AFTER GLOW

These past couple weeks held an event, the kind I’d been dreaming about for months.  My oncologist determined that 4 months of Chemo would suffice.  My side effects were getting worse and in his opinion 6 months didn’t show any statistical advantage compared to 4 (due to the Colon/ Lynch combo).  So we tightened the valve, turned off the drip.  And there was dancing in the streets, literally one step and a turn- but that would do. 

So, one chapter ends and another begins.  Practically this means many things.  Regarding this blog it's time to say goodbye.  A metaphorical end for me, or beginning. Life and death, twins that they are.  I’m taking my name away and letting the words float solo in the ether of the internet.  I’ll still add things here or there so hopefully it can help others, but my identity with cancer needs to go.  You see, I need some distance.  I don’t even like being called a survivor.  We’re all survivors in my opinion, cancer or no cancer.  Its always something.  To live or to die.  The conjoined twins reminding me of those two snakes on that familiar logo of Caduceus. 

Caduceus, which I freely used to associate with medicine.  In mythology its the traditional symbol of Hermes, the badge of two snakes wrapped around a winged staff plastered on EMTs and ambulances all around the country.  I realized recently that I didn’t know much about the mythic origins of Caduceus, so I looked it up.  And that’s when I discovered the poetry, or rather irony.  Irony on such a grand scale that it mystifies even me now as I write this.  Caduceus doesn’t mean medicine at all, not really.  For years and years our medical establishment has erroneously been using the wrong symbol!  Can you believe it??  I can.  Someone needs to fire marketing.  Or give them a medal, I can’t decide.    

The tip-off should’ve been Hermes.  I always wondered why Hermes was connected to healing and medicine.  Hermes is the God of trade and thieves- a guide to the underworld, isn’t he?  What does that have to do with medicine?  Not a ton.  Caduceus is closely associated with trickery and negotiation- perhaps the better logo for Big Pharma, no?  Or Congress?   But surely not medicine.  What went wrong? Well, somewhere down the road the medical community made a mistake. 

What the marketing ding dongs should’ve used instead (and granted, some do- which makes them non ding dongs) was the Rod of Asclepius.  Asclepius is the Greek God of healing and medicine.  His symbol is one snake wrapped around one staff, no wings (the wings on Caduceus represent Mercury which is the Roman equivalent of the Greek Hermes, I think). 

If there’s one thing we might deduce from this age old “oops,” its this: The medical establishment makes mistakes, perhaps many, perhaps so many that Caduceus is in fact the more appropriate symbol.  But honestly, I’m really not nearly as negative on the health industry as it seems.  I love my doctors and nurses- they are heroes to me.  What I’m reacting to is the $700 I pay for three pills every two weeks.  The money that others less fortunate aren’t able to pay.  So they don’t get the medicine to help stop the incessant nausea (or whatever other side effect they literally can’t afford to live without).  I sat next to many during chemo.  Its appalling.  Just wanted to be clear.  I love those trying to actually heal.  I don’t love those trying to make a fortune from the unfortunate.  What happened? Tangent.  “Oops.” 

As I follow the absurdity of medical mascots I focus on the snake.  What’s up with that snake?  Why snakes? In the correct mythology, Asclepius witnessed a snake he had killed (with staff) come alive by another snake cramming herbs down its throat.  Of course how the snake did that without any hands is a mystery, but that shouldn’t be my concern- and yet strangely it is.   

In history, snakes were part of ancient medicine and worship. Non venomous snakes- called the Aesculapian snakes- were tossed about the temple and dormitories of the sick and dying.  Some venomous snakes were used in certain therapies.  The snake being one of the earliest forms of pharmaceuticals.  Results were mixed, just as today.  Nothing’s changed except for the perception of the medical establishment. The ancients knew to be realistic in their expectations.   There was an ambiguity regarding medicine.  So much so, that the Greek’s determined the best name for what we now call pharmaceuticals was the name pharmakon, which meant “drugs,” “medicine” and (no, really?) “poison.” They knew medicine to be a bit of a crap shoot.  There was more to healing than what doctors could provide (see: integrative medicine).  BUT what we should all hold onto is what I’ve been trying to get at here….  Snakes shed their skin. They are constantly reborn, renewed in physical form.  A symbol of rejuvenation.  Now that’s a worthy ambassador for any logo.  Yes, I’m adding a snake to the tattoo I keep talking about but never get.      

To circle back…

I'm done with chemo.  Yesterday, my surgeon removed the bulls eye in my chest and now its only a matter of days until the road to recovery officially begins.  And that in itself is somewhat terrifying.  What does one do with oneself after your life is returned?  How does one rebuild? How does one re enter the working world? How is the light different?  What comes after the glow of chemo and cancer is gone?

Recovery and redefinition of self might take the rest of my life but it'll be the day soon when I have strength to really leap into the first steps.  Until then I’m doing some long awaited therapy- perhaps the first step after all.  Juliet told me that there’s evidence in the positive effects of intensive therapy after cancer.  Regardless, I believe the head needs to unpack and discover the “trigger lessons.”  Begin to discover why I welcomed this disease into my life.  I’m not one who can just sit back and moan about misfortune.  I mean I can and do quite effectively,  but I also won’t allow myself to baste in the waste.  I’m antsy.  So I’m taking off on a road trip. I’m leaving the phone and computer for a while.  I’m getting distance. 

Thank you to all who’ve read and supported this particular journey.  Thank you to those friends that have led the way before me, some who didn’t stay around as long as they should’ve (in my opinion).  Ed, Russell, Taash.  I will be treasuring the good will life long.  I embrace you in every word.  So, as a closing gesture to this one case of  “Colon, Cancer, chemo oh my” maybe you the reader could embrace someone or thing else.  A partner, an offspring, a dog or cat, lama or cow, flower, rock, a halfwit, the guy behind some desk, whatever whoever.  A symbolic sending off.  From one journey to the next.  Why not? The healing you will feel from selflessly and lovingly grabbing another will be unlike any pill you could swallow.  It is the connection between two energies.  Touch.  Trust me. I just hugged the guy at the front desk and it felt wonderful.  Of course, he's now calling security.  I love you.  I gotta go.

rəˈlāSH(ə)nˌSHip/

noun: the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected.

This post is perhaps intended for the civilian rather than soldier.  I use the word “soldier” as a metaphor, no disrespect to the actual soldiers like my cousin who fight different kinds of wars.  However, this has been my war.  The enemy? Some call it cancer, some call it oneself.  In my case both are one and the same.  Scientifically my cancer was triggered by a genetic deficiency- no other reason.  Holistically, my cancer was triggered by emotional stressors that overloaded my stomach and GI area (the seat of emotion in the body).  Both practices point to the fact that my body had had enough of living the way I was.  The self was destroying the self.  I can not tell you the intense psychological effects that have resulted.  Or maybe I can, or at least try.  Here’s a dream for educational purposes.  It lasted the whole six hours of my sleep.  I know the duration because I would wake in intervals trying to pull myself out of what seemed to be the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.  Minutes seemed like days. 

The dream: 

I was in a tenement building.  A structure right out of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis.  A giant building with masses of people and apartments- enough to fill a small city. There I was on the top floor visiting with a spiritual teacher.  A woman who met with the sick and dying, offering her wisdom and blessing.  I was in her cramped living room waiting for my session.  Next to me was an older woman, she too waiting but for other reasons. She was there to help her partner who was in session. 

Suddenly I too was in the session looking down at the woman’s partner; a frail, thin older woman- obviously at the end of her life cycle.  The teacher had finished and they were debating how to get the woman down to the street so she could go to the hospital.  The frail woman had walked the thousands of stairs up with her friend helping, but she and her friend were now too weak and exhausted to make the journey down.  Of course in this dystopian world there were no elevators.  I offered to carry her down.

The three women thanked me and I bent down to pick this woman up from the  pillow she was lying on.  So light and beautiful, as if she were a small child tired of her full day.  There was hardly a wrinkle on the woman’s face, her lips resigned into a smile.  All modesty abandoned.  She trusted me, what else could she do.  I was worried that I wouldn’t be strong enough as my own cancer had eaten away most of my muscle and stamina.  But my confidence grew now that the woman was securly in my arms.  I would risk everything to safely bring this woman to the ground. 

We began our journey.  Down halls, through doors, stairs, across the eternal maze of brick and laminate.  After a time the woman’s friend was lost.  We’d meet her below, no time to waste.  I’d have to manage the doors myself.  And there were many separating every floor.  Heavy and awkward to move through without banging limbs, terrified that I would drop the woman clutching my neck.  We went slowly through each one.  This went on for hours, five to be exact.  Stairs, then more doors, then crossing long corridors to the other stairs, and more doors.   As the blue of a desert dawn brightened my room the dream itself began to close.  The old woman and myself made it to the final descent . 

The lobby was minute compared to the city of floors we had just come from.  A single revolving door and a black sedan outside with a kind gentleman smiling in our direction.  An undertaker or limo driver, they all look the same.  I managed to get both of us through the fins of the door and gently placed the woman in the back seat of the sedan.  Her smile still in place.  She looked at me and something inside me needed to know her name.  My mouth opened to ask when I woke up. This time for the rest of the day. 

That was my dream.  More like an odyssey.  It was my first dream of death since my diagnosis.  After almost a year of dealing with staying alive, the idea of dying hadn’t really been in my thoughts until now.  And the unraveling of the subconscious has continued since.  The meaning seemed clear.  It wasn’t just a dream about physical death and the embracing of the feminine, but also relationship death.  That I am going to have to redefine my relationship to myself and close others including friends and family.  I’m going to have to get honest with what’s in my life and who’s in my life.  With what I want in life and what I don’t want.  To achieve this clarity will take time- perhaps the rest of my life, but you got to begin somewhere.  So I began breaking out the phases of relationships through my current experience.

The first phase during diagnosis and surgery was immediate attachment to whoever was nearest and dearest.  In my case my partner and parent.  The second phase was unconditional attachment to friends that visited me or that I felt the need to notify.  Both of these phases were sincere yet contained  a kind of euphoric blind spot.  I wholeheartedly assumed the partner, family and friends knew exactly what I was going through.  They heard the same reports, diagnosis and treatments.  They heard the potential side effects and hardships that the treatment would no doubt bring.  All seemed outwardly so connected and supportive- and they were.  Even when their reality and commitments returned.  But the patient doesn’t always see that connection.  Some can feel abandoned.  Partners have jobs (in order to support the patient!), parents need to travel back home, friends have family of their own, and you are still sitting there with that IV in your arm.  The feelings of self pity, frustration, disbelief, boredom and intense anxiety spin like an automated rolodex through your mind as you watch the word literally pass you by.  The effect, in my case, was outwardly showing my brave face and enduring the endless poking, prodding and exorcism of “the Thing.”  Inside, though, there was a brewing “fuck you” attitude in the making.  Not directed at any person, just all people including myself.  My exhaustion had turned me into a lonely victim of survival that didn’t understand why no one seemed to really know what I was going through.  Why not? They were there.  They heard the reports, saw the symptoms and effects.  I withdrew. 

Here’s the thing:  No one will ever really know what your going through.  Its just a fact so live with it.  I wrote this before but I’ll repeat 'til the cows comes home.  I was, and to some degree still am, living a version of PTSD.  And the effects are long lasting.  I became protective of my emotions and process.  I preferred going to treatments myself.  I stopped asking for help.  I even drove my motorcycle to treatment one day.  Difficult with a needle in your chest and a pump on your back.  Probably one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.  But I was dumb.  Chemo dumb.   I found comfort in those that “knew” what I was going through.  That would support me without judging or dumping their day on my sickbed.  Yes, I became somewhat selfish, but more than that I did what I had to do to stay alive.  There’s the war analogy again.  Other people’s drama, their approval or disapproval, didn’t matter.   

I’m not sure of the purpose of sharing all this except for the fact that caregivers take heed, you have a difficult job.  And to patients its good to assume that no matter how close someone is to you and your experience they still might not get it entirely. And its not their fault.  Daily communication and asking what it is you want and don’t want are critical to your comfort and healing process.  Stress of conflict and blame--stress of any kind needs to be withheld at all costs.  This is as much the job of the patient as it is for those surrounding.  Whatever it takes.  Meditation, removal of people, removal of surroundings, therapy, etc.-- again, whatever it takes.  Because at the end of the day it is about death.  A death that life has a significant role to play.  Sounds like an oxymoron but it isn’t.  Regardless what happens to your body there is going to be a death if you’re lucky.  If you live through without a death of something, I guarantee the cancer or "dis ease" will return.  Talk about pressure!  But its what I believe.  Hopefully we all will remain alive for a long life with multiple deaths.   A death of old patterns,  death of toxic relationships, death of inhibiting behaviors, death of stressors, death of certain parts of your life narrative, death of pity, death of low self worth, death of critical judgment, etc.  At some point I might even turn the semantics around.  Taking death and replacing fear and pain with optimism and joy.  The beauty of that old woman in my arms.  The care and love I had for her as I walked with her to death.  As many believe, all those you dream about are really manifestations of yourself.  So  perhaps I was seeking strength from the feminine to find a way to truly love my dying self.     

Whatever the reason, I felt compelled to share how much more complicated relationships (both the relationship to self and others) can be with a third partner called disease.  Relationships, in my experience, are now taking on new identities.  Some relationships will remain getting stronger,  some receiving higher priority, others falling to the wayside-- but all relationships provide something to learn.  As long as all of us are open and willing.  Cancer is a disease that spreads easily if left unchecked.  The disease can spread into relationships as well and its up to the healthy and afflicted to become more aware and not assume anything.  Judgment is the least powerful weapon in the arsenal of healing.  Love and acceptance of ourselves first, then others around us will guarantee that this disease wont metastasize our emotions now or ever.  It takes a lot of work to remain aware, especially those of us fatigued through chemo and radiation.  A lot of stairs.  Patience, we’ll get there. 

GeneGnome

Up until now genomic studies have meant to me not much more than a gnome in jeans.  So this post is to turn around some ignorance within as well as without.  More school than escape.  But worth a brush up.  Obviously just a starting point, to get  basic knowledge of how genes, cells and mutations work.  A little science to balance the wacky mindfulness of the previous post. 

Okay, class 101 on Genetics borrowed in part from cancer.org (for longer article go to: http://www.cancer.org/acs/groups/cid/documents/webcontent/002548-pdf.pdf) as well as a few other sites found along the way. Ignore and reabsorb the repetitions within:

Genetics is the field of science that looks at how traits (such as eye color, hair color, height, and likelihood of certain diseases) are passed down from parents to their children through genes.

Genes are pieces of DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) inside each of our cells that instruct them how to make the proteins the body needs to function. DNA is the genetic “blueprint” found in each cell.

In humans, genes are located on 23 pairs of long strand DNA called chromosomes. One of each chromosome pair comes from the mother, and the other from the father. Each chromosome can contain thousands of genes that are passed from the parents to the child. The genes you were born with are in every cell in your body.

Changes to these genes, called mutations, play an important role in the development of cancer. Mutations can cause a cell to make (or not make) proteins that affect how it grows and divides into new cells. Certain mutations can cause cells to grow out of control (ergo tumor), which lead to cancer. Usually several gene changes are needed before a cell becomes cancer.

The 101 on Cells: 

Cells are the basic building blocks of the body. All living things are made of cells. Complex animals such as humans have trillions of cells. Cells work together to form organs, such as the heart, liver, and skin.  Cancer begins when genes in a cell become abnormal and the cell starts to grow and divide out of control.

A cell uses its genes selectively; it can turn on (or activate) the genes it needs at the right moment and turn off other genes that it doesn't need. Turning on some genes and turning off others is how a cell becomes specialized. Some genes stay active all the time to make proteins needed for basic cell functions. Others shut down when their job is finished and start again later if needed.  If you have Lynch syndrome or some other gene deficiency, these policing genes just aren’t there to look after the malfunctioning cells.

It’s important to realize that gene mutations happen in our cells all the time. Usually, the genes within the cell detect the change and repairs it. If it can’t be repaired, the cell will get a signal telling it to die in a process called apoptosis. But if the cell doesn't die and the mutation is not repaired, it may lead to a person developing cancer. This is more likely if the mutation affects a gene involved with cell division or a gene that normally causes a defective cell to die.

Yes, genetics and molecular testing are how I learned about my Lynch Syndrome or as I like to say- hereditary nonpolyposis colorectal cancer (HNPCC) with Variations in the MLH1, MSH2, MSH6, PMS2, or EPCAM genes.  Sounds cooler and more impossible that way.  Anyhow, I’ve dipped my finger into the world of genetics, but only briefly.  This brave new world of molecular and genetic profiling is way complicated, elastic and growing super fast.  The great news is that soon these studies and tests will relegate chemo to where it belongs, into the basement of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.  And our decedents we will ogle in disbelief:  Arsenic? Mercury? Bloodletting, Oxaliplatin?

To give you an idea of how archaic Chemo treatments are today, here’s a little fact I recently uncovered.  According to multiple sources the guidelines for Chemo dosing my colon cancer (based on body surface area (BSA)) hasn’t changed since 1916.  When  only nine patients participated in one study derived by Eugene F. Du Bois.  That officially gets tossed in the WTF file.  I’ll repeat.  When I go in for treatment they are basing my dosage of toxic of oxaliplatin and flourouracil (5FU) by my height and weight, who’s prescriptive origins are based on a 1916 study of nine patients.  This is nuttier than an episode of Cinemax's The Knick. 

But there’s hope in stages!  Before total annihilation of chemo we’ll go through a pre animation phase called personalized chemo. Far better than what’s here now.  The interweb is saturated with articles on personalized medicine, Metronomics, genetically targeted therapies, etc.  If you are anyone you love is hit with a cancer diagnosis please do some research in this field and understand that there are ways to get the right medicine for that particular individual, based on absorption, distribution, metabolism, excretion, not just how tall you are and how much you weigh.  But do your research.  Many companies out there simply don’t have the experience and over promise.  There are enough reputable places to get recommendations.  I will list some once I complete my own due diligence.  

Even now there are tests and procedures surfacing that will take a tumor, grow another fresh one then subject it to multiple treatments until the right one and proper dose amount is found.  There are different methods for this including, among others, the human tumor colony-forming assay (HTCA), the succinate dehydrogenase inhibition (SDI) test, the fluorescent cytoprint assay, the adenosine triphosphate assay (ATP assay), Differential Staining and Cytotoxicity (DiSC) Assays, and the MTT assay. It is a bit more complicated than making cookies, but the live tissue cultures of the cancer can be used to personalize your treatment.  Just know that something tested in a tube might not be the same in a body.  That’s something to talk to your genetics counselor about.

As far as colorectal cancers are concerned there are stool and blood tests who’s mission is early detection beyond the colonoscopy. If you have a family history of colorectal or any other type of cancer its smart to become proactive.  Save yourself from surgery and chemo down the line.  If you don’t have a history, save yourself the drama, expense and worry of the “what if.”  Its not necessary.  Just find ways to live healthier in mind and body and do the checkups when you should do them (see :oscopy). 

Below are a few examples of early testing companies that are as noninvasive as can be (thank you JJ for sending these to me!). Some are colon based, others do testing for multiple cancers. 

http://www.cologuardtest.com

http://www.exactsciences.com/solution

http://www.epigenomics.com/en/products-services.htmla

http://www.genenews.com

http://www.edpbiotech.com

http://www.questdiagnostics.com/home.html

and here are a couple interesting articles on a new drug that seems to be getting a lot of attention in the colorectal circles.  Sort of a pun in there somewhere…

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/30/business/new-class-of-drugs-shows-more-promise-in-treating-cancer.html

http://www.streetinsider.com/Corporate+News/Merck+(MRK)+Issues+Positive+Update+on+KEYTRUDA+Phase+2+in+Colorectal+Cancer,+Other+Solid+Tumors/10608037.html

Okay.  Done with school for today.  It's nearing the eve of  America’s independence day so I' leaving you with a quote.   My sis-in law Taash loved Rumi so I toast to her as well from the other side.  I just wish you all true freedom from pain, hurt, envy, resentment and clustering cells.  Until soon... 

“Don't be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.” ― Rumi 

MOON CHILD

I remember my grandmother’s friend whispering at dinner when she mentioned cancer.  I was young, and curious as to why my star sign seemed to breed some sort of ominous superstition.  And as is usual when you start obsessing over something you see it again and again.  I noticed similar aversion to the word on tv, at school, in the super market.  Cancer was bad.  If you had cancer you were in trouble.  And I was a cancer.  I couldn’t get away from it.  I was born on July 7th! I hated equating myself with that horrible name.  I even began to despise crabs.  There must’ve been something wrong with me.  I was cursed.  Its unfortunate what children may come to think of themselves.  And now here I am.  Self fulfilling prophesy?  No idea, but not a curse.

I’m almost through the chemo journey.  At least the poison part. In a couple weeks I will be starting a different phase of this particular chapter in my life’s series.  And on it goes…   The phase of rebuilding.  I will be starting to bring this body back to health.  I’ll be figuring out what needs to change for good, forever.  A new turn in the evolution of me.  Far more a mental voyage it seems than physical.  Of course there is no knowing what will come and what bizarre new characters I will meet within the body.  And right now there is no need to know, because I’m far more interested in the attic above—the mind space.

I have read over and over that many find cancer the greatest gift.  Others not so much.  In my case its too early to tell, but I have wrapped myself in an obvious search for “meaning.” Whatever the individual experience, there does seem to be a tug towards the inexplicable ‘cause and effect.’  As if this was the plan all the way along and if I don’t figure out the mental triggers of my cancer, my true cure may never be found.  So of course I go straight to the shovel.  Mining for answers.  And I write.

I wrote in a little black book months ago.  It’s a mole skin that’s now covered in doodles but for a while it was my diary (I gave up on it as the days and words mounted into blocks of depression).  Paging through the margins recently, I noticed something odd.  For weeks I’d been writing  over and over “I AM NOT HERE.”  Usually in block letters.  In pages to follow I even began to make an art project out of the words.  Here was a starting point.  A perfect place for my shovel.  Something needed uncovering.  And slowly the words opened a door. 

In hospital and throughout my diagnosis it was important for me to disassociate from the depression and pain.  To exile my thought freely from the fear surrounding myself, my family and friends.  That’s where the mantra began, as if it was an early goodbye or desire to die.  And in a way I believe it might’ve been.  An effort to die before death.  To see the world without me in it.  And then this week, as I repeatedly spoke out the words “I am not here,” there came the alchemy within words-- the meaning changed. 

I began to realize that “I am not here” meant something more tangible and active.  Something a bit more obvious though I couldn’t see it before.  The letters formed a new code.  One that didn’t spell victim.  What it said to me was: I am not here in this disease,  I am not here in this genetic predisposition,  I am not here in the statistic,  I am not here in death,  I am not here as a casualty nor as mere survivor.  I am just here.  Now.  I am me and this is a part of my life.  A switch was flipped.  ‘I am not here’ was really a call for ‘here I am.’   

I’m usually not this yippie at all.  Yes, I have a house in Joshua Tree, yes I like to sculpt, write, play music and once I sat in a sweat lodge, but I also like to skeet shoot, ride a motorcycle, barbeque and listen to Steely Dan.  Point is, I pride myself with having my feet balanced on something old and solid.  But yippie or not I couldn’t stop hearing those three words “here I am” in a space that was light and not subject to gravitational pull.  As I sat there in this revelatory space I repeated the phrase in my head.  The timbre changed, the character of speech enriched- as if it was my grandfather’s voice.  A stronger voice.  Possibly my own true self with the ancestors thrown in as backup.  And as I continued to listen the meaning grew clearer.  It went beyond acceptance of where I’d been to an acceptance for who I am right now.  The beginning steps perhaps of really honoring oneself.  I’ll go further.  The steps to loving ones self.       

You see, I’ve been questioning for some time the possibly that for a little while I haven’t loved myself really all that much.  How’s that for a wordy admission.  There’s a part of me that hasn’t truly accepted that I am worthy of getting what I aim for. The artist/craftsman in me had allowed itself to be defeated under the pressure of success, industry  and the “American dream.”  Hard to admit, but I fell for the marketing.  The idea that as Americans we can “make it,” with the self-implication that if we don’t there must be something wrong with us.  And what does “making it” really mean?  I'd forgotten.   What was it that I really wanted?  I realized instantaneously that I was out of touch with what keeps me alive and kicking.  No wonder I got sick.  No wonder I’d invited struggle in my career, relationships and pocketbook.  I’d allowed my self worth to slip.  I’d allowed victimhood to overshadow my ability, and thus my faith in this benevolent universe (oh, yes it is).  

This ‘event’ or realization hit hard.  I’ve come to believe that until I find a way to honor myself better, redefine what I am and who I am, there is no real cure for my disease.  Sounds definitive but rings of truth.  As you can guess, I’ve started whacking away a new path.  Of course this means getting help and reading tons of new york times best sellers.  Not really. Sort of.  Probably a harder haul than chemo.  But it’s an intuitive treatment I know I need-- to understand myself more fully and lovingly embrace who I am in all of what’s seemingly incomplete.  A hard thing to admit in a public space, but worth it if can inspire someone to seek that love for themselves.  Because, as I’m finding,  with self care comes a higher awareness of what got me where I am.  Its beginning to signal the stressors in my life that aren’t healthy.  That contributed to my illness.  It’s my guess that with awareness and self-care we can truly change the parts within us that trigger our disease (and depression and everything else we take pills or vices to escape from).  If we can allow the triggers to dissolve then perhaps disease can dissolve right along side. 

This is towering talk I know, but something tells me a need for self love (self care- whatever you want to call it) is something more of us have in common than not.  Humans are pressured to perfection (even though we know there is no such thing), to keep the race at its pace, that we rarely allow ourselves to stop.  To look at where we are and like ourselves no matter the view.  As if our selves don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.  Not at least in comparison to the commercial or show.  It’s the the image, the fantasy, the game that matters most.  No wonder obesity, heart disease and cancer are at epidemic proportions.  We don’t like ourselves anymore.  And our bodies respond accordingly.  Are we too far down the rabbit hole of detachment and depression?  I hope not.  If only we can see ourselves as goodness, not broke or broken.  Its worth a concerted effort, don’t you think?  If not we might as well succumb to the poison and drip.  Take our chances and check out as so many do.  Don’t.  Its life or death, you see.   Honor the privilege of being here as we are.  And then… perhaps one by one with loving ourselves more deeply and spiritually we can swing safely away from the symptomatic credo of big pharma into a curative art of new modern personalized integrative medicine-- accepting that our mind space has just as much to do with our healing as genomes and cell biology.  And then (almost finished), and then maybe just then we’ll discover our own individual curative cocktail.  How’s that for high and mighty?  How’s that for starry-eyed?  How’s that for obvious.  Okay, I’ve exhausted even myself.  Preachers must sleep a lot.  But the challenge has been thrown.  Who’s with me?  Please say yes.  We can all love ourselves a little bit more.  And the cancer.  I meant the zodiac.  Beautiful isn’t it?  Reminds me of peace.     

JUICE (and smoothie)

Its coming up on fathers day and pop recently emailed me a pic.  He's standing in the grocery store with an arm load of veggies and fruits for his new juicer.  His one line caption read: "See what you did to me??" I didn't do anything.  He did.  He bought the food and he's making his juice.  Made me proud.  So this post is dedicated to him and all other fathers (even non fathers) that mothers and children would never believe seeing walking down the aisle with an arm full of organic veggies and fruits.  Juice on cool men.  And so I begin... 

Just beyond the realm of average healthy living their lies juice.  Not the sugar kind you buy in the store.  The kind you masticate or mash until the macro and micro nutrients of all chosen herbaciuosness and fruit fill your glass and goodness.  If you think I’m high while writing this, well, I had some nausea and now I  feel much better.  

Juice is the kind that takes virtually no energy to digest and assimilate.  The kind that doesn’t need to be broken down to work.  The kind that’s in perfect harmony with your body.  The kind that aids in prevention of disease.  There really is nothing better than to commune with nature by drinking it.  Meditation is a close second I guess.  This post unfortunately is more infomercial with no “mercial.” Less ramble.  That “mercial” is up to you- meaning I’ve got nothing to sell, you just have some things to buy.  So please take a few minutes to open you heart and imagination to the holiest of all holy natural healers out there.  The one no one or thing can patent.  Juice. 

What you need (links to most of products on the gear section of “stuff” page):

Juicer.  You’ve heard of mastication right? Sounds like something else, but its what you do every day.  Mastication is chewing!  Crushing food to extract the most effective collection of healthy vitamin rich nutrients and enzymes.  That’s why you’re supposed to chew more than none, not swallow whole like I tend to do.  (tangent: there’s a meditation I try to do when reminded.  I silently count my chewing.  I try to get to twenty chews a bite.  Monks get up to 60 cpbs.  They also wedge themselves in tiny boxes for days, so I'd stick to twenty). What you want is a masticating juicer, also known as cold press juicer.  If you can afford a masticating juicer like the Champion or Omega, great.  If you want to spend a couple grand get a Norwalk. If you can’t, then get a L’equip or Breville or any juicer. Just get a juicer and start using it.

Blender.  Why confuse us?  Why bring in a blender into the mix when I’m trying to get the world to buy a juicer? The reason is threefold.  One has to do with green.  Greens have relatively little water content, so in a juicer you have to have a ton of greens to get a little juice.  Its not impossible, but if you can do it buy a decent industrial blender in addition to your juicer for heavier green shakes. Another is you can’t juice a banana.  For those who might be loose in the bowels, 1/2 a banana in the smoothie helps to bind.  And finally, whey is proven to be a good helper in the chemo side effect and cancer department, among other things.  Don’t bother trying to juice it, you’ll look silly with powder on your face.  But the whey must be high quality, cold processed, medium branch chain amino acids, no sugars, artificial sweeteners or artificial favors (according to my correspondent, and he’s never wrong).  Best one I’m told can be found on Dr. Mercola’s web site (see stuff).  So below I’ve listed mom's easy green blender shake.  Of course regarding gadgets there is only one king of blender hill and that’s called a Vita mix.       

Glass Bottles.  I’m done with plastic.  As done as I can be.  I forgive myself a bit here and there but on the whole don’t trust the plastic we consume and ingest.  Ever look up the ingredients of a standard plastic bottle?  I’m not going to over-downer it.  Suffice it to say you don't want any of it in your body.  Especially if you're fighting something.  So store your juice in individual glass jars. Its more fun that way.  Point made maybe.  There are cheap mason jars or more fancy ones to be found in the stuff link.  Just takes a little planning.  Your choice.   

A Guide.  In addition to the below you can grab a book.  Thanks to another special correspondent I was given Denise Mari’s book Organic Avenue: Recipes for life.  Yes Gwentheth has it, so does Jennifer, so does Juliet.  Yes its in the stuff section.  I could be the first male to openly hock this thing.  Anyway, it has easy to follow instructions and lists recipes of how to detox and combine foods that taste yummy.  Some not so yummy but you work up to it.  Another guide for those of us more in the thick of it is Patric Quillin's Beating Cancer with Nutrition.  A thick read but lots of interesting information.  

As I started chemo land I found that simple was best.  Watered down carrot juice has been the easiest to handle, but I’m slowly branching into my future.  The future of green.   Note: Its important for the beginner to mix filtered water in with your juice at first.  Your body needs time to adjust to a new routine. I'm lucky, like I said I've had special correspondents advising me on the way: the aforementioned Juliet, “mom” and guru/beta tester David K.  The below are recipes and products that each have used and consumed, therefore I am using, consuming and passing along. 

Preparation.  It is great to be able to make a juice and drink it right away, but I don’t like cleaning up three times a day.  Yes, for those trying to get on the health train, three times (12 oz./ 1.5 cups each at least) per day is what you are working towards.  Some natural cancer survivors drink 13 juices per day (see http://gerson.org/gerpress/the-gerson-therapy/).  Three is easy peasy. Point is, in one juicing you can make enough for the day and store in three separate containers.  Pack them in a cooler bag and take with you.  Its just planning.  Again, your choice.

So finally, here’s two loose recipes that you can adopt and play with.  One for the juicer and one for the blender.  The important thing is to get live plant life into your body any way any how.  That’s what boosts the immune system, does the healing and continues to maintain your energy.  Lastly remember to drink purified water along the way.  The idea is to rid yourself of toxins that the juice eliminates so flush them out!   

David K’s juicing juice aka 'the bendy':

·      1 big leaf red kale...red because it's higher in anthocyanins,

·      1 leaf Lacinato kale...super deep green, rich in phytonutrients,

·      1 carrot,

·      1 small beet,

·      1 large leaf collard greens...superfood (the new kale)

·      1 small bunch of flat leaf parsley...great anti-oxidant, blood builder,

·      1 inch long  plug of ginger...allays nausea, plus anti inflammatory,

·      2 inch slab of cucumber,

·      1 stalk of celery,

·      1 small bunch of wheat grass... great anti cancer properties and really helps body cope with processing chemo, start slow.                 

NOW. For flavor, to make it less turfy add…

·      1/2 a green apple, low glycemic index,

·      blackberries  (or black raspberry freeze dry powder).

·      Add a few drops of stevia or organic honey if the tartness or the ginger intensity are too much. This makes approximately one large glass.                

Test and see how it goes down, modify flavor as needed but try to keep the main players included even in small amounts. The superstars are the kale sisters, collard, parsley, wheatgrass.  If you need to water down the intensity, add leaves of Romaine...seems innocuous, but is surprisingly nutrient dense and has no intrusive strong green flavor.  Another substitute/addition is rhubarb, another in the anthocyanin  brotherhood (see: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1082894/).  The taste improves.  And make it organic! You get almost double the nutrients from organic.  Therefore you’d have to buy twice as much regular fruits and veggies to make up the amount of nutrients and enzymes from organic.  Think about it.

Mom’s green smoothie:

Mom doesn’t likes a lot of cleaning or measuring.   She’s got a horse, two dogs and a parrot that require more cleaning and measuring than anyone could imagine.  So the recipe is easy and loose.  Most important?  You got it, organic.  So here it is. Take an industrial blender and fill with the following:

·      a generous handful of watercress (or baby kale) 

·      a bunch of parsley

·      three carrots

·      one ripe mango cut up. 

·      Half a papaya without seeds

·      1 apple

·      hunk of ginger

·      one whole fennel cut up

The above is the staple ingredients. The below are optional for substitutes if you cant find any of the above or if you want to make taste a bit more sweeter in the beginning.

·      a banana (especially if you can’t get ripe mangos or papayas)

·      melon

·      1 orange (without peel)

·      Baby greens (when you cant get good super greens)

·      Green tea powder (for extra energy)

The idea is to eventually fill the blender, then get a big jar that you drink throughout the day.  Play with amounts until you get it the way you like.  Remember your body will crave less and less sweeteners as you go so don't worry about adding enough yummy to get you going.  Remember to still drink lots of water throughout the day to clear the waste and whatnot.   

My morning shake: 

For me it's become a religion, not just the juicing but the shaking.  Specifically: Dr. Schulze's Super Meal Shake (listed in Stuff).  It is the perfect get up an go shake.  1/4 cup mix with half banana, black raspberry powder, and other fruit or veg as desired.  A little almond milk and blend. There's enough absorbable vitamin C and B12, etc that I don't need to down extra supplements.   

NOTE ON CLEANING PRODUCE: Most knew this except for me.  Get a little spray bottle and fill with organic apple cider vinegar/ water mixture (50/50).  Spray over new bought veggies and fruits.  Let sit for five minutes and then rise thoroughly.  Pretty simple and destroys the nasty lurking beneath the leaves and pores.   

So that’s that's my juice pitch.  Please comment if you have other combos and ideas. 

Note on comparing juicers:  For people who want to know about the six enzymes in carrot juice and which juicer really works best go to Chris Wark’s wonderful site on his natural steps to beating cancer.  Inside are wonderful tips and products that have helped me.  Donate if you can.  His is an informative journey. He also has Dr. Michael Donaldson’s comparison report on juicers.   http://www.chrisbeatcancer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/other-juice-extractor-comparison-20

JUICE ON SMOOTHIE

: OSCOPY

Short form:

 If time is short you can skip to the proverbial end.  No need to scroll, the last line simply states “get one.”  That’s my agenda, to get as many people to become proactive, adapt a healthier lifestyle and get checked-upped.   If I can get one person to a colonoscopy and then that person gets another, and that another, well, it would be safe to hold hands and teach the world to sing-- because, there’d be a lot less colon cancer!  Early screening and detection plus a healthier lifestyle can vanquish colorectal cancer from the one of the top spots in the plethora of the cancer epidemic.  Plain and simple and shorter than the following...

Long form:

As I log onto the American Cancer Society’s website and weave my way through to the colon/rectal page (lovely title) I experience a revelation of identity.  You see, on the front page there's a delightful picture representing me-- a colorectal cancer patient.  And then I'm confused.  What's staring back at me is an older African American man with a baseball cap.  I don't trust older people in baseball caps.  I stare at the picture, really trying to see myself as a retired softball coach.  I can sort of see it.  I had a similar goatee at one time.  The only difference is I’m a couple decades younger, thinner, more Mexican than African and a hell of a lot more fashion forward.  After about five minutes of chemo-dazing I surrender.   We probably don’t even share the same name.  Disappointing.  Its not me.  Relieved in a way.  I point this out because so many of us walk around distancing ourselves from the graphics, faces and useless statistics (guess who's the highest risk for colorectal cancer: older African American softball coaches).  I used to look at such images on the subway, pretentiously comforting myself with “well, that’s not me.  That guy is old, black and fat.  I'm young, white-ish and thin.  I take care of myself.”  And yet I still managed to get the cancer.  Now, what does this has to do with anything?  I leave it to you to sort out.   I'm sort of lost here myself.  Off topic.  What are we going to do about the fact that no one really knows what I'm writing about, including myself?  We’re going to get a colonoscopy!

There seems to be good news and bad news regarding colorectal cancer.  The Survival rate is going up, and the number of full-blown cancer cases are going down however, the age for new cases are getting younger.  And there are more new cases.   I asked around.  A few experts in their fields of bum (including my own wonderful GI doc) substantiated the claims.  All said anyone over the age of 40 should get checked.  30 or younger if colon cancer’s in the family genes.  But here’s the rub… 

Our lovely American institution of insurance companies only covers the expense of colonoscopies if you are 50 plus.   If things were different and I'd been encouraged to get checked at 40 (and I would’ve because I’m anal about those things, pun intended) I probably wouldn’t be going through chemo right now.  So, if you were me you might feel the desire to call insurance companies assholes (pun intended).  But I wont, not worth spending valuable squarespace-age on those jack asses (last pun promise).  Okay, universal health care is a subject for someone else’s blog.   Again with the off topic!  Back to butts.  Here’s my advice to those of us under the age of 50.  If there’s any history of cancer in your family go to a GI doctor, get a check up and ask the nice person to order you a colonoscopy.  Then find out how much your co pay would be and go from there.  Many insurances cover a significant portion of the expense if the colonoscopy is ordered by an “in network” practitioner.  Not all of the expense, but isn't worth finding out what your peace of mind will cost?  Yes there are DNA stool tests, and if the colonoscopy expense is too high that’s a great place to start.  However, as of now there doesn’t seem to be anything more accurate than the good 'ol colonoscopy.  So why not get checked?    

If you are a man I get the procrastination.  Anything to do with our own ass terrifies us.  And this has to do with the fact that (generally) men don’t like to look at their shit.  There’s deep metaphorical implications here, but the truth is we men have better things to do.  Like getting a job, organizing apps, ruling the bored room or boardroom.  We are hunters no matter what society now tells us.  We simply don’t have time to turn around, to look either in the bowl of the toilet or the bowl of our mother issues.  We need to kill something fast.  And fast forward… you find yourself rolled into surgery.  And if you’re a procrastinating woman I get it too (yes colorectal cancer doesn't discriminate).  There are far more phone calls, manny petties, children, husbands, careers and father issues to deal with.  Being the hunter AND the gatherer is exhausting, yes, yes.  Neither gender has the time to save their own lives.  But what if one were to think differently?   

Colonoscopies are easy.  Hardest part is a day and night of prep with laxative solutions that are getting easier and easier to take.  No longer is it the downing of a pee colored salty liquid gallon.  Thank god.  Its now two small bottles, or a few pills or whatever.  Then a sleepy morning getting a ride to a clinic.  Easy check in, lovely nurses and then a kind anesthesiologist who…zzzzzzzzzzz.  And you wake up.  If there were any polyps found they’re taken out during the procedure.  If there’s something larger and more ominous, well its great that you found when you did.  The whole thing takes about 45 minutes from beginning to end.  And the clinics?  They’re like medical spas.  I actually suggested to my GI doc that she install a massage room and juice bar.  She’s working on it.  So please please do yourself and your loved ones the favor of getting screened.  If you have parents that are stubborn not taking care of themselves, bug them incessantly.  DO IT.  Blame me.  Life is too important and somewhat short.  We have to take care of ourselves as long as we are able. Colonoscopy.  Get one.    

THE THING

There is something that happens during and after chemo treatment.  A being enters the room.  Some call it the side effects, I call it “the Thing.”  The Thing is a round fury animal and has multiple components.  It is part of the hair ball family.  The same family ejected from the throat of cats.  The Thing is not necessary to the journey of chemo but comes anyway, uninvited.  I choose to cohabitate, though simultaneously taking defensive steps in keeping it as far from my being as possible.  And there are tricks to keeping the ball at bay, otherwise I wouldn’t bother writing about it (who needs more of a downer this time of year).  If what I’m writing has a confusing effect upon the reader, know that this is one of the Thing’s more amusing components, labeled: Chemo-Brain.  A layer of fog that clouds traditional thought and body mechanics.  It makes you say and do weird things.  It’s what caused me this morning to put face cream on my toothbrush. 

I am on chemo 6- D.7.  That’s treatment #6 Day 7 for those of you who didn’t follow my ingenious titling of previous posts.  Still the Thing is chasing me around.  Yet, as the days go the Thing pushes further out to the horizon, getting smaller and smaller.  Almost disappearing in time only to begin again with the next treatment.  In my case net Wednesday.  For me the mind is a great army of defense.  From the first day of treatment on, I imagine the Thing, with all its long hair caught in the air of my intention, moving backward towards the edge of space.  The components becoming less severe, more tolerable, acceptable.  And it seems to be working.   

Components of Thing include:

Neuropathy (a numbness of fingers and toes), cold sensitivity, light/sun sensitivity, nausea, mouth sores, saliva gland cramping (sounds like ‘glam camping,’ but in reality its slightly different), fatigue, insomnia, alien elephant skin, constipation and that other thing that’s opposite of constipation (can someone invent a better word for diarrhea?) I have had them all in varying levels and well, I’m hear to report that that’s just okay.  The Thing is nothing to fear.    

I’ve found that two foods the Thing likes most are sleepless nights,  stress and inactivity. If you remove these three elements from the Thing you will fare better in the days to follow. So while I move through the different physical challenges I remind myself constantly of the mission: To relive and restore.  Breath, rest and motion play an integral part to the wellbeing of my life.  I can’t repeat enough. 

Here’s a breakdown in the ways in which I deal with the hair ball in the hopes that others will add to the conversation or learn simple tricks that have helped me.  Again, my experience is unique to my body.  But there will be overlaps.  If others have experienced different helpful ‘tricks of the trade’ please share in the comments sections.  Helping each other is how we survive.

On to the Thing.

Neuropathy.  This one can be scary to those of us who read the disclosures in the oncologist office,  because the paper says that 5 percent of all cases are years, if not lifelong, lasting.  Again, this is a statistic- completely unhelpful to you or I.  Ignore if you can and you must.  What I do is close my ears and feel what’s happening.  I talk to my body constantly.  With regards to neuropathy I remind the body that this feeling is temporary and just a trick.  There really is no neuron that needs to be permanently damaged from a few months of Platinum dosing.  Platinum is precious, right?  It’s a shiny card that has a high spending limit.  It’s a silver wedding band that withstands far more than the husband wearing it.  Platinum is the color “Timberwolf” in the cannon of crayons colors!  I have no idea where this is going.  Point is, its insane to stack any long term effect against your perfect self. 

Practical steps include:  L-Glutamine.  I go over board a bit, taking two servings of 15grams a day.  This is a powder that I add to shakes, juice, water, whatever.  Its tasteless and seems to be helping.  I decided to start this a week prior to my therapy and I highly suggest to others beginning this journey that you take the powder early with enough time to have it build up in your system.  I was told you can’t over do the dosage so I’ve stayed on the 30grams/day.   Its also designed to help with digestion and the lining of ones stomach.  All good there.  In addition:  Alpha-Lipoic-Acid (600 mg/day) and Vitamine B6 (50 mg/day.  note: I get my B vitamins through my shake so don't over do it with the B6).  I’m also careful to touch anything too cold as this can trigger more intensive neuropathy.   

Cold sensitivity:  Yes, I avoid cold things.  Not only to touch but to drink or bathe in.  Cold swimming pools might be out for a while.  The Thing likes to have fun in the cold, that’s why its fury.  For example, if I drink something too cold I have the phantom feeling that my throat is closing.  This is not true, nothing’s happening, just a feeling.  Its false.  Just a trick of the hair ball.  After a moment its gone.  So remember, the Thing gives you suggestions to believe, yet the reality is such that most of the effects are illusion.  That said, I pass on the ice, use a drinking straw for colder drinks and handle the refrigerator with kid gloves.  Literally.  I have a pair of kid gloves that I use to open and take food out.  Its humorous and why not.

Light/sun sensitivity: I choose to breed my inner ‘cool’ with permanent shades over my eyes when I’m in the sun.  I also accompany my cool with a silly hat.  The sun is strong under the influence of the Thing.  I’ve been trying to smother myself in lotions, but I’m the guy-type that shirks from girly lotions.  I suggest trying not to be this guy-type, but if you can’t help it like I can’t help it, find other ways to protect yourself.  I’ve invented some arm coverings that emulate thermals so you look even more cool (of course the silly hat trumps).  What I found are drug store wrappings used for plaster arm casts or injuries.  You cut the tubes to size and slip them on.  Presto!  You have long sleeves under your short sleeves.  Why not just wear long sleeves you ask?  Well its hot where I am and unless I’m going for a walk or a bike I don’t want to be wearing long sleeves.  I keep these tubes in the car or my bag and slip them on whenever I need.  Yes, there are fancy types like this you can buy for beaucoup bucks, but mine are cooler and cheaper.

Nausea. Okay okay I hate this one as much as everyone else.  The Thing’s most triumphant tool in its arsenal of components.  However there are tricks beyond medicine.  Yes, lots of medicine I could take but after the third day I wean myself off as the meds wreak havoc with my digestion and toilet training.  Instead I wear my sea sickness watch 24/7 on a steady low setting.  Of course I have to remember to take it off when showering so sometimes I don’t shower.  I also down my holistic pearls (Nux Vomica, Cadmium) whenever I feel the hint of any discomfort.  Lastly, I try to keep some food in my tummy at all times.  I used to think that having no food would be better, but that was dumb and I don’t have time for dumbness.  Eat.  Even if it’s a little.  Bland food.  Get ahead and stay ahead of the nausea.  That’s important.  I don’t wait for it to be full blown before doing everything I can to reverse that sinking feeling.  The oncologist prescribed me a lighter medication just in case and occasionally I have to use it.       

Mouth sores.  These little buggers can be very inconvenient but again, if you stay ahead of the symptoms you can get rid of them so much faster.  I keep my mouth as clean as possible.  Brushing after every meal and gargling with salt/baking soda solution.  So far so good for me the sores have been manageable and somewhat insignificant.  Also, I choose not to eat crusty bread or hard chips- anything that can cut the inside of the mouth.  Because the mouth is full of fast dividing cells, its very sensitive to rips and tears.  So ingesting smooth food, or taking time to gum a pizza crust to death is smart.   Inhaling a handful of Doritos?  Not so smart. 

Saliva cramps.  These are a rarity to most people, but luckily not to me!  I have officially been labeled toxic sensitive which I’ve added to my other many labels.  Part of this label requires additional weird components from the Thing, cramping being one of them.  The cramps happen on the first bite or drink of anything.  A pain in the jaw.  Solution?  I take a large sip of lukewarm water, wait a sec, and then take the smallest of crumbs from what ever I’m eating.  I increase crumb size from grain of sand to tiny pebble, and so on, until I pass the cramp threshold.  Its much more tolerable this way.  Of course it takes time and I look crazy to anyone watching.  When someone does happen to watch me, I do the following.  I turn in their direction and blankly stare back while gently chewing my pebble crumb (remember, I’m wearing a silly hat).  I continue slow and methodical, somewhat maniacal.  The person usually finds an excuse to move tables.   Of course it helps if you’ve played a serial killer on tv, but not mandatory.

Fatigue.  This component takes up a large piece of the pie chart.  The simple remedy for this is sleep, a little more sleep and a couple of Tylenol.  I’m not a proponent of any pill, but in this case I do reach for the occasional Tylenol to dampen the headaches that come from fatigue.  Hydration is also key.  3 liters a day at least!  I always forget to drink enough.  For me water doesn’t always taste so good. Strangely, it doesn’t  feel so good sitting in the tummy.  BUT when you add a little natural cranberry syrup or cherry syrup (especially at night as cherry is good for calming the còmo se llama), suddenly water doesn’t taste so bad.  And the stomach lets it pass with calm.  But remember natural! No refined sugar as sugar only does really, really bad things.   Really. 

Insomnia.  Lots of discussion on the internet about this component, but what I find most useful is adjusting my general attitude.  This applies to the other 23 hours as well, but now I’m talking about the 3 am hour.  When I wake up at 3 am and the hairy ball is looking down on me, I simply say thank you.  This completely confuses the Thing.  It puffs up even larger and then we usually have a stare-off for ten or so minutes.    When I say thank you I mean it.  Having time in the night to reconnect to my healing can be a blessing if I choose to look at it that way.  Its usually in these moments I can push the Thing further from my body.  The dark fur blends with the dark room.  It begins to disappear and I start to relax, sometimes I even sleep.  If sleeplessness persists I don’t get up, I don’t turn on the light- I just lie there tuning into my body.  Allowing the body to take over and ride the flow.  There is feeling of general wellness that anyone can manifest.  Usually this comes in moments of meditation where you just have the feeling of love and wellness fill up all the appendages and organs of the body.  I try and channel this floating feeling as I lie there.  I believe it’s a kind of spiritual energy that does far more good than binge watching Game of Thrones.  And if none of this works and the Thing refuses to let me go and I’ve tried everything to spiritually derail the Thing, then of course I binge watch Game of Thrones.  Okay, not really.  Not yet.     

Alien elephant skin.  Well this is what my arms can look like occasionally.  There really is nothing to do other than hydrate, scrub and smear loads of girly cream all over the wallpaper.  The wallpaper that covers my arms I mean.  I don’t have any other way to describe the texture of what my arms can looks like.  Sort of a modernist take on the paisley pattern.  I’ve listed some creams on the stuff page. Or will.  Or will I?  In addition there’s something called the “loufer.”  Here’s why its important.  Skin is your body’s overcoat some say.  Its actually your largest organ covering somewhere between 20 and 24 square feet of surface, about the size of my bed.  That organ keeps germs out, lets minerals and vitamins in, manufactures antibiotics- its an amazing invention. As its one of the fast-dividing-cell-parts of the body, it gets vandalized by the Thing.  Flakey old skin needs to be removed so the new can breathe.  A loufer and good soap keep are a very good thing.  Of course that means taking showers.  I know!           

Constipation and that other thing that’s opposite of constipation.  To have or have not.  To be or not to be.  To begin or end.  Our lives are full of yins and yangs and chemo puts my stomach and GI tract into the thralls of what’s extreme.  The chemo drugs loosen everything up, yet the anti nausea medication counters with exactly the opposite.  There is no telling what consistency my bowel ‘experience’ will be at any time of the day.  It’s a constant monitoring and control using laxatives, stool softeners, hardeners, creams and gels.  Stick to the BRAT diet if you need more on foods that are binding (Bananas, Rice, Apple sauce and Toast)  Not much about chemo is appropriate for the dining table, so if you’re reading while eating stop eating.

My stomach gets decimated during treatment.  The lining has to rebuild itself in the five or so days following.  The digestion tract is also relieved of all the good bacteria fighters that help me keep moving.  So its imperative to replace the probiotics any way I can.  Yogurt, pills, liquid, etc.  It’s probiotics, water and patience.  The kicker is just as I’m about to get some regularity its time for the next treatment.  And that just falls into the ‘oh well’ category.  Such is life.  My general routine is to take two senekot laxatives at night plus two magnesium plus a load of water.  I then manage along, taking a mental note of all my bathroom activity.  And speaking of bathrooms- I’m constantly chanting to myself patience.  Rushing the can, can prove disastrous. What will be will be and time will come when time is right.   Patience.  Easier said than done, I know.  And for full disclosure…  There are some natural gels and creams that protect skin from tearing.  My advice is to protect yourself by adding these creams and gels to the skin around your hiney.  If this is TMI then stop reading, but for those of us going through the Thing we need all the help we can get and spreading a little gel on your butt is one small step for man and one giant leap for chemo kind.  I hope no one will need any of this, but if there’s one out there that does then please take the advice.  Wow, that’s a lot about the crapper.  Thank you Thing. 

So if this isn’t enough uncomfortable dealings with the Thing,  take a hammer and cover it in fur, then smack your noggin once or twice for effect.  Done.  The best I can do for myself is continue encouraging my mind to lift the soul into a feeling of well being.  I’m convinced this well being sends the right healers throughout my body to rid myself of the toxic illusions and effects.  This being written I have to add that acupuncture is an amazing alternative therapy to kicking the Thing out.  Its helped me deal with almost all of the above.   Rest, meditation, little food throughout the day, laughter and love of one’s body, self and others.  That’s what I’m aiming for because (and this is a fact) eventually- no matter what- the Thing disappears, just like that.          

PHARMICA

So here I'm sharing the things I take.  Compiled by visits with nutritionists, friends and my oncology doc.  Lots are natural supplements to combat neuropathy, digestion and nausea but also to keep any future rogue cancer cells at bay.  More are for just good health and ammunition.  In addition to pills, gels, powders, bars, herbs I've found acupuncture extremely helpful (especially after treatments) as well as meditation,  yoga and, well- expression (don't know what else to label it).  I'm a trick of all trades master of none.  I love music, movies, tv, writing movies, writing tv, writing books, sculpture, pottery, exercising (thou thats a bit difficult at the moment), sports (ditto) skeet shooting (yes, I wrote that as I'm a man. What that has to do with expression I have no idea), vintage cars (ditto) and motorcycles (ditto).  Pages and pages, images and images, recordings and recordings, sculptures and sculptures, shells and shells, carburetors and carburetors all siting in either a room, drawer, my garage or in the ether of a hard drive.  For me the point is to express whats going on inside my body and mind.  I joke about the skeet and motorcycle but they help to encourage the warrior spirit that's necessary when one's in battle and can't use a bench press.  I need these outlets of expression to release emotions.  Bit of a rant there, but maybe it can resonate.   

I'm not going to be illustrating the various expressions, yoga, meditation and acupuncture on the post (I think you get the point by now) but they're as important as the herbs and supplements I've gathered for myself.  Its all balance in my mind.  So, as far as supplements and herbs here's what I've come up with.  Maybe this could save someone some time and one less consultation fee. 

My Routine:

I start every morning first with…

…brushing my teeth.  

With treatments I'm trying to up the brushing to three times a day.  My dentist convinced me to use a fluoride toothpaste at least once a day to stop any budding infection.  The rest of the day I use a Baking Soda paste.  Plus floss, plus Dr. Shulze's Oral therapy mouthwash.  Takes a bit to get used to but does a good cleaning.  I haven't worked my way up to the tongue scrapper.  Maybe I will one day.  Just haven't wrapped my head around the idea of shaving my tongue with a piece of bark.   

THEN! 8 oz glass of water.  I'm a firm believer of keeping an eye on the first thing you swallow in the morning.  I don't mean sexual.  What I mean is… what I mean is, well get a good water filter and drink a glass of water.  Water filter of choice on the stuff page. Or will be.  (btw is my goal to drink 3 liters of water at least throughout the day).  I then down a probiotic.  There are two I use, both don't require refrigeration.  Dr. Ohhira's and Jarrow-Dophilus EPS.  Again everything will eventually land on the stuff page. 

THEN! I wait half an hour until shake time.  In that half an hour I try and meditate.  I highly suggest if you don't already.  Look up mindfulness meditation techniques to get yo started.  Here's a somewhat medicinal website but with some useful info (http://www.mindful.org/mindfulness-practice/mindfulness-the-basics).

THEN! Shake:  I'm a convert to Dr. Shultze's formulas.  He has a great company and blog https://www.herbdoc.com/blog/.  I use his Super Meal shake combined with Berri Health's Black Raspberry freeze dried powder.  I found out about the powder from nutritionist Carolyn Katzin at the Simms/Mann UCLA Center for Integrative Oncology.  Apparently these black raspberries are amazing anti cancer fighters.  I also add some D3 liquid and some manly omega 3 oils (they also come in womanly formula).   For neuropathy I add at least 10g of L-Glutamine powder.  Never can have too much of that.  I'll go over the wonders of neuropathy in another post.  All in a blender with a little organic juice, water and half an organic banana.  Organic is a must all the time but particularly during treatments.  I want the least amount of toxins in my body and that unfortunately means spending a little more for organic produce.  

THEN! for my second breakfast, about an hour later, its sort of a free for all.  I sometimes have organic oats, or a fruit shake or a green shake or toast or one of Dr. Shultze's Super Food bars, or eggs all in the service of giving my stomach some help in absorbing a fist full of supplements.  The idea of smaller meals throughout the day help in the nausea department.  Plus its just a healthier way to eat, apparently.  The supplements I shove down are...

Ultimate E (good for skin and everything), Green Tea extract (great anti oxidant), 5-MTHF (red blood cell builders and aids in neuropathy side effects), Pyridoxal 5'-Phosphate (an absorbable B6), Ginger Root (anti nausea), Zinc Glycinate (good for everything), 100mg Coenzyme Q10 (immune boosting) and Tumeric (anti inflammatory).  

The supplements combined with the shakes provide enough vitamins and minerals to propel me into the delusion or conviction that I'm giving as much as I can to the body under its siege and fatigue.  And it works.  I have more energy, less side effects and generally not so grumpy all the time.  Thats good for everyone.

During the day I travel with my holistic little buddies. I pop five pearls of whatever I think I need whenever I need them.  They are...

Nux Vomica (for what it sounds like- anti vomica), Cadm.Sulphuricum (ditto), Silicea (for constipation and fatigue).

So thats the supplements and holistic goodness, now the comes more fun.  One of the side effects of chemo for me is 2000 yr old looking skin.  Okay maybe I'm exaggerating, lets say 1000 yr old skin.  My amazing friend Tara sent me Nature's Aid to the rescue.  Its amazing aloe based cream which speeds cell regeneration.  You see I learned late that Chemo kills fast dividing cells.  Your skin, hair, stomach, nails and mouth are full of fast dividing cells.  So they take the brunt.  This cream is great.  And whats greater is that you don't need to have chemo to enjoy the benefits of healthier skin.  I'm going to put it on my dog as soon as I get one.  

Finally there is the medicinal marijuana.  Yes, the magic herb and yes it does help with anxiety, nausea and appetite.  I wasn't a pot smoker before and I don't know if I will be once this is all done, BUT with the right buds (high in CBD less in TCH) and my amazing PAX vaporizer I'm currently a pot head.  Well, really only at night and only until I pass out.  Thats fair, right?  Seriously I think its a wonderful helper along the way.  You won't become a drug addict unless you are one already, in which case don't get any.  In this game you need to channel common sense in the amounts and the herb itself.  I'm only now getting interested in CBD and TCH oils.  For me the one stop information portal is http://phoenixtears.ca.  Rick Simpson is the pioneer.  But I warn you it is seriously potent stuff.  I also think its not to be mixed too heavily with chemo.  Remember run all this stuff by the oncologist.  I'm not an "ist" of anything.

So thats pretty much my routine- combined with as many small bites as I can manage.  Much of this will stay with me after chemo is gone.  The companies I buy from are what I find to be the best in what they do.  That means I don't shop at GNC or Walmart.  Most big box store vitamins and minerals are full of everything but the name on the label.  There's been plenty of stories about it (here's one http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/02/03/gnc-target-wal-mart-walgreens-accused-of-selling-fake-herbals/).  You get what you pay for and unfortunately good herbs and organic food require more work to produce.  I'm opting to put the best possible stuff into my body.  Even if it breaks me.  Which its close to doing!  If I get my way I'm going to start a charity to provide some help for others in this department.  Lets see how I do.  In the mean time wash your hands, balance the holistic with the medicinal and medical.  Speaking of, Burt came off today so I can finally take a shower.  Its a good day.   

DISCLAIMER

Everything offered here are opinions, links and info cobbled together from friends, doctors, herbalists, survivors, late night hunts and plain old fashioned experience. But this is my experience, unique to me.  The path, pain, side effects, philosophy, changes-- all are my story.  If you or someone you care about is going through colorectal cancer, or any cancer for that matter, the experience will be different.  The patient will have to build his or her own formula for health and wellness while letting the doctors treat the disease. These are two different jobs which require separate strategies and discipline.  The sooner you get that into your noggin the better.  So, responsibility is yours.  If one takes it on thats when you discover the blessing in all of this.  The silver lining so to speak.  I'm only at the beginning of this discovery myself.

Even though this is my story unique to myself, there should be overlaps.  My symptoms, side effects, thoughts, remedies and treatments may be similar or adaptable in many cases.  The overlaps are what I'm going for.  If one can be helped, saved of some time, not feel completely alone, well then this is worth it.  

Ask away in the comment section.  I will do my best to answer or write something longer. Might take me a little time but I'll get to it best I can.   

Side note:  Whatever you do, if you are with the white-coats talk to them.  Talk to your doctor.  If you combine east meets west, make sure you communicate.  Doctors need to know what extra stuff you're taking and the changes your making.  Surgery, chemo and radiation have quirks and some wellness formulas counteract the benefits.  If you opt for the traditional chemo/radiation route you gotta give it a chance to work.  You may find that certain life changes, supplements and holistic treatments will have to wait until the medical part is over.  And thats just the way it is. There is cause and effect mixing practices although people rarely talk about it.      

CHEMO 6-D.1

Its just part of the deal.  Every two weeks I get poisoned.  Chemo was a choice and I'm doing my best with it.  Yes it sucks, but there are some significant positives.  The time it takes to get over the side effects has forced me to do very little.  My brain and body have begun to re organize.  The garage is not so important anymore, nor are the stressors of daily living.  My relationship to acting and the entertainment industry have shifted.  I simply don't have the energy for stress anymore.  I've never been so empty and somehow thats just fine with me.  I've been given the gift of detachment, yet still somehow, through friends or Kaizen (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaizen) or whatever, I get what I have to do done.  A few friends have been curious what the chemo routine is.  I thought I'd diary some of it. Its really a mash of cliff notes. But somewhere within the potatoes there may be some nourishment (btw there really is something called chemo brain.  A fog and a malaise of confused expression.  Why else would I write potatoes?)

Yesterday I went for treatment number 6.  It usually starts with a finger prick to test your levels (white and red blood cells- or "the count").  I chose the most appropriate finger  (see pic above).  So off to the journal...

"I'm writing this with the pre-meds already flowing down "Oporto".  Oporto is the name I've given to my port.  More about nick names in a sec.  Did you ever wonder what happened to all those family Barcaloungers from the 80's? You know the arm chairs that had a lever to pull your dad or uncle back into an alcoholic snooze during the final four?  

Believe it or not there are interior designers paid to create rooms like this.  Supposed to be calming.  I think calming means something different to these people.  The colors are not so helpful for my nausea.    

Well all those arm chairs are still alive and kicking, now located in every oncologists office from here to tokyo.  Where was I, oh yes, back to Oporto.  I opted a couple months ago to undergo yet another procedure to insert a delivery system straight into my chest.  This meant I didn't have to keep having IV's plunged into various veins.  It's basically a catheter inserted into your arteries making the drugs quick and efficient in their poision delivery.  I named it Oporto after Portugal's spiritual home of port wine.  Seemed appropriate.

I woke up today around 8:30 and Juliet and I went straight for a protein rich breakfast of eggs, whole grains, fruit and juice.  She had a coffee.  Sadly, I've given that ritual up but not turmeric latte's with almond milk and honey.  Dont knock it until you try it.  Nausea is a constant companion these days.  For some reason the turmeric helps.  Of course there are pills I can take but I've gone herbal and a tad techno.  In addition to teas, I  wear a relief band (http://www.reliefband.com) and down ginger pills along with keeping my stomach full of something healthy.  Yet at the end of the day it is what it is.  [Note about the relief band.  There is a medical version (over 200 bucks) that zaps you, but I can't handle the intense electricity.  I got the motion sickness band and put it on level #1.  I leave it there all day.  Seems to be helping.  You can also change the batteries whereas the medical one you can't. Commercial!]  

always with the scarf.  sensitivity to cold is something to be aware of.  Plus its your job to make fighting cancer cool.  

So we get to the oncologist office at 11am. The routine is that I go to a small examination room, get weighed (the chemo dose is based on your weight so this is a good time not to lie about it), check my blood pressure and prick my finger all before the doctor comes in for the biweekly update.  Its here my mind undergoes metamorphosis.  I've been dreading this day all week, but here in front of healthcare workers and angel nurses humor is my modus operandi.  I try every moment to crack some sort of joke.  Not so much for their sake as mine. The more smiling the more comfortable the treatment will be.  I've tested and so concluded.    

who doesn't like a little blood?

In walks doc.  I love the guy even though I hate what he's doing to me.  I'll clarify.  For some reason chemo doesn't feel like one of the good guys.  After months of trying to visualize chemo as good, I've realized that its not.  Its killing my cells, the good and the bad.  So my punishment?  I don't name it.  Chemo doesn't get a anything, not a joke or my sympathy.  It should stay underground where it came from.  Yet I'm using it. I'm in war using chemical weapons.

Doc and I discuss side effects.  My neuropathy is getting worse.  From numbness in the fingers and toes to now sharp stabbing needles in the finger tips.  This doesn't happen to everyone.  I'm lucky remember? So lucky that I'm classified as toxic sensitive.  Aren't we all?  Apparently some more than others.  I'll regale you with side effete in another post.  However we decide to continue the course unchanged, at least until next time.  Of the two drugs Oxaliplatin is the worser.  The standard is six months on both Oxaliplatin and 5 fu, however there seems to be evidence that 4 months is better than 6.  I'm going for the four now.  Neuropathy can be long term and I've got too many words to type to have this last any longer than it has to.  

I move straight into another prep room.  Another angel nurse (nurses are angels if you didn't know.  Really.  They're angels.  Thats why they wear baggy clothes.  To hide the wings.), anyway another angel accesses Oporto.  This is done simply.  Angel nurse takes a needle attached to a tube and aims straight for the bullseye in my chest.  Its as if she's trying to deflate a tiny balloon.  When she asks me to look away that's the cue to pinch my thigh.  Its all automatic by now and pretty much painless.  Once that's done I'm officially attached to "Lurch".  Tall skinny shiny wobbly Lurch.  Lurch is a pole.  He's what holds up the plastic bags dripping their mess down the gravity highway straight into Oporto's mouth.     

Here is where the Lurchs' wait in between jobs

Art. Weird sisters, Lurch and "calming" landscapes.  

Newly attached to Lurch, these three bags are now connected which officially begins my treatment.  These three bags of course share a name.  They are "The Weird Sisters."  They are the witches that sing "double double toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron boil."  They sort of run the show and put me in a spell for the next week or so. They are insane.  

In a few hours I will have sucked the sisters dry and "Burt" will appear.  Burt is my pump.  He will accompany me everywhere I go for the next two days.  He will be attached to Oporto ejaculating hourly infusions of 5/FU.  On Friday I will remove Burt and wait until the next treatment. 

Burt is the thing in my hand, not the blonde in the back.  The blonde in the back is called Juliet.  and yes, she's wearing a shirt. 

So here I sit for three hours as the various "medicine" flows into my chest.  Chemo is cumulative so by now the fatigue is climbing.  I can't really can't think to do anything else but to finish this sentence and tell you a joke.  Why are bears big, brown and hairy? Because if they were small round and white they'd be eggs.  I'm done for now. 

Facts

Here are some basic facts as I see them with no particular order.  It's assumed that all begin with "in my opinion..."  More to follow.  Or perhaps not.  

Fact #1: As far as cancer goes, you the patient are your only advocate.  No one else, no doctor, no loved one, no therapist is going to do it for you.  You have to take control and lead your body back to health yourself.  Playing the victim unfortunately gets us nowhere.  I've tried.  Not to say there isn't plenty of help and community along the way but… 

Fact #2: … cancer is a solitary experience no matter how many people surround you.  You can describe as much as you can but no one is living it like you are. Conversely the caretaker's experience is just as isolating, challenging and unique.  No one knows what its like until it happens to them.  Sounds obvious but I have to remind myself all the time. 

Fact #3:  Every body is different, you are (yes here's that word again) unique and the effects and treatment of your disease will effect you like no one else.  Stay away from statistics.    

Fact #4  The only way to end your disease and heal yourself in the process is to embrace the general philosophy of Integrative medicine.  I'm not suggesting you race out and sign up with an integrative practitioner, but at least explore the philosophy.  Traditional medicine treats the disease not the person.  Its only concern is with evidence based medicine (statistics).  Their way is with averages not individuals.  The person disappears. If you want total health, you're going to have to do much more than taking pills, cutting flesh or dripping poison.  White-coats are only part of the cure.  Life changes in nutrition, lifestyle, supplementation and spiritual connection are equally important.  For some ignorant reason I believed my medical team (who I love) would know about healing the whole person.  Yes they could remove the tumor and try to kill the rogue cells but it doesn't stop there.  The health of the individual is really not the doctor's job.  It's your job.  My job.  The cancer game requires full attention on so many levels.  The trick is not to make it daunting.  A little a little of the time.      

Not that you have to incorporate all slices immediately.  First you have to see what works for you.  But slowly add a little of as many colors as you can until you feel more balanced, more positive.  The feeling of health is the proof that something's working.  The mind is connected to body.  We are incredible machines! 

Fact 5:  I'm going to borrow from Dr. Schultz's book 20 Powerful Steps to a Healthier Life.  I've backed up most but not all of his statistics.  Regardless the Average American diet blows me away. We are currently on average consuming upwards of 2700 calories/day.  This is a dramatic rise from 2000/day in the 90s. In addition our aerobic activity is on the decrease.  The average american simply consumes more than it needs.  

The average american eats a low nutrition, high fat/sugar/ food program.  A diet in over processed, nutritionally depleted food.  They consume 300 soft drinks, 170 pounds of refined white sugar, 400 candy bars and 500 doughnuts in a year.  

The average american will eat over 12 entire 3,000 pound cows, six whole pigs, 3000 chickens, another 3000 assorted fish, 30,000 quarts of milk.

The average american will have an average of two to four bowel movements a week!  That's 70,000 bowel movements short in their lifetime.  They will average 25 pounds over weight. They will take 30,000 aspirin and assorted pain killers along with 20,000 over the counter and prescriptions.  They will drink over 2,000 gallons of alcohol.

Well, I'm not the average american.  And because of that, here's where the problem comes in...  

Fact 6:  …Western medicine treat and prescribe based on averages.  But what happens when you live an above average lifestyle?  What if you don't eat so much meat, don't drink any dairy, hate soft drinks and candy bars, eat minuscule amounts of cheese, exercise every day, weigh 5 pounds under average, never take pills, have two bowel movements a day, and eat only 100 doughnuts a year (I love doughnuts). Martinis and Guinness don't count btw.  Anyway, you get the point.  

The dosages for treatments in the cancer world are based on the statistics of the average american.  This makes absolutely no sense to someone like me.  In fact it makes no sense for anyone! Conclusion?  If you or a loved one is going through treatment and struggling with heavy side effects, think about your relationship to the average american.  Do you resemble those stats?  If so maybe you need to stay the course.  If you don't perhaps you need to scale down the dose.  I did.  My oncologist and I discussed and determined that a reduction in the platinum was sufficient to do its job without killing the host. The side effects got a little more manageable. Still its all a crap game.  And thats shocking and somehow reassuring.  There are no obie wan's other than that little voice called intuition inside you- the force.  Perhaps the point of star wars.  Was that one of the points? I digress.   

Fact 7: Laughter.  There are some alternative cancer clinics which start every day with laughter.  They either have jokes or see silly movies, etc.  I believe in it.  Have friends send you funny videos.  Watch them. Laugh.  Laughter actually is a medicine.  Every night I try and watch something funny.  Tonight is Life of Brian.   

Below aren't belly laughs, but here are some New Yorker cartoons that felt familiar to me.  The dog especially. 

START YOUR ENGINES

For some friends and followers this may come as a surprise but the time has come to share.  A big step, especially for an introvert like myself.  Being public about whats private is a 'no no,' usually.  But this isn't usual.  Far from it.  I had cancer.  These rants/reminiscences/wanderings will be serious, ridiculous, uncomfortable, maybe funny, sometimes practical, full of the hopeless, hopeful and hopefully somewhat illuminating information.  Its one person's relationship with dis ease (as an herbal guru likes to call it).  Roughly 140,000 people are diagnosed each year with colorectal cancer.  90 percent of all new cases are over the age of fifty.  That puts me in the 10 percent of younger lucky ones.  Add Lynch Syndrome to the list and I become even more lucky, I become a 3 percenter.   I've finally made it!  I've become a statistic.             

Back story: December 20 something 2014.  After months battling an upset stomach and irritable bowel I decided to do something about it.  I did something that required strength, commitment and athletic determination.  I did what any man would do in my situation.

I went skiing.  

Good friends rented a condo in Jackson Hole for a week of downhill and gluttony.  The perfect storm for a blocked upper intestine.  Juliet and I were determined to have a new year somewhere out of the norm, exciting and beautiful.  As we drove back home from our post card holiday my GI (Gastro-Intestinal) pain increased.  So much so we decided to stop for a night in Salt Lake.  I swallowed pain with refusal and handfuls of Advil (just about the worst pill you can take while battling a tumor).  I found ways of sleeping that hurt less, legs up on a pillow, left side facing down, drinking excess water.  If I told Juliet just how bad it was she'd force me to visit the 'man in white.'  My distaste, or rather disgust of hospitals propelled me into secrecy and refusal.  You see, women may have a higher "pain" threshold but men have a higher "denial" threshold.  I simply refused to accept the fact that anything serious was wrong with me, thereby skirting the men in white.     

Eventually I struck a compromise,  I'd see a naturopath.  Naturopaths seldom wear white, or so I thought.  I figured maybe I had some deficiency or stress that could be holistically encouraged to disappear.  This made sense as I'd never been sick like this in my life.  Never been forced on medicine except that one time in drama school when Sandy made out with the cast of a Chris Durang play giving each of us mononucleosis. It wasn't her fault really, it was the stage directions.  So, besides mono I never had anything more serious than a cold and the rare flu.  I was healthy, in shape-- convinced my life would live eternal.  I was lying like congress.   

After an ineffective week of vitamins and laxatives  (by this time I spent a few hours a day curled up in a ball of intense cramps) the very competent naturopath encouraged me- rather ordered me- to get a CAT scan, and I obeyed.   Btw CAT stands for computerized axial tomography, which loosely translated means: blurry black and white images near impossible to read even for technicians schooled in the thing.  We have 3D imax movies to entertain us, but only a CAT to diagnose us.  Go figure.  The technician suggested checking into the local hospital to see if they could point me to a specialist who could determine more accurately the cause of my symptoms as the cat seemed to be inconclusive.  He actually spoke in run-ons just like that.  After a few hours on a bed in the hallway of the emergency room the doc on call finally surmised I had irritable bowel syndrome, perhaps some access trapped fluid, maybe a prehistoric poo.  Not much they could do.  They suggested a high colonic would do me good.  I went to get my colonic and thankfully thats when a higher power intervened to save my life. 

I lost my wallet.  

If I hadn't lost my wallet it would've been the most painful and possibly deadly treatment I could've had for someone in my situation.  To this day I bow across the alter and give thanks to the gods that misplaced my wallet.  So ended weeks of mis diagnosis.    

I went back home in search of wallet and more importantly to re sort the garage.  I needed a break.  The place was a mess and besides, I had to find something to take my mind off the mystery.  More laxatives and pain killers and garbage bags full of shit.  What a metaphor.  

A friend in Los Angeles finally had had it with my weekly update on constipation and irritation- she ordered me to Providence Hospital in Santa Monica.  There, I met the most wonderful GI doctor.  It was in her office on that first visit where I heard the word "tumor" as it might apply to me.  My sacred denial kicked into overdrive and stayed with me all the way through the colonoscopy.  As I was laying on the table about to meld with MJ's chemical lover (propofol) I looked into my doc's eyes.  She was smiling, but I read something different.  The hammer fell, I was out.

I woke up what seemed like seconds later to the news.  I had a tumor in my colon, requiring immediate surgery.  I was so out of it I had no idea what was real and what wasn't.  The look on Juliet's face and my father's nervous smile confirmed I wasn't dreaming.  The information was real.  Holy shit.  I'm too young for this.  NOT PART OF THE PLAN.  

Well, it was part of the plan because there I was.  Simple as that.  January 21st I rolled into surgery.    

I don't remember waking up, but apparently I did and with that came the news: stage 3C colon cancer. Yep.  I was handed my sentence.  The sentence that called for a dreaded series of treatments short-named 'chemo.'  You see there are two main factors that make up stage 3C thereby requiring chemotherapy (at least so say the medical world).  The first factor is how deep the tumor spread through the different layers of tissue that comprise the wall of the colon, and the second factor is the discovery of infected lymph nodes.  In my case, the tumor took up the entire circumference of the colon wall: 7cm.  One out of twenty four lymph nodes was infected.   I named the tumor "F*ck Face." It's now in a jar in a basement somewhere around 26th street and Santa Monica Blvd.  Creepy.  It took me two months to recover from surgery before chemo would take the reigns.  1 session every other week for 6 months.  12 treatments in all.  This was standard protocol for the statistic that I'd become.  Two therapies in one: oxaliplatin and 5-fluorouracil/leucovorin (or 5FU).  I call this period of time my half life.  One week dead, one week alive. 

As of tomorrow I'll be halfway through treatments.  Lots of wisdom gained mainly after the facts. Hopefully, if its you next you'll do things slightly different.  Maybe you can be a little less dumb and tad more smart.  Perhaps you won't rely on time and your denial to sort things out.  You might even go to the doctor or better yet begin your own healing regime.  You might understand that symptoms are signposts.  You might realize that health has far more to do than just surgery, radiation and chemo.  This site is about the last five months and the months to continue.  Its about balancing between western medicine and natural healing.  I didn't allow myself much of a choice in the beginning so I've been straddling.  Besides, I don't believe that it has to be one or the other.  Anyway, life has changed and will forever be changed.  And believe it or not I'm grateful.  This could either be the worst thing or the best thing to ever happen to me.  Truth is both are right.  But there's no average, no statistic on how I feel or where this will take me.  As a friend told me, its all a choice.  So I'm choosing to make this good and share in the hope that good will spread.          

I could go on, so I will...