Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Tadaa ith the firsht dai...

Every morning I remind myself that today is the first day of the rest of my life. I can choose to live it well or choose to live in pain and sorrow. Being conscience and choosing my day has been a great way for me to stay in the here and now. Today with swollen tongue I read my line "Tadaa ith the firsht dai..." and couldn't help laugh at myself. I could have pronounced the words somewhat clearer but talking in general hurts right now. I think that overall this is a good thing. I need more practice on listening anyway.

I stated early on in my blog that I had spent my entire life talking and not listening to others. This included parents, friends, associates and most of all my partner, Ken. I have been "punished" several times by him with the silent treatment when I cut him off mid sentence. I really do need to learn to listen if for no other reason to have peace in my house hold. I get mad at myself every time, I ask a question and the answer comes back in this form: "like I told you last week...." Most normal people would be worried by early onset of Alzheimer's but I know that I didn't forget, I wasn't listening in the first place. I vowed to learn this lesson when I went into surgery, but still find myself hearing "like I told...." AHHHHH! It's either learn it now or end up becoming a monk and taking a vow of silence. (For those of you who don't know me, that is really a funny thought. My sisters haven't spoken to each other for years, but I am willing to bet that if I did take a vow of silence they would give up their silence with each other just long enough to place bets on how long it would take for my head to explode. If they were really smart, they could promote it as a pay per view event).

I believe that our thoughts create. That is my first rule in surviving cancer. When I look at the tapestry that is my life spread out before me I can see clearly where the stitches became knotted and tangled. I think that most of the survivors that I know could. The thing is that can we do it far enough in advance to prevent illness? There are plenty of warnings in our life to let us know if we are on track or not. The first is simple: Am I happy? The answer is yes or no. It is not a fraction. It is not well, I would be happy if...that just means that you are not happy. The next is simple also: Why am I happy? The answer should be simple and not involve anyone else. If I answered I am happy because Ken is so wonderful, then I have created a situation where if Ken where in a bad mood, got sick or left me, my life would suck! And while it is true, I hate it when he's sick. (mainly because Ken is so self sufficient when he is ill that there is nothing for me to do, so my need to feel needed goes into overdrive.) In truth if I would just leave him alone and go and clean something or do some of his bigger chores like raking or mowing he would appreciate it and I would be too tired to really care if he needs me or not. The point is that there are little lessons to be learned everywhere. This isn't a race. It's not like some crazy version of the Rapture where if you learn every lesson, you get picked to go to heaven. And for the record I don't believe in the Rapture but secretly hope that if I am wrong, that God will take all of the members of the First Baptist Church of Long Beach first. I am so tired of having that judgemental group come to my house and try to convince me that god is to be feared! God, in case you are listening,  is LOVE! And of that I am certain! I can't look anywhere without seeing beauty and creation and love. It is all around us everyday, everywhere. It was there before my cancer and has been there all through the process. So now that my tongue is swollen and I am at a new stage of the process I can still stand and look in the mirror and say: "Tadaa ish the fisht dai of the resht of my leift"! Hey, I know what I mean!

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Somethings missing

It would be too easy for any cancer patent to sit and look in the mirror and begin to feel sorry for themselves. We are, after all, not the people that we once were. Things have been removed and rearranged. We see scars where once there was unblemished skin. Then it is up to us on how we deal with it. Do you wear a wig to cover hair loss or is a scarf enough? Do you have reconstruction? There is so much going on and decisions have to be made. I, for one, am glad that my surgery immediately covered the reconstruction issue. I say that because I am not particularly enamored with the "donor tongue" right  now. Still swollen from the surgery, it impedes my progress on speaking correctly. I say correctly, because almost everyone can understand me, but I would like to sound the same as I did before surgery.

Donor tongue also is suffering from blisters thanks to the radiation. In the long run, I am told that this is a good thing the more distraction during radiation the smaller it will be afterwards and everything in my mouth will be as it should. Perhaps the downward spiral of my mood is being caused by not being able to eat even as I was a few days ago. I remind myself to count my blessings. I have no other side effects from radiation. I am not fatigued or nauseous. My appatite  isn't diminishing, in fact it seems to be increasing. In large part I can't eat as easily or quickly as I was and I can't eat the varieties of food that I was. The other side effect that hasn't occurred is a loss of taste. The remaining half of my taste buds seem to be working just fine! In all of this I am sure that there is a silver lining. I can start trying new foods that I am not accustomed to eating. That could be fun. Also, I have started the groundwork for our garden, so by the time we get in our first harvest, I will be long past this stage. But back to the original topic:

While the majority of cancer patients can hide there scars I frequently wonder if we should. Are the wigs to make the patient or society more comfortable? Recently I was accused of being drunk because of my voice. I for some reason, felt obligated to explain that I had half of my tongue removed due to cancer. I knew the voice would be problematic in the long run. I can't imagine being on the sales floor at work at this point. But Then I wonder, who am I trying to protect? Are the customers so important to me that I feel obligated to fit in? If you ever heard me venting about them after a long day at work you would answer NO! So what is it then? The survivors I know are extraordinary people. Shouldn't the extraordinary among us have the freedom to show there scars? Lately I have been wearing a v neck shirt in spite of the fact that my trech scar is not yet the little line that I am ensured that it will eventually be. No one really seems to notice. Should I take care and cover it to protect those that may be offended? What exactly are they offended by anyway? Are we so shallow a society that we would ostracize people with scars? Before you answer that take a moment and think about what you would have done at each stage of your life. Would the high school you let a guy into the group with a big scar on his arm or neck? How about single 20 something you? Much cooler and more successful 30 you? 40 you? 50 you? One thing I have to admit is that the older I have gotten the less I cared about what others looked or dressed like, but the more I cared about what I looked like. I was planning on being a 50 year old sex pot!

I see very clearly that I am going to be a 50 year old survivor. Changed in so many ways. More healthy and vibrant than my previous self. Wiser? God I hope so, because in spite of something missing from my body, I know that it is now my roll to help others through  this process. So if I show my scars when I am out and about, some one might be offended or even repulsed. If given the chance I can tell them about the scars and show them that they are not to be feared. That person may end up with cancer or know someone who will have cancer in the future.  It is up to me to help people understand that cancer does not have to be a death sentence. In fact, for so many of us it has been the very thing that called us back to life!

Sunday, March 27, 2011

In our garden

There is a phrase, I have been longing to say lately. "In our garden we are growing..." There is no real reason that we don't have a garden yet. I could blame Ken for being lazy, he could blame me for getting cancer and taking up all of his time. The list of blame is endless, but the reality is the growing season is relatively short! It is said not to "should" on yourself, but I feel that I should be outside weeding and making ready the spot. We did get that far and actually farther than that. We worked and weeded and hoed the future spot into submission (and when I say "we" I mean Ken. I served Iced tea, I was some help. Can't have my man drop dead of dehydration on top of where our tomato's will be). This unfortunately was a several  months back. Actually prior to my being diagnosed with cancer and prior to rain becoming and issue in sunny Southern California.

I can throw out 100's of excuses but the reality is that I am daily shamed by my in-laws. Steve and Ruthie have planted for this year. Tomatoes are growing. They have given us lettuce and I drive in to our yard daily to see "the strip of nothing". When did I get so afraid of a little rain? I should be weeding right now! I tell myself that all day long until it is time to leave for radiation and therefore too late. This past weekend I read "The Bucolic Plague" by Josh Kelmer-Purcel. It is a great motivator for anyone wanting to have a garden. Of course right now it is a source of my shame. I should (there is that word again) be working the land. I want the perfect tomato! I want a salad that doesn't taste like cardboard, but springs to life in your mouth. Even the vegetables purchased from the organic farmers market don't taste as good as the ones I remember from my childhood. My parents always had a garden. I never got too involved in it and as an adult I regret that now. I also really regret killing my Dad's entire garden one year while he was on vacation and I was supposed to be watering it daily. He came home to a mud pit with sun fried vegetables. "What? I watered!" I screamed back at him. Of course he was smart enough to know that I had not watered daily and waited until the last day to soak the hell out of the dead space. I think I saw a tear in his eye as he bit a farewell to his okra.

Now I want to grow my own food and I am too embarrassed to ask my Dad or in Laws for advice. I think that is a big part of the reason that the strip is still the strip and not the garden. We read Sunset magazine and Martha Stewart Living, but what we both really need is someone to roll the magazines up, smack us both in the head and force us outside. If we don't we'll never have the perfect tomato, or home grown kale, or watercress (what ever the hell that is. Ken keeps telling me I need to eat it). If  we don't master that art of the garden we will never get our chickens and we will never experience the liquid gold that I so jealously read about in the Bucolic Plague. My new friend Csaba apparently has an amazing garden at his New Orleans home (and yes I am jealous of both the garden and the New Orleans part). He has sent me all sorts of inspirational messages to get up and get planting. OK, enough already! I want a good tomato! Today Ken will get the surprise of his life. When he gets home he will find the strip, weeded and hoed! I will be victorious! I will be the type of guy that buys dirt! And I will blog about it!

What would you give up?

To live cancer free for a lifetime what would you give up? Ever think about this? I never really gave it any serious thought until it was too late. Yesterday we ate lunch in a restaurant we have been to 100's of times. There is a sign by the exit to the patio which reads;
.
Warning: Consuming Alcoholic Beverages, Including Beer, Wine, and Coolers Can Cause Cancer. It Can Also Lead To Low Birth Weight in Pregnant Women.

I had seen the sign too many times because it is close to "our" table. I never noticed what it actually said until yesterday. I only saw the part about low birth weights when glanced at it in the pass. Now might be a good time to mention that we were at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants because I have been eating an alkaline diet for quit some time that also involves eating raw foods and juicing. I wanted a Taco! My friend and fellow survivor, Laura, has always talked about moderation to me, which makes a great deal of sense. I shouldn't get to the point where I WANT SOMETHING. I should just live in moderation. I can tolerate several green drinks a week in fact their really...Well...Good is not the word...Satisfying?...Well they are something, but the point is I can tolerate them. I know they are good for me and that I am doing something good for my body! I have been doing QiGong as well which is a Chinese form of meditation that adds movement (perfect for someone with ADD). I can love my body this way as well. The point that I guess I am trying to make is that giving up too much and becoming frustrated isn't the answer. Laura also mentioned people that she had known that had eaten a perfect diet, ran, exercised and then when there cancer came back became angry and gave up. I think that this proves that happiness is part of living well! I know that if I had to start running I'd be bitter. I hate running! I also don't like the gym. I love walking and hiking so I love myself enough to do it daily. That's good enough for me right now.

One of the things that made me think of today's topic is that I recently gave up sugar for Lent. So many people told me, "That's impossible! You'll see! There is sugar in everything!" What were these people eating? There is not sugar in EVERYTHING, unless by everything you mean processed food, which I rarely if ever eat, anyway.I know that bread ant tortillas and bacon had sugar in them when I gave up sugar. I was prepared for that. I have been reading every single label of my usual food purchases and have found no added sugar in anything but the tomato paste I used to buy and quickly switched to one with no sugar. Giving up sugar has not been hard at all. I allow myself to have agave nectar if I want something sweetened like some tea, but not usually. One thing I did try was sugar free ice cream. REALLY? They have to be kidding me. This had the texture of pasty dough. And it was so sweet I couldn't  eat it. I felt bad for the pecans that were wasted in the making of it. And so I don't need it. I would rather wait until the end of radiation and have a small bowl of real ice cream and then every month or so treat myself.

Living in moderation somehow feels right. I may have given up a lot over the past few months but it doesn't really feel like it. The biggest change is that I have replaced a lot of shopping with writing. I hope to in several months time to have much less clothing to donate and a book to show for it. So back to the original question. It is a valid one and one I continue to ask myself daily. What can I live without? Living simply seems to be, at least for me, the right answer. My house will never look sparse like a mid century home. That is simply not me. When I am asking myself what I can do without, Art has never come up as something that I can do without or want to do without. I will seek my moderation elsewhere.

Friday, March 25, 2011

3 hours

They say that women forget the pain of childbirth, which is the only thing that enables them to have another child. The ability to forget pain must be in all of us though. We fall down and go on walking, although maybe a little more cautious of the potholes. We get hurt by a lover, yet dare to love again. I was reading over early segments of my own blog and completely was shocked by my surgery. It is only a foggy memory to me now. The ability to forget pain is a gift. Life brings many gifts to us if we are prepared to accept them as gifts. One of the gifts of cancer is the "membership". You can read every book on the subject, you can have relatives or friends going through cancer but until you are a card carrying member you will never see or hear what we do. The sad thing to me is that most people will never hear how life affirming the experience really is. When we get together, hair comes down, Wigs come off (literally) and there is almost no subject that is taboo. As a gay man, I can honestly say that I now know more about breasts and what can happen to them than just about any straight man on the planet. I have absolutely no idea what I will do with that information, though, unless Trivial Pursuit comes out with the "Boobs" edition. If that ever happens, trust me you don't want to play against me, because you are going down!

One of the interesting things that I have noticed is that women never ask men about their cancer in fear that it is prostrate cancer. Apparently no man wants to talk about this. On my shuttle (I take a shuttle locally to WEHO for my daily radiation treatment) the men either make jokes about traffic or sit quietly while the women talk about blisters on their boobs caused by the radiation and what the best types of aloe vera jells are to relieve them. The women also talk about life. Theirs, their kids, grand kids, celebrities. I was accepted by the girls on the bus because it was rather obvious that my cancer was not in my man parts. My  tongue is still swollen and I have a visible scar on my neck from the surgery which I guess made me fair game. They seemed relieved to be able to ask a man, so what kind of cancer do you have?  I was glad though. I feel sorry for the quit guys on the back of the bus when clearly the gaggle of gals (and 1 gay) are having all of the fun up front. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by men being quit about their cancer. The majority of men choose not to open up much anyway. For me though, I feel like they are missing a rare opportunity.

3 hours. That is what it takes to make the round trip from my local Kaiser to the one in West Hollywood. For 3 hours a day you can say anything. It is a gift. I think that if all of the people of the world set aside even 1 hour a day where no subject was taboo and you could talk about yourself and others with a group, we would all be much healthier. I've seen it work in the form of 12 step programs and Weight Watchers. Why not just have global group therapy. We all have fears and insecurities. Why pay a therapist for years when in a few weeks we could lay it all out on the table? You might not get answers, but somehow just being free to admit that you are afraid out loud can be enough to get your own spiritual connections working and you can answer your own questions therefore fixing your own life. (just like in therapy). I have seen it so many times in my friends eyes who are survivors. There is a little extra light that makes you wonder what they know or what they are up to. In such a short time I have come to understand that light. It come when you are no longer afraid to live. So many have seen what could have been their demise and choose another path. I think that the light has been put there to help guide others along the way.

Thinking about the people in my life who are survivors (and were survivors before I had ever met many of them). I now understand the attraction I initially felt for them. It is said that each level seeks its own. Life may have many levels but the joy of living seems to be truly understood by so few. Of course in this country where we tend to discard our elderly who can blame them? I still remember my Great Grandmother Kelly though, she lived to be 102. She seemed to know the secret. She lived her life and then one morning went to take a nap after breakfast and left this world. I have always believed that her death was on her terms. Now it is true that we  have no children and most likely won't have much family around to take care of Ken and I in our old age, but it is also true, that we have years to talk about it and discuss our fears and come up with a solution.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A Loss of Any Size

Loosing a loved one is hard. That fragile connection is somehow gone and you are left to go on without that physical. We cling to our memories to sustain us and eventually those memories turn happy. We never truly get over loss but at some point it becomes part of us and is comfortable. This is true whether it is the loss of a person or a pet. Today I am saying goodbye to the latter.

I woke up this morning and started my daily routine, let the dogs out, fed the rabbit, fed the fish in the pond and finally went to feed my two goldfish in the house. While one of them was swimming around ready for the food, I noticed that Tokyo (the biggest gold fish) had taken an odd position by the pump. "Come on Big Guy" I called tapping the tank. He didn't move. I watched and realized that his gills weren't moving. I watched praying that I was wrong. I watched and watched and felt the tears stream down my face. Just like that, he was gone. I feel stupid saying all of this. It seems that a 48 year old man morning the lose of a gold fish is somehow immature. I have lost other fish before without missing a breath and flushed them down the toilet. Not so in this case. I have a history with this fish. He has been with me for around 9 or 10 years, but the feelings go well beyond the time.

Early in our relationship, Ken and I were living in a very cute little craftsman style house. Ken loving gardening turned the back yard into an oasis! It went from a half dead grass patch and a lump of 30' bamboo to our own Shangrala. We acquired unusual plants, more bamboos and at the center of the yard was a Koi Pond. (well in reality it was a black plastic pond liner from Home Depot, but after hard work it looked magnificent). Instead of running out and grabbing Koi, Ken suggested that we start off with feeder gold fish. There were a family of possums living on top of the garage and we didn't know if they were fishermen or not. So one sunny Saturday afternoon we headed to PetSmart and grabbed a bag of feeder fish and some food. An hour later they were swimming around in the pond. Our project was perfect. We would sit on the teak bench and watch the fish for hours. Like I had read about koi, the goldfish started following us. Swimming up to the sides and checking the status of feeding time. This went on most of that summer until one morning Ken yelled for me. Some predator had gotten into the pond and the fish were gone. We looked around in the pond checking hiding areas in the water but turning up no fish. The color orange caught my eye and I found a fish on the ground. He had been bitten and was missing a circle of scales right behind his gills. I went to pick him up and was planning on tossing his body when the most amazing thing happened. He jumped from my hand back into the pond. We bought another bag of feeder fish so that he would have company and eventually one survived to become Tokyo's  buddy. It seemed only right to name him now that I felt some sort of connection to the little guy. Fish number two eventually took on the name Fluffy. (for the long fins, it made sense at the time). Eventually our house was put on the market and we had to move. Coming to the end of the move, Ken, much to my horror, suggested flushing the fish. "No!" I screamed. I just couldn't imagine being so heartless to an animal who had brightened our lives.

I had a large vase that become their new home and move by move our fish followed us to our home today. As Tokyo grew to fit each tank I kept buying larger and larger vases. In my mind he was the Godzilla of fish. I loved bragging at the pet store about how old he was. In reality fluffy is just a month younger, but Tokyo has always been the star of the tank and been given credit for the age. He has been there every day waiting to be fed. When I went into the hospital, I made sure over and over again that Ken not forget to feed him. Upon my return home from the hospital it was one of my great morning pleasures to feed him. After surgery I was so weak that picking up his food was about all I could manage. I would sit and watch him eat until all of his food was gone. I had been secretly hoping that he would live well into his 30's and beyond like Koi fish do. This was not the case. So thru my tears I said good bye today to one of the first survivors to ever come into my life. A little life that impacted mine in a big way.

Tokyo is a reminder that death is inevitable. But to me he is so much more that that. He has been living proof that you can go thru a near death experience and live a long life. In fish years he was 214! Not bad! With love (and I know a lot of people think I'm crazy for loving a fish) we can all live a long and happy life. That is Tokyo's legacy to me. Good bye old friend. (on a happy note, he must have known what a drama queen his dad was and went out with Elizabeth Taylor!)

Monday, March 21, 2011

Rainy Days and Radiation

Yet another rainy weekend here in "sunny" California. I had planned on laying low yesterday, until I was handed the honey do list. This meant that I had to be up and ready to get some things around the house done. The problem was that somewhere in my mind or in my body I didn't really want to. I woke up at exactly 10:20 am. Even for a Sunday that is really sleeping in for me. I sent Ken a text and started feeding animals while waiting for his response, which came some 20 minutes later: "You'd better get busy then!" "I know" I wrote back, but for some reason couldn't manage to get myself started. I just seemed sapped! I had no energy or desire to have energy. It was then that I began to worry. Am I having side effects of the treatments? I worried about that for several hours. How would I know the difference if I were tired from radiation or tired from sleeping too much? I could argue that my body needed the sleep but the reality is that when the dogs woke me up around three am I took another melatonin. I've done it before and only slept until 7:30. I had slept for over 13 hours. What was wrong with me?

I was taking a nap on the couch when Ken got home from work. He didn't say anything but it was clear that he was not happy by my lack of attention to the list. He went to start dinner while I snoozed and then woke me up to inform me that I could go and dish mine up. I did and started to eat but after a few bites realized that it wasn't setting well. I let him know, making him even more unhappy than before. I was informed that I could have a "green drink" or finish my dinner but I had to eat something. Fine, I'll have a green drink. I figured it would sort of pay it forward and I would wake up feeling fine today. After one final blow out over the dogs wanting to get up in the middle of the night, Ken stormed off to sleep in the guest room.

I was awakened at 7:05 and told to get up, which I did. I fed our pets and promptly hit the sofa to watch a chick flick, I'm still here on the sofa (in my defense I took a break to start laundry) obsessing whether or not I am suffering side effects. The answer came to be just before beginning today's post. Yes and No. I am sick of the rain! How much rain do we need to have? After 13 years in Long Beach, I have never seen it rain like this. I want the sun to come out! I was starting to feel so much better and then back to back started chemo/radiation and it started getting gloomy and finally started to rain yesterday. I am not suffering any side effects of radiation. I am not achy, my stomach isn't bothering me (I ate a quesadillia for lunch yesterday). And as for the lack of motivation, this is nothing new. My favorite thing to do when it rains is lay around and read. I wasn't an in-house over achiever prior to my illness so there is no reason to expect that I will become one after it. And yes I know that Ken would like me to do everything around here because he is the only bread winner right new. I understand how he is feeling. I also know that his tough act with me is meant to push me. He doesn't want to loose me, so seeing me weak isn't something he wants to see.  He will get his wish. I will spend some time prior to radiation today cleaning.

The odd thing about my radiation schedule is that it feels like a Monday through Friday job. Life goes on all around us. We get caught up in it and then we are faced with getting in our cars, driving (in my case to a shuttle location), being shuttled and waiting around for 3 hours all for 1/2 hour of treatment. It is at best an inconvenience! I was feeling so good too! I started to do Qigong! (an Chinese exercise to tai chi). Now I have this daily trip I have to make. No wonder, I'm feeling drained. I know that I have hit a bump in the road on my journey. I have been through this before. I also have an amazing group of survivors around me to give me advice so that I don't get stuck in the brambles for too long. And yes, I can honesty answer that given the option to feel good or lay around and whine I would rather feel good. Because of that simple answer, I know what I need to do. Get off my butt, get cleaned up and get on with LIFE! It is true: Rainy days and radiation can get you down. But only if you let them!

Saturday, March 19, 2011

What's in front of you

You can't see the forest for the trees goes the old saying. I had heard my mom say this hundreds of times while growing up. It was usually used when I announced that I was bored. Her reality was that I had toys and games and chores and hundreds of things to do that should keep me occupied. My reality was that I had nothing NEW to do to stimulate me. At 48, I still find myself playing the same old game with myself. The only difference is my mother has passed and isn't around to lecture me. Now, I have my partner to lecture me, give me the dreaded "honey do" list, and then follow up via text to make sure that I am making progress. Being bored is much harder in the techno age, but it is still possible.

Once you open Facebook and see all of the annoying requests for a cow for someone playing Farmville you get tired of it. And while I'm on the subject, why are all of my Facebook friends playing Farmville? I can't imagine that an e-farm could be that much fun or more rewarding than, say, planting your own garden that rewards you with real fruit and vegetables that you can actually eat! And what's up with all of the Hearts floating around? I opened up Facebook last week and the entire home screen was taken up by people sending each other hearts. And why did I need to know about it? I have to admit that my more techno savie partner finally got tired of me complaining and showed me how to turn off these nuances. Of course he waited until I was ready to smash my I-Phone. I guess he was bored and got some sort of kick out of my rants. Lately I have become bored with TV. I will be the first to admit that I have many shows that I love to watch. Most of them are not on right now, so it is the stream of "Ken's shows" (as opposed to "Ran's shows" or "our shows"). I keep wondering how much more interesting and rewarding my life would be without technology right now. Well right now wouldn't be a great time to be without technology. We have logged hundreds of hours researching cancer and treatments. Meeting cancer survivors. Finding all sorts of information on how to survive this disease. Additionally, I have used technology extensively to keep in touch with my family and friends. I have mentioned it before that my sisters and I were somewhat estranged at the time of my diagnosis. Through the miracle of Facebook, we have been keeping in touch and getting re-acquainted. I had forgotten how much I loved them and am glad every day for this second chance to have them in my life.

So perhaps what I am saying (to myself) is to seek out some balance. Use technology in moderation. If you're bored go for the sense of accomplishment rather than what ever is sparkly and new. What is in front of me lately is life. It has always been here. I just choose to ignore it. I forgot to accept the many gifts of love that were freely handed to me. Instead I sat in the corner feeling unloved and lonely. I kept locking my dogs out back rather than feel the joy of rolling around the living room floor with them because I didn't want dog hair on my clothes. I stopped sitting in my backyard and watching the birds bath and play in my pond because I had seen it before. For what ever reason I had put my hands up and said enough. But it wasn't enough. I pushed back so hard from life that the only way for me I could see what was in front of me was to get ill. I cannot speak for anyone else. I am not willing to diagnose anyone else's illness. I don't want to make judgements of anyone's condition. All I can say is that today, I am positive that that was the reason that I got cancer. I couldn't see what was in front of me. I was too busy talking to listen. And most of all I couldn't feel love because somewhere along the way I had stopped loving myself.

That all changed with the diagnosis. I recognized what was wrong and made strides to correct it. I want to live, but I want to live a full and healthy life. Before what I saw in front of me was a life of feeling deprived, feeling poor and feeling bitter. Not that there weren't glimpses of hope shining like light flashing through the trees, I had just chosen not to see them. Today when I look at the forest,  I see the trees. But what's more, I feel the love! To those of you who have been a part of this journey with me, I say that I would never have even have wanted to do this without you. I didn't know this a few months ago, but know it and feel it today. I am rich! I am healthy. I am loved! I am all of these things because of you. Thanks for the advice mom! I may have taken a little while to sink in, but it finally has. I guess it is true, the older you get the smarter your parents get.

Friday, March 18, 2011

I have nothing to say. Monkey on the other hand....

There's probably something that most of my friends and family never expected me to say, or in this case write. Lately I have been feeling surprisingly calm and content. Not something that I would be expecting to feel considering that I am about half way thru this process of surgery, healing and now chemo and radiation. Even the fear that I was going through before starting chemo was not the sharp pronged fear that I am accustomed to. It was more of a mellow buzz. Just annoying enough to know it was there, but nothing that set off my flight meter. But here I sit today, the fear of the chemo in the past feeling simply wonderful. And then my monkey brain turns on....

I was about to note that my house wasn't perfectly clean and that was OK, when the voice started in. "Is it OK? are you sure you're not depressed?' No, I'm defiantly not depressed and yeah, it's OK because I don't feel especially compelled to clean it up. I then start to reason with the monkey. After all, I got up fed all of the animals, bathed, made my "delightful" green drink (it's really not bad, but when making it I always think that if a group were watching me prepare this on TV they would be horrified), and started laundry. So shut up monkey brain! I am going to have a nice calm day! "OK, just thinking that you should probably make some oatmeal for Ken" Shut up monkey brain. Crap, now I feel the need to make oatmeal for Ken. And so it goes! Of course I am grateful for some of the monkey chatter. It does tend to keep me on track. Makes sure that I exercise, do my tongue exercises, eat correctly (including daily reminders that it is still lent and I am off of sugar. "But monkey brain, St. Patrick's day is a day we can cheat"! I thought back. "You're not Catholic so it doesn't count, no sugar" came the mental reply. Damn you monkey!).

I am writing this and suddenly wondering if maybe I am crazy? "Oh Yes! Defiantly crazy!" crept into my mind. Great, thanks monkey brain, now I have to wonder about this. Maybe this is what the people in the support group were referring to as chemo brain. Nah, I've only had one treatment. Couldn't happen this soon. "Well maybe..." Shut up monkey brain. Now where was I. I am going to have a calm day. "Don't forget your appointments". Is it possible that my monkey brain is a Jewish mother? Back to calm. "Don't forget to take out the laundry".... Thank god one of my appointments is with the acupuncturist. She can shut the monkey brain right up! "But you need me".. Not so much. "You just said that you should be grateful for the monkey chatter." Yeah, I said I should be. That doesn't mean that I am. "Oh" came the reply. "Is that all you got?" "I have nothing to say" came the response. Cool, we are on the same page now.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Only Fear Itself.

When FDR spoke the immortal line that "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself", he certainly got it right! I believe that he understood that line on a personal level better than any other American President could ever have because of his paralytic illness that kept him confined to a wheel chair. Imagine, if you will, one of the most powerful men in the world placed in a situation where people booth looked down (both literally and figuratively) and had pity on him. Only a powerful person indeed could overcome those obstacles and be remembered the third top president of all time, only behind George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. Impressive as it is, I don't believe that it was any accident. FDR understood that fear would destroy you and that overcoming your fears would make you strong.

It seems that we have all forgotten that message in this day and age. We are paralyzed by fear, so much so that we remain glued for hours to the television watching "Storm watch updates" (for much of the country I understand this behavior, but I live in California. A storm here just isn't the same thing that it is in the Midwest or the South). We listen endlessly to the "warning Du Jour" that is flagged as the big news story of the night. (ever notice that those are always played on the 11:00 PM news?. i.e. Tonight at 11:00, is the coffee you're drinking giving you cancer? You watch, because you of course are a coffee drinker. A frightened coffee drinker! Then you of course find that the only evidence of this is in laboratory mice. And we all know about laboratory mice. Apparently every substance beloved by humans gives them cancer. I think that they are just unhappy in the lab and therefore prone to cancer no matter what substance they're given) We watch all sorts of crap on the news, infomercials, You Tube, the Internet. If FDR were alive today and owned a television, I bet that he would have never tried to become president. He would have stayed cowering in his house afraid of some rare mold that was associated with the type of lace that Elinore preferred to use for her collars. Give me a break! Is this what we have become? Oh, but it said it on TV so it must be true!

The truth is that I fall victim to the fear. I let my brain ramble on endlessly, taking me further and further down the rabbit hole. Today was no exception. Today I was my first day of Chemotherapy and Radiation. In our language of scary words those two are right behind only Cancer. (Well and maybe flesh eating bacteria). They are scary WORDS. In the end it is up to each one of us to choose how we deal with them. I was if not frightened, then certainly nervous about these treatments. I know about the statistics, I know that they are making advances in this area all of the time. I also know that even thought I made the decision to do have the treatments, I still felt in some part of me that I had betrayed myself and was about to play out some sort of scene where my body was to become the battlefield of Hiroshima. Good grief, Ran, even I'm thinking it. The funny thing is I'm not even sure why I was afraid. They type of chemo that I am having almost never makes you go bald (that would have been a reason) and given the fact that I'm only having two "rounds" I won't be finding my hair on my pillow in the morning. Once in the infusion center and looking around, it's really not so bad. The patients usually look at you and smile and in a lot of cases say hello. Loved ones are sitting around chatting with patients. My world didn't turn into some black and white film noir, where nurses in bullet bra's and starched white uniforms, kept jabbing me looking for a non existent vein, their dark red (or black, there is no color here) lips forming a thin line expressing their growing displeasure until they threaten to just toss me into a giant microwave. Actually, with the exception that the center was overbooked today, it was not bad. I got to read (currently reading Angle Time by Anne Rice. See above). Munch on nuts that Kenny thoughtfully packed, drank water and played with my phone. Even scored a 20 minute nap.

So what did I have to fear? Fear itself! Our minds can take us to dark places. Even though I have surrounded myself with Survivors who are walking me thru every step of the way. In hindsight I wish I would have talked more about the fear with my friends. Sometimes in wanting to be strong we can actually become weakened. Suppressing an emotion allows it all of the conditions in which  it needs to grow. Choosing to acknowledge your fear for what it is and then standing up and not living in the shadow of that fear is far more empowering. So now I know! Now I can choose a different way of handling things or not (hey, there is something to be said for bullet bras and starched white uniforms) When all else fails make yourself laugh! It is, after all the best medicine and a surefire cure for fear!

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Screw You!


All cancer patients know that they should keep a positive attitude. The right attitude, we are told and shown, is central to our recovery. Generally speaking I do a pretty good job of being my happy go lucky, I'll get through this self, but once in awhile a situation comes along that makes me want to scream Screw You! I am glad that I know that suppressing my emotions is just as harmful as a negative attitude. It gives me the permission and even demands that I allow myself to feel whatever I am feeling. Let me back up to yesterday so that I can explain this little outburst.

Yesterday morning, I had a few errands to run, starting off at the bank. There were two parking spots available in a full lot and even though the car to the left had parked leaving only a small amount of room, I choose to park next to them. Did my banking and came out to find that another car had backed into the spot on my right (I just don't understand peoples need to back in, is this for a faster get away?). I miss judged the distance and broke their right hand passenger mirror. I looked around trying to figure out which business the owner was in so I could alert them when I was confronted by a very tall black gentleman screaming that I was some "f'd" up weird Frankenstein looking "Mo-Fo" I assumed him to be the driver so I apologised but upon hearing my voice (keep in mind the half of a tongue thing), he told me to shut the "f" up he didn't want to hear my drunk ass. I felt weak and helpless and most of all shocked. He just told me I looked like Frankenstein. I believe that I have already established that I'm vain as all get out. Were my friends and family lying to me when they said I looked good? Did they really mean that considering what you've been thru you look good? Was I lying to myself when I looked in the mirror? Not knowing what to do or say, I blurted out, "Hey, give me a break. I'm not drunk, I have cancer. I just had half of my tongue removed so I can't speak clearly" The man backed down and when I looked at him he his face it clearly read FEAR! A surprisingly small voice came out of him as he backed up quickly. "OK, man, God bless." His hand went up to  signal "we don't want no trouble here". He almost tripped getting into another car that two young ladies had been sitting in and was gone. I looked up and the puzzled driver of the car had appeared looking quite puzzled. "Excuse me, but was that you that hit my car?' Oh, crap, don't tell me I have to go thru this again! As it turned out he was very nice and because it was a rental really didn't care. We quickly exchanged information and the situation was over. Except it wasn't over! First I was saddened at how low we can sink as a society. That complete strangers feel that it is acceptable to scream at someone that they have little or no connection to. Did he feel that he needed to defend another stranger by taking one out?  Now I wanted to scream! I wanted to find the man and yell at him. "So you don't like my cancer? How the hell do you think I feel? I sound drunk? How do you think this voice sound in my ears? like a symphony? No! I wanted to spit on him and tell him that cancer was contagious! I was pissed!

"OK Ran, too far. Reign it in. This is not healthy " my inner voice called to me. "Screw You! was all I could think of. I was reminded of a recent trip to my hair stylist. She and I hadn't seen each other since before my diagnosis so I was catching her up on my diagnosis and surgery. I noticed another patron giving me "stink eye" in the mirror. Later on the street, Ms. Stink eye was talking on her cell phone, saying "This guy kept talking about his cancer. I don't know why those people don't keep such things to themselves. Illness should be a private matter." I let that one go because she was older and I could see someone of that generation having that opinion. I will admit wanting to snatch her cell phone out of her hand and Scream, "Oh I am horribly sorry that my cancer makes you uncomfortable. I'll make sure to never speak of it again!"  After those two experiences, I find myself being angry at myself for feeling the need to justify my being by my illness. After all, who the heck was that guy screaming at me? Wouldn't I under normal circumstances asked him, "is this your car? It's not? Then mind you're own business" I have the real owner to deal with. And why did I feel the need to give the woman at the salon a "pass" because of her age? I have always had friends much older than I, and never feel the need to give them any slack. Was cancer making me weak? Afraid? Embarrassed? Well yes, sometimes it does. But the truth is that even before cancer I felt those emotions so why was now any different? Because I have cancer and deserve a pass? No! I do not believe that I am entitled to a pass. When I am having a moment and wallowing in my sorrow, I want my friends to tell me to get over it. I want them to remind me that I am stronger than that, because I am.

As I begin radiation and chemotherapy this week, I might have days that I feel physically weak. I may be tired, but I am still strong, if only in spirit. I may need to be reminded of that over the next six weeks. And if I am not suppressing my emotions those friends and loved one's who braved giving me a pep talk  may hear me scream "Screw You"! And when, and if, I do, just laugh at me because behind the anger and frustration and weakness is a strong man who is (if only in secret) grateful for the message!

The Coffee Shop Chronicles of New Orleans

Monday, March 14, 2011

Yay! It's Monday!

What? Are you crazy? Not to mention that for us living in most of the USA today is the Monday after Daylight Savings Time. Maybe it's like some people say: "Any day above ground is a good day". For me, that isn't it. Secretly I've always liked Monday. I know that the calendar shows Sunday as the first day of the week, but my entire life it has really felt like Monday. On Monday you get a blank slate. There are hundreds if not thousands of possibilities for your life. If you are not happy that it is Monday, maybe today is the perfect day for you to take 10 minutes and look at your life.

Yes, I still know that others think me odd. I liked vegetables as a child, especially Brussels sprouts and broccoli  so I'm used to people thinking that about me. The only thing I have to say about that is that is that it's Monday and I'm happy, how about you? I have to stop here and admit that not too long ago, I wasn't as happy as I feel today. Looking back I recognize that I had actually been depressed by the state of my life for quite some time. Cancer has an odd way of taking you and shaking you. Really I have discovered how wonderful my life already was and am working on making changes so I can get to where I want to be in life to prevent further depression. That being said, I know that there will be tough days along the way. Buddhism's first promise is that life brings suffering. How we deal with that suffering comes from our inner strength. I have always believed that God will never give us more than we can handle. Sometimes it feels like a close stretch. I have had friends that have committed suicide and still hold tight to my beliefs. Oddly enough, I read a report recently from some American Board of Psychiatry, that the most common day to commit suicide was Sunday. I remember thinking that if they would have just held on, Monday would have come and just maybe they would have seen another way to handle their situation.

It is still odd to me that Monday inspires so many sad songs. But then what day would they choose? Not Tuesday. Tuesday is sort of an important day. It is the day that you get caught up from not getting anything done on Monday because you were whining that it was Monday. Wednesday is hump day. The day that the light comes on and we realize we can make it. Thursday we see the finish line (I used to love to go out and dance on Thursday nights. I think it made me feel a little like a bad boy). And then Friday. Hey it's the end of the week. Everyone is making plans and I get to see my sister in-law, Gabby's latest tribute to Friday via Facebook! Then there is Saturday and who (except for retail workers) doesn't love Saturday. The free day (I used to hate going dancing on Saturday's, too many sloshy drunks) anything is possible. And then there is Sunday! It is supposed to be a day of rest, but I never really see that going on. I find Sundays to be kind of blah. Not really depressing, just there. I love to hang out and read on Sundays (which is why I added the link to my favorite new book to today's post, hint, hint) But still the song writers have to pick on Monday. OK, I'm clearly not in charge here, so go ahead. I just think that if you buy into this way of thinking that you are missing out! Monday is about new! It's clean and full of possibility!

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Beauty

Yesterday I took the day off from blogging and just about everything else to spend time with my family. We visited the Mission at San Juan Capistrano here in California. All in all it was a wonderful day and I left the mission overwhelmed by it's sometimes simple and sometimes over the top beauty. I was sad not to stay a little longer but my mother in-law and I vowed to return on a week day with our Kindles in hand to just hang out and enjoy the gardens.

I spent a lot of time yesterday really thinking about beauty. What beauty actually is. The closest thing that I can come up with that makes any sense to me is that beauty is energy. Very similar to emotion in the way that it makes us react. At this point I will say that I am glad that there are all sorts of perspectives on beauty in the world. It seems that having others around and introducing  us to their concept of beauty helps us grow in some quite, but powerful way. Then passing that along to others helps them on their journey. And thank god, no one left me in charge to manage aesthetics.  We would live in a world of Spanish, Italian, and Gothic homes, filled with portraits and religious artifacts and a few Pre Raphaelite painting thrown in for good measure. (On the positive side, no one would be wearing their pants down below their butts. Enough already trends used to be in and out. Isn't it time for some change?)

Growing up, I was taunted by the size of my nose. Are you sure your not a Jew, I was asked by the kinder kids. The others referred to me as Barry Manilow's butt baby, or the spawn of Carl Malden. Even my sisters got in on the act in a good natured pick on little brother sort of way. In my early twenties I decided that if I had a different nose, I would have a different life. I found a plastic surgeon and had a nose job. Upon removing the bandages and revealing the new me in the mirror I couldn't see any difference. I had to look at a before photograph to realize how much work he had done. I wouldn't realize for several years, but I didn't see any difference because I looked in the mirror at "me". Lesson: I am not my body. I am reminded of this today because as I look in the mirror I see where my surgeon left his mark but I still see me. Not someone who is wounded, scared or some former shell of themselves. I see me. I am vital and full of life. I see the spark in my eye. I look down at my wrist (for my readers, the one I referred to as lasagna-wrist after the surgery). I see my wrist with it's new scar, but don't feel scared or imperfect. It is part of what my body is now and once again, I am not my body. An interesting twist to this is tattoos. Maybe because they are art and speak to us at a different level they seem to be somehow attached to us. This could be one reason that certain faiths condemn them. It is most likely another reason that there are so many people afraid of them or who look down on the people who have them.

Weight gain figures into this as well. I have heard so many people say don't they look at themselves in the mirror? Didn't they realize that they were gaining weight? Having been fat I can speak to this. I could see changes in the mirror, but it took a photograph to slap me into the reality of what I had become. So no we don't see. I believe, once again that we are looking at ourselves. Our true selves and we are not our body. Using a photograph there is the total disconnect. I think that is why it is said that the camera doesn't lie. I am glad that I had learned these this lesson because it was an easy jump to realize that I am not my body and therefore I am not my disease. I can manage the disease in my body. I can cure the disease in my body all while being me. Some people will choose not to manage it, not to cure it. In fact they will decide that they are tired of this life and decided to die. While that decision might be hard to understand it is just as valid and deserves respect the same as choosing life. Both ways are beautiful, because in the end we are not our body. If we choose to let go of it and allow it to die, we are still ourselves. I don't and won't even try to pretend to know what happens beyond that point, but in my heart I do believe that we go on. Some people believe in heaven. Some in hell, some in both. Others believe that we meld into the "all". I just know that we go on and that's quite enough for me.

There is beauty in all forms of life. We as humans have tried since the beginning of time to make sense out of it. Managing our environments, sometimes with amazing effect (The historic sections of New Orleans) and sometimes with disastrous results (post 1950's Orange County). Oh and if you disagree with me, cool! It's always good to have another point of view to shake me from my limited thinking. We manage nature (we call it gardening or parks). But in doing so me often miss some of the most beautiful things on the earth. The wonderful smell of wet dirt that did not get planted. The beauty of moss growing on a rock, not placed there by human hands, but my nature herself, showing us that life, all life, will go on. Just outside of our windows we see life and death all around us. The changing of the season. Plants baring their fruit and then withering away to make space for something else to live. The energy in it all is beautiful and yet unseen. Only felt.

Friday, March 11, 2011

What a difference a day makes

We all spend so much time trying to make sense of things that make no sense. I am no exception to this as you may have picked up from reading earlier posts. We analyze, over think and often live our lives in fear from a simple request, like your boss asking if you can stick around a few minutes after the meeting next week. For me my mind goes to crazy places especially when given time. The typical was I  used to deal with this was to worry about it for days and then laugh at myself when it was over for the roller coaster ride I had put myself on. God knows the wear and tear we put our bodies thru doing this. I recently started attending a cancer support group and learned in that group that I was not the only one. One of the attendees described it as the Monkey Brain. I can't think of a better term for it.

Just writing about this I am reminded about the night I called my In-Laws to let them know we would be dropping by the next day to speak with them. By the time we got there the next night I would tell that my poor mother in-law was frazzled and had been up worrying about us all night. It seems that the best way to handle something big like cancer would be face to face, but I felt so bad for putting her thru that. The take away from that for me is that in spite of living only a few miles from each other, we really weren't behaving like family. We could go for months without seeing Ken's mom and dad. I put my foot down and vowed to be better at visiting them. No one should loose sleep because their kids are dropping by. And I know my mother in-law worries about just about any and everything a person could worry about, but I'd like to not be the cause of it and if possible be a pleasant distraction.

So the thing that got me started on all of this was actually the Tsunami in Japan. Ken woke me up this morning to inform me about it and the fact that one of my sisters who lives in Hawaii was probably OK, but it was heading to the west coast and my eldest sister was evacuated. Well that certainly woke me up! It puts life into a much different perspective. We who have cancer are aware that this disease can be fatal. Yet with just the click of the television remote you find that thousands of people have just died. It becomes clearer to me that death is all around us. All any of us can do is choose to live while there is breath in our bodies. To me it just makes life that much more mysterious and wonderful. What a blessing uncertainty is. It keeps us guessing and for me there is joy in that.

I remember staying up watching the news until Katrina had made landfall. At the last minute the Hurricane veered to the east. Content that New Orleans would be OK I went to bed, got up the next day and went to work. It wasn't until I was at work that I was confronted with the horror of the levees breaking and flooding my spiritual home. I was devastated. I was also grateful that I had not been there. (we were actually just a couple of months from returning to start house hunting in NOLA). But I have watched New Orleans begin to heal itself in a most wondrous way. I have seen other cities and countries, including our own,  heal themselves from devastation. And  I am watching myself heal from cancer. The one thing I know is that the human spirit can never be shattered by devastation. It seems to be our Divine destiny to rise up in the face of any and all adversity and choose life. For this reason alone, I believe that I will heal myself of this disease. I believe that anyone is capable of healing themselves of anything. I know some won't make it, but that only makes me stronger in my resolve to live. It becomes our job to carry on the legacy of our friends, family and anyone who's lives have touched us.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

KISS

I remember back in the day, someone had included some sticky notes in my office Christmas present that had KISS (Keep it Simple Stupid) printed on them. At the time I thought it was funny, but now with a few years under my belt, I really see the wisdom of the KISS method (except for the stupid part. I have changed that to sweetheart. We all have enough negativity around us without adding more). Healing seems especially to work under the KISS method. Lets think about this for a moment. The more simple your life is the easier it is for you to have a clear mind and allow yourself time to heal. As someone with ADD I know that one of the biggest symptoms of being lost is clutter. My old therapist used to tell me that if I got frustrated to clean out my closets. This exercise seems to work every time. That is until I look at all of the junk that came from the closet and somehow made it to the dinning room table. But the point is getting your surroundings clean and neat will help to facilitate the much needed healing. Not to mention give your body some much needed exercise. Simple Huh? (I don't disagree that it would be even simpler to have a maid, but for now that is me).

Another way healing responds to simplicity is thru nature. Years ago I had a friend who worked for Pfizerr (yes the Viagra company). It was discovered that there was an oil in Jalapeno peppers that cured ulcers. People who regularly ate the spicy peppers never had or developed ulcers. My friends lab was charged with coming up with a drug from the oil in the jalapenos. As far as I know it was never successful and eventually the project was scrapped. I was reminded of that recently because there was a news story saying  that papaya leaf tea was as effective as chemotherapy on several types of cancer. They interviewed a woman who drank 3 cups a day as part of a medical experiment funded by (you guessed it) a drug company who wanted to create a pill. Using  the KISS method, you would eat the jalapeno and drink the tea and live a long healthy life. It seems that for every malady there is most likely a food based medicine. And why not? Nature always seeks a balance. It seems only that when humans are added to the mix that the balance is messed up. I would hate for scientists to stop exploring and learning, but I would like to see a world a little less swayed by profit and more swayed by human need and compassion. And I do like the testing. What if it were found that jalapenos only worked on someone with a specific gene? The pain that could be avoided. Or if it were found that papaya leaves only seemed to have a placebo effect in the long run? Science is our friend. I am just not willing to make it my God. I already have one who is doing an excellent job.

There is a movement growing in our country (it has already been around in the rest of the world for awhile) urging us to eat organically grown food. I like this, but am concerned that at the same time the news media has created such paranoia over germs. You can't go anywhere anymore without seeing antibacterial this and that. Now grocery stores have a kiosk outside so you can grab and hand wipe. My friend who worked for Pfizerr saw this coming and used to say that the body needed to be exposed to some germs. It is how our immune systems keep working. Without it or by killing off all of the normal bugs we are exposed to all we were going to accomplish was the creating of a super bug that would wipe us all out. I never really gave it much thought, but now that I am eating organic, it think about stuff like that all of the time. Which brings me to keeping our minds simple. I am in the early stages of learning how to meditate. For a person with ADD that is easier said than done. Our brains tend to want to stay on all of the time. One trick I have learned is to just go for a walk. Just the focus of your feet on the ground listening to your foot steps and breathing deeply is really working for me. Soon I'm blocks away from the house with a calm mind. Even better for me is that walking is my absolute favorite form of exercise. You can keep the gym, just give me acres of trees with a trail and I am a happy camper!

In keeping with the KISS method planning is also a good tool. It has become a necessity in our house. I now have to keep to a schedule in order to get thru a day and with radiation starting soon it will be even more important than ever. Kenny used to keep my doctors appointments for me which was working fine, but then I had to have a list of what to eat daily, what supplements to take, acupuncture appointments, exercise: both physical therapy and the Qigong recommended by my acupuncturist. Speech therapy appointments, and daily oral exercises, support groups and writing group. All of this is enough to make anyone feel like the housewife of cancerville. Keeping it all simple and organized, while not natural for me, is saving me from a ton of frustration.  In fact I have never been this organized before. Even trying to be organized was frustrating. What do you mean always put my keys right here? My inner child would not hear of having such rules imposed on him. Ken tried for years and gave up. Only occasionally does he remind me, "well I tried to help you get organized 6 years ago, but no! you couldn't do it. It would seem that I am finally learning a valuable lesson here and hope to  continue applying the KISS method to my life for years to come. Of course now I am just waiting for Kenny to say "told you so!" I guess I will just have to file that under  "Cute Things that Kenny Says (also known as the trash).

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Ya Got to Have Faith!

The sun was just peeking from around the dark teal drapes in our bedroom this morning when my alarm went off. As I had a restless sleep the night before I decided to set a back up and snooze just a bit more. Easier said than done when you have three dogs that have a Pavlovian response to the alarm. In the end I was able to negotiate another fifteen minutes. "Fine, I'm up are you happy?" I snapped at the perky faces who knew that a snack was just minutes away. Once up the morning became easier and easier. Today I had purpose. I wasn't up early to go and see yet another doctor, there was a bigger plan in store for me today. I was going to church.

First of all, I almost never go to church (unless I am traveling abroad and then you can't keep me out of them. I have attended mass in almost every country I have been to. I am not a Catholic, I don't identify myself as a Christian, either. That being said, I was thrilled to be attending mass for Ash Wednesday! My friend Theresa, who was raised Catholic, would be my guide today. We had made plans the day before, deciding where to go. I want it big, grand, beautiful, with robes and incense. That settled it, St. Anthony's!  Once inside and looking at it's beautiful decor of rose and verdi marble and the grand alter carved out of white marble, I flashed on a much younger version of myself. We attended The Church of Christ while I was growing up. In fact, my farther was becoming a minister in the church. At some point, I remember attending a wedding for a Catholic neighbor of ours at their cathedral. Upon entering the vestibule, I felt something that I never felt in our humble church. It was grand. This surly was what God wanted a church to look like! I felt closer to god in that church than I ever had before. They had a piano and an organ (Church of Christ being a literalistic faith, apparently uses a passage from the bible that talks about lifting up your voices to the lord in song, as a weapon on it's flock) I was dazzled throughout the entire wedding mass. I fell in love with the incense (which was defiantly not the dreadful stuff my oldest sister used to hide the smell of her pot). This must be heaven on earth. My mother must have sensed my defection  that day because on the way home she made a point of telling me that it was too bad that those nice Catholics were going to hell because they did not believe in the true faith. (her's). I didn't know it then, but I stopped believing in my parents religion that day.

This morning I was moved to tears watching the congregants live out their faith. While I felt lost in the "script" used by the Catholic church and felt out of beat with the Catholic Aerobics (kneel, stand, sit, repeat). I still appreciated the warm feeling of the congregation. Being greeted by strangers who honestly seemed happy to see us. It was so different that the way I remembered church growing up. The women talking about the clothing other women had chosen to wear. The looks of distrust given to newcomers. Maybe because my father was a minister, and I had a different view of the church, but I saw it as a mean spirited self serving organization and wanted nothing to do with it.
Later in my early teens, I found a book in the thrift shop. I was so attracted to the cover. A dark black sky with diffused stars and a brilliant blue feather floating on the cover. I bought really for the cover art, but the book would change my life. The book was titled Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach. If the name of the author rings a bell he had written a best seller years prior titled "Johnathan Livingston Seagull". The story was simple. A failed writer and barnstormer meets up with another barnstormer and they decide to travel together. The first believes in only in things of a material nature until his new companion starts to levitate wrenches and flies without gas. It has been years since I read the book but I remember saying out loud several times "that's right". To put it simply, I discovered my own faith and spirituality while reading that book. It didn't come from the book, it had been there all along. I knew from that moment on that I was connected to God. I have not always stayed on that path. I don't always feel a conscience connection to the divine. Somehow,no matter what was going on in my life,  my belief has always been there. When my first life partner informed me that he had AIDS the first words out of my mouth were "you can cure yourself, if you choose to". I had not been taught that. That kind of knowing requires a connection. I believe that it is a connection that all of us have and can draw on at any time. Ultimately Tim did not cure himself. He was a beautiful  kind man who died a shell of his former self in a hospital so void of human compassion that they were taking his blood for testing every two hours in spite of the fact that it caused him excruciating pain and fear.

I was angry for a long time after that. Why had been given this knowledge if I couldn't do anything with it, yet I never questioned it. I believed then and I believe today that we can heal ourselves This was 1985 and the worst years of my life were right around the corner. I jumped from the frying pan and into the fire. I volunteered for the local AIDS Project and watched in horror as hundreds of my friends, co-workers, and acquaintances died around me. It was like experiencing a modern day plague. I stopped counting funerals at 50. Stopped attending at 60 and stopped feeling anything at all around 61.  I stopped paying taxes assuming that I was next to go. I didn't. I just kept on getting out of bed and going to work and going to bars to dance the pain off at the end of the day. I couldn't understand how after leading such a useless hedonistic life that I was the one chosen to live. But there I was alive. It was time to straighten my life out and walk the right path forever. Get real, Ran! Those of you who know me know that I tend to swing from tree to metaphorical tree.

Today that tree was St Anthony's. I came home with a wonderful calm energy around me which could be leftover from yesterdays acupuncture session. I find myself wanting to find the perfect ending for today's blog, but the day isn't over. I feel amazing. I have energy to spare. (OK this is almost definitely left over from acupuncture).

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Oh Crap! I'd almost forgotten!

That about discribes yesterday for me. For cancer patients who have had surgery there is a waiting period before you start radiation and chemotherapy so that you can heal to a certain point. There are still doctors appointments and things pertaining to cancer, but for me I haven't really felt sick. Maybe just a little fatigue and more than anything else, frustration! The frustration has been brought on by the fact that I feel so normal until I try to do something simple, Like put a coffee cup back on the 3rd shelf. My arm doesn't want to reach that high and suddenly I'm reminded oh, yeah, I had surgery. Oh yeah, I have cancer. It just doesn't feel like what I expected. Of course what is left is in the microscopic stages of development and who knows, with all of the raw vegetables, green tea, turmeric, cauliflower and vitamins Kenny has been shoving down my throat, it is probably already gone! (I like that thought a lot!)

Yesterday was the day for my "Radiation Mapping". If I'd forgotten that I was a patient I was in for a big reminder. Basically the mapping is just a CT Scan with a few more bells and whistles. The problem here is the bells and whistles, not to mention the technicians. All of my doctors and 98% of my nurses have been very kind, if not fun and upbeat! The radiation team is all business. And they need to be. This is an exact science. They cannot and should not make mistakes (read on, they sometimes do). As the cancer has spread into my lymph nodes (at a microscopic level, I always tell myself. It sounds so much easier to wipe it out) they have to perform a CT Scan to look and see exactly where my lymph nodes are so that can apply radiation to them and not the surrounding tissue. But because this procedure is the foreplay to my actual radiation all of the toys are required. Let me say this. In no way shape or form am I into B & D or S and M. Pain is pain and it hurts. I don't want to be tied down, slapped around or any such nonsense. If you love that idea, knock yourself out and spare me the details. I suspect that the only people who could really thrive during radiation have the before mentioned desires.

First there is the bite separator. A hard resin device made from a dental mold that I willing gave them before I knew it would be used as an instrument of torture. It separates the upper and lower teeth while forcing my jaw forward and pushing down on my still swollen tongue. Then there is the face mask. It starts off as a flat looking cut out, but they attach it over your face after heating it and lock you down to a board (the very board that I will be locked down to 5 days a week). All of this while there is a plexi form attached behind your neck making you lean your head back and jut your jaw out even further  (come to think of it, this might be a good exercise for the neck). For this test I had to have an IV with an iodine solution to help them see what they are looking for. The Phlebotomist first couldn't find a vein. (I've had I don't know how many blood tests thru Kaiser and have never encountered this problem). Finally she found it and hooked me up. My arm started to burn so I signaled the only way you can when you are in bondage: by screaming! They came in and sure enough wrong place. I was about to asked to have her replaced but she managed to find another spot and we were able to continue. So tied down, neck and jaw jutting out as far as I can push tongue painfully shoved down by a piece of resin, in to the machine I was guided. I cannot recall any time of my life that I felt claustrophobic. For some reason I selected this moment. Get me out of here. was all I could think. Maybe if I meditate (note to self: work on the type of meditation that takes you out of your body. Maybe I can go to Disneyland during radiation) not working! Calm down, not working. Finally the machine was turned off and the crew were there taking me out. I was grabbing and assisting. I was told I could leave and flew back out to the lobby.

God knows what Ken thought as I ran up and said "Let's go". He had to put his book away and I started snatching and grabbing and packing the bag. I left him standing with a bewildered look on his face in the waiting room as I flew out the front door. Finally, the air hit my face and I could breath again. Ken found me and we walked in silence to the car. "You OK? he asked. "I will be" was all I could say".  There were tears behind my eyes refusing to make themselves known to the world. I held my head up on the drive home, but knew the truth I'd forgotten in these weeks of healing. I have cancer. This is what I have to do! More importantly, this is what I choose to do. There is so much information out there. So many statistics. Each patient has to make decisions on how they are going to heal. As I have mentioned before, I was originally planning on going a completely natural path post surgery (I wanted that tumor out!) In the end, made the best decision for me that I could. I would use radiation and chemo to rid myself of the cancer. Then I would use a holistic approach to lessen the side effects. I decided this, because I wanted an "end date". I want to know that on April 27th, 2011 when they take me off radiation, I will be cancer free. I will be cured! I know that I have a life ahead to support that. I know that I have to continue eating correctly. praying, meditating, exercising, and having a positive outlook. I know that I have to make the changes in my life to ultimately be fulfilled. It seems funny to me now that to avoid cancer I need to do all of the stuff that I already knew I should be doing anyway.

Today I booked a mini vacation for us and a few friends in October. It is nice to look ahead to the future. It is especially nice to look ahead to the future and not feel frightened. I feel excited so excited that it is easy to forget what I'll be facing over the next six weeks. I hope that while attached to the "back board of doom" and getting zapped I can remember that feeling and let it be my guide out of the darkness and fear.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Time heals all wounds

That is what they say isn't it. Funny that they never mention how much time. One one side of the coin I know that it has only been five weeks since my surgery. One the other side of the coin, I don't care. I have a life to live! I need to vacuum (note that I didn't say that I want to vacuum, I doubt if anyone in their right mind wants to vacuum). Actually I can vacuum, but instead of the 5 minutes it normally takes to vacuum my living room, it now takes 15 to 20 minutes which just won't do. I want the incision on my neck to soften and look like a crease (I'm not thrilled about the crease, but will be happier with that then the canyon that is there now). In short I want me back!

I want the swelling in my tongue to go down so I can talk without sounding like my mouth is full of mashed potatoes. I want the skin graft on my leg to turn from red, sunburned looking to a normal color. I want my wrist to not look like a prosthesis from a Rob Zombie movie. AND I WANT IT NOW! The funny thing is that in spite of a lack of energy, my healing going slow (only by my standards, my doctors continue to be blown away, to which I can only reply "That's nice"), Ken being forced to care for me (I really think though, he doesn't mind. He has never been kinder or more patient. If we were to switch places, I am not sure that I would be the force of nature that he has been). I really feel full of life. It is brimming over and wanting to get out and go play. I know it.

You need to be patient, Ran. I know that. I think that for the most part the frustration is coming from the radiation and chemotherapy that lie ahead. We have come up with a game plan to handle it. Acupuncture, aloe vera juice and pulp (to handle both external and internal burns). Vitamins, supplements, proper nutrition, and light exercise. I couldn't be any more ready that I am from a planning standpoint. But from an emotional standpoint, I may as well be back on day one. I know logically, it makes no sense to fear this treatment and I am not even sure if what I am feeling is fear. I don't like the idea that the radiation will slow down my healing (that is where our plan come in). I do, however, like that it is supposed to help shrink the tongue flap so perhaps the replacement flap will shrink down to normal size and I can talk normally. To further add to my impatience, is that my doctor has ordered physical therapy and speech therapy (at my insistence) but I have not heard from either department to set up an appointment. And I want them! I want to vacuum in 5 minutes. I want to be able to lift over 50 lbs and I want to be able to talk clearly about it when I'm through doing it.

Yes, there is a lesson in this. I know that I need to be more patient, but I can't help but wonder that if by pushing bit by bit, I can heal myself faster. Of course then I'll be back at work, doing what I normally do. I won't have the time that I do now to write, blog, research and reflect. Maybe there is something to this patience stuff. And just maybe the time needed to heal my wounds will reveal itself to me when it is ready or to be more honest when I'm ready! If I were ready, I'd already be healed. Got it!

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Give me the simple life!

I love to read! Over the years I have read countless books. Been taken to amazing places all from the safety of my own couch. When I travel (off of my couch and out of the country) , I use books to guide me. I also love to read stories that take place in the places that I will be going to see if I can recognize any of the landmarks. Our bookshelves are filled with books that have been read and are now gathering dust. We have boxes of old books in the garage that I have planned on someday donating. My favorite genre is vampire novels, followed by historical fiction  and then follow that with anything that seems to float across the home page of amazon. (God am I ever a sucker for amazon!). Ever since cancer entered my life, however, my reading has had to change. Now it's wading thru a sea of books on surviving cancer. Everything from the spiritual, to how your mind helps the healing process and of course, nutrition. On the nutrition side of things, one thing seems to be a reoccurring theme. Cancer thrives in an acidic environment  and cannot tolerate an alkaline environment.

Could it be that simple? I found myself day dreaming about life in the near distant future where everyone is armed with a simple pH meter (much like the ones that diabetics carry for blood sugar). With a simple prick we could find out in a flash what our pH is and make the best decision for ourselves with that information. There is a problem there. Humans have a way of getting in the way of doing the best thing for themselves, myself included. I had the same thought that you are probably thinking right now. No, people want to live. They want to thrive! Really? A walk down Bourbon Street in New Orleans will tell you a different story. They want to escape. And not just once! They want to do it over and over again. And then when those people figure out that they have a problem with alcohol and start going to meetings they start (assuming that they didn't before) to smoke!

Looking back it is amazing to me that much of the drug consumption that happens is teens thru the thirty's. What were we escaping from? Life at that age is dazzling and new every day!  It is a sad fact about humanity that we seek to alter our experience with drugs and alcohol, and yet every generation seems to do it. I was watching an educational show on Egypt and they found thru some of the experiments that one of the mummy's had a toxic level of opium in his bone, suggesting that he was an addict. It went on to say that there were several accounts of drug use in the ancient civilization. Same with Rome. As it turns out, the history of the world has been a druggie, boozie one! It seems like the only time we want actually want to thrive is when we get sick. And then once well off we go for another round (and yes, this time I do mean at the bar). At some point, the vast majority of us grow out of this behavior. Thanks most likely, to children, or possibly  jobs and mortgages and an overall sense of needing to be responsible. And just being too tired to go out on a Friday night. Those drugs and alchohol really can take it out of you! In our middle ages though there is a concession. Prescription drugs! Pain killers especially. My own mom had a long relationship with Valium. Perhaps it is thru my mom that I have learned not to trust society to do the right thing. She was diagnosed with emphysema  while I was a teen but kept smoking until it finally claimed her life some 10 years later.

That is certainly one part. The other is marketing! Messages get twisted and convoluted. Marketing can tell us to do anything and feel good about it. In spite of all of the evidence that corn syrup leads to diabetes, the corn growers have the stones to run an add saying that the body does not recognize the difference in sugar and corn syrup and that it is fine in moderation. How much frigging corn do you guys need to sale? I was under the impression that with the population explosion that there wasn't enough farm land. And aren't you now in the energy business? Are the vegetable fuels not taking off like you'd hoped? I get frustrated sometimes with all of this. It seems that here is really the way things work. I am a typical human. I want to eat tasty food and have fun. Of course I work at a job I hate, but as long as I can eat tasty food and have fun that's OK. So I eat fast food. It is salty and crunchy and cheap. I think I'll smoke, because it helps calm me down when I realize how much my job sucks.Then on the weekends I'll go out with my friends and get drunk. We'll bitch about our jobs and the lack of great restaurants. Rinse and repeat! No wonder we get sick. We are living sick lives. It seems that for so many people I have know that was the case until they had children. Then they have something to live for! That's good! But I for one still think it's sad. I'd like to think that they're is always something to live for. I know that there is. And I don't mean to get down on the human race for doing stupid things, that is how we learn, sometimes. I would love to see us learn to be healthy though. Not needing a diagnosis to tell us to change our lives. I also don't mean to get down on companies who are profitable for spending money helping people. The Ronald McDonald house is a wonderful thing, but what if there were no fast food and people eat a healthy diet. Maybe there would be no need. Just as there would be no need for public service announcements for cigarettes.

That's why we have the ability to fantasize! Dream of the perfect life. And whether that perfect life is one of travel or lived out in a Tuscan village, or a beautiful house and with a small farm and some dogs and goats. They are our fantasies. I think that our fantasies can provide the kick start to our healing. Simply by asking the question do I really want that? If the answer is yes, then coming up with a plan to make it a reality. There you go: instant something to live for". Then we release the other problem. We hate to fail, so we don't try. Our fantasies become weapons upon our lives. We live out these lives that we find only tolerable, while trapping ourselves in fantasies that will never be fulfilled. Sometimes because we are too afraid of even sharing the ideas. My husband or wife would think I'm crazy! It occurs to me that everyone I've ever said "Man you are crazy too" was someone that I looked up to! I have been pretty lucky. My partner has accepted my fantasy and hopes as much as I do that it become reality. (In no small part because it would include him not having to work in a 9-5 grind. Simply put I want to be a writer that can support his household on his writing. I am risking putting it out there because now I'll be pressured to do it. "did you write today? Did you send that off to any publishers? Why is the laptop cold?" I thrive on pressure like that and will gladly trade if for my current, did you drink your juice? Did you take your meds. At this moment I have no intention on writing books about cancer or people with cancer. And while it might happen at some point, my current work involves an interior designer who buys a house haunted by the spirit of a woman with very particular ideas about her home. That being said, it is not a a horror story or a comedy. Just a story about how sometimes you can make a home and sometimes that home can make you. I plan on living to finish that and several other books that I will be bugging you all to buy so I can support our beautiful home, our dogs, chickens and goats. It may not be your definition of simple life, but it is mine and I plan on having it!

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Cold, Hot and everything in between

It feels like I have been cold forever. I can't remember when this past winter started, but the average temperature in my house has been below 65 degrees (without, gas or electronic intervention) for so long it just feels normal to me. In normal times I would just put on a robe or sweater and go on with my business. These are not normal times however. Post surgery your body is a bit of a stranger to you. I look in the mirror and see myself, but there are defiantly changes. Some of the changes can't be seen, only felt. One of them is temperature regulation.

The person I most relate to these days is my Step Mom Doris. I remember too clearly when she was going thru "The Change", how she would react to her hot flashes. "Oh, OH, OH, OH" she'd exclaim while fanning away at the heat only she was experiencing. It was as if some ghost was haunting her by setting up micro climates around her that none of us could feel. I can't say that we were as compassionate as we could have been either, which for a lot of women most likely sets up a feeling of isolation during that time of their lives. Now it is my turn. The ghost now taunts me. Cold (I cover up and shiver trying to let the snuggy and my own body heat do their thing. HOT! (off comes the snuggy) Thirsty (quick get water) Hot (ice for the water). AHHH. Perfect. COLD! (You gotta be kidding me!) This can go on for an hour or so until the phantom leaves for awhile. I'm sure that this was caused by the removal of many of my lymph nodes on the right side of my neck. what ever is doing it, it sucks.

Finally, the sun came out a couple of days ago. I couldn't wait to go for a walk and feel the rays rain down on me. Finally defrosting my core. It was wonderful. Was being the operative word. 15 minutes of sun and then I was hot. I ran into the shade where I was cold. I played this game of Goldilocks and the tree bears for some part of the afternoon. Today was another beautiful sunny day! Yay! I can't wait to go for a walk in the sun (wait a minute, why is this feeling so familiar?) The past forgotten, The minute that Ken left for work, I got on my tennis shoes and headed out. Just a few minutes of vitamin D building sunlight and I finally remembered yesterday. I watched people in the park with their dogs and started to get mad! Why can't I be like them. Why can't I just enjoy this? The words whispered softly to me from within my own head "because you won't let yourself!" Cold can be invigorating, but you refuse to feel it's refreshing effects. Hot can melt your cares away, but your so busy trying to get back to a cooler temperature, that you won't let yourself melt"

The voice was right. In trying to seek some text book answer for what comfortable was, I was depriving myself of just living in the moment and experiencing what I was experiencing. And as far a being like every body else, I've never wanted that! I like being me. So if by being myself right now I go thru some hot flashes, or cold spells bring them on. If I can sit in the sun when it's 75 degrees and feel like I'm freezing isn't that at least unique? The body is a miracle! The way we heal is a miracle! And if we would just welcome each step of the process we could if not enjoy it, at least know how much we would appreciate the good health that was coming our way. After realizing this, I started thinking about the times, I've had a "miserable" cold. If you read what I was doing you'd probably get jealous and say sign me up. Snuggled up on the couch with a book (and now my Kindle). Ken at my beck and call with soup, water and what ever I needed. The dogs surrounding me giving me loving looks. Heck, in hindsight it sounds like a vacation! (OK, my head was filled up with snot, and I couldn't breath but that doesn't really seem like such a high price to pay). Maybe that is what Illness is. A break from the norm. None of us claim to enjoy it, but I can remember on more than one occasion when one of my employees or coworkers had a cold, that I would feel a twinge of resentment and want to be snuggled up on my couch.

I know that Ken will read this and remind me of it next time I have a cold. And that is OK. I need to be reminded of this. Years from now, after I have completed radiation and chemotherapy, I hope he reminds me of this. If for no other reason, so that I can thank him yet again for being a saint. In many ways my having cancer has brought the two of us much closer. Having the treat of loosing a loved one would probably do that for any relationship, but in our case it seems to be doing more than that. I appreciate him in ways I never did before. I have seen sides of him that I'd never seen. And in truth I feel that he actually sees me for the first time ever. We used to joke that we were staying together for the dogs and after the dogs were gone, we'll then we'd be just too lazy to break up. There isn't a lot of that type of joking around anymore. There has been a lot of us speaking our feelings on a daily basis. Some day, not too far off when I am declared by some medical professional as being cancer free, our lives will go on and get back to their normal. As we begin to feel safe again, we will start to joke again. And now for the first time, it occurs to me why I have been writing this blog. I always said that if it could help one other person, then it was worth it. I just figured out that the joke is on me. I'm the one that all of these words are helping. This daily cleansing of my thoughts is part of my healing and later the reading and re-experiencing of these emotions will be my ultimate salvation! I thank all of the readers who have taken this journey with me! I do hope the words inspire and fill you with hope! And if this writing can help one other person, I am beyond thrilled. Thank you!

Friday, March 4, 2011

selfish with a little s

As children we are all taught to share. Share you toys (which we did reluctantly except for the ones that we had become bored of), Share your food (You can have any vegetable on my plate!), Share your room (this line represents my half). Through some miracle of parenting, we grow out of being selfish. We give to charity, we loan our trucks to anyone moving, the cloths off of our backs, change to strangers who had just to ask. We become model citizens. And then we get cancer.

No one wants us to share our cancer with them, NO ONE! And before you think Ive lost it, we don't want to share it either. Yes, we'd love to get rid of it or just simply make one big sneeze that clears it of our bodies of it and flush it. Yet, we wouldn't inflict this on our worst enemies! That is if we had enemies, because being model citizens we, of course, don't. Now that we have cancer, we have to become selfish. We have to take care of ourselves before we can do anything else. Mothers and Fathers upset the order of their households. Single people, ignore their friends. And so on. Then enter the primary caretaker! The primary caretakers job is to allow you to be selfish. They are at your beck and call, day and night to do your bidding! Well this may be the dream version of the primary caretaker, but you get the idea. The problem with primary caretakers, is that they are only human. They still have jobs, still get colds and still have feelings. It's not a perfect system, but hey, it's the one we have. Or at least the one I have. I am sure that somewhere out there there are cancer patients going thru this alone, and to you my heart goes out. I cannot imagine what that would be like. I have read and met some people who made the decision to face this on there own. They only told a select few or one and forbade them to tell a living soul! OH HELL NO! God may have made me strong, but not that strong. I always knew if I was going to get thru this it wasn't going to be by myself!

That was most likely the first selfish thing I did as it relates to my cancer. The second was to second guess my doctors. Not that they aren't brilliant, but this is the age of the Internet we are living in. (and if your a frankentongue reader you already know that my doctor told me I could drink soda, which really made me question him). In this day and age of information, it is the cancer patients responsibility to seek out and find everything that is at their disposal and make an informed decision whether or not to add it to their arsenal of healing tools. And in practicing our selfishness we often enlist others in that process. I am blessed enough to have Ken, who reads all of the dry medical stuff for me then gives me the dumbed down version. I also have an amazing group of advisers around me who took this little trip before me. I rely on their expertise all of the time. Today, thanks to my friend Laura, I finally visited The Wellness Center of South Bay to sign up for a support group. I came away from that meeting not only have achieved that goal, but was refereed to an amazing acupuncturist as well (which is something that I had been looking into).

I have said many times that cancer survivors are a pay it forward kind of group. One of the greatest things about them is that they in their healing have already returned to the land of model citizens and can share with us new kids. It amazes me though, to see these remarkable people who you know have been thru so much just stop what ever they are doing in order to help you. My dear friend Theresa had thrown out her back but still insisted that she wanted to cook for me! Now that is some kinda friend! I don't think that I was ever that nice before cancer and only hope that one of the side effects of having had cancer is that I might be that nice. But thinking about it farther, I can already see little glimpses of it on the horizon. I was introduced to another one of my doctors patients their family just days before going into surgery. He had just completed three weeks of healing and had just that hour had his trech removed. This remarkable man used some of what I am sure where his first spoken words to tell me that I was in the best hands in the medical community. He wife told me that I would be in her prayers. Now just weeks from surgery myself, I have offered myself to my doctor. I am living proof that the surgery can be survived. I will be living proof that radiation and chemotherapy can be survived and in a short while, I will be living proof that cancer can be survived.

I won't be alone, however. As sad as it makes me, there is still cancer. There are going to be thousands of people discovering that if they want to live, then they are going to have to be at least a little selfish and take care of themselves, primary caretaker or not. It is up to each one of us to decide that we want to live. And that is only the first decision we have to make. There will be hundreds along the way. So if you know someone who has cancer and can't stop talking about it (or blogging about it) just know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Soon they will be so busy helping other cancer patients that you'll never have to hear about it again. And that is what I call selfish with a little s!