January 15, 2013

OK, I MUST be stressing about tomorrow's CT scan.  The evidence:

1.  Chocolate-covered cherries
2.  "Shahs of Sunset" on Bravo
3.  Etsy on the laptop

My three guilty pleasures all at once.....yeh, must be the pre-CT flip-out.....

Someone stop her before she devours the entire box!!!

January 13, 2013

Just a normal week – thank Buddha!

With all the hoopla about this year’s flu season, I thought it was a good time to ask Dr. Hampshire the oncologist if I need a flu shot.  I’ve never had one before, and only rarely get the flu, but being a relative newbie in Cancerland, I don’t know what the protocol is.  He said yes, I should get one.

Susan the acupuncturist, however, had the opposite view:  First, since I’ve never had a flu shot before, we don’t know how my body would react to it.  Second, lymphoma is a disease of the lymphatic system, and the lymphatic system is a part of the immune system.  Flu vaccines work by stimulating the body’s immune system, and since my immune system is already in overdrive from the OncoMar and OncoPlex – which possibly contributed to “The Summer of My Shrinking Lymph Nodes” - we don’t want to inject something that could possibly short-circuit that.  She recommended a homeopathic flu med, and - since I’m doing so well on the natural and homeopathic remedies she’s had me on for the past eight months – I’ll be giving it a try.  

Other than that, it’s fanatical hand-washing and staying away from sickies for me!

 

The next CT scan is this Wednesday, January 16, followed by an appointment with Dr. Hampshire on January 22.  I’m still fretting over this scan, because of the lower back pain and periodic severe exhaustion.  Let’s hope they’re just side effects of getting older…..

 

Meanwhile, I’m still (and will forever be) in Info Junkie mode – and a recent trip to the bookstore resulted in three more tomes added to my Cancerbrary:

 

An absolutely fascinating and extremely well-written book - it's impossible to put down!

 

There's not enough hours in the day for all the reading I want to do!

 

Besides the CT scan, the next BIG THING coming up is the half marathon on January 27!  Saturday’s workout session with Team In Training was awesome – so much energy, enthusiasm, and spirit.  It’s great to be involved with a huge group of AMAZING people whose goal is the same as yours:  to wipe out blood cancers.

 

Lemme tell ya, tho – it was HARD HARD HARD to get up out of the warm bed on Saturday morning in the pre-dawn darkness and head into the 34 degree chill outside to put those miles under my shoes.  Even harder was trying to scrape ice off my windshield.  We just don’t have ice scrapers in our cars here, so I had to resort to a SoCal improvisation:  a credit card.

 

Dubbed "The Defrostinator" by my daughter.....

A special treat at session was seeing an old bro and his beautiful daughter working one of the aid stations. 

 

 

 

 

 

Mark and I – along with my Ultimate Cancer Hero and Goddess Carol - worked together many years ago and will always be buds.  Mark is one of those genuinely GOOD people, with a big, generous heart and a fabulous wit – and I’m blessed and grateful to have him as part of my posse.

 

Saturday’s session was the next-to-last official training we’ll have before our event on the 27^th and we had a great turnout, so it was the perfect time for a team photo: 

San Diego Team In Training Winter Marathon Team
is IN DA HOUSE!

Earlier this week brought a big-ass Proud Mom moment:  my Baby Gazelle was asked to speak at an event for the upcoming summer season for Team In Training.  AND, to top off her fabulousness, she signed up to do her first full marathon!  She’ll be competing in the Mayor’s Marathon in Anchorage in June, and I’m so excited for her!

The Baby Gazelle

Although her feet fly over the miles when she’s running, she still manages to remain grounded and balanced in her other life as a Park Ranger:

 

Now THIS is the embodiment of spirit and life!

 

 

 

 

January 6, 2013

Had a beautiful, restful, week-and-a-half-long winter camping trip to Arizona following Christmas, despite my severe reluctance to go in the first place!

The first half of the trip saw much snow and overnight temperatures dropping into the single digits – um, BURR for this SoCal girl!  

At the Grand Canyon the day after Christmas.  Snow, fog, and cold, cold, cold!
Thank Buddha for a cozy sock monkey hat bought at the hardware store a few months ago!
(Doesn't everyone buy their best chapeaux at the hardware store?!?)

And BURR for Jake, too - this was his first time in the snow!
Good thing he was wearing his coat/saddle blanket!

But snowstorms also meant that not a lot of people were out camping!  At one state park campground, there were only two rigs there.  Ahhhhh, blissful solitude!

The last half of the trip was considerably warmer, having made the trek into the Verde Valley and then onto Arizona’s “West Coast” – the Colorado River.  After a week of piling on layer upon layer of clothing every day, being able to hike in the magnificent desert sun in short sleeves was a glorious treat!  

Finally, sun and WARMTH!!!

Although I reconciled and reasoned my way into going on the trip after that initial bout of paranoia (see blog post of December 23), alas, all was not stress-free.

Unfortunately, dwelling on this cancer thing has been front and center of my brain since the Thanksgiving trip to the Eastern Sierras.  A little before then, I began to notice some pain in my lower right back.  Not excruciating, not life-altering – just there.  But because it’s unlike typical muscle pain I’ve had before, of course my cancer-induced neuroses conjured up the most dreadful of scenarios, even though I otherwise continue to feel fine.

My next CT scan is January 16, and I’ll see Dr. Hampshire the awesome oncologist after that to go over the results.

But the lower back pain combined with specter of the upcoming scan has instilled a good deal of – dare I say it? – fear.

Ugh.

I SO didn’t want to go there.

But sometimes, as hard as you try otherwise, you just can’t help it.  The mind takes over and all of a sudden you’re scared.

Because I know that at some point, this cancer thing will take a turn and go in a direction I don’t want to go:  down the Chemo Road to the junction of Vomiting Avenue and Hair Loss Street.  And ya know, I’d rather not set my GPS for that location, thank you very much.

The advantage to Stage IV Asymptomatic Follicular Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is that time is on my side:  while I’m in this “watch and wait” status, new treatments may become approved or existing ones bettered to make the side effects not so dire.

But that still didn’t stop me from constantly waking up in the middle of the night while on vacation and stressing about Cancerland.

Is this what I get to look forward to?  Worrying every time a scan is looming?  Paying WAY too much attention to pain that may or may not even be cancer-related?  I needed to find a way away from fear and paranoia, and get back on the road to fearlessness.

While in Arizona, a day trip brought me to Second Mesa on the Hopi Reservation.  There, an older Hopi man came in from running his errands to unlock the artist’s guild building so I could take a look at the locally crafted pottery and jewelry.  He apologized for the chilled darkness of the shop; his power had gone out with the last snow storm.  Chatting with him, I was repeatedly drawn back to a simple sterling ring with a unique wave pattern.  Rings have always been vexsome for me, because of my knotty knuckles (“Don’t crack your knuckles!” my Mom was forever telling me while growing up.  “You’ll end up with knots.”  Chalk one up for Mom – she was right!)  But when I tried this particular ring on, it slid perfectly over my knot and settled snugly onto the base of my finger like it was meant to be there.  Guess who just bought herself a ring?!

 

Hopi artistry.

The man said that according to the Hopi, wave and water patterns represent growth, sustenance, and the continual flow of life.  Yeah, buddy!  That’s EXACTLY what this cancer chick needed to help ward off the fear juju that had been brewing!

As mentioned in previous posts, I give a lot of credence to symbolism and visualization – the “altar” in my bedroom is full of meaningful and symbolic trinkets, totems, fetishes, and ephemera that have been gifted to me by friends and family, or that I’ve picked up along this adventure in Cancerland.

A personal altar.

For me, seeing these things gives me a certain measure of strength.  I know it’s not the same for everyone, but for me it’s what works.

With my beautiful little Hopi ring, now I have an ever-present reminder of those things that have become increasingly important for me to focus on:

Growth.

Sustenance.

And the continual flow of life.

Sustenance:  Amanda.....

.....Jake.....

.....and the desert.

  

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.