborate carving and glazed mirrors, but its announced 8a.m. opening time was apparently aspirational. At about 8:20 I jokingly suggested that Julio alert some nearby policia, who came over to take a look into the café after he called to them. I was hoping they would batter down the door, or at least drag the owner out of bed, but after a brief conversation they departed.

Marie Anne said I spoke Spanish with a South American accent, and spoke, or maybe it’s more correct to say pronounced, French with — well, she didn’t have a word, she just glowered and mimicked spitting out the words. “Very grrrr!”

“It’s Vichy French,” I said. She burst out laughing.

Mom’s energy was quickly waning. She felt dizzy and lacked the energy to walk. Was it because of the diet here? “They think ham is a vegetable,” she told a young peregrina from Germany yesterday. She’s expressing a lot of surprise at how different her energy is compared to when she’s able to eat her healthy diet. Once we were in Cizur, though, Marie Anne, who was born in Morocco, made a wonderful meal of cous-cous mixed with salad. I took her suggestion of adding salt and cumen.

In Pamplona… no bull

Posted on September 23, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

Camino de Santiago start
Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.

Roncesvalles to Zubiri to Pamplona

Posted on September 22, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

Camino de Santiago start
Inge in Bilbao, Spain, days before starting the Camino de Santiago

Camino de Santiago Cruz de Ferro
Offerings left behind at the Camino de Santiago’s Cruz de Ferro

I handed the camera to Carrie and went to join my mother.

“It is the first stage, to Roncesvalles, that breaks people”

Posted on September 21, 2011 by admin

Bilbao and the Bus to Bayonne

Posted on September 19, 2011 by admin

On the bus to Bayonne, 7:30a.m.

Heading to the subway and bus station en route to Bayonne and St. Jean Pied de Port

The rain continues, but the fog and mist add a cozy spice to the mountainous terrain and lush forest of the Pyrenees. Julio took us to a wok restaurant last night, in a largely successful attempt to get Mom her first cancer-smart meal. Thus far it has not been easy. It’s not possible to find a restaurant in Bilbao that will cook a meal before 8:30p.m., so if you want to eat before then, you must choose from among various bread-heavy pintxos (peenchos), known everywhere else as tapas, which, whether containing brie or salmon or crab, sport large dollops of what appears to be the regional spice of choice, mayonnaise.

At the wok restaurant, I wanted a glass of red wine. Julio ordered a bottle, saying Spanish wine was predictably good if it cost more than 5 euros, but that if it cost less than that, your head would let you know. (“I woke up with a headache,” I would tell him the next morning. “At 3, 4, and 6 a.m.”) Julio drinks his wine like I drink water. When I returned from supervising the cooking of my food in the wok area the bottle was nearly empty. “Did you spill the wine?” I asked, looking under the table.

The Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, and the flower puppy

Bilbao is a lovely city, and one of the main cities of the Basque Country, a relatively autonomous region of Spain with a strong independent streak.

“Last night Real Madrid was beaten by a football club of beginners,” Julio announced when we met him this morning. “There will be suicides before it is light. But the rest of the country could not be more happy.” Madrid is the locus of the Spanish central government, and the people of both the Basque Country and the equally fiercely independent Catalonia love to see it fail.

While in Bilbao we visited the truly astonishing Guggenheim Museum, a sculpture far

Santiago Cathedral in Bilbao, with the trademark scallop shell of St. James and the Camino

more impressive than the rather precious concept art we saw inside it. We walked along the Gran Via, Bilbao’s equivalent of Fifth Avenue, enjoyed the transparent, Art Nouveau shell-like entrances to the subways (called Fosteritos by the locals) that had been designed by English architect Sir Norman Foster, took in cityscapes enhanced by the Rio Nervion, ducked into our first Santiago Cathedral, complete with the trademark scallop shells on the exterior, toured the extraordinary multi-use Alhóndiga, each of whose dozens of giant inner columns were unique, and walked the pedestrian streets of Casco Viejo, the charming older part of town in which our hotel was located. We’d have to carry for hundreds of miles anything we bought, so, in spite of all the great shopping to be had, we bought nothing.

Julio says that the city was transformed almost overnight by the Guggenheim. Initially, he said (and I recall reading this in news reports), many people did not understand the strange new structure, and they did not like it. The estimate of 200,000 visitors in the first year was exceeded by 2.2 million, though, and Bilbaoans soon went from seeing themselves as a city of industry to a city of aesthetics, tourism, and cutting-edge design. Now there are many fine examples of modern architecture, a nice complement to the many beautiful older buildings, from the Gothic cathedrals to the Beaux Arts municipal building and Teatro Arragio.

We were up at 6a.m., never an easy task on one’s second morning of jet-lag, and at the bus station by 7. A young man with a backpack approached Mom, Carrie, and me while Julio was away.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Do you have a map of Spain?”

“No,” Mom said. “But our friend will be back in a minute.”

The man looked confused. I explained. “We decided to bring along a Spaniard instead.”

Now we wend our way through the forested hills, lulled by the hum of the bus and the sound of water against the tires. In the forested cleft of a misty mountain to my left I notice a sinuous thread of fog in the shape of a question mark.

I am writing this post largely in order to take my mind off my body, which is contorted fiendishly in seats that appear to have been designed and manufactured for, and perhaps by, small children. They’re so narrow that Julio and I are forced to cross our arms just to co-exist. The seats also come equipped with an anti-lumbar feature, surely patented, that sends the lumbar spine backward in space. Higher up, my middle and upper back are forced forward, after which the seat, also too short, again curves away, so that in order to rest my head it is necessary to throw it back and look up to the ceiling.

My knees are jammed tightly into the seat in front of me, kneecaps crushed against the grey plastic. Even to type these words, my hands must dangle from my chest like the useless appendages of a T. Rex. When the three-hour ride is over, I will require work by both a chiropractor and a shrink.

St. Jean Pied de Port is an hour away by train.

Lisbon, Part 1 of 2

Posted on September 17, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Ut enim ad minim veniam, exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Shutting Up My Boss

Posted on September 17, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

Letting Go of the Life We Have Planned

Posted on September 17, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

Tearful farewell

Posted on September 16, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

The Middle East

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

Asia

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

Europe

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

North America

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

Cricket Alarm…

Posted on September 12, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORDINARY MAGIC

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

Support 24/7

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut.

Travel Insurance

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut.

Sales & Discounts

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut.

OPEN THE

World

The Middle East

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

Asia

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

Europe

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

North America

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

Just moving along

Posted on September 8, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

ORFINARY MAGIC

Read Our Story

The ultimate Camino de Santiago Journey

I was married, briefly. The nature channels tell me there are penguins with longer relationships.

I stood at the foot of a high rubbled mound. I was holding my new

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

OUR FAVORITE

STORIES

DON’T MISS THE LATEST VIDEO
FROM NEW ZEALAND

TRIPS BY

INTERESTS

The Last Camino

December 19, 2014 No Comments

To Ferry to the Other Side

November 25, 2014 No Comments

Kids would love this too

Posted on September 6, 2011 by admin

A new creation and my friend Bonnie came over to volunteer for taste testing. I am glad to report that not only did she survive but pronounced this dish, ‘very, very good’.

Potatoe Nest with steamed Veggies and Portabella ‘Burger’.

(Serves 2)

6 Yukon Gold Potatoes, 1/4 tsp nutmeg, 1/4 tsp rock/or sea salt, 1 Tbsp butter, 1 Tbsp parsley, 1 tsp dry roasted sesame seeds, mini carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, yellow/green zuccini, Asparagus (was on sale you can omitt). (Portabella is in recipe archive under ‘Portabella revisited.’

Cook, peel and mash potatoes, (best if you have a ricer). Season potatoes with salt and nutmeg , add parsley, butter. If consistency is too dense, add a little hot broth. Place in 16″ inch pastry bag with large star tip. Spray cookie sheet with Pam (or use a little butter) Squeeze pastry bag and create 3 tiered circles, approx 4-5 inches room in the middle. (You can draw circles onto parchment paper and then trace with bag. Sprinkle with sesame and bake @350F for approx. 10 min.

Meanwhile steam veggies, add herbs. When nests are done, place them in the middle. Serve with Portabella Burger. This is a very nice lunch or dinner for anyone.

It was only a little seed

Posted on September 4, 2011 by admin

Running away from chemo

Posted on September 2, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

Ordinary Magic

START NOW

FEEL ALIVE

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec id mi justo sed, lorem
eu erat porta accumsan a et erat. Integer lacus diam, fringilla sit amet dolor sit amet dapibus, maximus turpis phasellus semper vel est quis suscipit.

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

OUR FAVORITE

STORIES

DON’T MISS THE LATEST VIDEO
FROM NEW ZEALAND

TRIPS BY

INTERESTS

The Last Camino

December 19, 2014 No Comments

To Ferry to the Other Side

November 25, 2014 No Comments

Black Bean- Oatmeal Burger

Posted on September 2, 2011 by admin

Read Our Story

Ordinary Magic

START NOW

FEEL ALIVE

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

OUR FAVORITE

STORIES

DON’T MISS THE LATEST VIDEO
FROM NEW ZEALAND

TRIPS BY

INTERESTS

The Last Camino

December 19, 2014 No Comments

To Ferry to the Other Side

November 25, 2014 No Comments

A little more info – Avemar Wheat Germ

Posted on September 1, 2011 by admin

EXPLORE

THE WORLD

START NOW

FEEL ALIVE

Exotic Routes

Ulllamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Weekend Trips

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

Great Shots

Lorem ipsum dolor ad minim veniam, quis elit nostrud

Friendly Guides

Minim veniam, quis nostrud ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip

OUR FAVORITE

STORIES

DON’T MISS THE LATEST VIDEO
FROM NEW ZEALAND

TRIPS BY

INTERESTS

The Last Camino

December 19, 2014 No Comments

To Ferry to the Other Side

November 25, 2014 No Comments

The Cutting Edge

Posted on August 30, 2011 by admin

Yesterday, late afternoon, my little buddy was here and we were just enjoying a movie and a sandwich when the phone rang and my ‘other’ reality interferred. Oncologist/Radiologist from Cyberknife asked to speak to me and then explained the following to me. (Very nice and patient Doctor.)

Seems that I am a candidate for this procedure. Seems it’s not quite that simple, yet again. Pro- there may be only 3-4 treatments necessary to get rid of that tumor. Con- there may be some damage to some areas due to location of that tumor. AND, I still may need chemo!

Conventional treatment: Surgery, would be more informative as they could check surrounding areas, IF there could be additional nodules, which then would be biopsied for positive/negative results. Then follow up with chemo for a better quality of life. (Sounds backward to use ‘quality’ in the same sentence with chemo.) Still not an easy choice. Still wondering which road to take? If, if, if.

I have to wonder again, WHY they did not take this lymph node out 10 year ago? I’ve had two surgeries within 2 weeks. That’s when they told me, afterward, IF this lymph node made any problems, it would be diffilcult to remove. (I had purchased a long, purple zipper which I’d put under my hospital gown , so when they’d took it off before surgery, they saw it laying on my belly. Message: You sew that in there for easier access. They had a good laugh about that.) So, now I’m stuck with this cancerous, enlarged lymph node, like some ugly souvernir and have to make these awfully hard decisions. ( Am I whining? Well. Sometimes I get to do this.)

Even though there were other health problems that came in rapid succession, I was always in gratitude and proclaimed, “As long as it’s Do-able.” It’s still do-able but in a more sinister way and it’s not leaving a lot of room for erroneous decisions.

There’s another choice: Cancer Centers. Closest one is in Phoenix. I have some good friends, living close by.

Before all of that, there’s still hope that some ‘miracle’ will happen and through this long walk on the Camino, my body will heal itself. Then, we do a P.E.T scan, bloodwork and SEE what happened. (Although the P.E.T does not show everything, either, I am told.)

I’ve been up since 4:00 A.M again and these thoughts are circling like big birds. (Sure hope they don’t turn into Vultures.)

Any medical voices out there that want to weigh in?

Eat fresh, organic and raw

Posted on August 29, 2011 by admin

Well, at least raw twice a day. That does not mean a raw potato. You don’t have to wait until you have a life-changing illness to change your lifestyle.

During my cancer journey, last time, I could barely eat anything. Chemo changed the taste of so many food items. Then, there was hardly any appetite due to long lasting nausea.

I would buy fresh products and create dishes. I would experiment with new items but what I neglected was organic. First reason, there was no organic market here. I’ve learned just because something looks green, or like a sweet potato, it doesn’t make it organic. It’s been sprayed into oblivion. It’s been trucked across and sometimes left sitting in the hot sun or cold weather. By the time, we pick it up, it’s been altered considerably. I thought I bought fresh. I did not know about mercury in fish. I did not know a whole lot about GOOD healthful food.

Then, about 3 years ago my health started to deteriorate. I had a myriad of ‘phantom’ complaints. I made the doctor rounds and no one knew what was the matter with me. I had heart palpitations. My hair started to fall out. I started to gain weight and had fluid retention. My eyes were so grainy and burning, I thought that I had severe allergies. My right kidney hurt. I had to go to the bathroom 12-14 times a day. (I went to the Urologist and he diagnosed me with ‘Interstitial Cystitis.’ This is when the mucuous lining of the bladder ‘eats itself’,breaks down. Very painful and chronic. Finally, I couldn’t stand the pain any more and went to a different Urologist, who diagnosed me with kidney stones. Geez. Eighteen month of pain. and a wrong call. I had a Lithotripsy to remove them. I finally got some Thyroid medication for the other problems.

Then, I got Plantar’s Fasciitis and couldn’t walk. It felt like I stepped on broken glass. Months later, I finally saw a very good Foot Therapist and he helped with that. My friend Carla, tried to get me to eat ‘organic’. She tried to impress its importance. She said, I needed to change my food. I kept saying to her, ‘ but I eat well and fresh. I can’t afford organic’. When the lab report came back, it stated the stones were ‘calcium’ based, meaning ‘you eat wrong.’

On the right, this is what they look like The most painful ordeal. Child birth is a low 1 point on that scale!! This procedure cost $16,000. (Imagine the amount of organic food that would’ve bought.)

Finally, when I was re-diagnosed with cancer, 18 mos ago, I was so scared I changed my lifestyle over night! One of the first things I did, was, to appologize to my friend, Carla. For being stubborn, un-believing of her many years of knowledge and the gentle, loving way she tried to make me see.

I learned that even though, I knew a LOT about food and butter and cream sauces and wonderful dishes and pastries, I knew very little about NUTRITION. You can eat and still be nutritionally malnutritioned. That’s where the trouble starts. Your Immune system is falling apart, sending desperate signals of ‘symptoms’, which we ignore or, silence them with prescription drugs because hardly anyone is interested in the CAUSE. God forbid, we should do without that cheeseburger and lab-created, plastic maccaroni and cheese. Or, we think, that this only happens to other people.

I look at the many cooking shows where some designer Chef pours massive amounts of oil into pots and pans. Or, like the one lady who uses pounds of butter and sugar to make things taste good. Well, it takes a better chef to make food taste good without all that stuff.

Changing my lifestyle, even as a senior citizen, was the best thing I have ever done for myself. I’ve lost all that piled-on weight (43 lbs so far.) No more pains, no more kidney stones. My skin is glowing, my eyes are bright. I have very good energy. I am full of Tatendrang (desire to do great things.) Some people do not really believe that I have cancer. How can I look, feel this good? Well, I have no clue. The scans, bloodwork and tests say, I do. The first P.E.T scan showed 3 tumors. One in lower abdomen, this one disappeared with lifestyle change and never came back. One, in my lung (removed with VATS (1 at the inside of my spine (it’s the last one and that’s the one I’m researching for Cyberknife procedure. (Remember? Non invasive, painfree, hard to get to place?)

I have renewed my attention and committment to eat better. I eat two raw meals a day (salad with 5-8 ingredients and home made, wonderful tasting dressings. I juice and do smoothies. I walk for miles, at least 3-4 days in the week. I feel great.

What I would like to impress on my family and friends, especially for my grandchildren, is, to start NOW. Start better habits. I worry about the sugar they eat, the bad carbs, the lack of raw, organic foods. Just think about it. Just love yourself enough to change.

The medical side wants to do surgery, chemo. I still try to hold that off and walking the camino is one of my ideas.

Long, long ago…

Posted on August 28, 2011 by admin

Meet

THE TEAM

DREAM BIG

ACT NOW

Eve Freeman

Kiel Coleman

Vanessa Miller

Ellison Fleming

OUR FAVORITE

STORIES

Eva Daniels

Photographer

Justin Dowman

Travel Blogger

Ellison Fleming

Yoga Teacher

ABOUT

VANESSA

Adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique accumsan a et erat. Integer lacus diam, fringilla sit amet dolor sit amet dapibus, maximus turpis phasellus. Semper vel est quis suscipit pellentesque rutrum nec porta

Let’s all go Nuts

Posted on August 27, 2011 by admin

I spend a large amount of time researching. On all German speaking websites, too. (Austria, Switzerland). I go to ‘Heidelberg, Munich, Cologne and other Universities. I check their wellness program and cancer approach. Last spring, when I went to Wuerzburg University to have a CT scan and bloodwork, I also visited the famous ‘Immunobiology Therapy’- Hufeland Clinic in ‘Bad Mergentheim’, Germany. It was an amazing experience.

They treat all kinds of Immuno-problems, holistically. Their Motto is:

1. Detox

2. Regenerate

3. Activate Defense.

They had a waiting list as patients come from all over the world. People come to be treated without chemo or radiation but especially after they’ve already had one or both, to help put them together from all that toxic mess. I would have loved to stay but I just couldn’t afford it. While I waited for my appointment I ate a bowl full of nuts.

What I have learned, is that they all use the same dietary approach. Organic, local if possible and seasonal, low fat, very little sugar.

I have gone nuts over the nut approach. They’re easy to get, easy to eat and have tons of healthy attributes. MOST importantly though, they must be raw, organic, and unsalted. Here are the most important ones:

(Clinic is near this wonderful park.)

ALMONDS: have as much calcium as milk. They contain Vitamin E, selenium, magnesium and lots of fiber. (Most people need that, for sure.)

CASHEWS: are rich in minerals, like copper, magnesium, zinc, iron and biotin. Good news is that they’re low in fat and have a high concentration aleic acid which is great for heart health as well. Research states that one, big handful of cashews provides one, to two thousand milligrams of tryoptophan, which will work as well as a prescription of Prozac.

BRAZIL nuts are a great source of protein, copper, niacin (more on that important one later) magnesium, fiber, selenium and vitamin E.

PINE nuts have vitamin A,B,D,E and contain 70% of required amino acids. Sprinkle lots on your salad, in your soup.

PECANS are loaded with vitamin E and A, calcium, aolic acid, magnesium, copper, phosphorus, potassium, manganese, zinc and a few B-vitamins.

WALNUTS your heart and brain loves them and they contain cancer fighting antioxidants as well.

Now, maybe you’re looking for the PEANUT. Well, it’s missing on purpose from this honorable line up. Peanut, is not a nut but belongs to the bean family. It is very high in Omega 6 fat acid, which suppress the immune ssystem and can increas tumor growth.

Most (if not all) Peanut Farms use pesticides and therefor all is contaminated. They can also contain a carcinogenic mold, called aflatoxin.

Use ORGANIC Nut butters. Almond or Cashew. I’ve recently posted a recipe how to make that one yourself.

So. Mix up a bowl of nuts and seeds and go NUTS.

Choose Hope

Posted on August 25, 2011 by admin

Become

A PIONEER

The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure.

Support 24/7

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut.

Travel Insurance

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut.

Sales & Discounts

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut.

OPEN THE

World

The Middle East

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

Asia

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

Europe

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

North America

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.

THE WORLD

IS YOUR HOME

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt.

andre gide

NEW ADVENTURE

Great ideas and helpful hints

Posted on August 25, 2011 by admin

A friend sent me an e-mail with these great suggestions.

So here are some good ideas. — It’s hard to get kids eat salad but this may do the trick. You will need: 1 head of iceberg lettuce, 2 med carrots, peeled and sliced, 1 small cucumber sliced, 1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, 1 pint mini-mozzarella cheese balls.

In bowl, whisk together 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, 1/4 cup balsamic (or regular) vinegar, 1/2 tsp ground mustard (or Dijon) pinch of sugar, 1 Tbsp chopped parsley and/or basil.

Wooden skewers.

Cut iceberg lettuce into wedges then into 1 and 1/2″ cubes. Thread wooden skewer, alternating with sliced carrots, cucumber, lettuce cubes, tomatoes and cheese. Serve with Balsamic dressing to dip in. This would be a different salad treat for your next BBQ as well.

DON’T throw out left over salad. You can use this wilted green and make a delicious Gazpacho soup. In a food processor or blender pulse 2 cups of salad (including the vinaigrette and croutons) 1 small, chopped onion and 1 clove garlic until coarsely chopped. Transfer to a large bowl and add 2 cups of vegetable juice and chill. Low calories and fast. Serve with garlic- buttered bread.

Fluffy, summer pancakes: Swap the milk or buttermilk in the recipe for seltzer. It’ll make for a light, bubbly texture. Add the seltzer last and gently fold it so you won’t lose the fizz. Cuts down on calories as well as lactose intolerant people can eat pancakes.

Nightmares -“Daymares”

Posted on August 25, 2011 by admin

Of course, that’s a made up word but since I seem to have nightmares even when I’m awake, perhaps it’s a new word. It seems that the peaceful, calm times are getting shorter. I wake up at odd hours from a night mare. I hear my doctor telling me, ten years ago, that if the cancer came back, it would be ‘really bad, worse than the first time.’ I wonder why I had to have this information? It lay dormant for that many years only to emerge in the blue hours of the night.

My other doctor telling me, that if that small ‘thing’ on my spine ever became a problem, it would be very diffilcult to operate, if not impossible. So! These old records, echoing their voices from long ago, as it has become my reality. But, at the same time there’s new technology. There are different options and choices. They need to be more careful what they throw out, even when meant well. Goes to show how very powerful words are and not just from the medical side. The impact of careless words. Like wild horses. Once they’re out and gallopping, you can’t call them back.

I also dreamed that I couldn’t find my purse and ran all over the place, looking. When I did find it, everything was taken. Just an empty purse and at the sight of that open, black, gaping hole, I couldn’t breath. The remaining hours of interrupted sleep, stretching before me like a long, bumpy road. The crickets chirped relentlessly but I was grateful for their incessant noise. I know, I really do, that I could call my friends, even at that hour but what would be different? They’d lose sleep, too.

I had my son call my doctor and ask him a lot questions but I did not want to know, at this point in time. I cling onto the camino like a life saver raft. Running away. How long is that leash?? I would love to unzip my skin and step out of it at those times. Even get away from myself. I am not a whiner, usually. I’ve dealt with a lot of set backs, hard knocks. But all of that was ‘do-able’ I don’t mind so much adversity in life as I’ve become rather good at dealing with things as long as it is ‘DO-ABLE.’

I’ve noticed I’ve also become somewhat short tempered at people’s ‘problems’. They’re having a bad hair day. They imagine their jeans make their butts look big. They broke a perfect nail. Their husband/wife is not listening. The laundry detergent is not making their underwear white. ‘Let’s trade places’. I know. I know. It’s not fair. It’s not their fault I’m saddled with this crap. I promise, this does not last very long. Only the time span of a Hummingbird cough.

I was so moved and touched to tears by my son and daughters’ loving support and willingess to carry some of this burden. My friends rallied around, coming by, spending quality time.

I drove to Grand Junction and visited my ‘adopted’ family. We went to have lunch down town. Lovely street, art work shops and restaurants. (Had salad and a Portabella. This one, on a rosemary-herb roll.) I actually wanted to sell some gold but when he offerd a low price, I kept it. Sentimental value was so much more.

Hungarian Goulash

Posted on August 24, 2011 by admin

I am constantly trying to expand my list of meatless, low fat, sugar-free dishes. It’s not that easy! But, here is a winner and keeper. (My friend Bonnie says so.)

This recipe is for 4 hungry people:

2 yukon gold potatoes

2 sweet potatoes

2 onions

3 Portabellas

1 can (salt free) diced tomatoes, fresh is better

1/2 can of tomato paste

2 cloves of garlic

2 Tbsp sweet paprika, salt, pepper, dash chili flakes, 2 bay leaves, 1/2 tsp caraway seeds

Vegetable broth

1 cup Merlot

Dice onions, garlic and sautee in coconut oil, add diced Portabella’s, sautee for about 5-8 min. Then, add diced potatoes, broth and red wine. Simmer on med heat for approx. 1 hr. Then add paprika, tomatoes and all speices. Simmer an additional 15-20 min. Sprinkle Ital parsely on top.

Serve with steamed broccoli or baby bok-choy.

Smoothie Ideas

Posted on August 23, 2011 by admin

Gallery

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec id mi justo sed, lorem eu erat porta accumsan a et erat. Integer diam. fringilla sit amet.

Awesome Black Canyon

Posted on August 23, 2011 by admin

Everyone has heard of the Grand Canyon. This is God’s smaller, just as impressive, more compact miracle. The Black Canyon is only 20 minutes from my house. Practically in my back yard. I love going there. Especially in the morning, when all is quiet, except for an occasional bird calling, or the tourists show up with their loud motorcycles and speeding cars. The pictures do not give justice to the dizzying depths. There are places, where the sun has never, ever touched the rocks. Rock formation that are over one Billion years old. Makes one feel insignificant before such wonders. How lucky am I to live so close and get to go any time I want? VERY lucky, indeed.

Sunday morning when I went on a 3-hour hike to prepare for the Camino, I met this doe. It did not move, just stood at attention, watching me. It did make some low sounds, almost like growling. I wonder if there was a fawn in the underbrush?

The Gunnison river is below. One can hear it rushing and thundering.

Invasive thoughts are still there

Posted on August 21, 2011 by admin

I’ve received a long e-mail from my only niece, who lives in Germany. Very talented, gifted and pretty young woman. Two years ago, she too, had cancer. She’d noticed a little blister-like spot on the underside of her tongue. She thought that this was from a tooth that had an uneven edge. When she finally went to the Dentist, he immediately send her to the hospital for tests. It was positive and already in her lymphnodes.

How I admire her for going through this horrid time. Of all places to get cancer, this is just awful.

She had one of the best micro-reconstructive, surgical teams, who, in an 8 hr operation, ‘cut’ her throat and amputated half of her tongue, then took a piece of flesh out of her upper arm and fashioned a new ‘half’. They followed up with precision radiation (cyberknife?) and she’s alright. Although she can’t ever have the simple joy of ‘licking’ an ice cream cone. All her food had to be pureed and she had to learn to talk all over again. (She’s doing very well on that account too.)

Meanwhile I received a copy of my pathology report and there it is, in black and white. Four impersonal, clinical sentences that are responsible for my interrupted- night sleep. I am not going to write the result here. I’m just a little superstitious! If I do, then it’s like written in marble and forever there. I don’t want to have these thoughts in my brain nor ‘here’. With each time that it is mentioned, it’s as if it’s pounded real some more. And yet…yet, how can I stop thinking?

I spend a lot of time researching. People send me lots of info. It would be a lot easier if I had a sounding board or, someone to bounce these ideas back and forth.

Another Doctor, whom I’ve talked with yesterday, also encouraged me to have surgery and chemo! What IS this, with the cutting?? And the chemo? I wanted to say to him, in a childish, little fit..’ well, you go have it then!’

Well. I don’t have to make a decision, yet. First, the camino. I can’t believe that I am actually going. This was only a fleeting thought, a couple of months ago and here I am preparing. ‘Behave as if it’s going to happen’ and I did. Bought only small, inexpensive items at first. Started hiking different places and longer. Started to research Camino de Santiago more and felt a growing excitement. As if it was calling me, pulling me there like magnet. Even when I thought I had to go by myself and woke up questioning my sanity, the feeling of having to go, persisted.

Now, I’m getting ready to go to the Black Canyon, this huge, gorgeous cathedral, for my Sunday morning walk , solitude and prayers of gratitude. .

Same green, amazing smoothie

Posted on August 19, 2011 by admin

I’ve learned a new word, yesterday and thought it was most

fitting. “Entheogen” is from the Greek and means “Creates God within” (en=within, theo=God, gen=creates or generates). This smoothie was created with kale, a stalk of celery, baby spinach, Italian parsley, and a green apple. All organic, of course. (I served this in a Bavarian hand carved glass. Because I’m worth it.)

Yesterday, I also spent a couple of hours creating this scrumptious Bolognese sauce. Also, known as a different form of Ratatouille. (Without the rat.) This is a true labor of love but it makes a whole bunch and freezes very well.

This gorgeous Bolognese sauce is made from: peppers of all colors, celery, carrots, onions, garlic, (sauteed in coconut oil and just a little butter) Italian parsley, mushrooms (sauteed in dry sherry) canned-salt free tomatoes, tomato paste, home made vegetable broth, red wine, oregano, a few chili flakes. Simmered about 2 hours. This can also be served with potatoes and brown rice. Of course, I’m using spaghetti squash.

Rainbow colors

Posted on August 18, 2011 by admin

CONTACTS

Form

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex. ea commodo consequat.

Phone:

+113 4567 90 90 (Samanta)

Email:

[email protected]

E-Mail

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, volutpat mattis,enim nec arcu tristique

Phone

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, volutpat mattis,enim nec arcu tristique

Office

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, volutpat mattis,enim nec arcu tristique

Portabello-revisited and new creations

Posted on August 17, 2011 by admin

After I’ve received a few calls from friends to post some pictures of the portabello lunch, I’ve decided to make this for them. A few changes need mentioned.

I live at high altitude so your cooking time may vary. Also, my friends did not like Provolone and so I chose a local cheese. All natural, called “Portabello-Leek-Jack” which has more flavor. (No. I did not eat that one. Mine is on the right.)

Now, I will be prepping a huge amount of vegetables for my Ratattouille.

Expectations

Posted on August 17, 2011 by admin

Content area

Portabella

Posted on August 17, 2011 by admin

Such a lovely name. I did not give this fungi the respect it deserves until about a year ago.

Since my lifestyle change, I had not eaten any meat and wanted something more substantial and of a texture different from that of potatoes, rice, or salads. This is what I created and it tastes great.

2 Portabellas (per person)
Mrs. Dash seasoning (or equivalent)
roasted red pepper (from glass or, fresh if you have time to roast
green and yellow zucchini
1 Tbsp Liquid Smoke
1/2 tsp coconut oil
1/2 tsp butter
(Provolone cheese if you’re not Vegan.)

Wipe the portabellas with a paper towel. Do not wash them because they’ll get water-logged and unsuitable. Heat the oil and butter in pan, add the portabellas, top down, then red peppers on the side. Sautee covered, for about 10 minutes on medium heat.

Cut zucchini (like french fries) and add to pan. Sprinkle with Mrs. Dash. Turn the portabellas, zucchini, and red peppers, and continue to sautee, covered, for another 5-8 minutes. Place red peppers on top of the portabellas and then add cheese and Liquid Smoke. Cover again and cook for another few minutes until the cheese has melted. Looks really nice and colorful. (I was going to upload a picture, as I made this last night but was too hungry to wait.)

Eating my perfect Mango

Posted on August 15, 2011 by admin

The other day I bought this gorgeous mango. I placed it on a special plate and admired it for a couple of days. If I could paint, this would’ve made a beautiful still-life. Today, it’s history and ending up in this salad.

Multiple arms like ‘Kali’

Posted on August 15, 2011 by admin

This is what I thought about, yesterday, as I tried to get so many things done. Kali, the Indian Goddess with multiple arms. Took my old friend to the airport and just ‘threw’ her out so I wouldn’t weep. No long good bye’s. I came home to a silent, empty house and started a flurry of acitvities to fill the silence. With some people you can’t wait until they leave and others, it gets really tough when they do. Cleaned the guestroom, washed laundry, vaccumed, prepped veggie food. Cooked some black bean burgers. In between I researched for options and read all these opinions on cancer cures, that some people swear by. I’d like to meet them. I almost started the Hydrogen Peroxide (oxygenating cells) until a Doctor told me that even though it did help with cancer, later on in most cases, these people developed bone cancer. So, it seems, you swap one for the other.

The Gerson method, which makes the most sense, is also very, very diffilcult to do alone and very expensive.

My mail box is filled with links and suggestions. All from well meaning, good friends. The multitude of choices is staggering. How to decide which one is THE one?

To help sort it out and make an informed decision I wrote to Prof. Dr. K. in Wuerzburg. He is a renouned Lung Specialist in Germany. ( He has the same first names as my brother who died of lung cancer in 2000.) While I visited my relatives, I went there to have my bloodwork and a CT scan done. Very kind and compassionate. Very encouraging, knowledgable and efficient. While I had to wait here for weeks and then for days to hear about results, he answered the next day. (I am sure he’s very busy as well as he has a whole Hospital to take care of.) He’s willing to lead me through this maze of choices as I’m not at all sure whether my decisions would be fear based. His parting words to me were:

‘I wish you could stay so I could make you well’. I was in tears as no one ever said this to me before.

I’m regrouping this morning. Hope. Can’t beat it down. There it is. A new, little sprig, green and fresh. I am also going shopping to buy a whole bushel of cruciferous vegetables… and start more juicing… and take my vitamins by the handful… go out and get vitamin D which is so plentyful in Colorado. (All the while pray short and longer versions of the same prayer: ‘ please let this pass’. I want to see the beauty of this gorgeous world just a little bit longer. I want to see my son and daughter happy and my grandchildren graduated.

I want to have my friends over to share food and laughter. I want to get a dog although right now I travel too much but there’s neighbor’s dog ‘Cassie’ who fills that spot.

Critics weigh in…

Posted on August 12, 2011 by admin

WELCOME TO

OUR AGENCY

DREAM BIG

ACT NOW

210k

Shots taken

5k

Days travelling

Consectetur adipiscing elit curabitur condimentum, mi id volutpat mattis, enim nec arcu tristique dolor, eu mattis quam metus non justo donec id mi justo sed at, lorem eu erat porta accumsan a et erat. Integer lacus diam, fringilla sit amet.Dolor sit amet dapibus, maximus turpis phasellus semper. Quis dolor suscipit pellentesque rutrum, nisl porta scelerisque nisi aliquam mi, interdum efficitur erat tellus egestas dolor at lorem. Lorem morbi in hendrer. augue. Etiam venenatis venenatis dolor id dapibus. Nulla quis ante a nisi dictum ullamcorper volutpat at ligula.

TESTIMONIALS

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco.

TRAVEL

NECESSITIES

Super Green start of the day

Posted on August 12, 2011 by admin

I have been going a little side ways with my healthful lifestyle. I am coming back to it this morning, hailing it like a dear old friend, sorely missed. A super green smoothie will make my cheeks pink and my cells smile. (I’m trying to make this very appealing)

You will need:

1 hand full of fresh, organic spinach

2 celery stalks

1 green apple, cored

sprig of parsley

1-2 Kale leaves

Throw into mixer, add some good water (not from faucet) and give it a good whirl. To sweeten just a little, you can add a banana. I add 1 Tbsp of ground Flax seeds which makes this look like Pond scum but the taste is great.

Stockmarket feelings

Posted on August 10, 2011 by admin

When the call came, I wasn’t prepared. I can barely remember what all Doc said except that my cancer markers went up. Not just one or two points. Although not an exact science, we have relied on this for ten years. Now, I’m not so sure that I can outrun this ‘thing’. Time is not as abundant as a few months ago. My confidence is slipping and fear is raising its ugly head. My emotions have this Yo-Yo effect. Or, up-down like the stockmarket. (It did recover?) My best friend held me while we cried. I didn’t quite realize how much I had hoped for lower numbers until they were not.

My son said not to worry. We’ll find the best treatment and money. Friends rally and surround me with theit love and support. Even unknown facebook friends are right there with advice and encouragement.

Although I would be a good canditate for Cyberknife ( I still like the idea of no cutting, no pain best!) It seems that Medicare won’t pay for this treatment. They view this as experimental?? Really? Only ‘traditional radiation’ pay. If I had a Grandma, I’d have to sell her to cover these inflated costs. Should I research other ‘alternative options?’ Which one to pick? Which one is only smoke and mirrors? How can I make a reasonable decision when there’s molasses in my brain?

I have written an e-mail to German University. Not that I believe they’re better but so far, they’ve been cheaper. University of Heidelberg has a state of the art oncology-cyberknife center.

We still hang on to the thread of hope to ‘lose’ this 50 cent size tumor on the camino. I have enough time to do that.

Am I ungrateful in this ‘whining’? At least there are options. Many people don’t even get that much. Well, one thing for sure. I will have plenty of quality time to think about any and all of this when I walk the camino. There are still miracles out there. I’ve had two, ten years ago, within six month of each other. But, that’s another story.

For those of you who would like to know what this Cyberknife is all about.

rocky mountain cyberknife center

Rest from the party.

Posted on August 9, 2011 by admin

Computer kept crashing this morning and that is why there’s a part II. This is the castle in Erlangen, Germany. (The lovely, young lady is my granddaughter.) This is also where my best friend and I played ,on the castle grounds and marvelous gardens, pretending we owned it.

It ain’t over until the fat lady sings!!!

Time flies…

Posted on August 9, 2011 by admin

…when you’re having fun and I’ve had more than my fair share of it, lately. The pictures are from our ‘Bavarian grill party.’ With food, song and ‘wine’ and a perfect Sunday afternoon with good friends. I did try to yodel after one drink but that was a sad imitation of the real thing.

I have been remiss in my hiking and feel vaguely guilty. The same kind of guilt that I felt, when I ate half a bratwurst. But, I also served a lot of vegetable kebabs.

We’re driving up to the Black Canyon this morning for a hike and sight seeing with my best friend.

Lifetime friends for sixty-three years. We’d met in Kindergartenin Erlangen, Germany. Lived on the same street. It’s a rare treasure to find someone of that quality, faithfulness and unconditional love.

Brats, not Tapas

Posted on August 7, 2011 by admin

The last few days have been a whirlwind of activities. First, driving to Grand Junction and visit the ‘girls’. Then, taking Carrie and mom to R.E.I and other outfitting places to get Carrie started. I was excited for her and she was in (happy?) shock. (Carrie, my niece. If not by blood but by mutual consent and love.)

Then we drove to the airport to pick up my dearest friend, Irene, now known since childhood days. We met at Kindergarten and lived in the same street, which makes this special bond lasting over sixty plus years! She knows all my history and we can communicate with just one word and go back to ‘Adam and Eve’.

This is her ‘quiet time’ visit. Coming from Las Vegas, there’s not much to compete with in the way of entertainment. But, of course, we have our canyon and mountains and cute, little towns.

Not much time for walking but will pick it back up on Monday. I am so grateful that Julio will accompany us the first few days on the camino. (I am also very grateful that my son has taken out that much time, to travel with me.)

I was going to have a Spanish theme party, with Tapas and Sangria and a little flamenco music. Sort of ‘going away’ party a little early. But then, some friends called and wanted to do a Bavarian ‘Zither’ get together and they chose my place to do it. (Food may have been a deciding factor.) So. My theme would not go with this music. Hence, we’ll have Brats, potato salad, Bowle (spiked strawberry punch) wicked stuff, really. Several salads and apple-plum sheet cakes. Pictures will be posted tomorrow.

(All the while, listening with one ear for the phone to ring and Doctor telling me the numbers of cancer marker. It’s been five days.) Really would like to know.

The Return of Senor Julio Redondo

Posted on August 6, 2011 by admin

Julio (pictured here next to the Camino sign) just returned from a 165-kilometer jaunt on the Camino, “an average of 20 kms a day, lovely walk,” and says to me, “Seventeen of september i´ll be waiting for you at the airport, following day we could get bus to Pamplona, and from there to Roncesvalles … and from there ¡ Be ready for the camino … almost 900 kms!”

But, he says, “Gossip is not my business,” so he’s not sure he wants anything to do with all this blog and Facebook stuff. Still, he says, “i´ll change my mind for a couple of days and we´ll see what happen.”

And then some parting words of advice from the master trekker:

I´ll remind you , secret of the camino is the weight, only the indispensable, boots already used, and good humour.

Julio’s second email neatly tied up the rest of any of the details that added complexity to our trip: how to get from the airport at Bilbao to the start of the Camino on the French side of the Pyrenees, at Saint Jean Pied de Port (which literally means Saint John at the foot of the mountain).

I just checked Internet and confirm there is several trains from Hendaya to Bayonne, where we can get the small train to Saint Jean Pied de Port. From Bilbao there are several buses going Hendaya, just the border, at about 200 yards to train station.

So that’s that. Now, how to train when I don’t like walking, much less for six hours a day?

In general, I’m going to rely on a reasonable amount of fitness to get in more Camino shape as I go. In other words, the first day on the Camino is great prep for the second and third. But I have to be able to recover from that first day, which, going over the Pyrenees, is widely regarded as the most difficult of the entire trip . . .

Adam, is there anything on that sign Julio is standing next to that’s of interest?

Welcome to the Camino, Carrie!

Posted on August 6, 2011 by admin

What an extraordinary girl that is now joining us on the Camino – Carrie Lane, 15, who is related to me in two or three ways, though all of them are apparently legal. Mom has come to know her and her mother, Laurel, and her sisters quite well over the last year; they’ve been very supportive of Mom, and have visited her in Montrose several times. And the girls, especially Carrie, have really taken to Mom. Which is nice.

But I’ve never met her, and until recently wasn’t sure how she fit into the whole Colorado cosmology. Let’s see if I can work it out:

Carrie’s mother is Laurel, the daughter of one of my many Colorado cousins, Christie Powell, and Terry Lancaster (and because Aunt Jayne Powell long ago married a Lancaster, the Lancasters and Powells are sort of one family). Laurel has four girls, Rachel (18), Carrie, Grace (12), and Hayden (3). Meanwhile, Carrie’s father was in school, in Rangely, Colorado, a year or so behind me . . . So it’s all sort of overlapping.

I am still amazed that she got permission to go. What kind of enlightened school administration would let a child leave the comforts of rote learning and conformism to launch herself into the real world and see that it is, in fact, bigger than previously imagined? Carrie will learn a great deal, and I suspect she’ll learn a lot about how mature and capable a 15-year-old can be – which will give her valuable confidence as she heads into the challenges of the high school years.

As a coach, I can also say she’s also shown an initiative and passion she’ll well remember in later years: she saw a goal, that of joining my mother for five weeks on the Camino in the middle of her sophomore year of high school, and then she worked her way through all obstacles in her path – starting with first one parent and then the other until they were swayed to her vision. And then came convincing the school district of Central High in Grand Junction, Colorado, whose hand, so to speak, I still want to shake.

They won’t be sorry! She’ll pick up more than just added confidence. She’ll learn how to read a map; how to convert European measurements; all sorts of history, especially that of Spain, Europe, and Catholicism, all of which I know a bit about; the Spanish language (and thus some Latin); geography; currency conversion; and much more, but she’ll especially learn a great deal from the variety of seekers who come to the Camino from all over the world. Last but not least, imagine the education, if that’s the right word, that she’ll get from watching a sixty-seven-year-old cancer survivor walk 500 miles on feet that until recently had been too scarred from prior rounds of chemo to enable much walking.

What a major accomplishment, already, for a young woman of such tender years! She’ll remember it forever.

Which is nice.

Welcome, Carrie!

Various home made dressings

Posted on August 5, 2011 by admin

For awhile now I’ve been making my own dressings as that ‘gummy’ concoction from a bottle is nearly nauseating. Especially the ‘fat -free’ stuff. Here are a few, basic great tasting alternatives. Remember, only coat the salad. Don’t drown it in dressing.

Classic French Dijon: Cilantro Lime

1/3 cup white wine vinegar 1/4 cup fresh lime juice

1/2 tsp each, kosher salt 2 Tbsp cider vinegar

and black pepper 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

1 Tbsp Dijon mustard 1/2 tsp ground cumin

1 Tbsp sugar 1/4 tsp kosher salt

2 tsp chopped Thyme, Estragon 1 Tbsp honey

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil 2 Tbsp cilantro

2/3 cup (or less) canola oil

_____________________________________________

Raspberry Balsamic:

1/3 cup balsamic vinegar

2 Tbsp water

4 tsp raspberry preserves

1/4 tsp kosher salt/ 1/2tsp gr black pepper

1 Tbsp finely chopped shallot

2/3 cup extra virg olive oil

_________________________________________________

Ve hef ze technolochy, or, Why I feel sorry for Camino walkers from countries without an REI store

Posted on August 4, 2011 by admin

It’s a beautiful summer day in Seattle, a city that’s particularly beautiful on beautiful summer days. I’m sitting on the sidewalk of Espresso Vivace, a coffee shop across the street from the flagship REI store north of downtown. For those of you who don’t know, REI began in Seattle, and it’s based here, and the main store is situated on a block that’s like a forest, complete with waterfalls and trails, in the middle of the city.

With the help of a phalanx of knowledgeable REI staffers, including a good fellow named Ron who lavished at least an hour on my wanderings in the store, I spent over three hours and six hundred clams on a good portion of all that I’ll carry in Spain. It makes me wonder what people do who hail from countries without REIs.

It’s expensive, traveling light!

Everything but the pack is super-light, and you pay extra for the technology that makes things light. Here’s a list, from memory, of what I bought to take along, and why:

The centerpiece, a 48-liter backpack, weighing in, according to the Camino scuttlebutt I have read, at a relatively hefty 3 pounds 10 ounces. Some Caminoderos boast of packs under a pound, which sounds suspiciously like wearing a g-string. But I’m carrying a heavy laptop (4-6 pounds) too, and I decided that, perversely, a heavy pack with appropriately padded shoulder and waist straps was the best thing to support all the increased weight. If the recommended limit to carry on one’s back is about 20 pounds, you can see I’m starting heavy.

A camera pack. I don’t know what most walkers do for cameras, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the rest of my life looking at pictures taken on a cell phone camera, or any other camera that fits in a shirt pocket or can be skipped across a pond. Those cameras are to photography what iTunes files are to real music files: a pale imitation of the real thing. Fitting the camera pack on the front of the backpack took some carabiners and some doing, but with Ron’s help I think I found a solution. Only testing the contraption around Bend, and maybe New Jersey, will tell.

Convertible, wicking walking pants and two fitted, short-sleeved smartwool shirts. I love smartwool. I’ve skied for two winters in it, and it not only wicks away moisture but, unlike synthetic fabrics, you simply can’t stink it up, no matter how hard you try.

Five-toed wool socks to go with my Vibram FiveFingers footwear. That’s right: I’m not wearing boots, as all the Camino chatrooms insist you must do. I’m wearing the equivalent of padded rubber gloves on my feet. If God had meant us to walk long distances with our feet all enclosed he’d not have given us balancing toes and high arches. More and more evidence is showing that our ancestors ran after game for unimaginable distances (like 100 miles – the whole tribe, old men, young, and women with infants), and that our bodies are perfectly formed – that is, sans shoes – for running barefoot. See Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run for a fascinating read; it’s one of the most provocative and fun-to-discuss books I’ve read in years.

A heating element and metal cup for tea, coffee, and hot toddies. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to get this, but Mom mentioned it. She probably needs her morning coffee and doesn’t want to rely on the hostels.

A compression sack for my mummy-style sleeping bag (probably over 10 years old, my REI aide told me it’s still pretty light; it’s warm to 20 degrees F). Camino vets recommend a large backpack, like 60 liters, but I decided to strap the 16-liter compressed sleeping bag to the outside of the pack and save on the internal space.

Synergy,Tandem and invisible companions.

Posted on August 3, 2011 by admin

Alone today at the canyon at 6:30 A.M with back pack, water and a sandwich. Beautiful, cool and peaceful. Thoughts coming through and I wonder at their source. First, I was thinking of my daughter, who lost her job, with 10 other co-workers, by their company’s downsizing. My granddaughter who has no job either. Then I had to let that go. After awhile, I became aware of the click-clack sound my poles were making. Everything moving in tandem. Step-clack-step-click, inhaling well, heart pumping, lung expelling without any pain from previous surgery. Feet moving in comfy boots. ( I LOVE those hiking socks!!)

I thought of ‘Quasimodo’ the handicapped bell ringer of Notre Dame and the beautiful Esmeralda. They became my invisible companions. He had a weight on his back, which he couldn’t take off. ‘ Mochila’ means back pack in Spanish but I will name my lumpy weight pack ‘Quasimodo’. Almost like a Siamese twin for the whole way. I could feel my hip bones under this added weight. A few years ago, I had a bone density test and was told that I had the ‘hips of a twenty year old’. So. Thank you ancestors and parents for my functional hips.

I was shaken out of my reverie by the piercing cry of a falcon? I started singing old Folk songs. I was feeling my kidneys a bit too. But to think that a mere 2 years ago I had kidney stones and a whole assortement of other problems, I revel in feeling so well.

Then I thought of my parents. Hard working, honest laborers. Giving me the gift of tenacity, perserverance and courage and a good dose of ‘optimism from Mom, who sang even when she was despairing, although some of those ballads sure had us bawling.). Gifts more worth than money. I hope I passed them on to my son and daughter.

And thus, I walked 5.5 miles or nearly 9 Kilometers, in two hours at 9000 feet altitude. Not too bad for an old broad. When I got home and took ‘Quasimodo’ off, the sudden liberation unbalanced me for a few steps and I zig-zagged like a drunken bee. (Bumble bee before I’d lost the weight.)

Not the same ol’ breakfast

Posted on August 3, 2011 by admin

When my friend Bonnie came last week to help out with domestic chaos, I rewarded her and myself with this wonderful breakfast.

Pumpkin Pancakes:

1 and 3/4 cups whole wheat ( or whole grain) pastry flour

2 Tbsp light packed raw sugar

2 tsp baking soda

1 Tbsp pumpkin pie spice

1/4 tsp salt ( a. k. a ‘pinch’)

1 cup canned pumpkin puree

1 and 1/2 fat free ( or skim) milk

1 large egg (or 1/2 cup liquid egg substitute)

2 Tbsp unsweetened apple sauce

2 Tbsp cider vinegar

In large bowl mix dry ingredients. In a small bowl whisk together pumkin puree, milk, egg, apple sauce and cider vinegar. Stir this mix into dry ingredients until ‘just’ blended. Let batter rest for 5 min. Preheat skillet or griddle to med high heat and mist with cooking spray. For each pancake, pour 1/4 cup batter onto skillet. When edges are dry, flip. ( 1-2 min per side). Only 133 cals and 1 g fat.

Serve with pear sauce. Heat medium skillet over med heat, coated with cooking spray. Add 2 pears (cored and sliced) and 1 Tbsp crystallized ginger. Cook and stir for approx. 5 min. add 1/4 to 1/2 cup of lite syrup. Cook for one more minute and keep warm.

More than excited…

Posted on August 2, 2011 by admin

Just as I’d returned from the ‘Bloodsuckers’ and leaving several vials of good looking red behind, Cameron called. He’d researched ticket pricing and routes. Just to say the names of these European stops and how they roll of my tongue, even though a bit awkward. It’s like great tasting candy. Soft, mellow and then a few teutonic R’s thrown in (like Frankfurrrt). Then, there’s Bilbao which I confused more than once with “Bilboa’ something other entirely. But, it has not dampened my excitement and my cells are jumping with joy, like on a trampoline. This is an effect that NO medicine can provide.

Tomorrow I am hiking again with back pack. Training, training for the Camino. Bought some lambs wool belt cover to put on pack straps, to soften the shoulder pressure (suggestion from Connie) and it makes the world of difference.

The other thing that happened which is soo great. My friend Billy found another of our old friends whom we’ve tried to find for years. He lives in Huntsville, Al. (Imagine. I lived there as well. Maybe just a few streets apart? Such is fate.)

Triumph Over Inertia

Posted on August 2, 2011 by admin

Since I last blogged here I’ve been in Newport Beach, then back to Bend; then I drove down to San Francisco to see if we still had that old chemistry (we did). Drove back to Bend. Worked on my Bend vacation rental (which I link to here more for the search engines than for you, I’m afraid), and drove up to Seattle; met with some Earth Class Mail alumni (Rajeev, Ross, Steve) and Dr. Bob (whom I met 20 years ago while he was on a year-long sabbatical at Harvard and I was in law school), and continued to wonder if I might feel myself again anytime soon.

That’s something for a different post. My post here today is evidence that I have somehow triumphed over the inertia that considered a trip to Spain, in the midst of so much change, a sort of distraction from the real business of post-divorce: selling house, screwing up the courage to sell house now, deciding where to move (considered by some one of the most important decisions a person can make), selling contents of house, finding an apartment in a new city, packing, moving to the new city, building revised coaching and writing and entrepreneurial career in the new location, constructing a new social life, and so on. Oh, and stick a five-week trip to Spain in there somewhere.

But of course you will say that a month-long meditation through rural France and Spain is exactly the sort of “distraction” I need, and perhaps as much as I could possibly hope for. It would certainly go a long way toward slowing down the thoughts, the indefatigable thoughts, that motor through my mind. Dr. Bob believes, on the evidence of a recent dinner meeting, that I am engaged in “frenetic” activity. Perhaps that’s a nice word for “compulsive”?

I suspect that in time the timing of this trip will seem more providential than a scary disruption of some other ideas of life. It’s starting to feel one step closer to that way already . . .

Today I held my breath and took the step of booking myself for a five-week trip that disconnects me from normal life, for better or for imagined worse. On September 16, I’m flying from Newark, NJ (month-long stay in Jersey City sponsored by Adam Weiss and his partner-level legal recruiting) to Bilbao, Spain, home of Frank Gehry’s world-famous Guggenheim Museum (and its contents, which people tend to forget about) and, as if that weren’t enough, home to our uber-trekker friend Julio (who has been on the Camino himself, and therefore has been silent for as long as I have been).

Once we walk from western France to northeastern Spain, it will be time for another kind of reward: European civilization, a defining passion of both Mom’s and mine. We decided today that we’ll head down through Porto, Portugal, home of Port wine, and then farther south, through the teeming cork fields (corks also invented in Portugal) to Lisbon, once home to a great empire and now one of Western Europe’s most affordable cities. On October 22, we’ll fly back, I to Newark and then to Bend, Mom and our new teenage companion (to be announced soon!) to Montrose.

In the meantime, let’s see how many of the questions I have receive an answer.

Crepes filled with veggies

Posted on August 2, 2011 by admin

When my daughter, Candy, was little, she’d ask me what a crepe was. I would tell her a crepe was a pancake that had gone to the Sorbonne. 🙂

This is a really good, simple dish. You can use whole wheat flour (1 and 1/2 cups) 2 eggs, milk, 1/4 tsp salt. The batter should have the consistency of (liquid) whipping cream. Let the batter rest in fridge for at least 2 hrs.

Dice and saute small carrots, zuccini, and celery in coconut oil. Use a little Mrs. Dash for seasoning. Then use coconut oil to sautee and fry the crepes. When each crepe is done, spread cashew butter on it then add veggies. Add salad greens and a sliced tomato for garnish.

My young days

Posted on August 1, 2011 by admin

This is one of the only pictures as a child. In 1944, when I was born

in Erlangen (Bavaria) Germany, war was still going on and there was no money for a camera.

A Photographer came and took pictures at the Kindergarten when I was 4+ years old.

(Lovingly mended sleeves on a hand-me-down

dress from my sister.

First day of school in 1950. We all had our ‘cone’ an old tradition. Filled with sweets and school supplies.

Mother Nature’s Jewels

Posted on August 1, 2011 by admin

These are great choices for a summer salad collection.

Either by itself or as a elegant first course. The green one is ‘Lambs lettuce’

or Rapunzel. In the store it’s under Mache’. A little apple cider

vinegar and walnut oil, Then we have red beets,

a dash of cinnamon, raspberry vinegar, and 2 Tbsp walnut oil.

Cucumber and tomato salad, grated daikon. These have only

seasoned rice vinegar and same amount of water.

Enema bag for sale….

Posted on August 1, 2011 by admin

The past few days have been extremely busy, what with all this cleaning, juicing, preparation of food, very early morning enema, and occasional adjustment of attitude. After all this I have come to the conclusion that I am not cut out for this particular therapy at this time. I am still juicing just not hourly.

The sheer amount of food and cost was staggering as well the exhaustive way to implement all of it. Friends came and helped out with tasks as well as buying bags of raw veggies. (God bless good friends!!) My emotional equilibrium had hit a few pot holes, trying to manage it all. I had to stop hiking which gave me such peace and joy and this whole thing was becoming overwhelming and stressful.

After the fourth or fifth juice I was nauseated. No matter what I said to myself, I was a hair away from vomiting and my stomach revolted. No matter what I tried and I did try, I could not hold the enema liquid for longer than three minutes. ( I fixed the connecting tubing problem with Duct tape. My best friend.)

I remember, after the last cancer I’d said: ‘I’m almost grateful for the cancer because it taught me so much and I learned so much about myself and loved ones and attitude, faith and gratefulness toward things.’ While this was true, I know I carried this acceptance too far. The object is to get rid of it. That’s why I did not wish to ‘own’ it, this time.

I should not have created such a nice, cozy environment for cancer to move into. (Of course worry, problems, financial matters, errant cells, etc) did the rest as well. Cancer is a symptom. We must find out the cause and must become our own detectives in this search. Having a medical professional, who is supportive certainly makes things easier. Not always the case when opinions differ from main stream medicine. An Italian oncologist believes that cancer is a fungus.

I am in search of another workable solution to treat myself. It’s like the Holy Grail. Everyone you ask for directions gives you a different one.

I remember when I talked to Senior Physician at the ‘Hufeland Clinic’ in Germany. She said that, in some cases they opt for lowering a person’s blood sugar. Cancer cells are really hungry for sugar, so they receive it as it along with a low dose of chemo and this does the trick, sneaking past the guard. The cancer cells really slurp up that sugar, then sneaking to those cells and ‘BOOOM’. In this case the cells get poisioned, not the patient. Do we know this approach, here? Makes sense to me. This is different than toxic overload chemo usually done here.

What I remember too, is that each Physician that I saw, here and across the big pond, was telling me how lucky I am. I was of course puzzled and not only a bit irritated. Here I sit and have cancer and they’re telling me I’m lucky! Then explanation was added. To have had that many years without recurrence is extremely rare. (It had been nine years). Especially with ovarian cancer. My Doctor had told me, way back that if cancer would come back, it would be very difficult! I really wish they wouldn’t tell you things like that. I stays in the back of ones mind. So. To have ‘only’ a few small, tumors and they had not spread, was amazing. The one in the lung, was right at the edge. Clean, without creeping ‘fingers’ and easy to pluck out. Which we did. Only one left. At the spine attached to the aorta. What a place to be. Very hard to get to. This one, I’ll walk off on the camino. (There’s a plan B as well.)

Tomorrow, more tests to see the internal picture and cancer marker. I have stopped all supplements, vitamins, etc. I want a true reading.

Oil change in the kitchen

Posted on July 30, 2011 by admin

Before we start cooking, it’s very important to know a little about what to use to cook/fry/saute food with.

Margarine: Lab created. It looks like grey sludge before they bleach it and then add yellow color. Some are made from cottonseed oil which is not for human consumption due to their toxic substance. Others are named ‘Canola’ which is actually ‘rapeseed’. Look it up. They created that one for cars.

All oils, even expensive olive oils, should never see the ‘light of day’. You can use it sparingly when cold but never heat it. It will release radicals which will stay in your body.

The ONLY fat that is healthful and goes right through, is, Coconut oil. Still a fat but a much better one for you.

Butter has gotten a bad rap for a long time and it’s still not the most ideal but of course, much better than above margarine which uses expensive ads. (Especially one with ‘Fabio’ long haired, aging Italian who’s swinging from Garlands and running up steps in Venice, to sell this stuff.

You can substitute dry sherry, orange juice, apple juice, mineral water to fry and saute. This will brown your meat and or vegetables without fat.

Flaxseed oil is one of the other healthy oils. It comes in dark bottle and has to be refrigerated. It’s never just sitting for month on a shelf.

Just making a small change can mean so much.

Can we talk?…

Posted on July 28, 2011 by admin

You will excuse my hurried post this morning. I’ve been up since 4:00 A.M. although surpised, somewhat, that I could sleep at all after the ‘not-so-new-news’. I am thankful to the powers that be, to give me peace of mind after the initial shaking and quaking. The running hither and fro with terror and flight of life feelings. After I’d told a friend, she suggested that, perhaps I had to ‘own’ the cancer to start to get better. I said, I ‘owned’ it last time and this time I’d just want to rent.

I thought, I may as well start my increased attention to the matter on hand. Coffee enema. I lost precious time while trying not to upset my ‘tender sensibilities.’ Yesterday came the push I needed. So. I boiled my (organic) coffee (with distilled) water the prescribed method and time. After it cooled I put it in the bag. Well, I’ll spare you the details. Let me just say, that the hosing is a piece of crap (no pun intended) and as I was laying there, being quietly pleased how well this was going, the coffee (four cups ) ran without interruption all over the bath room. Looked like a battlefield. Me included. After cleaning it up the first time, trooper that I am, I did it again with nearly the same results. Ninety minutes later, I am exhausted and it’s not even 7:00 A.M. Definitely need a new contraption. I am now preparing laundry!

This I must do for the next four weeks. I am committed and serious in doing all I can to avoid chemo/radiation. Inspite of a messy start, this is so much easier than having to do chemo which, by the way has the same bathroom results when you’re sick and everything within you wants to come out. God, that was sooo bad!!

Then, I had to hurry to get my first juicing in as I have to follow the schedule, every hour on the hour. Who would come and help? Need someone for shopping or prepping food. I promise I’ll do the enema’s myself.

Got to run.

Answers…

Posted on July 28, 2011 by admin

I need to order my thoughts before I try to put the kaleidoskope of thoughts down, following the phone call from Doc.

The explanation of the test would be long and in medical language. The slide that was done (and they’d stake their reputation on it) is, that it is cancer and as there is still that last tumor, near my spine, we need to proceed with a therapy and or treatment. Of course, the first thought was denial in some form. Maybe 50%. I don’t want it to be there, or, with all that I’m doing the tumor has regressed.

I forgot to ask about a ‘name’ and I forgot to ask if there’s a ‘stage’. (Maybe I don’t want to know until way down the road.)

The word ‘radiation’ surgery/chemo, nearly took my breath and I’ve begged off for a time, yet. I told my Doctor, I really want to do the camino first. He agrees that this would be a grand thing to do. I am doing so well that it is very difficult to perceive there’s anything traitorous going on in my body. This is the push that I needed to go ahead with Gerson’s therapy. Now, that the juicer is working and I have little else occupying my mind other than taking care of myself. Having my coffee in a different way.

There are still more tests on August 2nd and waiting for those answers. If camino and my faith in a higher power do not work, the next step would be plan ‘B’ and Cyberknife’. But before that, I want to have a scan to make very sure that there is actually something there. My thoughts right now are really like wild birds flying in every direction.

This, I know for sure. I am going on the Camino de Santiago and nothing will deterr me.

Vegan dessert

Posted on July 27, 2011 by admin

If you think that Vegan Food is boring or restrictive, there’s another reality. It’s much more colorful and with a few tricks and a bit know-how can be excellent, even ‘gourmet’.

I got this recipe of a T.V cooking show and recreated it the same week when I had company. (Got huge raves.)

1 lb Vegan chocolate

1 can of coconut milk

muffin liners

powdered sugar

Divide chocolate. Melt over hot water. Then, brush muffin liners (3/4 up to top) place in fridge or freezer. ( I do this step a day ahead.) A couple of hours before dinner and /or guests, melt second half of chocolate, poir into mixing bowl. Open can of coconut milk and just use the ‘fat part’ which has accumulated on the top do NOT use the liquid.(Save for another use.) Add 3 Tbsp of powdered sugar and whip choc. coconut mix.

Get chocolate muffin liners, let it stand at room temparatur for a few minutes and then carefully peel off the paper. Add a couple of spoons of choc mousse, then place all back into fridge.

You can make a raspberry ‘coulis’ (sauce) with this and it looks great. Press raspberry through a fine mesh sieve, add a couple of Tbsp powdered sugar. (2 Tbsp of ‘Kirsch’ if desired and I’ll tell you you will desire this.) ‘Paint’ sauce onto plate, set choc mousse cup next to it. Voila. Great dessert.

Cashew Butter

Posted on July 27, 2011 by admin

Although not fat-free this tasty spread is amazingly good. You can reduce your cow butter-fat quite a bit. For 1/4 cup serving size it only has 11 g of fat.

2 cups raw cashews

1 cup filtered water

1/3 red pepper, ribs and seeds removed

2 and 1/2 Tbsp green onion -diced

2 Tbsp fresh cilantro- minced

1 tsp garlc minced

1/4 tsp salt

pinch crushed red pepper flakes

Place cashews in a small bowl and add enough water to barely cover. Let stand for a few hours. Then place in a blender (or use immerser) and blend until very smooth. Assemble rest of ingredients and add to ‘butter’. Serve immediately or place in a glass container with a tight fitting lid. Place in fridge and use between 3-4 days. This can also be used a a dip base for your party or summer grill.

Calling to find out…

Posted on July 26, 2011 by admin

Against my earlier self-advice I did call Doc’s office yesterday and left a message with my question about test result. Of course, then I waited and jumped every time the phone rang. My reason was/is, that when I do know I need to have time to research my options and can’t wait until the last minute.

Finally, in the late afternoon I get a call from the nurse only to tell me that Dr. is out of the office as well as today and if he has not called by Thursday, to call back. Geez!! It’s been over two weeks. This whole thing is like a crap shoot.

I had a hard time, yesterday not eating ‘Kielbasa’. When I was at the grocery store, suddenly I absolutely craved a piece and imagined biting in to it with the fat running down my chin. Luckily, this only lasted a second or two and I was once again, sane. (Could be I’m missing some protein??) I don’t have to plan what to eat (or avoid) as I’m invited to a Veggie lunch. Just had a tall glass of wonderful carrot/apple juice, all the while imagining my cells jumping in this bright red, healthful ‘bath’, splashing and having a grand time. Sure makes one feel better right away. … and then, they rest on a tiny lounge chair wearing tiny sun glasses. haha (I swear there are no drugs involved.)

Bavarian Slims- perfect for Camino

Posted on July 25, 2011 by admin

After reading the book “To the Field of Stars’ and describtions of food in Spain while on the Camino, I am convinced that this cookie would be a perfect snack. Lightweight, chock-full of wonderful ingredients and perfectly filling with a drink. Now, how do I pack 5 lbs of them into my back pack?? I’d have to give up my second pair of shoes? Or, my rain poncho?

Chilled Soup on Hot Day

Posted on July 25, 2011 by admin

After yesterday’s hike and heat, it would’ve been great to come home to a cold soup. This one is very simple, very healthful and very good. With only 170 cals and 1 g fat, it’s ideal too.

Chillded Melon Soup:

(makes 2 cups) adjust to more servings)

1 lg honey dew or cantaloupe melon, rind removed

1 cup coconut water

2 Tbs freshly squeezed lime juice

pinch chili powder–and cayenne–and cinnamon

Dash agave nectar (optional)

Blueberries (optional)

fresh mint leaves

Cut melon in half and remove seeds

Place melon in blender and add coconut water, lime juice and seasonings. Blend on low speed until well mixed.

You can use different fruits for different soups.

Waiting….

Posted on July 23, 2011 by admin

Phone calls are becoming more frequent with family and friends wanting to know the test results from the VATS. (Video Assisted Thoracic Surgery). The first result was incorrect and my Doctor ordered a new test from the Mayo Clinic. We know it is cancer. We just don’t know what ‘type’. What to call it. Give it a name. Well, I don’t want to name it. That would mean it’s going to hang around like a pet.

Meanwhile I also received my new ‘Champion Juicer’. Have to figure out how to work it. Bought 25 lbs of carrots. (Nearly the weight of my back pack!) That’s a lot of juice and I’m supposed to drink 8 oz every hour. (I wonder how quickly I’ll get tired of the taste? )Means, I can’t leave home. By the time I start and clean it up, here I go again. I think, I need to move someone in to help me with all this stuff. Then, the assortment of Vitamins and preparation of fresh, organic food. Of course, keeping a good attitude all the while, as well.

I’m having Lentils and potatoes with Bok-Choy today. A salad to start.

Roasted Peacock

Posted on July 22, 2011 by admin

In my last post, I mentioned that my father had given me a recipe for roasted peacock. I thought for sure he was joking. But here’s the recipe, just in case:

The young peacock should be killed 3 days prior to use. Pluck feathers and hang in an airy place. Remove head and then tie neck and wings together. Wash inside and out. Then rub all over with salt and pepper. Add 1 bay leaf, parsley and basil into cavity. Place bacon slices onto its belly and roast slowly. Or, you can roast him over a rotisserie, then add butter while turning.

Morning hike in stretched boots

Posted on July 22, 2011 by admin

Yesterday was a fairly busy day. I packed my back pack with nearly all the needed things to try out this weekend at the canyon for a lengthy hike. Already it’s over 20 lbs and not all is in there. My fancy water bladder was not filled and my buddy said that 1 gallon weighs 8 lbs?? WTH? I have to take it all out and see what I can do without. Although right now I NEED everything!! Then, I had an ‘aha moment’. What if I lose 5-7 more lbs? Then I could transfer that to my pack.

This morning I walked in my stretched boots and they felt ever soo much better. Rather than having to spend $180.00 on serious hiking boots and have to break them in.

Glorious morning hike. Fresh cut hay giving off that lovely summer smell. The mountains still with a bit of snow on some. A cool, light breeze. Then, I saw peacocks. What gorgeous birds they are. Well, the males anyway. Noisy, screeching things. A little further down the path I remembered that my dad told me a recipe for ‘roasted’ peacock. He learned of it when he was P.O.W in France. I didn’t believe him and thought he was pulling my leg. I mean, who would eat a peacock? But then, some people in this world eat stranger things. I’ll look for it and put it in my recipe section.

Mango Arugula Salad

Posted on July 20, 2011 by admin

2 Tbs orange juice

2 Tbs olive oil

1 Tbs each fresh cilantro and chives

1 lime, zested, juiced and divided

1 and 1/2 tsp white wine vinegar

pinch of cayenne pepper

1 med ripe avocado

6 cups baby arugula/spinach leaves

1 ripe mango cut into wedges

1/2 cup red onions

1/4 cup sliced red peppers

In bowl whisk together orange juice, oil, cilantro and chives, 1 Tbs. lime juice, 1/4 tsp lime zest, vinegar and cayenne. Season w salt & pepper.

Halve, pit and thinly slice avocado. Brush avocado slices with remaining lime juice. Place arugula on serving platter. Top w avocados, mangos and red pepper.

Drizzle salad w vinaigrette just before serving.

Must lessen the load

Posted on July 20, 2011 by admin

Already I’ve learned to pack less. After reading this great forum on www.caminodesantiago.me which is filled with tips, advice and cheering section when it get’s tough. These ‘pilgrims’ are a wonderful community to know and from all over the world. I am looking very much forward to meeting them.

I will pack my back pack (new) and go for a longer hike this week end, just to see what I won’t need. Seems ‘the way’ is filled with blisters, inflammation, sore tendons and incredible joy of having done it. Been there and experienced the up’s and down’s. Just like life?

Food Gathering

Posted on July 19, 2011 by admin

This morning was still dark when I got up and not quite bouncing with energy but never the less got ready for a hike. My friend Monika went with me and we drove to the canyon not the altitude top this time but to the bottom. Hair pin curves are a bit scary and the surrounding is breath taking between high canyon walls and lush, green, narrow valley. The Gunnison River is mandering through there and we even saw a fly fisher. A buck and doe crossed the street before us, not even worried, still chewing whatever they’d found. Rabbits and chipmunks. Only birds sang, otherwise it’s this velvety peace and stillness.

There was no hard breathing at the bottom. Nice change from the lung burning, air grasping hike on top. Next time, we’ll go 10 miles. I have to go farther than a few miles in readiness for the camino.

At home, the same old problem. What to eat? Running off to get fresh vegetables and then putting it together in a pleasing manner. How easy just a couple of eggs would’ve been. Or, a nasty burger and fries. Well. I did the veggies. Boiled my potatoes and added Italian Beans. Love those. (My subconscious waiting for the phone call and results from the Mayo clinic.) Also a side salad with pears chopped in.

Went to price hiking boots. Yikes. On Sale, they’re still $170.00 but did not buy those. They hurt my shins. (Shins are devices for finding furniture in the dark.) They did offer to stretch my boots, free service. Maybe that will make them better. Sure hope so.

French Onion soup

Posted on July 18, 2011 by admin

Although this has cheese, it only has 13 g of fat, so as an occasional treat it’s a great soup:

6 portions

1 and 1/2 lb mild onions

2 Yukon gold potatoes

3 Tbsp butter

1 cup white wine

5 cups vegetable or beef broth

1 bouquet Garni (Thyme, bay leaf, parsley) fresh if possible

S&P

2 cloves of garlic

6 pieces wheat or white bread, 1 day old ( not super market type) but Farmer’s

5 oz grated Emmentaler (Swiss cheese)

Cut onions into thin slices. Peel pot and wash. Melt butter, saute onion to a golden brown. Add wine and let cook on med high. Grate potatoes and add. Pour broth and add bouquet (tied) garni. S&P, reduce heat and simmer 20 min. –Preheat oven to 200F. Peel garlic and rub over bread slices. Remove herbs (garni bouquet) and pour soup into fireproof bowls. Add one piece of bread and thick layer of grated cheese. Bake until golden brown. (approx. 10 min)

Bon appetit.

Filled with anticipation and committment

Posted on July 18, 2011 by admin

Yesterday, middle of the night, I’d woken from another message send by a worried brain. It seems that every time I am stressed, I dream that I have to move into a trailer. (Having lived in a couple of them, it’s not an insult to folks who still do.) This one was a double wide but still had dark paneling and I was trying to find cubbyholes where I could hide my few, inherited treasures. I had a sign outside the tiny yard which stated : Villas Miseras American Style.’ A phrase I’d coined after I was in Brazil, may years ago and saw their ‘Villas’ like bird’s nests, poorest of the poor, nestled atop this mountainous prime real estate.

I was stressing about the camino, again. How to book a multiple city flight, how to be able to afford this venture. Instead of staying in bed fretting, I got up and went on the camino forum, wrote a short request and then went back to bed. I had 2 answers in the morning. One, from a 72yr old lady, who has walked the camino six times and is going once again, in October. To her I posted questions this morning about what ‘things’ I would really need and what type of boots to buy. (The ones I got on ebay are hurtin my right foot.)

Later, my ‘girls’ came from Grand Junction and we all went to the Black Canyon to show them the Beauty. Took a hike. Carrie (15) great young lady, and I managed 5 miles in 90F and that was a bit rough so short a time after surgery. Altitude made my lung burn. We talked about the possibility of her coming along on the camino. Lifetime experience. I told her, before you get married, you go on that hike with your ‘prospective hubby’ because you will really get to know him, his quirks, etc. in those six weeks. When I showed her some clips of the camino on ‘you tube’ I got re-inspired, excited and totally committed no matter what. I am not going to listen to my own objections nor will I give in to my fears and doubts. I went by myself on a train when I was five, to the next town because I wanted to travel. I went to Nuernberg by myself, on the bus, with nothing but my doll in a shopping net, to visit my aunt. (Mother didn’t know and I was punished when I was brought home.) I went to Munich by myself when I was fifteen and to England when I was seventeen. I can do this!!

Had a good conversation with Adam who put me in touch with a friend of his, who lives in Leon and I could ask him more questions. Cameron called as well and we’re trying to figure out the length of time he could go.

Another coincidence?

Posted on July 16, 2011 by admin

Just got back from town and buying more stuff. Sports Authority, where I now own a corner. I was checking out back packs and this guy wanders over to help me. In the course of the conversation, after he tells me, what an awesome idea this is to walk the Camino and I told him why I’m going, he asks:” Do you know about the Gerson Therapy?’ I was speechless for a second. Not only that but in specific about the coffee enemas. My goodness. This is Montrose. Seems like there are a few enlightenend people here.

Bought the backpack but probably end up taking it back as it weighs twice (over 3 lbs) of what should be available, according to research. I need every ounce and every spare inch.

Doubts creep in

Posted on July 15, 2011 by admin

For some reason I woke at 1:50 A.M. and chaotic thoughts came marching through on hob-nail boots. I wondered if I could really do this Camino? This long stretch of unknown path. Doubts followed and I was wide awake. How will I eat my special ‘diet’? What if I can’t find anything that agrees with me? How will I ask for ‘Fixodent’ in Spanish? Wonder if my right foot will hold up as nearly 2 years ago, I couldn’t walk for seven months due to a severe case of ‘Plantar’s Fasciitis’. Is this a reasonable expectation…’at my age’? Although not a vacation but a purpose of health intervention, will it work? What if it doesn’t? What will I do for plan B? How will I get to where I need to start? What if I can’t get to a Hostel in time and won’t get a bed? Right now, in the blue hour of the morning, it’s a bit overwhelming. I’m looking at all the ‘stuff’ I purchased and wonder how I’ll get it into a back-pack. (I’ll have to practice this too.) Then, the conversation with Cameron where he can only accompany me for a little while… then, I’m on my own.

Red Beets are natures rubies

Posted on July 14, 2011 by admin

Red beet ‘chips’.

Fresh, organic red beets (3-5)

Panko bread crumbs

organic coconut oil

1 egg (Vegans– no egg)

A dash of “Mrs Dash”

Trim leaves off beets, wash, cut in half. Boil unitl tender. Approx. 30-35 min. Peel skin then cut into slices. Beat egg and dredge slices through then coat both sides with panko bread crumbs and a dash of Mrs. Dash. Add 1 tsp coconut oil to pan and ‘fry’ slices on both side until golden. (Kids love this.)

Today’s Shopping Trip

Posted on July 13, 2011 by admin

More shopping and crossing off list.

2 pr socks (75%wool) & extra shoe laces

camp towel (looks like a chamois)

Knee brace (just in case)

vacuum packed T-paper (8 rolls down to a few inches)

This is so much fun!

Synthetic nightmare is over

Posted on July 13, 2011 by admin

Upon waking this morning and hearing the birds, right outside my window, I felt peaceful. Breathing in the cleansed, moist mountain air from the great rains, once more I buoyed (is that even a word?). There are no discernible aftershocks from the emotional lava. I did come to the conclusion, that even though I have genuine feelings about this whole cancer trip, yesterday was mostly due to the side effects of the painkiller. I would rather feel the pain than go through another crappy day like yesterday, if I can avoid it. (Makes me wonder how many people take meds that alter their emotions and thinking? Then take more to deal with that.)

I will learn a little more after my Doc’s appointment today. Meanwhile, I will order some items for our hike. I also noticed, how I missed going up to the early morning sun-lit black walls of the canyon. Maybe this weekend.

Train wreck

Posted on July 12, 2011 by admin

Well. I didn’t see that one coming. I am totally wiped out and could wipe the puddle on the floor, that is me.

After months, weeks and days of utter cheerfulness and Pollyanna method, the mighty self crumbled and I’m weeping over any damn little thing. Could be the pain meds. Could be that I feel that having cancer once was enough. That I paid my ‘dues’. I feel like I carried this big sack up the mountain, slid back down, picked it back up and go again.. and again. I feel overwhelmed and sad. I wish I could find a Naturopathic Doc who would lead me through this jungle of choices. Which one to do? Which one to avoid?

I don’t want to repeat, even one more time, what my test result was and how this brings the reality closer and closer. Then again, tomorrow is another day and I’ll carry on, chin up, etc.— Thanks Cameron for catching me and giving me a soft place to fall.

The Gerson Therapy: Cancer Cure, or Health Risk?

Posted on July 12, 2011 by admin

It sounds reasonable enough. According to the Gerson Institute the Gerson diet:

is naturally high in vitamins, minerals, enzymes, micro-nutrients, extremely low in sodium and fats, and rich in fluids.
The following is a typical daily diet for a Gerson patient on the full therapy regimen:
Thirteen glasses of fresh, raw carrot/apple and green-leaf juices prepared hourly from fresh, organic fruits and vegetables.
Three full vegetarian meals, freshly prepared from organically grown fruits, vegetables and whole grains. A typical meal will include salad, cooked vegetables, baked potatoes, vegetable soup and juice.
Fresh fruit and fresh fruit dessert available at all hours for snacking, in addition to the regular diet.

Then things get confusing. Reading about the Gerson Therapy is like my first weeks as a judicial clerk for a federal judge, where I could still be swayed by whichever argument I was reading. Witness the Gerson Institute’s common-sensical explanation:

Throughout our lives our bodies are being filled with a variety of disease and cancer causing pollutants. These toxins reach us through the air we breathe, the food we eat, the medicines we take and the water we drink. As more of these poisons are used every day and cancer rates continue to climb, being able to turn to a proven, natural, detoxifying treatment like the Gerson Therapy is not only reassuring, but necessary.
The Gerson Therapy is a powerful, natural treatment that boosts your body’s own immune system to heal cancer, arthritis, heart disease, allergies, and many other degenerative diseases. One aspect of the Gerson Therapy that sets it apart from most other treatment methods is its all-encompassing nature. . . . [T]hirteen fresh, organic juices are consumed every day, providing your body with a superdose of enzymes, minerals and nutrients . . . break down diseased tissue in the body, while enemas aid in eliminating the lifelong buildup of toxins from the liver.
With its whole-body approach to healing, the Gerson Therapy naturally reactivates your body’s magnificent ability to heal itself – with no damaging side-effects. Over 200 articles in respected medical literature, and thousands of people cured of their “incurable” diseases document the Gerson Therapy’s effectiveness. The Gerson Therapy is one of the few treatments to have a 60 year history of success.

The Institute goes on to add that “it is rare to find cancer, arthritis, or other degenerative diseases in cultures considered ‘primitive’ by Western civilization. Is it because of diet? The fact that degenerative diseases appear in these cultures only when modern packaged foods and additives are introduced would certainly support that idea.” Gerson’s solution: “Stay close to nature and its eternal laws will protect you.”

The Gerson Therapy seeks to regenerate the body to health, supporting each important metabolic requirement by flooding the body with nutrients from almost 20 pounds of organically grown fruits and vegetables daily. Most is used to make fresh raw juice, one glass every hour, 13 times per day. Raw and cooked solid foods are generously consumed. Oxygenation is usually more than doubled, as oxygen deficiency in the blood contributes to many degenerative diseases. The metabolism is also stimulated through the addition of thyroid, potassium and other supplements, and by avoiding heavy animal fats, excess protein, sodium and other toxins.

Degenerative diseases render the body increasingly unable to excrete waste materials adequately, commonly resulting in liver and kidney failure. To prevent this, the Gerson Therapy uses intensive detoxification to eliminate wastes, regenerate the liver, reactivate the immune system and restore the body’s essential defenses – enzyme, mineral and hormone systems. With generous, high-quality nutrition, increased oxygen availability, detoxification, and improved metabolism, the cells – and the body – can regenerate, become healthy and prevent future illness.

According to critics, however, the evidence for the efficacy of the Gerson Therapy is lacking. While the Institute cites “peer-reviewed” studies, critics claims Gerson’s people (Gerson being deceased half a century ago) haven’t provided any objective, peer-reviewed evidence for its efficacy, and Wikipedia cites numerous authorities who refuse to endorse the therapy, and even claim evidence of harm. So which is it?

Peer-Reviewed Studies: Gerson’s Side

I’m not able to evaluate the “peer-reviewed” studies the Institute cites. Most, though, are around sixty years old, and many of them pre-date the diet’s use on cancer specifically (first uses were on migraines and tuberculosis), with the latest study in 1978. In the current climate, so favorable now to raw and whole foods, the lack of any studies since 1978 is a red flag.

I also see in the Institute’s explanations a certain anxiety in the war of propaganda apparently being waged: “No treatment works for everyone, every time. Anyone who tells you otherwise is not giving you the facts. . . . In most cases your trusted family physician only has knowledge of conventional treatments, and is either unaware of, or even hostile toward alternative options.” They sound defensive, which does not give me confidence. On the other hand, some proponents of the Gerson diet say they are battling far better funded pharma companies and doctors who have an economic interest in remaining indispensable. But is that enough to explain even the Institute’s own apparent failures to cite evidence supporting their claims?

Peer-Reviewed Studies: The Critics

The American Cancer Society (ACS) – which I do not assume is without economic and other bias, says:

There have been no well-controlled studies published in the available medical literature that show the Gerson therapy is effective in treating cancer.
In a recent review of the medical literature, researchers from the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center identified 7 human studies of Gerson therapy that have been published or presented at medical conferences. None of them were randomized controlled studies. One study was a retrospective review conducted by the Gerson Research Organization. They reported that survival rates were higher than would normally be expected for patients with melanoma, colorectal cancer and ovarian cancer who were treated with surgery and Gerson therapy, but they did not provide statistics to support the results. Other studies have been small, had inconclusive results, or have been plagued by other problems (such as a large percentage of patients not completing the study), making it impossible to draw firm conclusions about the effectiveness of treatment.

Quack Watch reviews the Institute’s claims in more seemingly devastating detail, saying the Institute’s claims are typical of several “Typical Misrepresentations”:

Proponents of questionable methods typically claim that marketplace demand and testimonials from satisfied customers are proof that their remedies work. However, proponents almost never keep score or reveal what percentage of their cases end in failure. Cancer cures attributed to questionable methods usually fall into one or more of five categories:
The patient never had cancer.
A cancer was cured or put into remission by proven therapy, but questionable therapy was also used and erroneously credited for the beneficial result
The cancer is progressing but is erroneously represented as slowed or cured.
The patient has died as a result of the cancer (or is lost to follow-up) but is represented as cured.
The patient had a spontaneous remission (very rare) or slow-growing cancer that is publicized as a cure.

I know enough about statistics and the scientific method to find these critiques worth a pause. If the critics are correct, the failure to produce any evidence of effectiveness over six or more decades is a serious one. An even-handed review by the seemingly more sympathetic (and Europe-based) Complementary and Alternative Medicine for Cancer (CAM-Cancer) also could not find support for the Institute’s claims, summarizing the matter thus:

Overall, the treatment has not been found to be effective as a cure for cancer. However, attempts to evaluate the Gerson therapy as a whole are problematic due to the complexity of the treatment, time taken for its possible effectiveness and poor record keeping/tracking of previous patients by the Gerson Institute.

So What?

Does it matter if the method isn’t effective at curing cancer? Only if (1) it precludes using or slows the efficacy of other methods or (2) it’s actively harmful.

My understanding is that Mom doesn’t intend to use the Gerson diet in lieu of any effective therapy. Chemotherapy, for instance, is not effective on lung cancer like hers. So it may not matter at all that the Gerson Institute does not recommend the use of chemotherapy with its diet (on grounds “the chemotherapy is seen as a poison in the body, and during detoxification the body would find difficulty in dealing with the level of toxins” – see CAM-Cancer).

Can the Gerson diet be harmful? Apparently it can, according to the critics and CAM-Cancer:

Gerson therapy can lead to several significant health problems. Serious illness and death have occurred as a direct result of some portions of the treatment, including severe electrolyte imbalances. Continued use of enemas may weaken the colon’s normal function, causing or worsening constipation and colitis. Other complications have included dehydration, serious infections and severe bleeding.
The therapy may be especially hazardous to pregnant or breast-feeding women.
Coffee enemas have contributed to the deaths of at least three people in the United States. Coffee enemas “can cause colitis (inflammation of the bowel), fluid and electrolyte imbalances, and in some cases septicaemia.” The recommended diet may not be nutritionally adequate. The diet has been blamed for the deaths of patients who substituted it for standard medical care.
Relying on the therapy alone while avoiding or delaying conventional medical care for cancer has serious health consequences.

(Citations omitted; see Wikipedia).

How can we prevent these negative effects, Mom, while still getting the undeniable benefits of whole, raw food?

The Verdict: Cancer. Again.

Posted on July 11, 2011 by admin

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.

Julio Revealed!

Posted on July 10, 2011 by admin

Our Man-on-the-Ground in Spain, Julio, sent me today some pictures of himself on one of his walking expeditions in China, with this note about China and his apparently still frustrated efforts to get underway on his next walking expedition:

Sorry, not feet enough to go around China by foot …
Busy in Europe, still a lot of work to go through here …

He’s funny in Spanish, but when he tries to capture Spanish idioms in English, he’s just a riot: there aren’t enough feet in the world to go around China by foot, he says, apologetically.

Julio is the one who is not Chinese

Julio, far right facing camera, is the one who looks most Chinese

The Other Great Pilgrimage, Locus of Many Darwin Awards: The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona

Posted on July 10, 2011 by admin

Mom notes on Facebook today that Pamplona “is on our way of the Camino. Glad this will be over.”

She’s referring here to the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. Hemingway was much in love with bullfighting and Pamplona itself, but today’s Running of the Bulls is the sort of bacchanal usually associated with drunken college students on southern American beaches. The Running of the Bulls is also a frequent subject of the Darwin Awards, won each year by people who, through breathtaking acts of stupidity, remove themselves from the gene pool.

From ABC News today:

For those keeping track, the count stands at 113.
Injuries, that is, as the annual “Running of the Bulls” continued in Pamplona, Spain this weekend. Sixteen people have been hospitalized with serious injuries in four days.
The cobblestone streets of this northern Spanish town were slippery with dew, alcohol and trash from parties that rage during the eight-day San Fermín Festival.
Overcrowding has been a major problem, increasing the danger to the runners on the 900-yard course. About 1.6 million people are expected to visit during the festival.

If you were attending the Running of the Bulls, your to-do list might look like this:

1. Fly to Spain

2. Get blindingly drunk

2a. Show breasts (if female)

2b. Crowd-surf (usually males)

3. Run into street with bulls

4. Get impaled, gored, OR (extra credit) trampled

So, just to review.

This:

inevitably leads to this:

Mom, Irascible, Continues Recovery, Insists on Hiking

Posted on July 10, 2011 by admin

Like in the Rocky movies, right after he hits either a physical or emotional downturn in mid-movie, Mom is back in training only days after leaving the hospital. Cue the Training Montage, staple (in fact) of all fight movies, from martial arts and boxing films to wrestling, cheerleading, and dancing movies. (My favorite scenes are of Stallone and Carl Weathers sprinting, on the beach).

Mom hasn’t quite figured out how to blog here, so I’m reposting her Facebook posts (at which she has become expert).

Yesterday:

Remember the old joke that the brain was not the most important organ?? It’s been 5 days without BM and I don’t think that’s a correct statement –I KNOW SO!Stopped the drugs all together. I think, one incision opened. I feel like I’ve been ‘filet’. Little buddy came with beautiful flowers as did other friends. Those bird brains have not called about pathology. Letting me wait the whole freakin’ weekend.

One of Mom’s friends told her that if she had an open incision, she should get to the hospital!

Mom:

I’m not paying Emergency room fees on top of those inflated ICU rooms. (You’re a good nurse. You come and see. :-)– I’m going hiking tomorrow. Maybe not Black Canyon but nevertheless…

Three or four days after surgery, Mom is ready to train again. Can you believe it?

Today 6:02a.m. Mountain Time:

Hard rain most of the night. Great smells and sounds except for the huge Thunder. Came out of my bed (injury and all) like a shot and hollered ‘Holy Crap!!’ Dog ran under my bed and whined. If I could’ve, I would’ve followed. Going for a long walk at the park. Bored to tears at home.
It’s been gushing rain for days, in the form of thunderstorms. Mostly at night. Sleeping with the window open, there’s no better smell nor sound.

On the Coincidence of Spaniards Met in Brussels en Route to Israel

Posted on July 8, 2011 by admin

Back in May, my good friend (and partner at Charles River Recruiting) Adam Weiss and I traveled to Israel. A problem with fuel in Tel Aviv, by various machinations no one could adequately explain, left us stranded in Brussels. “Neat,” Adam said. “And second prize is two days in Brussels.” But Brussels has its charms, especially the Grand Place (French for “the Grand Place”), not to mention that while we were there we met an irrepressible Spaniard named Julio, who was also stranded en route to Israel, and who accompanied us on our second day of drinking in the sunny, French-accented Grand Place.

That night, we were back on our flight, and just after midnight we all said goodbye in the Tel Aviv Airport. Julie stayed on in Tel Aviv, and Adam and I took a taxi to Jerusalem. We toured the great old city for a few days, took a train to Haifa, then a bus to the mystical hilltop village of Tzfat. And it was there, about five days after we’d arrived in Israel, that we ran into . . . Julio.

Now, at this time, I had no knowledge of the Camino de Santiago. “Santiago,” I have learned, means St. (Santo) James (Diego, which is how the ancient Hebrew Ya’akov ended up being rendered in Spanish). My acquaintance with the term “camino” was limited to the following: (1) my mother’s 1972 2-door El Camino (2) my 1992 study of Spanish for an aborted trip to Patagonia – “camino” means “way” or “path” and is frequently used as English speakers use “road” or “street”, and (3) the Gipsy Kings’ dreamy, meditative “Caminando por la Calle”, or Walking in (or down) the street, which, interestingly, turns the camino or “path” into the gerund for “walking” itself – caminando (and, probably so as to avoid the repetition of “caminando por el camino”, substitutes calle for street). It deserves your listening to’t:

So anyway, who does Julio turn out to be?

* a Spaniard
* who lives near the Camino de Santiago, in Bilbao, home of the world-famous Guggenheim Museum,
* and is the most experienced walker I have ever met. In fact, he was in Israel precisely to walk from north to south, a distance of several hundred miles. He does these long walks several times a year.

And now he is not only offering advice on the Camino, he is walking parts of it himself, right now. What are the odds?

Here is his latest:

Hi Cameron,
I´m still in bilbao, we suppose to move to Pyrenees already but problems last minute … always women problems … we´ll probably start next week.
Suggestions : In my opinion the most beautiful part is the begining , means one side of the mountain Saint Jean Pied de Port (France Basque country ) o Roncesvalles ( other side of the mountain , spanish basque side ) from here you walk to Pamplona , now huge fiesta going on – San Fermín – Bull fighters on the road , and many people injured because they are extremely ” brave pepople “.
From Pamplona to Logroño still nice, we are talking about Rioja´s heart.
After Logroño, temperatures in summer are a little bit like Death Valley, you must start every day really early otherwise , you risk of ” melt ” , dry part of Spain… from Logroño you could get bus to Burgos, beautiful cathedral, place to sleep pilgrims fifty yards from cathedral, you could get bus again to Leon , less than two hours, again another beautiful cathedral; the way out from Leon is disgusting, pick up the bus again and depending of how you feel , you could get near Santiago or few kilometers away.
Information concerning buses can be provided all around places where pilgrims spend nights, some people get the bus to Sarria, only 100 kms away from Santiago and that way you could get your ” title ” … you deserve the diploma , and only waiting a funny queue at
the Pilgrims Office in Santiago, you will be very proud of it.
How to decide, It depends how exhausted you are after walking under the sun.
In my case after this delay, we suppose to star walking next week, i dont feel confortable if i depends on other people decisions… thisis going to be an ” special case “
Well, let me know what you decide and make sure if i am around we´ll share a couple of San Miguel´s ( one of the most popular spanish beers “)
In the meantime, keep fit.
Hasta pronto,
julio

Post-Surgery, Mom Reports Into Facebook

Posted on July 8, 2011 by admin

Here’s what she had to say today:

I feel like I’ve been stabbed and then hit by a ‘Mac truck! (2 Days in Intensive care unit and then home. Too ornery to keep.) So. When someone says it’s ‘minimally invasive’ make sure you interpret MINIMAL correctly. Holy crap that was a surprise. Going back to bed and my hazy world of drugs. But, not to fear… I’m back. Thanks for all your good wishes and prayers.

and

Can’t sit very long and am too ‘medicated’ to think about spelling. 🙂 Just checking in to say ‘Hi’ to all of you lovely friends and wonderful family. Everyone called. Brother from Switzerland. Cousin from Germany. Friend from Las Vegas my daughter Tanya and my other daughter. :-)))))))))))) Coughing presents multi-culti curses.

Well-wishers are piling on with comments and Likes.

860-year-old Guestbook of Way of St. James Disappears

Posted on July 8, 2011 by admin

I’ve lived four-and-a-half decades without having come across the tiniest bit of news about the Camino de Santiago or its ultimate destination, the soaring cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. In fact, when Mom told me about the pilgrimage, I said, in the manner conveyed to us in the sitcoms, “Say what?”

And yet, two days after I created a blog for my journey there with my mother, my PDA presented me with a BBC article reporting that the 12th century Codex Calixtinus, a priceless guidebook for pilgrims, disappeared yesterday afternoon from its seemingly secure storage at the cathedral.

This is either total coincidence or it’s looking increasingly as if Mom and I are being called to go all Da Vinci Code on the folks over there.

“It wasn’t a minimally-invasive procedure after all”

Posted on July 7, 2011 by admin

Mom called me today, having just gotten out of the hospital. My first reaction to her voice was concern: she sounded . . . sad. Or emotional. Turned out she was, in fact, in “a lot of pain.” One of the first things she said was that the procedure “wasn’t minimally invasive, I can tell you that.”

“I don’t know why I thought it was going to be a simpler procedure,” she said, in that slightly higher, sleepier tone. “But I guess I’m glad I didn’t know what it was going to be.”

“You probably would have just worried more, to no effect,” I agreed.

“I just wanted you to know I’m going to be out of commission for a while. Julie” – a close friend of Mom’s who is around my age – “is here and she’s helping me. I have to go now, though. I need to lie down and just rest. The pain is really terrible.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later. I love you. And have someone read you my blog article!”

She said she would. And off she went, probably to sleep.

Musings of The Son as the Mother Lies in Hospital

Posted on July 6, 2011 by admin

An attitude of gratitude. That’s what I am trying to cultivate today. Generally speaking, I am nothing but annoyed – an attitude of ingratitude, I might point out – by nifty-sounding phrases like “attitude of gratitude”. But the rhyme clothes an important and skillful way of being, one often overlooked by people who wonder, as a result, why they’re not happy. More on that later . . . For now, I am simply cultivating these positive, grateful, appreciative thoughts that, by definition, crowd negative thoughts off the stage:

I’m grateful that Mom came out of the surgery without incident. (As I write this, I still haven’t heard from her personally, so she’s probably still woozy; I know what I know from Monica, one of the members of the Montrose Deutscher Posse).

and

She’s such an inspiration to so many people.

There’s no one with an attitude of gratitude like a cancer survivor. We ignore at our peril the elixir of life with which they emerge from their hero’s journey, telling us, in so many words: This matters. That does not.Guess what “this” and “that” are.

A Cancer Survivor (yes, first caps) is what Mom is, about ten years strong. But cancer is something that’s never entirely gone from a survivor’s life. For a decade now, she’s lived with the tests and the doubt and, more happily, the new and healthy ways of thinking and eating.

In fact, it’s ways of thinking and eating that work that are among our interests here, in this blog.

She had cancer in three places a year ago: pelvis, stomach, lung. (It is the measure of the power of a son’s denial that I cannot call up these locations with any confidence). She put herself on a gourmet cancer-killing diet (and if that sounds like an oxymoron, then my mother has a new definition of ”gourmet” for you), lost over fifty pounds, saw one cancer spot disappear, another get smaller, and the third stay the same. We cheered her success.

Over half a year later, it appeared that one of the spots might be getting bigger – it was hard to tell. Cancer tests, especially after one has had cancer and the resulting floaties – a technical term – remain in the blood, are notoriously unreliable. She was disappointed, bowed, but unbroken. And she still had no desire to put toxic chemicals in her body ever again.

So one spot was operated on today, in a pretty routine procedure. “It’s not the surgery I’m worried about,” she told me on the phone this morning, “it’s what they tell me afterward.”

Camino versus Chemo

I’m hoping they will tell her she can do the Camino. That’s the Camino de Santiago, a thousand-year-old path that stretches from western France across northern Spain, and that’s the Way she wants to travel this September, in lieu of the dread chemotherapy. The Camino, or Way, is said to lead to the bones of St. James, apostle of Jesus, who, like other friends and family of Jesus, is claimed to have left Israel and made his way into European lands more convenient to Catholic churches. In any event, the legend is a minor detail; neither of us is religious. Mom, after an upbringing that prominently featured violent Catholic nuns, hasn’t any Catholicity left in her. So it’s not a religious journey. But it is one in which people can, and do, find their own meaning, and I’ve read that it quite often becomes a spiritual journey, as anything does when we do it mindfully.

I know the last thing in the world she wants to hear is that she needs chemotherapy. I’m hearing of more and more people who have endured the horrors of chemo and who refuse ever to do it again – the horror! I hear Kurtz saying, in “Apocalypse Now,” a movie about the Vietnam war that prominently features chemicals that kill. The horror!

Over the last year, whenever Mom has tried to talk about chemotherapy, she’s begun to cry. It’s one of the freshest ten-year-old wounds you’ll ever see. “I can’t do it again,” she says. “I just can’t.” So she has turned the power of that emotion into the passion with which she exercises and disciplines herself to a super-healthy, natural diet in a world of fake food and other gustatory gimcrackery.

The Purpose of the Camino

About two months ago she got the idea of the Camino from a documentary, and that idea burgeoned into her new purpose. (Researchers into all manner of illness, and even longevity, will assure you that it’s a sense of purpose that separates the happy from the less so, and the healthy or long-lived from the sick and early-dying.)

So she bought herself some hiking shoes and began to “train” for her pilgrimage through Spain on the trails around Colorado’s Black Canyon – at nearly 7800 feet high, that’s more than enough altitude for the 5000-foot Pyrenees.

“Instead of doing chemo,” she reported thinking a few weeks ago, while she hiked near the Canyon, “I’m walking the Camino.” Now you know why this site is called what it is, or at least the limits of my imagination.

What will the doctors tell her after the biopsy on the removed mass? Will they say “Chemo”?

And if they do, will Mom respond, with a shake of her head, “Camino!”?

Instead of Chemo, I’m Walking the Camino!

Posted on June 27, 2011 by admin

A few months ago I saw a documentary on the Camino de Santiago. It sounded great!

Now we’re planning on going in September to walk the Camino Frances, the most popular route.

It’s what I’m doing instead of chemo. I’ve had enough of that!