Can We Eat to Starve Cancer?

To understand the role of real food in keeping our bodies healthy, watch this absolutely fascinating video: "Can We Eat to Starve Cancer?"

How to be a Great Friend

I just came upon this great list and felt compelled to post it. Below is a list of meaningful things that you can do if someone you know is diagnosed with cancer:

• Just Call to Chat
• Give a hat shower for your friend. Have everyone bring a cool hat.
• Send out e-mail to co-workers and friends and give your friend’s address so people can send cards and letters.
• Gather together some mutual friends and make a “Walk Beside Me” Quilt.
• Take up a collection and buy a day of house cleaning, window washing or carpet cleaning for your friend.
• Cook a meal for her family on chemotherapy days.
• Drop by with a milkshake.
• Go to a matinee movie and/or to lunch.
• Drop by to do some laundry.
• Run some errands for her: grocery shopping, post office, bank deposits, etc.
• Get manicures and pedicures.
• Get her a gift certificate for a healing massage.
• Just Call to Chat
• Wash her car.
• Help with yard work, and chat while working.
• Go wig shopping and try on crazy colors (the crazier the better!)
• Buy her a new shade of lipstick.
• Add her to your church’s prayer chain; some women’s groups will also send cards and notes.
• Ask her to make you a list of errand, chores and tasks so you can pass them around for others to help
• Have a going away boobie party.
• Invite her to a special lunch, bring out the fancy china and silver. Don’t forget the linen napkins. What are you saving them for anyway. Celebrate your friendship and life.
• Many restaurants have gourmet foods to go. Bring home her favorites and enjoy them with her in comfy clothes.
• There is nothing better than the smell of warm bread, or the taste of warm bread with a slather of butter. Share the experience with her, and of course do the clean up. Slice it up and freeze it, so she can enjoy it later as well.
• Bring over an assortment of herbal teas. Looking for a better nights sleep? Try chamomile. Need an afternoon pick up? Try hibiscus and rose hips.
• Just Call to Chat
• If your friend likes to cook, bring over some fresh herbs, many supermarkets are stocking them these days.
• Ice cream sundaes are always in style, bring over a few toppings and you have instant fun.
• Create a fun “Do Not Disturb” sign for her to use it if she needs some alone time. Great for the bathroom door to take that long relaxing bath or an afternoon nap. Don’t forget a nice basket of bath products.
• If time is short, pay a responsible teenager to do some mundane & tiring errands to take away some of the burden of chores.
• Breakfast in bed is always a hit, don’t forget the flowers to brighten up the tray.
• Take your friend for a new look. It’s more fun to do it together. If she’s up to it, try on some new styles of clothes together. A bald head goes well with punk styles. Pick something you would never normally wear and have a good laugh. Don’t forget the camera.
• Get a few wild temporary tattoos and have fun putting them in daring places.
• Drive your friend around so she can more easily do those errands, it will take some of the stress out of errands and make them more fun at the same time.
• Pamper your friend with a paraffin wax treatment, the warm wax does wonders for circulation and makes your hands soft and smooth. Can be used for sore, tired feet as well.
• When you come to visit your friend, suggest she take a long hot bubble bath while you watch the kids, do the dishes or just field the phone calls.
• Just Call to Chat
• Before she looses her hair, dye it a color she’s always talked about, or get it cut short and sassy. Encourage her to be daring by trying out some new styles or looks. Remember, it’s probably only going to last for a week or so.
• Try some art therapy. Not creative enough? Bring over a couple of coloring books and color crayons and help her feel like a kid again with color book therapy. Good time to talk and bring out the creativity even if she isn’t an artist. Don’t forget, it’s ok to color outside of the lines.
• If your friend is dealing with Lymphadema you could hire a massage therapist that is specially trained to help relieve the pressure and help her relax.
• If you like to do crafts, bring over the supplies and share this new craft with your friend.
• If you have a sweet pet that likes people, share them with your friend. Pets have a special healing power. (check for allergies beforehand)
• One way to pamper your friend is to shampoo her hair (or massage her head with lotion if she has no hair)
• Oh yeah… Just Call to Chat!
• And finally… If she says no, don’t give up, continue to offer to help.

No Need to Fear -- All is Great!

I posted the poem below -- entitled When Death Comes -- in response to the recent passing of my dear friend's father, who died from cancer. I have known him for years and know that this poem is a very good reflection of how he felt about life and so, after reading it, I sent it to my friend. And because it is also a reflection of how I feel about life and death, I decided to also post it here. Unfortunately, some people read this entry and were afraid -- because I offered no explanation -- that this was a reflection of my current situation. One friend of my father's even called him and said, "I have a very delicate question to ask....is everything alright with Julie?" I am so sorry if I caused any alarm! Thankfully, I am happy to report that I am doing fabulous. I am healthier and happier than ever and keeping super busy this summer with the kids and work. All in all, life is great!

I wish that I had more time to write...my life has taken many wonderful twists and turns since I ended cancer treatment almost 3 years ago. I am now Executive Director for a cancer-related non-profit in Marin (where we live) and I am partnering with my oncologist, Dr David Gullion, to open a cancer healing center in Marin. It's been a long and interesting process (that I often describe as "riding a roller coaster in the dark"), but we are making slow and steady progress, which feels great. If I am every lucky enough to have an extra hour or so to sit down and write more, I absolutely will because I have learned so much about what "healing" really means. Until then, please know that life is good. I hope the same is true of each of you who still faithfully read my blog.

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom; taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

When you view your health as non-negotiable, your priorities will naturally shift.

Thanksgiving Day, 2008

It's 10pm on Thanksgiving day and I am incredibly exhausted (but in the best way possible -- too much great food, too much fun, too much engaging conversation with great friends, etc). Despite this, though, I still feel compelled to write.

It's been almost 3 months since the last time I posted anything on my blog. I have come back here a number of times meaning to write something, but I never have. I think mostly because it's been a very difficult Fall for me; I lost 4 friends to cancer in the past 3 months. Rebecca was the first, then Bernadette, then a friend from Chicago (who also had stage 3 colon cancer that eventually became stage 4) and, lastly, another colon cancer pen pal named Elika, whom I have written about in the past. By far, Elika's death affected me the most. She was diagnosed within days of my own diagnosis and we went through the same exact treatment in lock-step. Unfortunately, Elika's cancer came back with a vengence only months after we both underwent our second surgeries. She learned in July that she had relapsed and she passed away in October.

I have spent a great deal of time lately thinking about life and thinking about all that I have to be thankful for. I have no idea why these four women (5 including my friend, Bonnie) did not survive cancer and yet somehow I have. I will leave my theories on this for a later date -- one when I am not so tired -- but for now, I just wanted to share a moment from my Thanksgiving today:

Pete and I and the boys spent Thanksgiving dinner with our neighbors -- a really wonderful couple named Joel and Judy -- and all of their family and close friends. During dinner, Joel asked us each to take a moment and speak about what we are most thankful for this past year. When my turn came, I spoke without a moment's hesistation, "I know exactly what I am thankful for -- this past year has made everything crystal clear for me: I am thankful to be alive. I am thankful to be healthy again. I am thankful for my beautiful family. And I am thankful for all of the wonderful friends who surround me in my life." I don't think that, in words, these are any different than what I would have said in years prior to my cancer diagnosis. I have always been grateful for being alive, I have always loved my family, etc. But I think that the difference now is that I came so close to losing all of these things. And I have had the painful experience five times now of seeing friends who did lose these things, and so when I make these statements now, I say them with the knowledge and wisdom of knowing that there is nothing else in life that is more important. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. As long as I have the four things that I spoke about at dinner -- life, health, family and friends -- I am truly blessed and there is nothing else I need.

It's been exactly one year since I finished all of my chemo treatments and I remember this time last year thinking how perfectly fitting it is that every Thanksgiving for the rest of my life I will be able to pause and reflect on just how blessed I am. This Thanksgiving was the first of what I hope are many, many more of these Thanksgivings to come.

My Friend, Bern

Bernadette passed away this morning. It's been almost two years since she was diagnosed. She leaves behind a loving husband and five children (ages 2-12 years.)

Many months ago, I went to church and my pastor gave a homily in which he said that none of us can survive in this world alone. He talked about how important friends and family are in life and that we need to surround ourselves with loved ones on our journey. He used the analogy of a flock of birds which fly in V-Formation. He explained that, for a while, one bird will take the lead and provide an easier flight for all the other birds who fly behind. And then, when that bird gets tired, she will move to the back and the next bird will move forward to carry the burden for awhile. When I returned home after hearing this sermon, I wrote to Bern. I told her that we were part of the same flock; that we would always fly together and help each other to shoulder the burden of cancer.

Last week, when I heard that she was not doing well, I wrote her. I reminded her of our pact and I told her that I was so, so sorry that I was never able to shoulder as much of the burden as her. She was never able to move from the point -- I was never able to provide her any relief from the exhaustion and pain of fighting her cancer, and it breaks my heart to think of how much pain she had to endure -- both physically and emotionally -- these past 22 months. In my note, I thanked Bern for the inspiration and determination that she demonstrated, since there were days that I definitely coasted behind her and was able to fly more easily because of her.

I cannot believe that she is gone. I cannot get my bearings -- I just keep crying and crying. I'll write again soon.

Right Brain Rules!!!

I was right!! I was right!! My logical, right brain was right! I am clean!! My CT/PET showed absolutely no sign of any cancer. YIPPEEEEEE!! :)

My Next CT/PET Scan

For anyone still keeping track, today is my next CT/PET scan. I am leaving in just a few minutes for my appointment and I have very mixed emotions....The right (or is it the left?) side of my brain -- whichever side is more logical -- tells me that I feel great and that I am super healthy and strong again. It reminds me that I worked out like crazy while on vacation these past 5 weeks and never once felt too tired or sick to keep going. And it reminds me that I had zero lymph node involvement last year after my surgery and that the cancer cells the pathologist found were "well differentiated" (which is the best scenario possible, for those who don't speak medical mumbo-jumbo). And it reminds me that I fought like freaking hell all last year, and while a noble fight can't save everyone, it definitely helps. Ninety-eight percent of the time, my right brain rules and I feel confident that everything will be just fine. The other 2% of the time, however, my more emotional left brain swoops in. And I am reminded that cancer is arbitrary and ruthless. I am reminded that Rebecca just died of colon cancer and that it's been almost a year since my dear friend, Bonnie, died of cancer. And I am bitterly reminded that my dear friend, Bernadette (the one with breast cancer that was originally diagnosed with lung cancer) is likely going to lose her battle very, very soon and will leave behind five beautiful children when this happens. And it reminds me that my pen pal, Elika (who went through treatment for stage 3 colon cancer at the EXACT same time as me) has already relapsed. In mid-July, the doctors found that the cancer had spread to her brain, lungs and abdomen already. And it reminds me that Tony Snow had a relapse after TWO years and so, even if this scan comes back clean, I am still not out of the woods. And so all of these reminders are what over-ride the logical part of my brain and make me panic.

Right this second, as I head off for my scan, my right brain is definitely in control -- I feel great, I feel confident, I KNOW that the scan will be clean. Stay tuned to see if I am right.

Rebecca

At 1am on Thursday, July 31 my friend, Rebecca, passed away. She is survived by her husband, Dan, and her 3-year-old son, Jacob, and many other friends and family who loved her. If you want to read more about this wonderful friend of mine, please visit her blog at http://www.rebeccajunction.com/.

I am so overwhelmed with emotions right now, I do not even know how to begin to process what I am feeling. I am numb. I am in complete disbelief. How did this happen? How did I lose ANOTHER friend to cancer in the span of only one year? Why does this keep happening???

On the home page of her blog, Rebecca wrote about all the things she is grateful for. Toward the bottom, I was shocked to see that she mentioned me: "Julie is my fellow survivor (and Kellogg classmate) and has been a healer to me in many ways. Thank you Julie for your strength, input and support." I cried uncontrollably when I read this. I wish so badly that I had truly been able to "heal" Rebecca. I cried for the fact that I couldn't heal her and now she is gone. I cried for the fact that she has died of the same dreaded disease that tried to kill me. I cried for the fact that Rebecca was WAY too young to die and that her beautiful baby boy will never feel her loving arms squeeze him tight the way that I hug my own beautiful boys.

I don't even remember what I wrote to Rebecca these past 14 months that gave her strength; all I know is that every time I wrote, I made a point to reminded her that she was still very much alive and not to forget to embrace every single moment. I would remind her to not give up hope until her very last breath, and to fight like hell. Maybe my words of encouragement gave her enough strength to drag herself out of bed on "bad days" long enough to tuck her son into bed for the night. Maybe my words gave her enough strength to wake up in the morning long enough to kiss her husband before he left for work. Maybe my words of encouragement even gave her one more day or week or month of life than she would have had otherwise. Wouldn't that be great?!? I like to think that maybe my words helped Rebecca to stay on this Earth -- in the arms of her loved ones -- just a little bit longer. I hope upon hope that I was able to give her this gift.

Good-bye, Rebecca, you are greatly beloved and will be greatly missed.

An Awful Dose of Reality

I have a classmate from Kellogg who, shortly after me, was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. She collapsed from exhaustion one day and was rushed to the hospital. She was originally diagnosed with a viral infection, but when that didn't clear, her doctor conducted more tests. One test lead to another and she ultimately discovered that she had colon cancer that had already spread to her lungs. Rebecca is my age and has a young son Kyle's age. At the time of her diagnosis, she and her husband were happily making plans for getting pregnant again. Today, I received an email that included the following update from her husband:

Dear Friends,
It breaks my heart to write to tell you that Rebecca is gravely ill. It has become clear over the past couple of days that the last-ditch chemotherapy that she has been on is not working, so we made the decision today to shift the focus from aggressively fighting the cancer to making sure Rebecca is as comfortable as possible. I'll write again soon -- I fear too soon -- with an update. It pains me beyond words to warn you that it will be the worst possible news. Dan

I was paralyzed when I read the email -- I could not stop staring at my computer screen. When I could finally move again, I burst into tears. I cannot believe that -- but for a crazy twist of fate -- this is happening to Rebecca instead of me. I am obviously thrilled beyond belief that I am as healthy as I am today and that Pete never had to write the painful email that Rebecca's husband had to write, but my heart is breaking into a million pieces for Rebecca and her husband and, most of all, her child. This could have been me. This could have so easily been my life. This could have been my wonderful husband. This could have been my beautiful, beautiful children who love and need me beyond words and whose entire worlds are rocked when they have to spend even an afternoon away from me.

It's still so painful and horrifying for me to know that Rebecca is going through this because of the same dreadful disease that I had. How did I manage to climb to the top of my mountain? And, once I got there, how did I manage to get lucky enough to step back from the edge? I cannot make any sense of this in my mind.

There is part of me that is reluctant to even post this entry into my blog -- in fact, I posted the entry and then went back and re-opened it to add this very paragraph. I feel like acknowledging the fact that people can die from cancer is, in some way, equivalent to me aquiescing to cancer. I don't want to admit that it has this power; I don't want to give the Bitch any morsel of control or satisfaction. I want anyone who reads my blog who has been recently diagnosed with cancer to know that if you fight like hell, you can beat it. But the unfortunate reality is that some people are not able to beat it. In some cases, the Bitch wins. This is why so many people (like me!) are terrified to hear the diagnosis of "cancer." This is why I will forever cringe every time that I hear of someone who has been newly diagnosed. Not only is cancer evil, but it is also very arbitrary. Some people live and some don't. I think that the arbitrary-ness of the disease is just as awful since there is not one single cancer patient who knows at the beginning of their own personal journey whether or not they will be one of the lucky ones who is allowed to "step back from the edge" or not. And the uncertainty of it all is as overwhelming as the diagnosis.

My wish for Rebecca is the same wish that I had for Bonnie and that I have for anyone who is facing death: I hope and pray that Rebecca knows how much she is beloved on this Earth. She is truly beloved.

Checking In After 3+ Months

Oh my! Has it really been more than THREE months since I last wrote in my blog?? How did that happen?!? I feel like it was just last week that I was coming home from the hospital after my surgery. Wow -- time flies!

Lots has happened since late January...here are some of the highlights:

1) I started a marketing consulting project for Jamba Juice in early February and it turned out to be the best possible thing that I could have done. I was a complete wreck leading up to it -- Am I ready to start work? Will I be completely exhausted? What if my digestive system decides not to cooperate and I am running to the bathroom every 5 minutes? Does my brain still work?? -- but once I started, everything just fell into place and I eased back into a state of normalcy with very little effort. And I have to say that working 25-30 hours a week doesn't leave a whole lot of time to stress about "what if's," which has been a huge blessing.

2) The job itself has been really wonderful. I was a bit leery at first as to whether or not the management team was really committed to repositioning the brand as "healthy" but I have little doubt anymore. It's just something that will take a while, since the economy is definitely not working in our favor and since the changes that need to be made (e.g., switching to all organic fruit, etc) are not easy nor inexpensive changes to make. But I am enjoying what I am doing and feel really good about the fact that the company's vision aligns well with my own personal values, which is something that I feel passionate about after all that I went through.

3) I turned the big FOUR-OH in mid-April. It hasn't been as bad as I feared, but then again, I am still in a bit of denial. The fun part, though, is that Pete and I just met my best friend, Lisa, and her husband in NYC to celebrate. Lisa turned 40 ten days before me and so we thought that NYC would be a great way to celebrate and, indeed, it was. We managed to fit in a couple amazing Broadway shows, tickets to a David Letterman show, lots of shopping, loads of great food and tons of laughter. All in all, a trip of a lifetime!!

4) My health continues to improve. In fact, I just had a 3-month check-up today with my oncologist. My blood work shows that everything is back to normal or very close. The only test that was elevated was one of my liver function tests, but it's much improved over where it was at the end of treatment last November, so it's moving in the right direction. My mom joked with me that the results could also have been skewed because of our recent NYC trip -- true, true!! :)

5) I still have the annoying numbness in my feet. It started about 6 weeks after my last chemo treatment and is still quite persistent. I mentioned to Dr Gullion that I have also started to get shooting pains in my feet and legs, which has been quite alarming. However, he said that he thinks this is actually a GOOD thing -- it means that the nerves are likely regenerating. When I hear things like this I can't help but to be in total awe about how resilient the human body is!! I have come to understand that our bodies truly want to heal. Unfortunately, that is not always possible but there is still peace in knowing that our bodies do the best that they can to return to health.

6) The other -- less troubling, but equally annoying -- symptom that I have experienced lately is occasional abdominal pain surrounding my incision. When I was in the hospital in January, my surgeon had to make an incision about 2-inches long right near my belly-button. The incision was healing so well in the hospital and by the time I was discharged, it looked quite sealed. And since I didn't want to have to schlep back into the city a few days later to have the stitches removed, I opted to have the doctor remove them before I left. In hindsight, that was probably not the best decision since within about 5 seconds of walking in the door my dog jumped all over me with excitement, which caused my incision to split open. And as if that weren't dreadful enough, the nurse informed me that I could not get the incision re-sutured because of the risk of infection. Therefore, I had to leave the wound open and let it heal "from the inside out." And I had to change the bandages on it twice a day, which means that I actually had to LOOK at it. Yuck. Yuck. Double yuck. Needless to say, it eventually healed but, unfortunately, I am left with quite a bit of scar tissue in the area. Dr Gullion thinks that this scar tissue is likely constricting things when I move or when my insides shift around and that is what is causing the pain. The only option is to open me back up and try to clean up the scar tissue but I run the risk of just creating MORE scar tissue and so his advice is to just wait awhile and see if it gets better. So that's the plan!

7) On a sad note, my parents lost their home in Scottsdale to a fire on March 17th. Once I went back to work in February, they started to ease back into their prior, "normal" lives and had returned to Scottsdale to get some stuff done which they had neglected in the past year while taking care of me. One of those chores was to get a new roof put on their home. Unfortunately, in the process, the roofer caught their roof on fire and it took six hours for the fire department to put out the fire. They lost everything. Anything that wasn't destroyed by the fire was ruined because of smoke or water damage. Trying to battle with the insurance company and to sort through all of their life's belongings has been truly devastating and emotionally draining for them these past few weeks. My heart goes out to them -- after all that we went through this past year and after all of the months of giving all their attention and energy to me and my family, my parents deserved to be able to kick back and just relax for awhile. And now that is likely not going to be a reality for many more months. :(

But what can you do? After all that we went through last year, I think my parents realize that all you can do is just take things once day at a time and focus on your blessing with every step.

8) Hmmmm...what else??

9) I am still doing pretty well with my "no regrets" life plan. In fact, I have found that I don't really have much choice!! In these past 3 months, I have learned first-hand that when my life starts to get out of balance I literally become physically ill. There have been a few instances when I felt that my life was becoming a bit unbalanced (for example, when I wasn't eating as healthy as I wanted to or wasn't exercising enough or when I had some concerns about whether the work I was doing for Jamba was truly aligned with my own values) and during these times, I felt really physically ill.

I can definitely remember having feelings of "discontent" prior to my diagnosis and treatment. Like when I was working for Pottery Barn and was trying to get pregnant with a second child. I knew that I was working too hard and was very stressed and that this was likely contributing to our infertility issues. And I knew for a long time that I should probably quit my job and focus on getting pregnant since that was my #1 priority (this is what I ultimately did) but it took a looooong time of ignoring this intuition and just trying to plow through before I finally came to my senses.

I think that it was hard for me -- and probably for many women -- to accept and believe that I couldn't do it all. I wanted it all -- I wanted the great career, and the beautiful children, and the perfect marriage, and to be in great shape and be able to run a 10K any time I chose. But I came to realize that only SuperWoman can do all things perfectly. And there is no such thing as SuperWoman -- she doesn't exist. The reality is that there are many woman just like me who stretch themselves so incredibly thin trying to be perfect at everything and they don't realize the consequences. Like the fact that their health is taking a toll. Like the fact that their marriage might be taking a toll. Like the fact that their children really, really need them to be more present and in the moment. Like the fact that in the quest to be perfect at everything (or at least appear that way!) that they have lost sight of their own priorities.

So I think that one of the biggest gifts that I have gained from having cancer is that I now get physically sick when I begin to lose sight of my priorities. Funny though, eh? To think that feeling sick is a gift! But I have been reminded these past 3 months how easily priorities can be overshadowed by other things which seem more important (or just plain more fun) at the time. And so I am grateful that my mind and body don't let me and my priorities get mis-aligned. It's a blessing indeed!!

10) The kids are doing great. The daily Luke-isms and Kyle-isms keep us all laughing and overall both boys seem very happy. They are both healthy as can be and are growing like little weeds -- both added more than an inch between January and March -- and still spend the majority of each day bouncing off every wall in the house.

11) Pete is also doing great. Blurb is keeping him busy, but he still loves what he does and he is home most nights in time for dinner with the kids so it's all very manageable.

12) And speaking of Blurb, I finally figured out how to download this entire blog into one of their book templates. Now all I have to do is a bit of formatting and add some pictures and I'll be ready to print my first book! Yippee! Given how much I am working these days, this likely won't happen for a couple more months but stay tuned...I'll definitely post the details here when the book is finally complete.

Okay, I must sign off now since it's getting late. It's been fun to write again -- I really miss it but am also happy that I no longer have much to say that is of much interest to anyone other than perhaps my mom and dad, who still love to hear about my day! :)

Nite-nite!

We are heading up to Tahoe for the weekend (leaving tomorrow - Thursday) and then I start my new project with Jamba Juice on Monday, so just wanted to let you know that you likely won't hear from me again for awhile. The only exception is if the weather is too cold in Tahoe for me to be outside much (I am still really sensitive to cold) in which case I'll be staying indoors with lots of time on my hands to do lots of writing. But hopefully that won't be the case...

My New "No Regrets" Diet

Many people have asked me how my diet has changed since being diagnosed with colon cancer. I don't want to bore you with the details of what I used to eat, but I can tell you that my diet has changed a lot over this past year. Here are the highlights of what my new "no regrets" diet looks like these days:

1) My #1 goal every day is to eat a variety of whole foods that come from the Earth. Most days I do a pretty good job.
2) Which means that I rarely eat processed foods anymore -- the exceptions to this rule being that I still eat healthy breakfast cereals fairly often (like Total, Grape Nuts or Shredded Wheat) since there is no getting around the fact that they are convenient. And occasionally I still indulge in some processed snacks (like a handful of Goldfish crackers or a Zone bar) -- again, mostly because they are so darn convenient and yummy.
3) I also rarely eat meat, but have not given it up all together. I eat some sort of meat (e.g., turkey sandwich for lunch, chicken or salmon for dinner, etc) maybe 2-3 times a week in a "heavy" week and I treat the meat serving more as a side dish than the main entry. I also try to limit how much I eat of other animal products such as butter, eggs, dairy milk. So for example, instead of dairy milk I have switched to rice milk, almond milk and soy milk and I eat eggs about once a month rather than a few times a week like I used to.
4) I eat loads more veggies and fruits now than I used to.
5) I eat lots of whole grains, such as breads, wild rice, whole wheat pasta, steel-cut oatmeal, etc. that contain minimal ingredients and are completely unprocessed. So, for example, the very yummy bread that we eat daily contains a total of only six super-healthy, completely - pronounceable, from-the-Earth ingredients: freshly stone ground whole wheat berries, water, unbleached wheat flour, honey, yeast, sea salt, and nothing else!
6) I choose organic options whenever possible.
7) I rarely eat sugar anymore and when I do I try to eat only foods that are sweetened with cane sugar rather than refined sugar. This is probably the single biggest change in my diet, since I used to eat some form of sugar every day, at almost every meal. Now, instead of cookies or other sweets for dessert, I try to eat things like dried fruit, nuts, applesauce, etc.
8) And lastly, I never really worry about carbs versus fats versus proteins. I really don't. I think that Atkins (and South Beach and other such diets) are a complete crock. Humans have been eating carbohydrates and fats and protein for centuries; it's just that we have been eating these macro-nutrients in the form of real foods from the Earth, rather than processed foods from manufacturing plants. I figure that as long as I am doing the other six things on my list well, these macro-nutrients will work themselves out.

A friend recently forwarded me a New York Times article written by Michael Pollan (author of The Omnivore's Dilemma) called "Unhappy Meals" in which he describes my new diet perfectly. The article also paints a pretty vivid picture of why this is my diet.

I really, really urge you to read it. At first glance, it looks lengthy but it won't take you long (I read it in about an hour with numerous distractions from both boys) and, as far as I am concerned, it's probably the most important article you can read about food. And if, after you have read it, you want even more information, check out Michael Pollan's new book, In Defense of Food, which further elaborates on the details of the article.

Click here for the article. And for easier reading, click on the "Print" option just to the right of the article and it will open up a new window with the article in printable format.

Humankind has not woven the web of life.
We are but one thread within it.
Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.
All things are bound together.
All things connect.

~Chief Seattle, 1854

The View From The Summit

My carabiner was successfully removed yesterday. Ironically, the procedure ended exactly at 10am, as I predicted. I was a bit groggy from the sedation, but I remember my doctor saying, "Well, it's 10-o-clock and we are done...not bad for a morning's work."

So that's it; I am done. I have reached the top of my mountain. There are no more treatments or procedures that I need, no more weekly doctor's visits, no more thinking about killing "the Bitch." The only thing left to do at this point is to allow my body and mind to heal. My God, I have wished for this day for so, soooo long. And as with anything that you wish for with all your might, it's always a bit surreal when the wish finally comes true.

I don't have enough fingers on both hands to count the number of times in the past year that I felt so overwhelmed and so certain that I could never possibly make it to the top. Anyone who has followed my blog from the beginning knows that going through cancer treatment like I had is ridiculously difficult. In fact, I just spent the past couple hours re-reading many of my blog entries and was reminded again at how formidable this climb has been -- chemo, radiation, surgery, more chemo, more surgery. And those were just the physical challenges! The emotional challenges were equally gargantuan -- the uncertainty about whether the cancer had metastasized, the fear about what my future held in store, the terror in my heart that I might not have a "future", the annoyance at having my life put "on hold", the frustration with feeling like my body had "given out." Reliving all these painful, vivid memories again brought me to tears.

And yet, here I am ... I am "Bitch-free"... I am alive and healing ... My climb is over.

I never really stopped along the way to think about how I would feel once I reached the summit. I guess I just assumed that I would feel extremely happy and that's about it. Of course I am thrilled, but the reality is that I also feel so much more. I feel an enormous sense of relief. Relief to know that there is nothing left to be done at this point but heal. Relief to know that I am no longer standing on the edge of a precipice wondering whether I will fall down to the valley floor below before I can gather the strength to climb to the top. Relief to know that my life will soon begin to ease back to normal (or at least a new sense of normal.) And I feel extremely grateful. Grateful that the human body is so capable of surviving incredible abuse and is able to heal from it and reach a new equilibrium. Grateful that I was born with enough fiestiness and determination to achieve whatever I set my mind out to achieve. Grateful for the handful of friends and family who taught me how to tackle life's challenges with grace. Grateful that I am surrounded by so many wonderful friends and family who cared enough about me to cheer me on every step of this journey. And I feel humbled. Humbled to know that life is too precious to ever take for granted. Humbled to know that life's lessons sometimes need to be learned the hard way in order to really sink in. And, lastly, I feel enlightened. Enlightened to the fact that life is not a dress-rehearsal and that if I don't start living the life that I want today, I might never get another chance. Enlightened to the fact that blessings surround us every day, but that it often takes challenges such as cancer to open our eyes and see them. And enlightened (and thrilled!) to recognize that a new chapter of my life begins today and that the future I wish for is mine to create.

So with all of these emotions swirling crazily through my head -- relief, gratefulness, humbleness, enlightenment, happiness -- I stand here now, at the top of my mountain, and scream "Thank you, Lord!" at the top of my lungs. And I look around with tears in my eyes at the beauty, and wonder and mystery of life and I savor the fact that I am here to enjoy it for (hopefully) many more years to come.

I wish that I were able to hug and thank each and every person who has read my blog and who has cheered me on these past 12 months, but since many of you live many miles away (and since I don't even know some of you!), I realize that this is not possible. Therefore, in lieu of me hugging you on this very special day, perhaps you could do me a favor: Please take a minute out of your day and hug someone else -- your spouse, your children, your friend, your neighbor. Really, really HUG them! And let them know how much you love them and how important they are in your life. And feel grateful to be alive and to be able to share your love, since, in the end, that is all any of us really want or can hope for: to feel beloved on this earth.

Climbing!!

I found this picture recently when I was going through some old photos in our basement...it's a picture of me climbing Camelback Mountain in Phoenix many years ago with my husband, Pete, and my good friend, Peter Craig.

That's Peter's head that you see in the foreground -- he was sitting at the top of the mountain yelling instructions and encouragement down to me as I climbed, just as he has done for me this past year (he's an emergency room doctor now and so was a valuable resource on the medical front early on.) And my hubby, Pete, is outside of the picture holding the other end of my rope. He had me on belay that day, ensuring that I didn't go crashing to the ground below, just as he has so successfully, patiently and lovingly done this whole past year as well.

The Summit Is In Sight

Well, this is it....I am rapidly approaching the very last section of my mountain. The summit is in sight: At 9am tomorrow morning I will be in the hospital having my port-a-cath removed and I think that it will be one of the happiest days of my entire life. If you remember, I used to call the port-a-cath my "carabiner." I remember being so freaked out to learn that I needed to have it implanted and the only way I could get my head around the idea was to envision the port-a-cath as a critical piece of equipment that I needed in order to successfully climb. And so, when I go into surgery tomorrow, I now get to envision handing it back over to the surgeon; my climb will be done and so I can start stripping off my climbing gear, and my carabiner is the first thing to go!

It is so hard for me to believe that I am truly almost done. A whole year has passed since I was originally diagnosed (February 8, 2007) and I am thrilled to say that it went by incredibly fast. It feels like only yesterday that I was being sent from one test to another to figure out whether I had cancer and, if so, what stage it was. When I think back on the months that I was left wondering whether the spot on my liver was cancer or just a freckle and the sheer panic that I felt at times, it seems almost surreal. I have a hard time reconciling in my own mind that that was my life less than a year ago. I feel so good now and have such a sense of well-being and peace in my heart that it's hard at times to remember how terrified I felt. Life is crazy in that way, I guess.

Speaking of feeling well, I had an appointment with Dr Gullion today. He said that I look fabulous and that no one will ever be able to tell what I just went through. All my blood counts are great and the only lingering symptom that I have from everything is numbness in my toes (oh, and a digestive tract that is still a bit wacky, but getting better every day!) He told me that it could take a year for the numbness to go away but he prescribed some medication that will hopefully help speed things along. He also told me that there are some doctors who don't use FOLFOX because of this side effect, but that he still prefers to prescribe it because it has been proven so successful at treating colon cancer. I told him that I'd choose tingly toes over colon cancer any day, hands down!!

Anyway, if you think of me tomorrow morning know that about 10am (PST) I will have reached the top of my crazy, crazy mountain. Picture me standing at the summit with my arms outstretched, yelling thanks and praise to God for giving me the strength to reach the top, and singing with pure joy a the top of my lungs. I think that tomorrow will be one of the best days of my entire life. In fact, I am sure of this!

The Interview With God

Wow -- this is really, really beautiful!

Click on this link and then click on the "View Presentation" button on the right: http://www.theinterviewwithgod.com/

It takes a minute for the movie and the music to load, but it's worth the wait.

Hilarious Video

Okay, this video really has nothing at all to do with my cancer treatment but I HAVE to post it because it is so freaking hilarious! Enjoy: http://youtube.com/watch?v=rw2nkoGLhrE

My Little Healers

When I was in the hospital last week, our nanny brought Kyle in to visit me one day while Luke was in school. They stayed for a couple hours and when the time came for them to leave, I offered to walk with them to the elevator (which Kyle very humorously refers to as "the alligator" - ha, ha!)

As we exited my room, I glanced down the hallway and noticed that there was another older gentleman (who was clearly a patient as well) walking gingerly toward us. At this point, Kyle insisted on pushing his stroller himself (and if you've ever seen a 2-year-old pushing a stroller you'll know that they don't tend to walk in a very straight line) and so I was nervous that Kyle would crash right into this man as we passed. And since the man was obviously walking slowly to avoid pain, I wasn't sure whether he would be upset or nervous as well at having a 2-year-old freewheeling down the corridor towards him.

Luckily as we got within talking distance, however, the man looked down at Kyle with amusement and joked, "Hello there, little fella. Are you a patient here as well?" Kyle pressed on oblivious to the comment, but without skipping a beat, our nanny answered, "No, he's actually a healer."

I love that!! It's so true!! Kyle (and Luke) are my little healers. They need only to lay their little hands across my body or wrap their miniature arms around my neck or plant a tiny little kiss on my lips or start laughing their adorable, infectious laugh and I feel miraculously better. If only I could figure out a way to bottle their healing powers so that I could share it with all the other patients who don't have children in their lives, I am pretty confident that we could help cure many more cancers or at least make the treatment infinitely more bearable...

A Not-So-Quick Update

Well, I've been home from the hospital for 3 days now and am happy to report that I am feeling better. In fact, I actually left my house today and was able to run a couple easy errands for the first time, which is about 3 weeks sooner than with my last surgery. Like I said, this surgery was much less painful than the last and so hopefully I'll continue to heal quickly and be back to my old self in no time.

The biggest challenge is that I now have to "relearn" my digestive system (again!!), and it's definitely been a bit more challenging than I thought it would be. I basically get about a 3 second warning before I need to go to the bathroom and, since I have been home, I have been going 20+ times a day. (Note: This is perhaps more info than you wanted or needed, but I have been pretty straight-forward about everything else I have endured so far, so why stop now, right?) But my doctor assures me that this will all get much better with time as my body heals and I should be back to "normal" within a few months. So in the meantime, I'm just sticking close to a bathroom and taking loads of Immodium AD. As far as I am concerned, life could be much worse.

Pete's parents head home tomorrow and so we are having a small celebratory dinner tonight with my parents, my in-laws and the kids. This has been such an incredibly long, crazy year and it's still a bit surreal for me to believe that the end is so near. The last thing that I need to have done is to remove the chemo port. Hopefully the removal will truly be a "non-event" this time (or at least more of a non-event than the implantation ever was!) and I am hoping to have this done sometime in January. Once I have this procedure, then I will truly be at the very top of my mountain and so the sooner the better as far as I am concerned! But since my in-laws will not be back for this last step -- and since the worst of what I must go through is truly behind me -- we are celebrating tonight.

I have thought a lot about what to do with my blog after everything is done. Many people have urged me to continue writing; to continue sharing information that I learn about our environment or about our health or just about my personal perspectives on life after cancer and I have definitely toyed with the idea. I have really enjoyed writing this blog; it has been incredibly therapeutic for me at times and I know that I will be forever grateful that I made the effort to write regularly so that I can always reflect back on this crazy life experience. I am also grateful that my children will someday be able read about this year and to fully understand and appreciate how many people and how much love it truly takes to "cure" cancer and how we were all completely surrounded by this love non-stop this whole year. And I hope that my writing will also help to inspire others who receive the unfortunate diagnosis of cancer to "fight the Bitch" rather than simply resigning themselves to the diagnosis and giving up.

And so for all these reasons, I have been tempted to continue writing. But the truth is I am ready for a change. I miss the intellectually challenges of marketing and of being involved in business and I am ready to earn a paycheck again (fun as it would be, continuing to write my blog does not show signs of being a terribly lucrative endeavor!) And so I have decided that I will stop writing regularly in my blog shortly (with the exceptional of occasional updates regarding scan results, etc.) That said, I still have a few more entries that I want to add -- ideas that I have been tossing around for months or things that friends have asked me to write about. After that, I am going to try to transform my blog into a book (using Pete's company's software, of course! If you are unfamiliar with Pete's company, check out blurb.com). And I'll definitely post info here as soon as it's in book form in case you are interested in buying a copy. But after that, I am off to my next adventure, which, as it turns out, is a consulting project with Jamba Juice.

I wrote a few months ago that I was beginning to get anxious about what the next chapter of my life held in store, but then one day at church I was reminded to just be patient and that the right opportunity would reveal itself to me. Well, that is exactly what happened!! A few weeks later, I got a call from an old client of mine who had accepted a job as head of marketing at Jamba Juice (a chain of blended juice fast-food restaurants with about 600 locations nationwide.) He is working with Jamba's CEO to reposition the brand as "healthy fast-food," and in fact, their new positioning statement reads "to inspire and simplify healthy living." Toward this end, Paul (who also heads up product development for the brand) is working to remove all added sugar from their products (he has already removed all trans fats and high fructose corn syrup). And his ultimate goal is that every Jamba product be made of all-organic, natural ingredients with zero added sugar, preservatives or artificial anything. Basically, a place where someone like me can go and know that everything on the menu is completely healthy and good for me. And get this...Michael Pollan (the author of The Omnivore's Dilemma) has been consulting with Jamba regarding ways to modify and shape their new menu!! How great is that!?! So needless to say, when he asked me to come help them with their marketing and was willing to accommodate my schedule so that I could go through surgery and finish healing, I just knew that it was the opportunity that I had been waiting for. The type of work I will be doing is right up my alley and the brand could not be better aligned with my new personal focus on healthy living. I start in February and so I have a few more weeks to relax and heal before my next life chapter begins.

Anyway, that's the not-so-quick update about my life. I am happy, healing, and heading into the final stretch of my climb. Stay tuned just a little bit longer and if you have any thoughts for last minute blog entries, get your requests in soon... :)

Feeling God's Presence

On Christmas Eve evening, Pete, the boys and I met my parents and my grandmother at church for the children's Christmas Eve mass. First we watched the special children's reinactment of Jesus in the manger and then Father Tarantino delivered his Christmas homily. He ended his homily by saying the following:

"Before we all depart and head back to our respective homes to celebrate Christmas with our families, I would like for everyone to close their eyes for just a moment...."

And so the congregation (including me) dutifully closed our eyes.

A split second later, I hear Kyle (who was sitting on my lap facing me) say, "No Mama! NO! Open your eyes." I opened my eyes and said, "Shhhh, Kyle, we need to listen. It's Father Tarantino's turn to talk." and I gently closed my eyes again.

"...I want everyone to take a moment, with your eyes closed, and just feel the presence of the Lord. During the craziness of the holiday season it's important to remember the true meaning of Christmas and this might be the only chance that you get to truly feel God's presence and..."

WACK!!! At the very moment that Father Tarantino mentions "feeling God's presence," I suddenly felt a sharp slap across my face. My eyes flew open and I found Kyle staring intently at me wagging his little 2-year-old finger back-and-forth. "No, Mama, NO!! No eyes closed! Open your eyes!"

PHEW - Nothing like feeling the "presence of the Lord" in real time!

Okay, God, I got your message loud and clear: You are present all around me; I can find you within all of the beautiful things that I love and cherish that surround me every day. I just need to keep my eyes open in order to "see."

Home At Last

Ahhhhh...home sweet home!!

My doctor gave approval for me to be discharged this morning and so my parents came and picked me up and delivered me home about an hour ago. I am off to bed right now to take a nap, but will write more in the next day or so. Thank you for all your prayers and emails over the past few days -- they made my hospital stay more bearable!!

It's Me Again!!

Hi -- It's me again! I'm alive! YIPPEE!!!

As Pete wrote, my surgery went really well. It's been far less painful than the first surgery (Thank God!) and so I am already up and walking around. The biggest issue this time is that I am completely bloated -- my stomach, arms, legs and face are about to burst! This happened because my blood pressure was dangerously low (75/40) and so the doctors kept ordering more and more IV fluids to re-hydrate me. I think that the nurses changed the IV bags about every hour . My blood pressure eventually went back up, but unfortunately, I am now about to burst -- ugh!! But once this resolves and I am able to start eating solid foods again (hopefully tomorrow) I'll be that much closer to going home. Yippee!

Ironically, being at the hospital has actually turned out to be a really "good" thing...Not sure if you have followed the weather reports, but the San Francisco area (and Mill Valley in particular) got hit by pretty nasty storms on Friday which threw the power out at our house for the past couple days. Add to that the fact that Luke came home from a playdate yesterday with a stomach virus. After throwing up at his friend's house (Sorry about that, Amy! I'll call you once I get out of the hospital to see if there is anything we can pay to have dry cleaned!) he continued to vomit and have runs for the rest of the night. Needless to say, I'm not too sad to have missed the barf-fest (and I don't feel guilty saying that because I know that he is getting very good care from his grandparents right now!)

So anyway, I am focused on healing as fast as I can. Unlike last time, I am much more coherent right now and so rapidly getting bored out of my mind being stuck here. I am ready to go home and resume my life (or at least take a shower!!) I wonder if my doctor would notice if I just stuck a large pin in my stomach and let some of the water out?? It's got to be faster than this "wait and see" method he is proposing....

Surgery Update (from Pete)

Well, it was deja vu all over again as we had the "team dinner" last night (me, Julie, her parents and my parents), and then set in motion the same plan as we had 7 months ago for Julie's first surgery.

We woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and headed with Julie's parents to UCSF for surgery day, while my parents looked after Shadow and the kids. Today also happened to be the front end of what might well be the "storm of the year" here in San Fran -- 60 mph winds, heavy rain, flooding, closed bridges, power outages and assorted storm-related issues.

Despite the storm raging outside, everything was smooth and "as planned" inside the hospital. After a bunch of waiting around and about 45 minutes of pre-op (which basically consists of a parade of nurses and doctors coming in to ask the same questions over and over again), they whisked Julie away for surgery around 8:00 AM. Dr Julio Garcia-Aguilar -- our trusted surgical guru -- was at the helm, and, as he always does, gave us great confidence that we were in truly expert hands (literally!).

About two hours later, the doctors came out and reported that everything went very smoothly, and that "Colon 2.0" (though I am indeed a tech geek, it was actually Julie who came up with this term!) was in place. The surgeons did a thorough exam of the area on which they had previously operated, and everything looked exactly as they'd hoped/expected. So, the uneventful surgery -- combined with the clean CT/PET scans earlier this week - is the exact outcome that we'd hoped for and expected. Phew.

Julie then spent a couple more hours in post-op recovery, and is now resting comfortably back up on the 5th floor, just a few doors down from where we spent the week after her first surgery back in June. She is still heavily drugged up and groggy, but her preliminary assessment is that she is in a lot less pain than she was right after the previous surgery....so that's good news. Nonetheless, the doctors estimate that she'll be in the hospital 4-6 days as she recovers.

Since I've hijacked Julie's account for the moment, I just wanted to say thanks again to all the many friends and family who have sent their prayers and well-wishes over the last few days leading up to the surgery. And, as Julie has mentioned many times before, we can't possibly thank our respective parents enough for all their help and support throughout this whole journey. We simply could not have come through it all the way we have without them.

Summit is in sight....climbing on!

Where to Find Me

Lots of people have been asking for the details of where I will be having surgery so I'll just post it here. I can't guarantee that I'll answer the phone -- I might be out walking the halls like a caterpillar again -- but you can always try.

Patient Services Desk/Information Desk
1600 Divisadero St.
San Francisco, CA
Phone: (415) 885-7437

Well, I am off to bed now so that I can wake up at 5am to head to the hospital. Next time you hear from me I'll hopefully be within a stone's throw of the top of this crazy, crazy mountain! I am looking forward to hugging each and every one of you once I get there! :)

I Am Normal!!!

YIPPEE! YIPPEE!! YIIIIIPPPPPEEEEE!! Dr Gullion called this afternoon to tell me that I am totally normal! WOO HOOOOOO!!! My dad, of course, set the record straight by informing me that I might be "cancer free" but I am definitely not normal. Ha!

In all seriousness, Dr Gullion reported that my CT/PET scan showed absolutely no signs of cancer anywhere. The radiologist was still able to see the spot of my liver, but again it did not "light up" on the PET scan and so it has been officially classified as a hemangeoma (e.g., cluster of blood vessels.) And the radiologist also specified that there are absolutely no signs of anything abnormal in my colon, kidneys, liver, lungs, gall bladder, or in the area of my abdomen where tissue was resected. Phew!

I told Dr Gullion that I just knew everything was going to be normal, but it sure is nice to hear it from him all the same.

Update from Yesterday

Well, my CT/PET scan is done. I don't have the results back yet, but should hopefully hear some time today. I also had a really yucky, but very necessary, barium enema test yesterday (I'll let you Google that one yourself if you really want the details of what a barium enema test entails!) which showed that everything has healed the way that it was suppose to. The only "wrinkle" was that the barium enema test was excrutiatingly painful. So for now, I am still scheduled to be at the hospital at 6am tomorrow morning for surgery at 7:30am, but my doctor said that before he begins the main surgery he is going to do a bit of exploring to see if he can figure out why I was in so much pain. Hopefully it will be crystal clear to him and he can make any necessary adjustments while I am pleasantly knocked out since I dread the thought of him reconnecting the portion of my colon that has been dormant for the past 7 months if it means having that much pain every time something needs to pass through. Anyway, this is why I am so happy to have an incredibly skilled surgeon -- I am basically turning my body over to him (yet again) tomorrow and have to trust that he can make everything okay again. I remember my friend, Michael, telling me very early on that the skill of the surgeon can make or break whether I survive this cancer or not. That's a hell of a lot of trust to place in someone! As Pete humorous stated before my last surgery, I hope that Dr Garcia-Aguilar has exactly the right amount of sleep and caffeine that he needs tomorrow morning.

As I was sitting in the various waiting rooms yesterday, the weight of everything I have gone through this past year and everything that I still have to go through definitely came crashing back. It's amazing how quickly and easily I was able to tuck all of the memories and stress of the past year into the recesses of my mind over the holidays. This is not to say that I forgot everything all-together (any good psychologist would tell you that this is not possible anyway), but I definitely found myself relaxing more and thinking excitedly about future plans. I think that it's the mind's natural way of coping -- thinking non-stop about treatment and wacky symptoms and the fear of death and all the other stuff that goes along with a cancer diagnosis is really, really hard and incredibly exhausting. And so it was wonderful for me to have this two month break to regroup and enjoy life for awhile.

By the end of the day yesterday, however, I was completely and utterly spent and on the verge of tears. I contemplated canceling my surgery a number of times and I think that Pete and my mom and dad must have given me about 10 pep talks over the course of the day to keep my spirits up. I feel better today (it's amazing what a good night sleep can do!) and decided that today is just going to be my day of relaxation and meditation. So I am off to find a yoga class and then hopefully book myself for a massage. My children are in complete heaven right now -- Betsy and John arrived yesterday and so they now have four doting grandparents to play with rather than the usual two -- and so I have nothing to do today other than prepare myself mentally for the climb ahead.

I just read this very beautiful essay and wanted to share it...

My Cancer Was A Gift
I stood by the hospital bed of a friend who was dying of cancer. He wanted to know why he was sick, why he must die, why he must leave his children and grandchildren. As his rabbi, I was armed with few answers. I could tell him that it was part of God's plan or I could confess to him that I did not know. Neither seemed like the right response.

So, instead, we exchanged stories about chemotherapy. My hair was just beginning to grow back after a bout with lymphoma; his, wispy to start, was gone from the drugs that had targeted all the fast-growing cells in his body. They had done a thorough job on his hair but not on his cancer.

Faith is connected to hope and hope means believing in spite of the evidence and then watching the evidence change.

We talked about the strange gratitude we felt for the medicinal poison as it coursed through our veins. There was a moment of solidarity, then sadness returned. Battle stories are not nostalgic when they end in death.

"But at least you understand," he said. It reminded me anew that my cancer was a gift; as a rabbi, it validated my compassion. People knew that I really did understand, that my family and I were not unscathed. Needles seemed forever to be dangling from my arm and I was always being shoved into metal tubes for scans and pictures and tests. Enduring the elaborate technology of survival creates a kind of tribal solidarity.

"So," he asked, "why did it happen to you?"

Did I get cancer for a reason? Four years before my lymphoma I had undergone surgery for a brain tumor, thankfully benign. Five years before that, after the birth of our daughter, my wife had cancer and surgery that left her unable to bear more children. After each experience, people would ask what it meant. Now someone was asking not out of curiosity or even spiritual hunger, but spiritual urgency.

We looked at each other for a long time. I know what it does not mean, I told him. It was not a punishment. The calculus of reward and punishment in this world is surely more complex than sin equals cancer. One thing is clear: the cancer is not only about you. Those who care for you suffer as well. The ripples do not end.

Facing our own mortality, the traditional roles had melted away. We were no longer rabbi and layperson, younger man and older man. I recalled how in the first verse of the Book of Kings, King David was no longer referred to by his title when he neared death: "Now the days of David drew near that he should die." When we approach death we no longer can hide behind titles and status. The man and I were two people who had undergone similar ailments. One of us, for now, was in remission, and one of us would die before the other. And neither knew why.

He told me that it was not his own life he feared for, but what would happen to his family. How would his loss hurt them? I remembered how, as I was first wheeled into surgery, I was surprised at how little I feared death; I feared instead the consequences of my death. I feared not for myself but for my wife and daughter.

Did he believe in another world? He was not sure, but he hoped. I ventured that everything a human being was — the hopes and dreams, the love and gifts — could not completely disappear. The old analogy had it right: There is a birth into this world that we never could have imagined. Might there be a new birth, another world, equally beyond the reach of human imagination? Life, as writer Vladimir Nabokov once said, was such a remarkable surprise, why should death be less of a surprise?

He smiled and we shared a moment of hope. Maybe all the therapy, the scans and shots, had only postponed the consummation of an unimaginable life to be.

But we soon returned to the moment. To die is to lose everything we know, all the wonders of this world and the people in it. To die is to leave so many stories unfinished and to miss the next act of the stories of others, those whom we know and whom we love.

I did have one thought that might offer him a glimmer of comfort. When I was sick it became clear to me how carefully others watched my reaction — would my faith help me at all, they wondered? Does a professional practice of Judaism offer some strength? Feeling their eyes on me helped me realize that in sickness we are not powerless — we still have the ability to teach.

I told this man, my friend, my fellow human, that his children and grandchildren were watching him. Here was a chance to teach his greatest lesson. They would remember much about him to be sure, but they would never forget how he died. His acceptance, his dignity, even his hope, could change their lives.

Each week, I told him, I studied Torah with a man who just turned 90. He had often recounted what his mother said to him as she was dying: "My child, do not be afraid. It is only death, and it has happened to everyone who ever lived."

The two of us in the hospital room held hands, and agreed that if we could, we would pass from this life with words of love and hope for awakenings to come. Shortly afterwards, he passed away. His children speak of him with reverence for his life and for the way in which he faced death. As with all meetings of the spirit there was not one who gave and one who took; there were two who stood with each other and before God, and even in their sadness, felt blessed.

The Final Stage

Well, this is it. The final phase of my crazy climb begins tomorrow. My last chemo treatment was 9 weeks ago, the holidays have come and gone, and now it's time for me to forge forward and reach the top of my mountain.

My CT/PET scan is scheduled for 8am tomorrow morning. The point of this scan is to see whether there is any sign of cancer anywhere in my body. This will be my first scan since last June when they did one just prior to my surgery. At that time, the doctors could see that the tumor had shrunk significantly (to the point of being almost gone) but it still showed up slightly. Now, however, there is no reason for the scans to be anything but normal since my surgeon removed any remaining tumor tissue during that surgery, plus some extra tissue surrounding the tumor so that I had clear margins. As far as I am concerned, the Bitch is long gone and I am feeling really well and so I cannot believe that I will get anything but good news from the doctors tomorrow.

And then, assuming that there are no surprises on the scans, I will have my Colon-Part II surgery this Friday. My doctor told me that I'll likely be in the hospital for 4-5 days, so hopefully home by next Tuesday. My friend asked me today if I am nervous about my upcoming surgery. I guess I am a bit nervous, which I suppose is normal. But more than anything else, I am just annoyed. I have had a small taste of normalcy these past 9 weeks and I am dreading having to take a few steps backwards in order to finally be done. I just want to keep moving forward and enjoy life again. I don't want to be back in the hospital smelling the stinky bleachy-smelling linens and not being home with my family. I don't want to be in debilitating pain again for the next few weeks. I don't want to go through the process again of relearning how my digestive tract works. I just want to live life and be done with this climb. But alas, I have no choice. And so off I go...

I will write an update as soon as I get my scan results and, like last time, Pete will write an update on Friday afternoon once I get out of surgery, so stay tuned.

Beginning The New Year

I hope that everyone reading my blog had a wonderful holiday season and a safe and happy New Year's Eve. Santa was very good to Pete and I and the boys this year and I have to say that everything we went through in 2007 definitely made both Pete and I stop and appreciate the magic of the season a bit more.

And now all I have to say is Yippee!! It's 2008!

I am sooooo ready for a new year and a fresh start to life. Here's to a healthier, happier year! Cheers!

Wheelan Holiday Elf Dance

My friend, Lisa, just send me the BEST present ever: a holiday elf video clip that she made for us that is absolutely hysterical. The boys and I were completely cracking up this morning watching it and I think they made me watch it at least fifty times...

Check it out: http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1453249490

If I could wish for my life to be perfect, it would be tempting but I would decline, for life would not longer teach me anything.

~Allyson Jones

Long-Awaited Update

Since five different people -- within the span of five days -- have emailed and/or called me to say that they miss reading my blog updates and want to know how I am doing, I decided that it's time for me to come out of "hibernation" and actually post an update...

There are a number of reasons why I haven't written in weeks. The most simple and clear-cut is that life with kids (especially during the holidays) can be crazy busy, as many of you know. But I cannot blame my silence entirely on that -- I would be exaggerating to say that I haven't had one spare moment to write in the last 5 weeks and that it's entirely because of the kids. I think that the real reason I haven't written is more complicated and can, in part, be attributed to the fact that once my chemo treatment ended I was so incredibly ready to embrace a "normal" cancer-free life again and writing regularly in my blog didn't necessarily fit into that picture. While it definitely took a couple weeks after my final treatment for me to start feeling a sense of relief (it's hard to truly feel "relief" when you still feel completely lousy), once I started feeling well there was no holding back. I have embraced "normalcy" with every ounce of strength that I have: I am back to my old routine of dropping the kids off at school and picking them up every day, I try to work out 4-5 times a week, our house is beautifully decorated for the holidays and much of my Christmas shopping is done, I am immersed in a pro-bono marketing consulting project for the American Cancer Society and have also been talking to a number of other companies about paid consulting work (which I hope to start in February, but more on that later), and Pete and I (or just me when Pete is working late) are trying to pack in loads of fun holiday activities with the kids. All very "normal", all very time-consuming, and all a very welcome reprieve and distraction from thinking about cancer.

I don't mean to imply that everything is totally peachy-keen. While I am definitely feeling better than I did during my chemo weeks, I still have lingering symptoms which remind me constantly of what I have gone through. I also, unfortunately, have developed a few NEW symptoms recently, including non-stop tingling in my toes and feet. My nurse seems to think the tingling is probably nerve damage from the chemo drugs and it's unclear as to whether or not this issue will resolve or be permanent - only time will tell. But again, just another daily reminder that my body is still healing from a fairly traumatic year. Lastly, my first post-treatment CT/PET scan and my colon-part 2 surgery have both been scheduled (for January 2 and January 4, respectively.) I have known all along that these two "bridges" still needed to be crossed, but until recently, they seemed so far off in the distance. When I got the confirmation email from the surgeon's administrator this week, however, I realized with a wave of panic that these dates are only 3 weeks away! I am not ready to be back in the hospital for 4-5 days. I am not ready to feel run-over by a tractor again, albeit a smaller tractor than last time. I am dreading having to re-adjust once again to a new digestive system. I so desperately just want my old cancer-free body back.

And so, despite my attempts create a "normal" life in these past few weeks and to fill my days with a myriad of distractions, I know that my current life is not really a sustainable kind of "normal." It's more of a "this-is-really-fun-for-a-short-time-while-I-keep-my-mind-off- other-things" kind of normal. I don't have much desire to spend my days working out, lunching with friends, leisurely shopping, etc. This lifestyle works for some woman, but it's not for me -- and not just because it's not financially sustainable for our family, either. While I have enjoyed having these past few weeks to relax and recover physically, I have not necessarily found myself spiritually or emotionally fulfilled. I have been pre-occupied; I have been distracted; I have been happy; I have been having fun. But this is definitely not a sense of "normal" that is going to make me feel emotionally healthy and balanced (e.g., so that I do not immediately fall into a panic every time I have an approaching scan or similar test), nor will it make me feel spiritually happy or fulfilled long-term.

And so, therein lies my challenge for 2008: I need to figure out how to retain all the things that I love about my current state of "normal" (e.g., having time to spend with my kids, getting stronger physically) while also introducing new things which will give my life a greater sense of purpose and a greater sense of emotional balance. I was joking with a couple girlfriends of mine about the fact that, before my diagnosis, I was constantly struggling -- as every working mom does -- to figure out how to balance career and family. And as if that were not challenging enough, I have now added the additional requirement that the career piece must be meaningful and purposeful. Ugh -- this damn cancer experience has made my life exponentially harder! So creating a new purpose-driven, healthy, balanced, happy life is my goal for 2008. It's a heck of a New Year's Resolution, don't you think?

Anyway, my apologies to all of you who have faithfully and regularly checked my blog these past 5+ weeks and have been blinded by the silence from me. I desperately needed a break from cancer life for awhile and I appreciate your understanding and support during my "hibernation." With my surgery and tests approaching (and with my holiday shopping almost done!), I will definitely post more regular updates going forward.

Cutting Room Floor

I just found out that the Good Morning America segment on Dr Rachel Remen aired LAST Thursday. Who knew! And apparently, not only did all of my oh-so-profound-and-witty comments end up on the cutting room floor, but so did the entire interview that they conducted with Dr Gullion about integrated medicine!

DARN, this was suppose to be my big break! Now I'm back to square one on figuring out how to launch my next big career move. Oh well! I still feel flattered that he chose me to participate and, besides, Dr Gullion sent me a certificate for a free "integrative healing service" as a thank you. Maybe I'll be divinely inspired about what to do next while I am getting massaged...

Yahoo Video

There was an interesting video on Yahoo yesterday regarding the chemicals that are being found in our bodies. The video supports much of what I have written about in prior blogs -- maybe my ramblings aren't so crazy after all! :)

Click here if you are interested in watching it:
http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/ver/223/popup/index.php?cl=4978183

I Finally Feel Like Celebrating

Not much news to report....As far as I know, my TV debut has not yet aired on Good Morning America and I am not sure when it will. I'm planning to call Dr Gullion's office tomorrow to check in and see if they have heard anything. I'll keep you posted. And if I can find someone who is more tech-savvy than me to help, I'll even try to figure out a way to include the clip as a video on my blog. No promises, but I'll see what I can do.

As for me, I am feeling better every day. I told Pete that, when everyone was sending me emails of congrats and flowers a couple Mondays ago, I was having a really hard time feeling "celebratory." I knew that I still had another 7+ days to go of feeling awful and it was hard to feel much like celebrating at that point. But now that a couple weeks have transpired and I am finally on the upswing and starting to feel better, I find that I am beginning to celebrate: my step is a bit lighter, my mood a bit happier, my smile a bit broader...I saw my friend, Amy, on Friday night and she said that she hasn't seen me this upbeat and chipper in months. I think that it's finally safe to say that the old Julie is coming back and that the Bitch lost this battle in a big fat way! :)

My Screen Debut

My television debut screening yesterday went great. I actually ended up playing a much bigger role than I imagined. I thought going in that I would just be an "extra" in the background while they interviewed Dr Gullion, but there were many times that the (enormous!) camera was directed solely at me. Yikes -- it was definitely nerve-wracking!

We basically staged a mock check-up appointment. Dr Gullion asked me questions about how I was feeling after my last treatment and he talked about next steps in my monitoring plan. We also talked about my experience regarding the integrative medical options that the cancer center offers (such as acupuncture, massage, guided imagery, etc) since this is really the focus of the work that Rachel Remen supports and which she has mentored Dr Gullion on establishing. Apparently, this is also the award that Dr Remen will be receiving -- it's an award that recognized the top six individuals who are leaders in the field of integrative medicine. During the interview, the reporter asked Dr Gullion if he ever could have imagined creating an integrative medical practice 40+ years ago when he was going through medical school at Columbia University. Dr Gullion said that the idea of combining Eastern and Western medicine and alternative therapies was completely unheard of in those days. He very much credits Rachel Remen and the other recipients (who, by the way, will also include Dr Andrew Weil, the nutritionist whom I have mentioned previously) in bringing integrative medicine to the forefront.

Anyway, the camera man taped us for about an hour, but of course, the whole segment is primarily about Dr Rachel Remen (they were leaving to go film her after us) and will probably only last about 15 minutes tops and so much of what they filmed with Dr Gullion and myself will inevitably end up being edited out. But who knows -- maybe my 2-seconds of coverage will launch my new career! Hee hee!

Anyway, the camera crew thought that the piece might be airing this Friday morning so if you have a chance tune in or TIVO it. Again, it's on Good Morning America. I'll let you know if I hear confirmation before then.

Good Morning America

I got a call from Dr Gullion last week that totally took me by surprise. Usually the nurses call me - I never get a call directly from him! It turns out he had a favor to ask of me. Apparently, his "life mentor" is Dr. Rachel Remen, the author of the book Kitchen Table Wisdom which I mentioned in prior blogs. I had no idea that Dr Gullion even knew her. I absolutely love her! Her book is one of the big reasons that I survived through all of the uncertainty and fear that clouded the first few months of my treatment. She is truly an inspirational and amazing person and an incredible writer. The stories in her book helped me tremendously as I grappled through mind-numbing fear to make sense of my diagnosis.

Anyway, she is apparently being honored with a very prestigious life-achievement award and Good Morning America is going to feature her in an upcoming segment. As part of the show, they want to include video footage of some of her proteges, including Dr Gullion. The favor that he asked me was to come and be the patient that he is "treating" while the video taping is going on. How fun! Of course I told him that I would be happy to help -- who wouldn't want to be on Good Morning America, plus I love the idea of being associated (even in this minuscule way) with Dr Remen. And so tomorrow morning I am off to my national TV screen debut taping. Hopefully I don't end up on the cutting room floor!

By the way, my dad thinks that it's good karma that Dr Gullion asked me. He thinks that Dr Gullion probably prefers a healthy, vibrant-looking patient who has a great chance at surviving, rather than some near-death, crawling-through-the-door patient. If that's the case, I am thrilled to be chosen and happy to oblige!

Finally Feeling Better

Well, it's safe to say that I am finally starting to feel better -- HALLELUJAH!

It's been such a long week -- I definitely got really, really knocked out by this last round of chemo. I had all the usual symptoms -- neuropathy, hot flashes, severe headaches, fatigue, etc. -- but it seemed like they were all more intense and lasted longer this time. I think that this cycle was harder from an emotional standpoint as well. Previously, I knew that I only got two weeks in between cycles and so I wanted every day to drag on as long as possible. I wanted to pack as much living in between my chemo appointments as possible, and so I definitely turned a blind eye to some of my symptoms and plowed forward. By comparison, now that I am done with chemo, I find that I am so impatient. I just want these next few days and weeks to fly by!! I am so tired of feeling yucky -- I want to fast forward to the point that all my symptoms have faded and I am back to my old self again.

But, as is the story of this whole journey, I need to just take things one step at a time...Ugh!

Further Next Steps

The other "next step" that I forgot to mention in my last blog entry is that, now that I am basically done with chemo, I get to move into "monitoring mode." This means that I go back to see Dr Gullion (chemo oncologist) and Dr Poen (radiation oncologist) in one month for my first post-treatment check-up. At that point, they will check my blood counts to make sure that everything is moving back toward normal and they will lay out a rough monitoring schedule going forward.

As Dr Gullion explained to us today, there are basically four possible scenarios of what can happen now:

1) The cancer could be completely gone and will never come back again. As far as I am concerned, this is really the only option, but for the sake of thoroughness, I'll share the other scenarios as well...

2) The cancer might come back in the same place. He explained that this is virtually impossible for me, though, since the tumor was basically gone by the time that I had surgery and also because Dr Garcia-Aguilar (my surgeon) removed all of the cancerous tissue plus much of the surrounding tissue during surgery. So Dr Gullion admitted that the chance of this scenario happening to me is "essentially non-existent." I love that!

3) Additional polyps might appear in other parts of my colon. He explained that it takes about 18 months for a polyp to appear and another 18 months for it to become cancerous. Hence the need for yearly colonoscopy appointments so that we can "nip these in the bud," so to speak, before they turn monsterous.

4) Future scans sometimes reveal metastatic cancer spots on the liver or elsewhere. For me, this would mean that somehow some of the cancer cells miraculously survived everything that we have thrown at them these past 9 months and migrated into the blood stream. This would obviously not be good and so, again, it's not an option, as far as I am concerned.

According to Dr Gullion, the most important years will be the next five. In general, if one of the last three scenarios is going to happen, it generally happens within five years for colon cancer patients (the same is not true for all cancers.) If I can make it to Thanksgiving 2012 without any reoccurance then my chances of the cancer coming back approach 0%. I love the fact that Thanksgiving will forever anchor the anniversary of my completion of cancer treatment since it's such an appropriate occasion for celebrating life.

What Next?

So I went in for my eighth and LAST chemo session this morning. Ironically, it almost didn't happen! Apparently, my white blood count is low (despite the extra bonus week that I got and despite the Neupogen shots) and Dr Gullion said that my liver function is also a bit abnormal. He was not surprised by either of these results given what I have been through, and I got the impression that, had this not been my last cycle, he would have delayed me again. Luckily, he didn't and we pressed forward. Hallelujah!!!

I actually cannot believe that I made it through all eight cycles of chemo -- when I came out of surgery five months ago, I was so depleted that I literally could not imagine how the heck I was going to make it to this day. It seemed like such an overwhelmingly daunting climb. I think that I am still in a state of shock, to be honest. The reality of being done hasn't really sunk in yet. This is probably partly because I am not exactly QUITE done yet...there are still a couple more things that still need to happen before I can say that I am truly at the top of this crazy mountain. Specifically, I am technically still undergoing chemo as I write this -- I have my continuous pump of 5-FU attached and won't get "unhooked" until this Wednesday.

Also, I still need to have two more surgeries. One of the surgeries is fairly minor (I need to remove the "caribiner"/port that I had implanted many moons ago.) The other surgery I am calling "Colon - Part 2." While this surgery is not as minor as the port-removal will be, it is supposedly much less intense than my abdominal surgery in June. I'll spare you the details, but I basically need to have some final adjustments made to my colon so that everything works properly. I knew in June that I would need to have this "Part 2" surgery done at some point, but I just couldn't think about it (and so didn't write about it) until now. I think that my mind could only process small bits of the journey at once, and now that chemo is almost completely behind me, I can open my mind to this next -- and truly last! -- section of the climb.

My surgeon says that I can have the surgery done at any point after Thanksgiving (he wants my body to be able to heal from chemo until then), but I decided that I need a longer break. I don't want to even think about cancer during the holidays and I certainly don't want to spend any time in the hospital (apparently, I'll be in for about 5 days again -- ugh!) All I want to do for the next couple months is relax, work on healing my poor body, gain some weight back (what a perfect time of year to be trying to gain weight, don't you think??) and just enjoy the magic of the holiday season with my family and friends. And so, since there is really no rush, I decided to hold off on both surgeries until early January.

So this is where we are...Today was a milestone day, no doubt. I feel like the most difficult sections of my mountain are behind me and I can finally breathe a slight sigh of relief. The top of my mountain is clearly in sight now, and I have faith that I will be there very soon. But for now, I am completely and utterly exhausted -- both physically and mentally -- and so I am going lay down quietly on the side of my mountain, just shy of the top, and rest for a bit. And, as I lay here, I can look around with wonder at how far I have climbed and reflect on how beautiful the climb has been at times. I know that sounds crazy to say, but it's true. I remember my friend, Cathy, telling me early on that during my cancer journey "blessings will unfold before me that I might never have recognized otherwise" and this is so true. In much the same way that other parts of this journey have fallen miraculously into place (such as having Michael and Miranda as neighbors, meeting Isabelle and Denis in church, having my liver freckle open the way for me to have surgery at UCSF, etc), I think that it's also fortuitous that my treatment is ending shortly before Thanksgiving. I cannot imagine a more amazing thing to be thankful for than the blessing of life and the love of friends and family that I have been given this year.