December 23, 2012

It sucks to worry when you don’t have anything to worry about.

One of the quotes I keep close at hand is: 

So why would anyone want to do that?

This was the week for a good ol’-fashion cancer meltdown.  I guess I was overdue – I haven’t had one in a long time.

Even before going on the Thanksgiving trip to the Eastern Sierras, I’d been preparing for an upcoming winter camping trip to Arizona.  Itineraries, campsite reservations, things to see and do – I was in full-on Info Junkie mode, gathering my data and putting the trip together.

Then I was hit with a case of monetary-induced paranoia:  why am I taking all this time off from work to go on this trip when I may need that vacation leave later, if I need to begin treatment?  What would I do if I’m off from work for an extended period of time, with no vacation or sick leave to cover it?  HOW WILL I PAY MY MORTGAGE?  I’ll end up living in a cardboard box under a bridge.

Yeh, I went from 0 to 60 in nothing flat.

So I did what any intelligent, rational person would do:  I backed out of the trip and cancelled my vacation.

Because of my house.

(See?  It's completely “intelligent” and “rational,” right?!?)

My house is an immense source of pride for me and a huge accomplishment.  I’ve never owned my own home, completely by myself, until I bought my cozy cottage two years ago.  (In fact, it was two years ago today that I moved in – Happy Home-i-versary!)  While it’s a gigantic achievement, it’s also a gigantic responsibility:  because it’s just me, there is no one else’s income to make the mortgage payment if I can’t.  I pride myself on always making my mortgage payments early, well before the due date.

But since the diagnosis in April, there’s a sense of financial vulnerability that periodically creeps in.  It’s not based on anything factual; it’s purely an irrational fear.

But sometimes it gets overwhelming to consider that one’s situation could become financially perilous because of illness.  I think of the millions of people who are falling off that boat right now, drowning under the debt of disease and powerless to do anything about it.

And that is fucking scary.

But, the good thing about an irrational fear is that someone else can usually talk you out of it.  And that someone was Susan, the acupuncturist.  When she asked this week about my upcoming trip and I told her I cancelled it and why, her response was, “Are you CRAZY?  This has been a bitch of a year for you; you need to do something to end it on a positive note, and that would be your vacation.  So DO IT!  Don’t let cancer tell you what to do!”

I had fallen into the trap of allowing this cancer thing to govern my life.  Recognizing this, I was summarily snapped back into reality, thank you very much.

And back on track with the trip.

So today I braved the masses of last-minute Christmas shoppers and headed out for a little retail therapy:  to buy Jake a cozy new camping bed.

 

"Are we camping yet?"

 

Wanderlust RULES!  (And cancer DOESN’T!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 15, 2012

 

 

Rest in peace,

sweet babies and brave heroes

of Sandy Hook Elementary.

December 9, 2012

I could get used to this:  lots of camping, interspersed with short periods of work.  Got back from the Thanksgiving trip to Lone Pine and the eastern Sierra, was home for two weeks, then it was out to Agua Caliente this weekend for a desert fix.

It was quintessentially flawless winter desert weather:  brilliant sunshine, low 80s during the day (shorts and t-shirts) and mid-40s at night (hoodies and campfires).

Those who know me know that I recharge in the desert.  It’s my sanctuary, my peace, my center, my inspiration, my energy. 

There, I can be just a desert rat.

Nothing more.  Nothing less.

I can be a geeky tow chick and haul my little trailer, set up a cozy camp, hike on new trails, snuggle with my dog by the fire, drive my fearless Fiona up severely rocky hills to discover what’s at the top, and stand mesmerized under a moonless night sky spilling over with stars. 

I know I say it a lot – and I send up a little prayer of gratitude every time I do - but: 

Cancer?

What cancer?!

 

As always - celebrating LIFE.

 

Little Stella, bedecked for the holidays.

 

A happy camper and her exhausted doggie.

 

Have I mentioned lately how much I love this boy?
 

The desert teems with natural beauty.
But there's man-made artistry, too.
Graffiti? Perhaps.
Sublime when discovered in the vastness of nowhere? Definitely.
 

Perched high on a rusty, abandoned water tower,
Buddha watches over a silent desert.

Twisted rebar and chunks of concrete
frame a desert landscape.

Ocotillo encased by an old mine outbuilding.

Hugely ancient ocotillo towering over trusty (and dusty) Fiona.

 

"Mommy, what's that red stuff spurting out of your thumb?"
Alas, there's sometimes pain with the pleasure of the desert - and mine came
in the form of ripping a chunk of skin from my digit while in camp.

Bloody thumbs are quickly forgotten when planning one's next travel adventure!
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 1, 2012

Puny.
Small potatoes.

Humbled.

Some of the words that tumbled through my brain as I saw the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada range for the first time over Thanksgiving week.  

Boy, did I feel small and insignificant – but very alive and very strong by the time I headed back home.  

Heading north on Highway 395, the granite monoliths appear out of nowhere:  you’re whizzing along the highway, lulled by gently sloping hills murmuring up from the desert floor, and then !BAM!  You get your first glimpse of the geologic drama that characterizes the southeastern portion of this mountain range.  Behind those soft hills (which are deceptively high themselves), the snow-capped granite muscles its way upward and demands attention.

The eastern side of the beautiful Sierras, as seen
from the Alabama Hills outside of Lone Pine.

I’ve never seen anything as dramatic as those mountains.  And what a thrill it was to live at their feet for a week!

Happy girl:  hiking boots and desert rocks - with the
added bonus of the Sierras!

Day trips were taken up into the high country on relentlessly switchbacking roads, ascending from desert sagebrush to nine and ten thousand feet above mortal level.  Tall pine trees, snow blanketing the ground, cold streams befringed with ice, and always those mountains – heaven-kissing minarets and peaks that epitomize stability and permanence.

Lucky those who begin an adventure here!

  

Whitney Portal.

Glacier Lodge.

Dusk at Onion Valley.

Living among the mountains are pockets of agelessness:  stands of ancient bristlecone pine trees.  Some approaching 5,000 years old – yep, that’d be FIVE THOUSAND years old – they resolutely hold fast to rocky slopes and dominate the evanescence of Nature.

"The waving of a pine tree on the top of a mountain,
a magic wand in Nature's hand” – John Muir

Gnarled artistry.

Still very much alive.

For me, a hike through the bristlecones became a sacred encounter.  I could feel the life energy emanating from these dendritic elders that had survived centuries of fire, drought, and the harshest of weather – and were still thriving.  Constantly, I was touching their branches and roots, sitting amid their woody folds, absorbing their longevity. 



Ancient protective arms.

Nurturing roots.

Hangin' with my new longevity peeps.

Gentle elder.  (The tree, not me.....)

Even the rocky trail itself emitted a valuable energy:  bristlecone pines flourish in dolomite, a highly alkaline type of limestone.  Cancer cells thrive in acidic, oxygen-depleted environments.  To counteract O2 depletion, the body’s pH balance needs to swing to the alkaline side of the scale. 

       Dolomite = alkaline = O2 = bad habitat for pesky cancer cells.
  

I know it sounds like New Age mumbo jumbo, but I’m a huge believer in the powers of Nature and visualization.  

There is a vital energy in the natural world that feeds the soul.  When I left the bristlecone forest to begin the drive back down the mountain towards camp, I knew for certain that those trees had whispered to my spirit some of the secrets to their long life. 

And for someone with this cancer thing, I’m a grateful recipient for all the longevity juju I can get.

 

November 24, 2012

After a gut-busting Thanksgiving week camping and exploring in the Eastern Sierras (more about that in the next blog post), it was time to seriously get back to the business of healthy eating.  

Kris Carr is one of my cancer idols.  She’s a best-selling author, wellness guru, and cancer goddess.  Several years ago when a friend was in the midst of her own cancer battle, I was browsing the bookstore for some background and came across “Crazy Sexy Cancer.”  I pulled it off the shelf, began flipping through it, and ended up reading the entire book right there in the aisle.  Kris’ positive outlook and the proactive changes she made in her life resonated with me, and – unbeknownst at the time – would be an influencing factor in my own cancer perspective.  After being diagnosed with untreatable stage IV cancer, Kris turned her life and, more importantly, her diet completely around, eschewing garbage food and embracing a plant-based diet.  It’s because of her that I dove headfirst into the world of green drinks – my kale, berries, protein powder, and flaxseed smoothie is a yummy oxygen-packed blood booster – and began incorporating the heretofore dreaded veggies and grains into my diet.  

After last week’s bacchanalia of small town café food and the requisite gravies and starches, I was actually craving some good, nutrient-rich, plant-based food.  

Wow – I NEVER thought I’d be saying THAT.  WTH?  

I had pre-ordered Kris’ latest book, “Crazy Sexy Kitchen,” and began dog-earring pages as soon as it arrived, marking recipes to try.  I quickly picked out the recipe I wanted to try first:  Squash Pasta with Sage Pesto.  She actually makes plant-based chow interesting and TASTY.

My newest cooking bible.

So today I trekked to the local cooking store, made my contribution to “Small Business Saturday,” and finally bought a spiralizer – a nifty gadget that turns veggies like zucchini into raw, spaghetti-like strands – then headed to the produce store for a cartful of veggies and other healthy shit.

The colors of health.

The aroma in the kitchen while chopping and whirring basil, sage, garlic, pine nuts, and olive oil was uber-intoxicating.  Then the fun part:  taking the spiralizer out for its inaugural spin.

The Spiralizer working its magic on a yellow crookneck squash.

Toss it all together, add a couple of rustic corn tortillas lightly grilled over an open flame, and voila! 

All garlic-y and pesto-y and YUMMY!

Yes, I’m still addicted to sweets, and yes, I’m still a gummy-bear junkie (thank Buddha for the 6-pound bags at Sam’s Club).  But incorporating the healthful and beneficial nutrients of fruits and veggies (as well as grains, legumes, etc.) into my diet has been a BIG step in the right direction for me.  THANK YOU, Kris Carr, for continuing to make it a tasty transition!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

November 12, 2012

This blog has been suffering from a severe bout of neglect these past few weeks.  Not due to anything lymphoma-related – thank Buddha! – just busy living life.

And that’s a GOOD thing.

Attending a 3-day management retreat, a week in San Francisco at training for work, a nasty cold, and preparations for an upcoming week of late-autumn camping on the eastern side of the Sierras have left little time for much else.  Including training for the half-marathon!  UGH!  In addition to missing the last three Saturday team training sessions, I will also miss at least four out of the remaining 11.

I have moments of feeling tremendously guilty about missing the training sessions – I mean, they’re called TEAM sessions for a reason! – but then I have moments of lucidity when I realize WHY I’m unable to be there:  because I’m fully and mindfully participating in my life!  The good, the not-so-good, the drama, the peace – it’s all my life, and I’m grateful that I can experience it despite this cancer thing.

To be sure, the ability to be fully present is a hard task to master:  the brain continually tries to wander in a dozen different directions.  Buddhism and Taoist teachings call it “monkey mind” – the chattering, restless, uncontrollable little beast that noisily leaps from branch to branch, distracting one from quieting the mind.

 

The ability to tame the chattering monkey invites welcome clarity and the ability to fully live in the moment.

 

 

This is the only life we have.  Why would one want to spend it distracted by incessant simian prattle?  Thanks, but no – I’ll continue to keep my mind monkey-free and cognizant of what’s happening right now, in this moment.

 

And right now, as I write this, I’m sitting at my tiny desk tucked into a corner of my bedroom, surrounded by windows letting in dappled autumn light from the trees outside, listening to a Chopin nocturne, sipping on a blueberry-raspberry-banana protein smoothie.

 

And fully aware of it all. 

 

 

   

 

 

October 22, 2012

Recommitment Day, Saturday, October 20!  

What was Recommitment Day?  Well, it’s kind of a big deal!  It’s the day where Team In Training members sign on the dotted line their promise to continue with training and fundraising, and to participate in their chosen event – in my case, the Carlsbad Half Marathon in January.  

The question of whether to continue was never even an issue - of course I’m still on for the half!  Team In Training is a dynamic, passionate, ultra-supportive group of wonderful people united in a single cause:  to kick ass on blood cancers.  

The running part, however, was kicking ass on my knees.

 

That's not funny.  OK, yeh, it is.

 

You may recall me saying (once or twice) that I’m not a runner.  Never have been.  Tried to be in high school and had the same issues:  crap-ass knees.  I was doing great with the interval training in terms of stamina, but in terms of my knees?  Not so much…..

 

Toward the end of the Team session on October 13, my knees loudly professed “ENOUGH ALREADY!”  Since then, I’ve been icing and stretching and acupuncturing and sporting a lovely and fashionable knee brace and only logged a total of 4 stinkin’ miles last week.  PATHETIC!

 

But, the down time gave me a chance to re-evaluate how I’ll accomplish the half-marathon.  And it ain’t gonna be by running.  Just as with this cancer thing, I gotta come away from it whole and intact!  So, not only did I "re-up" with Team In Training, but I recommitted to my original plan of power-walking the half-marathon, and that’s how I’ll structure my training from this point forward. 

 

Tonight’s workout was a fast-paced 4 miles along the bay, with the dual reward of only minor knee pain and a whole lotta sunset.  

 

 

A great ending to a great workout!