August 11, 2012

As promised in yesterday's blog post, I have launched my fundraising website for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training, and I'm excited for you to take a look!

http://pages.teamintraining.org/sd/carlsbad13/tpetrovich

It's crazy-easy to make a donation - and any amount will be greatly appreciated.

Peace, love, & CURE!

August 10, 2012

“We have now left Reason and Sanity Junction.  Next stop: Looneyville.”
― Jim Butcher, Grave Peril

And it appears that l have a ticket on that train to Looneyville.  Why?  Because I signed up this week with The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team In Training to prepare for a half-marathon.

You did WHAT?????

I don’t run.  I’ve never been a runner.  Walking?  Yes.  I love to power-walk and used to most nights after work, but life got in the way and I haven’t for a couple of years.  The only walking I’ve been doing lately is strolling with Jake - but that’s HIS time, when it’s all about him.  Walk, sniff, pee, repeat.  I couldn’t power-walk during those strolls if I had to.  Try pulling a big black nose attached to a 101-pound Rottweiler away from a captivating scent and you’ll understand.  So we stroll.  

So WHY on earth would I sign up to do a half-marathon?  Because apparently I couldn’t resist the siren call of Looneyville.

The official uniform of residents of Looneyville.

Seriously, though, I joined Team In Training because of the miracles performed by The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) – namely, taking my amazing friend Carol from a devastating diagnosis of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma nine years ago to triathlete and century bike rider today.  Because of research and development of new and better treatments funded by organizations like The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, Carol’s cancer is gone.  Gone.  That’s a HUGE word in Cancerland.
 

I’m so grateful that Carol has been my hero and a beautiful part of my life for these many years, and I want to do something as payback to the LLS for their part in keeping her here.  I’m also indulging in a bit of selfishness and looking at this as a personal investment.  As of now, my type of cancer – Stage IV Follicular Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma – can be treated, but isn’t curable.  BUT – and this is a big but - advancements are being made every day in chemotherapy and immunotherapy, so by the time I need treatment, there may be even more and better options than those that exist today.  There’s an advantage to having Follicular Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma:  it’s indolent and slow-growing, which buys me time for those new and improved therapies and treatments to become available.  

In 2011 alone, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society invested more than $76 million in blood cancer research.  Take a look at what they’ve done:

http://www.lls.org/#/aboutlls/researchsuccesses/

To help them achieve their mission, a group of us from the National Park Service and San Diego State University have formed Team IPA (yes, after the beer…..) and will begin preparation in September with Team In Training for the half marathon portion of the Tri-City Medical Center Marathon and Half, January 27, 2013 in Carlsbad, California. 

The birth of Team IPA.  From left to right:
Cabrillo National Monument Chief Ranger Ralph Jones,
SDSU Professor Larry Beck, beautiful Carol,
beautiful Amanda, and Lymphopixie.

I plan on walking the 13.1 miles, with some periodic running thrown in.  Team In Training says they can take participants “from couch to finish line” and I’m gonna hold them to it.  And why not?  I’m feeling fabulously healthy, and this was the perfect reason to lace up my shoes and start moving again.  I’ve already received the okey-dokey from Susan the acupuncturist, and I will consult with the oncologist at my next appointment in a couple weeks.  

I’ve begun my power walks again after work and they feel goooooooood…..

Sweaty and red-faced after a 4 mile power-walk
after work on Harbor Island.

…..and got a jump-start on training by buying my first-ever book on running.

How ironic that this book is SITTING ON THE COUCH for the photo…..

I’ll be developing my fundraising page soon, and you KNOW I’ll be posting the link here on the blog (wink, wink, nudge, nudge…..).  

So far, this cancer thing hasn’t really taken anything away from me.  But it sure has given me a lot:  a healthier diet, peace and gratitude, and a greater boldness.  I’ve done countless 5K walks for various charities over the years, but never anything like this.  

This time, however, it’s personal.  Insanity and madness, yes, but personal. J

“Dispute not with her: she is a lunatic.”
― William Shakespeare, Richard III 

August 4, 2012

Weekly acupuncture with Susan yesterday.  I can unequivocally say that I trust her completely.  She helped me tremendously several years ago with back and neck issues, and subsequently with peri-menopausal symptoms, so I’m a firm believer in the voodoo magic she casts upon my body by way of her needles.  And it’s not just the acupuncture.  It’s the vibe at her clinic that helps with healing, too.

Treated yesterday in the appropriately-named Garden Room.

How can a room NOT have a good vibe with
a cozy quilt hanging on the wall?

It's all Greek to me.....

I believe it’s essential that one feels faith and trust with their health care providers.  After all, your life is literally in their hands.  Doubts or misgivings serve no purpose except to compromise care.

Back on May 7, I wrote about being your own best advocate when it comes to health.  At that time, I was feeling very antsy because my bone marrow biopsy wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks.  The biopsy was the last piece in the puzzle to get this cancer thing staged and to find out what I was up against, so naturally I wanted it done as soon as possible – NOT in three weeks!  So I made a call to the oncologist’s office, advocated for myself, and got the biopsy moved up to avoid that interminable wait.  It’s a good feeling to be in charge and in control, even with a little thing like changing the date of an appointment.
 
Now, I will preface this next part by saying that I love Dr. Glenn, the oncologist – she has a very calming demeanor, gentle hands, and a great sense of humor.  She said this cancer thing was no big deal (which exactly mirrors my philosophy), and her treatment plan (watch-and-wait until I become symptomatic) follows the current protocol for this type and stage of cancer.  So it’s all good, right?

But something wasn’t right – an indefinable element that kept buzzing around my head like a fly. 

 

I finally figured it out, and this isn’t going to make a whole lot of sense:  I felt that the choice of how I was going to face this diagnosis was being decided for me by my oncologist - even though it was the exact same approach I would take.  (See?  I told you it wouldn’t make sense!) 

Being diagnosed with Stage IV cancer is a big-ass deal.  You know, it's the whole “I-guess-I’m-not-immortal-after-all” revelation.  There is no Stage V.  I want my oncologist to SAY this is a big-ass deal.  Something along the lines of, “My god, woman – YOU HAVE STAGE IV CANCER!!!!!” 

OK, maybe not THAT bad, but you get what I mean.  I want the situation to be acknowledged as a big deal.  Sometimes you just want the facts, the straight data – and then YOU want the choice of how to deal with it.

I’m good with the diagnosis.  I’ve accepted it.  But I wanted to be the one to decide that it’s not a big deal for me personally.  I don’t want someone else to tell me that.  It’s all part of feeling in control during an uncontrollable situation, and choosing how to react.  Wow – I really sound like a control freak, huh?!

So I did some research, weighed the pros and cons, and again decided to advocate for myself by switching oncologists - same medical group, same office (they probably even share exam rooms).  Dr. Hampshire is someone I’ve heard great things about, so I’m gonna give him a try.

The 3-month check-up with Dr. Glenn was scheduled for August 17; I was fortunate to get an appointment with Dr. Hampshire for August 20 instead.  Because we’re still working within the same medical group, Dr. Hampshire will be able to pull up all my records, reports, scans, etc. and will be able to take the baton from there.
 
Do I feel bad about leaving Dr. Glenn?  Yes.  I really like her.  But it’s nothing personal against her.  That fly was always going to be buzzing around my head if I didn’t do something about it.  I felt this was the right time to make the switch, not further down the road when I’m undergoing treatment or sick or stressed.
 
What are the take-aways from this experience?  When it comes to cancer, you gotta advocate for yourself.  You gotta be in control.  And you gotta do what’s right for you.
 
Hmmmmm.  A lot like life in general, yes?

This has absolutely nothing to do with anything -
I just thought it was funny.....!

 

July 30, 2012

Acupuncture with Susan last Friday.  Continuing to feel well and healthy and very un-sick!  I can’t emphasize how grateful I am for this normalcy, because I know full well the eventual ramifications of this disease.  I’m thankful for every day that I can go to work, labor in the garden, take Jake on long walks – anything that doesn’t involve cancer.  

I made the cognizant decision a while ago to make this cancer thing an insignificant part of my life.  I mean, at this point, why shouldn’t I?  It’s not affecting how I feel, it’s not influencing how I live, I’m not undergoing chemo right now – so why shouldn’t I tuck it away on the back burner?  Susan and I had this discussion on Friday.  She holds the belief that I should be fully aware at all times of this unwanted guest who’s set up housekeeping in my lymphatic system and bone marrow.  

I explained that I am indeed acutely aware that I have Stage IV Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma – it’s one of the reasons I frequently utilize the full term when describing it – and it’s never far away in my daily consciousness.  Every day, I read or research something new about it (or blog about it).  However, I’m not giving cancer the power to dictate how or what I do.  

Instead, I’m choosing to give power to:

Balance.
Levity.
Joy.
Forgiveness.
Beauty.
Mindfulness.
Strength.
Relaxation.
Tolerance.
Peace.

And, the biggest of all:  letting go. 

People and issues and past hurts that were monumental not very long ago are mere blips on the radar screen.  To be sure, I dwell, ruminate, and stew like every one else, but it’s so much easier now to give the matter due attention and then just let it go.  Life truly IS too short, ya know?  Why would one choose to fill their mind and spirit with negatives and grudges and damaging stuff?  Because that’s exactly what it is: a choice.  We all make the choice to either be pissed off or weak or bitter – or to sac up, face it head on, and roll with it (whatever “it” may be at the moment).  

Now, given that our time here is finite, how would YOU rather live?  

For me personally, the role of wounded little bird just never fit very well.  

So, I adjust my allegorical nuts, don’t give cancer any power, and make sure I do everything I can to keep it an insignificant part of my life.

And life is GOOD!

 

Jake thinks so, too!

July 17, 2012

I’m feeling scary well and living a perfectly normal life.  I am so grateful that for me, right now, Stage IV cancer really doesn’t mean anything in terms of how I feel, what I’m able to do, or quality of life, aside from the occasional fatigue and body aches.  I absolutely do not take this period for granted, because I know it will change at some point.  I just don’t know when.  

I think the major contributing factor of why I’m feeling so well – and not allowing any covert stress or anxiety sneak in and affect my health – is due to being proactive and not just passively doing “watch and wait.”  I’ve never really accepted that term.  It’s as if one is in a state of suspension, forever waiting for the other shoe to drop.  That’s not a good life philosophy.  “Watch and live” is much more apropos, and it’s helped tremendously during these three months since diagnosis.  

A big part of the “watch and live” tactic is the continuing treatment I’m receiving from Susan, the awesome acupuncturist / naturopath / nutritionist.  The newest weapons Susan has armed me with are OncoMAR and OncoPLEX…..

…..and you can bet I did copious amounts of research on them!

Nine separate reports on OncoMAR -
and there are many more that I read but didn't print!

OncoMAR (also known as Avemar) is fermented wheat germ extract that carries out a critical function.  Abnormal cells (including cancer cells) can build a protective “sheath” around themselves in the form of a surface molecule that disguises them from attack by the immune system, allowing them to continue to develop and grow undetected by the body’s own natural killer (NK) cells.  Fermented wheat germ extract / OncoMAR suppresses the abnormal cells’ ability to generate that surface molecule which masks them from detection, so that the NK cells can recognize them and do their job.

(If you couldn’t already tell, this shit is just fascinating to me!)  

OncoPLEX is super-packed with sulforaphane, a naturally-occurring compound in broccoli that supports “cell suicide” (apoptosis, or PCD - programmed cell death) in cells that have the potential to mutate.  If you recall your basic cell biology, cancer cells run rampant because the DNA becomes damaged or mutates and the cells don’t die when they normally should.  OncoPLEX is like the Dr. Kevorkian of cell suicide, facilitating it to happen.  YAY for cancer cell apoptosis!  

My next appointment with Dr. Glenn the oncologist is a month from today, on August 17.  Since my last appointment with her in May, I’ve integrated the following into my life:  

• Education, education, education.  You can never learn too much about the creepy-ass disease that’s decided to make your body its home.  
• Weekly acupuncture treatments to empower my immune system and to try and keep this cancer thing indolent.  
• Daily OncoMAR and OncoPLEX.  
• Daily Green Goodness smoothie (kale, chard, carrots, blueberries, raspberries, whey protein powder, milled flax seed) – a whole buttload of nutrients, antioxidants, and Omega-3.  
• Eliminating most meat and dairy.  Well, with the exception of my beloved Combo #4 from Nando’s (cheese enchilada and taco) and my nightly bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream!  Come on now!  
• Incorporating even more healthy grains into my diet than before, like sprouted grain pasta and cooking with lots of lentils for protein and quinoa for its antioxidant phytonutrients.  
• Snacking on sunflower seeds and Brazil nuts for the antioxidants and nutrients, and for the selenium that slows the propagation of cancer cells.  
• Eliminating bottled water and using a water filter.  Do you know how nasty San Diego’s tap water tastes?!?  Add that to the cancer-causing BPA that can leach out of plastic bottles into water, and a household filter and aluminum water bottle make a lot more sense.  
• Using organics whenever possible.  
• More mindfulness.  More gratitude.  Less stress.

I’m not sure what testing, if any, Dr. Glenn will order at the August appointment – blood work, CT or PET scan, or ???  I’m still a newbie in Cancerland and don’t know what to expect in terms of monitoring.  I’m curious to see if three months’ worth of changes and better choices has facilitated any improvement.  Don’t get me wrong:  I’m fully aware that while my form of NHL can be treatable, it’s not curable.  But, if we can keep it from progressing, or knock it back a little, then that keeps toxic treatments like chemo and its side effects off the table for a while longer.  

Regardless, I can say one thing for certain:  I am so much healthier with Stage IV Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma than I was before!

July 5-6, 2012

I had to do it.  I had to force myself to venture out of the cocoon I was beginning to swathe myself in, the self-imposed travel aversion I had been weaving around my psyche.  I realized it was becoming a problem when I was saying “no” to trips more than I was even saying “maybe.”  That’s just not me, and it was time to step up and reclaim my wanderlust!  

So it was off to Big Bear for an overnight Cancercation.  I was badly in need of a day off from cancer – from research and reading and stressing – but needed to stay somewhat close to home so my anxiety level wouldn’t skyrocket.  Big Bear was only a couple hours away with an abundance of bed-and-breakfast inns (no camping this time – if I was going to be away from home, it was gonna be as foo-foo as possible, dammit!).  

I booked a room at Gold Mountain Manor, a magnificent log mansion built in 1928, and hit the road.





Stunning July day at Big Bear.



Gold Mountain Manor.

Above the Southern California smog line, I regained my peace, my balance.  Apprehension about venturing away from home vanished, replaced by seriously blue skies punctuated by bright white afternoon clouds, sparkling clean air, and brilliant sunshine.  Trees.  Water.  Birdsong.  LIFE.  

Cancer?  What cancer?  I was again normal.  I wasn’t “newly diagnosed with Stage IV Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”  I was just me, on a roadtrip and enjoying a few summer days in Big Bear.  And it was fucking awesome.

A friendly local.....

Loving the beautiful gardens and grounds of the Manor.

Soaking up the gorgeous mountain sun on the veranda.

Looking back toward the lake while
riding the ski lift to the top of Snow Summit.

So what was my take-away from this little adventure?  A whole bunch of “nevers.”  Never permit fear to take hold.  Never let cancer dictate what I will or will not do.  Never allow cancer to prevent me from doing something that I’ve always loved.  And never, EVER give cancer any power.  

I view this as one of many cancer tests, to see how far I would back down, how much of my life I would give up because of the fear that this cancer thing tries to incite.  

Well, I got news for you, lymphoma: 

July 1, 2012

During the weekly acupuncture appointment with Susan on Thursday, I posed a question to her about an issue that’s been vexing me lately.  

The background:  Since being diagnosed in April of this year (and finding out a month ago that it's Stage IV), I've become pretty much a scaredy-cat.  Although I'm watch-and-wait and asymptomatic (except for the achy bones at times and occasional severe fatigue), I've become uber-reluctant to venture away from home except to go to work and run errands.  My passion has always been travel and I've always had a vacation or camping trip in the works as something to look forward to.  But right now, I just don't want to be away from home.  It’s rare that I’ll go camping, even with my beloved “Stella” parked in the driveway patiently waiting for our next adventure.  Right now, I'm content just to hang with my dog and my books and my garden.
 

Stella, BTCT*
(* Before This Cancer Thing)

What happened to my adventurous spirit?  I’m the one who hates to fly but who traveled to Italy with two girlfriends, and who learned to tow her own trailer solo because I love to camp and don’t want to be dependent on anyone else.  Where'd my boldness go?  Is it a heightened sense of vulnerability?  Maybe a fear of this cancer thing rearing its head far away from home?  

Susan, in her wisdom, put it simply:  I’m nesting in the comfort of the familiar to allow my body and mind time to adjust to this reality.  Indeed, my world was kinda turned upside down by this diagnosis, so a hankering for the familiar and the routine is a natural response.

Nesting is a good thing.....

OK - that’s an explanation I can live with.  As long as I know that my trek-love is just on hold for the moment, I’m good with that.  I can relax and let my mind and body do the work of adapting to this new normal.  I know that when the time is right, I’ll venture out again.  

In the meantime, I’ll just have to fill that travel void with some other passion.  Hmmmmmm…..Any guesses on what could that be?

Purse-love!

A brand new creamy butter yellow Coach bag -
just as good as a vacation!