Finding Zachariah

Last Friday night I experienced a great gathering of community for my showing of “Finding Joe.”  The documentary centered on the story of “the hero’s journey,” a pattern hidden in the stories of all world mythologies according to Joseph Campbell.  The timing for this movie was remarkable as it resonated so deeply with the journey I’ve been on.  And really, the beauty of the message is, it is one we can all relate to in our own way.  The buzz in the studio was wonderful.  At intermission and afterwards people connected through conversation and shared their own inspirations (see pics).  It was truly a magical event.  (“Finding Joe” on Youtube)

The journey of the hero is marked by three phases: Departure, Initiation, and Return.  I could relate to all aspects as they were illustrated, but what most struck me was in the Return of the Hero.  The greatest gift the Hero returns with is not treasure, fortune, or any other material possession.  The gift is the story.  The story is what is offered and what remains long after the Hero is gone.  That story impacts, influences and guides others on their own journeys in ways that will never be measured.  I felt a great satisfaction at the end of the evening knowing that was exactly what I was doing.  It was also clear that the Hero’s Journey is not a completion but a continuation.  The cycles of departure, initiation and return are ongoing.  I imagine it as an upward spiral; we will face the same obstacles over and over, each time reaching new depths.  And though the journey may appear as an outward one, the true journey and initiation comes from within.

Hollywood and ancient mythologies portray the Hero’s Journey in so many different ways.  It is evident to me that each hero is not merely going on a wild adventure; they are on a path of personal healing, of finding who they truly are.  I call this the Higher Self or Authentic Self.  Take Luke Skywalker for example.  He experiences the trauma of his adoptive parents being slain by the bad guys and is forced to depart what he knows, his comforts.  His adventures are an initiation of moving beyond his fears and embracing his own power.  And though his story may be fictitious in our eyes, it is still inspiring. 

The notion of “slaying dragons” is an important one for me to relate.  We, as humans, so easily see our obstacles and fears as something outside of us.  The truth is, what we see externally is merely a reflection of what is happening internally.  Our journey is one into our own psyche, of understanding what it is within us that holds us back.  It is a process of learning and gathering tools, not to kill the dragons within, but to tame them, accept them, and love them.  That is where we find peace, and in turn, our own power.  One of my latest personal revelations is about a deep seeded Fear of the World.  I have worked through so many layers of this fear.  Friends who know me now don’t believe I was a quiet, blend-in, scared to talk to girls kid going through school and childhood.  Throughout life I’ve journeyed into my depths to let go, resolve, accept… but the layers are deep.  Even recently I have been awed by uncovering a new depth, and in letting go, a new lightness within.  I ended my last blog with the Intention that has come out of it.  “I AM Safe and Powerful in the World.”  Result = new level of Empowerment. 

Back to “the Story.”  Or I should say, My Story.  I’ve already related the aftermath of my Crohn’s crisis and hospitalization.  Cancer blasts have again shown up in my blood.  From one crisis to another…  It seems that the wearing down of my body and immune system opened the floodgates between my marrow and blood.  As strange as it is that flood happened in a day’s time, between my CBC on Jan 23^rd and 24^th.  That first blast count read 45% according to the machine count.  A week and a half later, after my retreat to Ouray (see Shaman’s Death blog), my count was 29%, a mysterious drop after some serious self-care.  One week later (this past Monday), after a full week of balancing self care with busy-ness, my blast count read 50% with a three times increase in actual numbers and drops in my H&H and platelets.  Urgency and anxiety have joined the flood, I can feel them in my blood.  I’m calmer today as I write this, thanks especially to my amazing Larkin who has been going through significant transformations of her own.  Her perspectives have been calming and grounding.  However, we are in serious action plan mode.

Just moments ago I got off the phone with my local oncologist’s team.  My CBC from this morning shows slight increases in my good numbers and overall stable or not increasing blasts.  This simply means I’ll skip a transfusion and head to Angeles Hospital in Mexico ASAP.  So, it looks like I’m off on my next Hero’s Journey.  The other day I wept at the reality of the ongoing, of facing the next crisis.  I so deeply long to be home, be with my friends and community, and simply do my thing.  My next “departure” looks like it’s tomorrow and because of the immediacy; it will be a solo journey.  I truly believe that all of this is part of a huge personal healing process.  Much has been discussed and debated and going to Angeles, I feel, is what will support me through it.  The “dragons” that come up are much smaller than before.  I have faith I will continually be supported physically, emotionally, spiritually and financially.  I fail in describing how BIG things really are in my, and our, reality.  However, I do know this.  Whether I live or die through this immense healing process I know I have experienced a beautiful new depth of my Authentic Self and I am sharing my greatest gift, My Story. 

Magic in the Madness

January was likely the hardest month I’ve experienced since the fall of 2005.  Memories from that time recollect almost four weeks in the hospital while doctors scratched heads and I withered away surviving only on IV fluids and TPN.  My recovery, in my under-construction Palisade house, consisted of staring at sheet rock with days where a trip to the mailbox was the highlight.  Thankfully, that has not been topped (or I should say bottomed).  I guess I gauge the severity of the experience by the “unknown” factor.  Chemotherapy was far from fun, but I knew the symptoms were temporary.  I worked through the various sheddings of self and my hair re-grew in its new unmanageable form.  Despite the questions of long-term side effects, I came back to myself.  This summer I ached through relative enjoyment, as I was able to travel to Montana despite the arthritic joints that continually cracked and made getting out of bed and sitting in a car an undertaking.  I, in fact, was just reminiscing the highlight of that trip to my homeland (click here for a series of sweet river photos!).  Last fall, after my second trip to Angeles Hospital, I started an at home cell factor therapy that was expected to create an immune response, and in turn, “mild” flu-like symptoms.  My immune response ended up being extreme and for weeks I repetitively got slammed with severe flu symptoms spending days in bed.  Once I was certain it was a reaction I knew there would be an end.  I also knew the response was stimulating an attack on the cancer in my marrow.  As those symptoms subsided I found myself shifting into a Crohn’s flare-up.  Back to where things started…  The Crohn’s, an autoimmune disease, began to slowly wear away my body as my immune system worked against it, responding to the inflammation and potential infection going on in my intestines.  As hard as I tried to remedy it with strict diet, specific supplements, and pharmacy grade probiotics, I couldn’t get ahead, and fell far far behind.  I fell so far behind I lost myself to the Great Mystery, and I didn’t know if I’d come back.  Apparently, on Raven’s wings, I am returning with a change of consciousness.  Talk about one hell of a ride.

This return from “the Great Mystery” is a return from the unknown, the void between life and death.  That is where I have been floating.  My trip to the hospital signified a hitting bottom and while there I found some new depth of will.  It was truly bizarre how that fiasco of a hospital visit turned something within me.  I certainly can’t credit the care I received while there.  I checked in dehydrated and suffering.  I sat in my room for six and a half hours before receiving an IV and it was eight hours before I got any pain medication.  I received the results of my CAT scan the next day, which showed nothing notable.  I sat confined in my room hiding from the worst place an immune compromised person should be, the hospital.  More than one doctor mentioned that.  At home I slowly improved, working my way back to a “normal” diet, though as I described in my last blog, a lot of weird things were going on in my body.  My doctor visit this past Monday perhaps shed a bit of light on that.  This is the biggest latest news…

One and a half weeks after being discharged from the hospital I was casually informed by my internist that the lab work from the hospital showed cancer in my periphery blood, measured by a “blast count.”  This bad news, delivered in the latest version of doctor bedside manner, as you can imagine, flipped my lid.  “Stop,” I said, “I need to catch my breath.”  The news shifted an otherwise “normal” day into a big reality shake-up.  Much has been on my mind in the aftermath.  For one, going back to the hospital fiasco, how did I get discharged without being informed of my lab results?  It took a week and a half to learn some really f***ing significant news?  Upon studying the labs new questions are raised.  In the blast column on my blood work it shows: 1/22- nothing, 1/23- nothing, 1/24- 45% blasts.  Is it possible for that to happen overnight?  At the beginning of January I specifically quizzed my doctor and phlebotomists to be sure my CBCs would show a blast count.  I needed confirmation of this for next steps with my Mexico treatment.  I was assured, though I questioned the confidence behind it.  I now am left to wonder if the blast count is a specific order that has not been being checked.  I still don’t know the answer to this though I have inquired (just apparently not in the right places).  If so, another big question in my care looms.  Why would a patient diagnosed with AML not have lab orders specifically checking for cancer in the blood?  All of this info has me a bit beside myself pondering the latest awe of my healthcare.  The saving grace of the situation is my lab results from my visit to the internist were on par with the prior results.  Apparently, the 45% blast count from the 24^th was a machine count and after a smear by the lab tech a more accurate count was 30%.  I don’t understand the discrepancy, however, my smear from February 4^th was a 29%.  This is good news considering the acute nature of AML as there is a fear that it will proliferate quickly. 

So where does this leave me?  Oddly enough, though I certainly travel all over the mental map, I have settled into a new state of empowerment.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put this current experience into words, but there is magic happening.  Larkin and my relationship has shifted into a new level of co-creative and proactive energy.  Our house feels more like a sanctuary every day.  My man Christopher (Dr. Lepisto) is right alongside and the three of us are cooking up some big plans.  Dr. Perez in Mexico is on board, as he continues to be in his remarkable way.  I am waiting to hear from him after he consults with his team.  I have also been doing some amazing and powerful work with practitioners on an emotional and spiritual level and my personal practices of yoga, energy work, visualizations and meditation have been taken to a new level.  As my doubts increase with how my local doctors can handle my complex case, my confidence grows with my own abilities to forge a healing path.  Big moves are in the forecast as I continue to learn about healing on multi-dimensional levels.  As always, I appreciate and ask for as much support from my communities, friends and family.  Through this BIG, challenging and daunting journey I am feeling more and more how it is guiding me to fully embrace my Highest Authentic Self.  I AM Powerful and Safe in the World.  That is significant as I “Shaman-on.”   

Shaman's Death

I’ve realized my uncertainty, the strange shift in my being,

the darkness and beauty I’ve witnessed. 

Lost in suffering through the floating haze,

In the blur, I sensed the sagacious gaze of eyes. 

Death, in no describable form, watching, counting time.

I comprehend this in the aftermath of my hospital visit last week.  The strangeness and indescribability of what was happening in my body and my being; the floating, the haze, the hole I had fallen in.  There was some energy present, in retrospect; I realized was in the uncertainty of living.  To will through the space of wanting to drift eternally, to leave the pain, requires resources I don’t really know where to find.  Somehow they show up and I manage to reach for them.  Thankfully I am blessed with an extensive family of angels in form.  From Seattle landed my brother from another mother, Jeff, to hoist a rope into my depths and pull me out.  To be by my bedside and fill our kitchen with food and the smell of savory.  The tears on his departure visit me again as I write this.  And he was gone, the weekend I rested and continued my recovery through the week.  The need for personal retreat pushed me to plan and pack.  And off to heal.

By departure it had hit again.  What are these strange sensations in my body?  There are so many possible causes, trying to understand is unreasonable.  I begin to float in some out-of-body form, watching myself moving through the motions.  I arrive at the Wiesbaden in Ouray and will my way from check-in, to room, to the pool.  The melting begins submerged in the Lorelei pool, my private oasis, blessed with the name of my sister.  There is extra love here, and history.  I share the healing waters of the ancestors and chiefs.  Before bed I venture to the cave, Earth’s womb, and tone with her resonance.  As I lay in bed floating above my body, feeling it’s throbbing pulse, pressure pouncing from one organ to another, moving marrow and space where there is solid, I wonder.  I truly wonder if it will all shut down overnight. 

From the cave flies Bat and the story of the Shaman’s Death.  The ritualistic initiation to breakdown the notions of personal identity, of self, and reemerge ego-less, reborn to become your future.  I wake, I am reborn from the dark night.  The light shines bright that day and I soak it up, creativity begins to flow.  I have turned a corner, there is relief, that which was clutching is losing its grip.  I turn to the elements, soak in the fire water, breathe the air, hug the stone and tell it I’m grateful.  I burn sage, laugh and play, recollect my times of past.  I am finding ground and I am someone else…         

And here is the creative outcome from the rest of my personal retreat.  A video production to calm the concerned.  A metaphorical representation of being taken to the next level.  A celebration and a sharing of ceremony.

I Have Aged

I have aged again, some new energy has moved through me.  I am closer to dying or I am closer to healing, it’s hard to tell which.  The feelings in my body, so strange at times.  Is that my kidneys aching?  The swells of blood that occasional flush through my body, from the sacrum up through the ribs and shoulders, and down through the feet.  Is that magic, or is that a mess?  The months of pain in my guts is subsiding and I am grateful.  Slowly back-stepping out of crisis, the pangs lessen each day, the appetite improves.  And food is so good!  And the side effects I try not to dwell: steroids, anti-napalm-biotics, protonix.  Suppressing my suppressed immune system, swelling my joints to ache, they snap like seasoned piñon.  I reflect on last summer’s hobbling on these meds, but clearly the detriment of my symptoms was worse.  The suffering had to stop, I had lost track, I have been floating.  I am still floating, though my feet walk more each day and my face, for a moment, has felt the sun.  Perhaps I will find the ground again.

I have aged again, I feel more love and have grown more unattached.  Each day is somehow different yet I’ve grown fond of that which is constant.  I don’t care that it’s winter, I like the short days.  I’ve never said that before.  I may only fully realize the absence of sun once its warmth has returned.  This morning’s sloppy gray streets and skies such a metaphor for my guts.  I woke at three in the morning, tight, turning, turbulent.  Consciousness remained through some strange exhausted buzz behind my eyes, and now, as morning has turned to afternoon, I stare in a daze at monotonous space.  The drugs, my sterile insides insight mild nausea though food keeps creeping through, sensations of assimilation.  This aging is strange, am I wiser or more disenfranchised?  I visualize the strong-calved peak bagger I once was.  Full suspension climbs up technical single-track and the joy of the downhill earned.  Now just the fatiguing thought of gearing up for an adventure is daunting.  I visualize however, see myself strong in the shadows, feet dangling in Dominguez Creek.  I see white blood cells swimming through my waters, numbers growing, teaching each other the difference between the utilitarian and the malignant.  Outside my window in the drab, I am a dove nestled in branches, observing in silence.  There is something boundless.  There is something beautiful.   

My face, for a moment, has felt the sun.
Jan 27th, Colorado River

Complexities

I have a complex situation.  I guess I already knew that, but that perspective from one of the hospitalists I was recently visiting in St. Mary’s Hospital struck a new chord.  Add the fact that I had fallen so far into suffering that I lost track of where I was.  I also had to laugh to myself because his perspective was based solely on the physical ramifications of my scenario.  With a glance at the mental, emotional and spiritual, complex becomes a drastic understatement.  Weave in the philosophic polarity between holistic and allopathic treatment, and the fact that my health decisions are completely self-guided choices, and just the search for a synonym that adequately describes this “complex” situation becomes a daunting task.  It all calls for a long walk in the woods.  And, unfortunately, my energy, mobility, the horrific air quality and 20-degree weather really nix that as being a reasonable and prudent remedy.  So, I turn to writing.  Here, I attempt to purge the stagnation of thoughts and feelings that have not been flowing.  I attempt to make some sense of the insane.  I search for clarity and guidance on icy slopes under the dim light of hard winter.  I look for distractions from the daydream of an endless float down the dammed Colorado River.  I seek visions of a future worth working so hard to live for, and I simply muse the words “working so hard.”  Do I need to find a reason to dig myself out of another deep hole?

I certainly feel much more philosophical than practical in my mind this morning.  After a good 12 hours of much needed sleep following two miserable nights at the hospital I feel some relative level of calm.  I might have the post haze of hydrocodone and cannabis but am currently drug and pain free.  Confined freedom, getting to leave my cell to walk the fenced yard.  I would breath in the sun if it offered itself.  Instead I appreciate the comfort of soft fleece and down.  And I am amazed.  I have spent my life developing, whether I like it or not, a relationship with irritable bowels.  Call it Ulcerative Colitis, call it Crohn’s, call it six major surgeries, three missing organs and a poop bag to boot.  Call it what I like, I’ve never known it like I know it now.  And before now, as I have related to some friends, its lifetime tribulations have made a year with Leukemia seem like a walk in the park.  Leukemia, especially acute, is a freak the fuck out, not a walk in the park.  So what is it all together?  As far as I know, I’m the only one that knows.  I guess I’ll sit on that for a while…

Talk Radio: Cosmic Voices 9/26/12

As a prelude to our upcoming radio show on Wednesday, Nov 28^th (5:30pm), here is my radio interview on Sept 26th with hosts Ramona Winkeller and Dulce Bell-Bulley discussing my leukemia diagnosis in relation to bigger cosmic questions such as, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" The talk explores healing as a path to self-discovery and delves into subjects such as soul contracts and past lives, archetypes, astrological significance, examinations of death and the path of spiritual evolution.  Be sure to tune in to our follow up discussion on KAFM radio this Wednesday.

Talk Radio: Vibrant Wellness 09/26/12

Yes!  I have finally figured out how to share my radio shows on my blog.  Here is my radio interview on Sept 26th with host Joseph Rolley and special guest Anthony Bogart discussing the latest on my holistic approach to leukemia recovery. This follows my second trip to Angeles Hospital in Tijuana for Bio-immune Cell Therapy. Discussion revolves around mind-body connection and the journey from fear to self-empowerment.