The Cancer Card

Last weekend I finally connected with my organic peach supplier in Palisade.  Nothing like this time of year in the Grand Valley, peaches galore!  Oh, so juicy and sweet.  I typically like to process at least a few boxes to use throughout the year.  I pulled into the backyard operation and, as I do every year, fell into quick and easy conversation with the bright and eccentric grower/picker/seller.  As the discussion moved from common connections to certain woes of the world “the question” circulated around my brain.  Do I tell her I am dealing with a cancer diagnosis?

This question is paramount for everyone dealing with such news.  Who do you tell, who don’t you tell, how public or private do you make it?  Certainly everyone has their own nature and concerns.  The more people that know, the more times you hear yourself telling the same story.  You have to be careful not to live it too fully and have it become too life-centric, though that’s unavoidable in the beginning.  How do you carry yourself once you are part of the cancer culture, once you are living that unique lifestyle?  How do you deal with how other people deal with it?  It’s heavy news and sometimes if feels best to jut keep it secret.  We are, after all, a culture that likes to hide things.  Maybe it’s best to just keep that information under the mattress or behind a fence.  There are certainly legitimate reasons to do so.  And there are reasons we do that we might not even realize.

I recently got qualified as an indigent.  What a creepy and demeaning word.  That’s what can happen when you get a disease, can’t work, and don’t have tens of thousands in the bank.  Now, some law or state agency has cut my hospital-specific bill by 85%.  I feel kind of ashamed I can’t pull my own weight and need assistance (I think that’s the secondary definition of indigent).  Speaking of creepy words, who likes disease?  Well, I guess that’s not as bad as infectious disease.  Disease can often be defined by the subconscious as, “something gross that I got and nobody else has, how embarrassing…”  Almost as embarrassing as the 12-year-old prepubescent who got busted masturbating with a Penthouse in (the other) hand.  Now that is definitely something to be ashamed of that I’d never do and I sure as hell wouldn’t admit it if I did.

I digress, to peaches, ‘cause I really love your peaches and want to shake your tree.  Especially because they’re organic and I’ve got a big freezer and a dehydrator.  And, I’ve been diagnosed with leukemia, which is another creepy and scary word, and it seems pertinent to share because we are talking about real life stuff…  But I know how the energy will shift, like when someone drops a glass on tile in a busy restaurant.  Or, like when some big truck accelerates very quickly and loudly and fills the whole intersection with black smoke (thanks for the cancer, asshole!).  OK, maybe it won’t be that bad, but there will be a shift towards sympathy, or empathy.  And with empathy comes another sad story and now we’re all depressed.  If I wouldn’t have ever said anything we could have gone along with our happy cheerful days as if life was as golden as the sun.

Well, I did say something, it felt appropriate, and life isn’t perfect.  Yes, I pulled the cancer card.  First, I got over shame a long time ago.  Should I be ashamed of my human nature or things that happen to me that are out of my control?  There are certain teachings that have passed shame from generation to generation.  Fortunately, I’ve learned from other schools of thought.  Second, I prefer a heart-to-heart connection exponentially to superficial bantering.  It’s pretty easy to tell when you’re in the same company.  Boom!  Here’s what’s happening in my reality.  Bam!  Here, have some Love!  Now we're both elevated.  Third, “Do you know Dr. Soandso who is doing stem-cell therapy?”  “Right here in Grand Junction?!...”  Fourth (but not final), I got a free box of peaches.  Yes, pulling the cancer card often gets you free shit.  I guess being likable is part of the equation, but this particular aspect has been one of my biggest teachers.

People who are givers, who find joy in helping others, often are the worst at receiving.  Conversely, those who are really good at taking don’t seem to be so psyched with sharing what they’ve got.  There’s a strange irony in that.  When my diagnosis first hit friends immediately urged me to set up a way for people to give.  “Oh, no, I don’t need that.”  Once the reality of my circumstances truly settled I consented.  The gifts poured in and I had to work my reluctance away.  It’s taken a number of friends’ kind words to help me not only accept the gifts, but to believe I deserve them.  There is a truth in our human nature, giving feels good.  It feels really good when you give to someone who you know will pay it forward.  But, none of that works if there is not a willingness to receive.  So, I have become willing and in doing so have opened up to the beauty of humility, grace and acceptance.  I received my free box of peaches with no more than an, “are you sure?” and a grateful smile.  We departed the scenario feeling touched, inspired and connected.  What a grander exchange than: Hi, how ya doin’, good, here’s the money, here’s the peaches, have a good day.

On my way out of Palisade I stumbled upon a pesticide-free “U-pick-it” garden stand.  Amongst the eggplant and tomatoes I bumped into two friendly older women who must have sensed the quizzical energy I was putting towards my freshly picked kohlrabi.  Conversation quickly escalated to the point of “the question” and, yes, I pulled the card.  I quickly explained why I was gathering my sustenance from a garden rather than a drive-thru, I divulged the “alternative” treatment I had undergone and my distrust of conventional means.  In turn, they suggested ideas for my squid-looking tuber and with admiration offered the smiling sentiment, “You are our future.”  I was taken a little aback as they resumed their picking.  I’d often spoken such text to inspiring teenagers I’d worked with, but never in reference to myself.  I paid for my flat of produce and drove home with those words echoing in my mind.  It’s true, I realized, I am the future.  I determine it with my actions and I determine it with my words.  What better reason to keep sharing?  What better reason to keep living?  And, what better reason to keep living, unabashed.

Fundraising: Cozies for "Z" Cure

Some time ago my sweet sister sent a box of knitted delights to use for fundraising.  They are currently on display at Orr's Trading Company in downtown Grand Junction (thanks Debora!).  The proceeds of all of these items goes to help me with my medical expenses.  All items are tagged with an asked "minimum donation" and I am happy to ship to you good people outside of GJ (if you can help me with postage!).  Please check out these love-filled handmade items.  They are high quality and can not be found at Walmart.  My sister has won most recent awards "1st Place" and "Best of Class" for her work.  Inspiring!  A huge thank you to my sister and her friends that helped.  I love you Loralei! 

If you have a kitchen, go shopping, like to stay hydrated with tasty beverages, have or know people with children there is something here for you!  The assortment includes jar cozies, hot pads, dish rags and scouring pads, children's hats and socks, and really super cool market bags.

Minimum Donation: pints- $12, quarts- $15 

My sister gave me my first jar cozie a few years ago.  It was the envy of many a friend witnessing me enjoy a hot or cold beverage out of a plastic-free and completely sealable Mason jar.  Seriously, my stainless steel mug has become obsolete.  Be envious no more!  The stock at Orr's is already dwindling, but my sister can be sweet talked into making special orders.  That's how awesome she is.  Did I mention she's beautiful too?!

Speaking of beautiful, this fashion diva can be found roaming the aisles of City Market or the Vitamin Cottage with her eco-friendly market bag.  Whether you're cruising the Farmer's Market or just supplying up at your local grocer, do it in style.  These totes are colorful and sturdy and will hold $10-$50 worth of groceries (depending on where you shop and how organic it is).  Hip, happenin', practical, and provocative.  Years from now you'll brag that you once owned an original!  There are currently 3 left...

(I think these are Min D of $50, I'll have to double check)

Everyone loves babies, especially babies in cute hats and cute socks.  Get some!  I'm willing to negotiate on the bear too.  (Min D: $12-15)

I've been using my mom's knitted dish rags for years.  I wouldn't use anything else.  For one, they remind me of my mom and for two, nothing works better.  Seriously, microfiber is a joke.  These double as pot holders, whether your pot is cold, hot, or dank.  There is an variety of sizes and colors and even a few scrubbies that are really cool because they reming me of ninja throwing stars.  (Min D: $8-12)

If you are interested stroll on down to Orr's Trading Company at 411 Main Street or

call or email me: 970-901-0150  /  z_elemental@yahoo.com

Blessings and thanks for your support!

Calling out for a Medicine Man

I sat last Wednesday in the quiet morning silence of a smoky forest just east of town.  The feeling was a bit surreal, to see and feel how thick the air was.  It was the first morning of two needed nights of decompression the best way I know how, sleeping on Earth and sitting in her stillness.  The sky was an adequate expression of my feelings.  The pain and stiffness in my joints had gotten bad enough to affect my sleep and the longevity of these symptoms had become quite frustrating.  My energy was clouded and overall I felt dazed.  I knew I was at another juncture in my healing process.

Previous to departing I had a conversation with a new friend that was a bit of a reawakening.  He shared the story of a significant healing process that he had gone through years ago.  It was self-guided and ethereal, and resulted in a complete cure.  We swapped more stories of healing experiences, the essence of energy to the flow of life, and of gurus and medicine men.  Ignited again was a knowing I’ve had since my leukemia diagnosis in March.  I was being asked to step up and step fully into my power as a healer.

Click here for Turkey Medicine 

So I sat in the haze of far off forest fires and internal flames.  My teakettle neared boiling as I opened my notebook to retrieve a list that had been on my mind for some time.  As my mixture of respiratory soothing herbs sat steeping I studied my list of givers.  My gratitude and awe deepened exponentially with each name I highlighted on my spreadsheet.  I’d been feeling a need to give back, at least energetically, to all those who have gifted me.  The notion of how to do that was a bit overwhelming.  I rose and walked with my tea to the rise above camp and quietly caught movement.  I focused in on a rafter of wild turkeys and watched them scour the ground and erratically devour arthropods.  I lightened with silent laughter while pondering animal medicine and the magic of nature.  It was clear that I would share this experience and this “medicine” with all of you who have given so much to me.

I walked for much of the rest of the day pushing through the stiffness in my body.  I sat often breathing deeply and playing my aspen flute to its leafy kin.  I sat in meditation and prayer, moving energy the best way I know how.  The knowing deepened that I require more than conventions for my healing.  How is it I bounced back from chemo quicker than any patient my oncologist had ever seen, and, in turn had some of the poorest results?  My trip to Mexico was a huge boost, but I can feel unfinished business in my body.  There is more I need; it is multi-dimensional.  I need to step into the deepest and most quintessential aspect of my Being.  I know this, yet I am not sure how.  I have spent much of my life doing things differently.  I have unlearned many of the woes and wrongs of my cultural paradigm.  But now I sit a bit in the mist, in the unknown.  To proceed I need a teacher, so I call out for a medicine man.

I returned to camp and began to prepare dinner.  I gazed across the clearing I was camped in and perceived a noticeable clarity.  The air was cleaner; the haze had lifted.  This seemed improbable after the day’s northern views of endless smoke.  I descended into the comfort of my tent with relief for my sinuses and lungs, yet I felt uneasy in my guts.  The symptoms were not the semi-panic filled twisting I am too familiar with.  This felt heavy and gaseous, a purging.  I slept through the night and woke at first light.  Things were different.  I felt clear and light in my body.  My joints ached, but not with the same intensity I’d been experiencing.  I felt centered, focused and motivated.  A purging had taken place.  Through my ceremony and communion I experienced relief.  I know this reality and I know this feeling.  I also sit here with what feels like an immense burden to shed.  I am ready to let it go.  I am ready for complete healing on all levels.  I call out for a medicine man.  Please hear my prayers and smell the smoke of my sage.     

Montana Treatment Plan

We are on the home stretch, cruise controlling over the vast barren desert of Eastern Utah on the way back to Grand Junction.  Beacon, the wonder dog, is resting her head between Larkin and I counting the stripes of this newly paved I-70 corridor.  Our escape from the hundred-degree heat almost two weeks ago was an escape from many things.  For one, the relentless allergens of the Grand Valley were irritating my eyes and sinuses and hindering my sleep.  When you feel crappy and can’t sleep you get grumpy.  When you get grumpy your loved one gets grumpy.  When your loved one gets grumpy and you pack a car together and drive to Utah you end up camping at a crazy hot spring in Honeyville where thunder and lightening move in right over your head just after you’ve fallen asleep, trains whistle by your tent all night, helicopters buzz overhead, vehicles shine their high beams in your tent, your closest neighbors fornicate and fight, and the wind shifts direction between the human honey buckets and cattle rendering facility… all night long.  When these things happen you wonder if you should just turn around and go home.

L on the "M" above Missoula

Well, we didn’t.  We knew we needed an escape.  We needed a vacation from trips to the hospital, blood tests, doctor bills, so on and so forth etc etc…  A trip to Montana, and specifically Missoula, had been in the works for months.  The likelihood of it had wavered for obvious reasons.  In addition to getting hang time with my parents I wanted to show off my hometown to Larkin.  There’s nothing like “the Zoo” in summer.  Summer is many things in Missoula.  I’ve often quantified it as “beer, babies, dogs and ice cream” post afternoon walks through downtown.  Because of the evolution of my really boring diet and residual effects of chemo the only way we could blend was with Beacon on leash.  Tubing down the Blackfoot or Clark Fork River is also a trademark way to experience the “hub of five valleys.”  However, my Hickman port’s direct access to my bloodstream was reason enough not to lay emerged in water downstream from America’s #1 Super-fund sight in the company of a bunch of college-aged kids and their alcohol influenced pee.  Leaves one wondering just what we did.

Kids of all ages at Missoula's carousel

Larkin and I are not much for watching TV.  In fact, thanks to pirated Netflix we just got into “The Office” (embarrassing I know).  Every time there’s an exciting sporting event and I want to checkout I whine about not having one.  Of course, I wouldn’t dream of buying a new one and we don’t want the burden of those big heavy out of date relics of the past.  This prelude is to punctuate how enthused we were to realize we arrived at my parents’ house the night of the opening ceremonies for the Olympics.  They set a great backdrop for downtime, meals and Mexican Train Dominos.  Turns out my dad is quite the domino-dominator!  He also makes a great Crocket to my Tubbs.  I say this because commanding a powerboat across open waters makes me feel like a vice detective.  Thanks for that opportunity Shawn!  I continued the fantasy with a rumble on the back of Michael’s Harley and a daring escaped from ravenous rapids on John’s raft (see the heroic photo shoot here!).  Rural and urban hikes, visits with great friends and mama’s good home cookin’ rounded out the adventures.

With the Gashwilers on the Gorge

The “Montana Treatment Plan” is how Larkin dubbed our trip.  And, she’s right.  Despite the achy and even painful joint and tendon pain I’ve continued to experience, I rallied with movement.  I managed to keep up with my supplement protocol, aside from the cod liver oil that conveniently camouflaged with the contents of the fridge.  The cool nights and clean air allowed us both to make up sleep deficiencies and the simple reality that each day was as relaxed or active as we deemed it to be was therapeutic.  The hardest part was enduring the miles between destinations, the stillness a medium for throbbing joint pain.  Overall, the most important feeling is that sense of what a true vacation should be, a break.  Upon returning to “reality” we are refreshed and have renewed motivation for what lies ahead.  For Beacon, continued confidence building in her recently discovered doggie-paddle.  For Larkin, the return to work and another school year starts Monday.  For me, a bone marrow biopsy kicks off my return to work tomorrow.  I’ve decided however, that despite the results a week from now not much will change.  The Montana treatment plan will merge right into the at-home treatment plan.  And, perhaps another trip to Tijuana is in the forecast.

Larkin getting a Walker sandwich!

Living Life

For weeks now I have been intending to write a blog entry, but I guess I’ve just been too busy living life.  Feeling good has prompted me to catch up with need to-dos and venture off on some want to-dos.  I left Mexico almost six weeks ago, I keep track by the number of CBCs I’ve had since.  These blood draws break down what’s happening in my blood, white cells, red cells, platelets, H&H, and so forth.  At center stage is my overall white blood cell count.  I wait in anticipation for the weekly results as it is the biggest immune system indicator.  Upon leaving Tijuana after the Bio-immune cell therapy it was at a 2.8, the highest it’s been since this whole ordeal started.  A week later it had dropped to 2.4 then 2.1.  I waited out my concern to see the next few weeks level things out, another 2.1 then a 2.2.  Meanwhile, all of my other numbers remained steady, near or within “normal” parameters.  Last Friday’s WBC had climbed to 2.4.  Optimism!  My day of celebration will be when my WBC hits 4.0.  Neutropenic no more!

Raw Veggie Juice!

My at home treatment following the trip to Angeles Hospital has become somewhat of a normal day-to-day activity.  Getting on board with the supplement regime took hours of online shopping and upon arrival, hours of organizing, almost to the extent of an Excel spreadsheet.  As with most things though, I’m going off my rough draft and memory.  Once, twice, or three times a day?  With food?  On an empty stomach?  Alpha-Lipoic, Nutri-A, D3 drops, Mega GLA, Resvertrol, Shark oil, Complete B, DHEA, Ginseng, VSL-3, high-dose Melatonin…  It’s a full time job.  Adjusting the diet was another challenge.  I’ve spent a lifetime improving my diet and making modifications.  What at one time seemed impossible happens naturally when you know it’s time.  In this case the shift was with dairy and sugar.  The two weeks at Angeles broke my cravings.  After meals I’d pace to the tune of my sweet tooth, arghhhh, a piece of ginger had to suffice.  Now, at home, the freezer is sans ice cream and label reading at the grocery has gone to a ridiculous new level.  There is sugar in everything!  The rice milk I made a healthy switch to years ago has now been dropped because of its sugar content.  I’ve found that a blend of unsweetened almond and coconut milk are way better anyway.  The veggie consumption has increased so much I’ve already broke one juicer.  Luckily, Craigslist procured a second for a low low price.  My last batch of carrot, celery, ginger, lime and apple I have to say was quite delightful.  I’ve also given up on red meat and pork, sigh, that means bacon, or as we fondly refer to it, Manfruit.  That means more fish!  The kind that’s not farm-raised with color added to make it look real.  And, as I found out, you even have to be careful with wild caught.  That, like so many other things, comes from China. 

Thanks for the visit!

In the midst of all dietary planning and implementation I’ve been psyched to take advantage of improved energy.  Larkin and I joined our local tribe to celebrate the solstice at iLumifest.  I even taught a yoga workshop!  I was thrilled with a visit from my Missoula boyz that same weekend.  John, Shawn and Kris ventured down for a whirlwind visit that included grilling, a festival appearance, and following tradition, a game of Texas Hold ‘em.  The mounting tasks of bills, paperwork and organizing held my attention for the entirety of the next week.  Nearly 100 envelopes requesting my funds were sorted and mostly recycled.  I also managed to fill out an application for CICP and a follow up with Social Security.  I was officially accepted by the state as an indigent and am awaiting the word on supplemental security income.  Since I am learning to deal with putting my pride aside, I’ll apply for food stamps next.  I have for years been plotting an early retirement, I guess you never know how things will manifest.  That aside, the past weeks have also been filled with a mildly complex vehicle rearrangement.  Larkin had been shopping for a 4Runner after deciding to part with her maintenance-ridden Audi.  I opted in by contributing the sale of my Ford Ranger, which never really fit me anyway.  After a month of shopping and a trip to Salt Lake City, Larkin now owns a beautiful black 2000 4Runner that she lets me drive when I’m extra nice.  We christened it with a voyage over the Rockies.  A stop in Vail to visit Beth (post hip surgery) and her folks, a reunion with my Youth Rally family in Boulder, and a visit with family from my mom’s side in Longmont.  It was a great trip that felt very reuniting for me in many ways.  It also provided Larkin a big glimpse into my world that I believe brought us closer.  She’s hooked on camp anyway.  Perhaps we’ll tag team Youth Rally 2013 in Seattle!

Crazy Camp Counselors!

I have been psyched to have the energy and enthusiasm to be as active as I have.  There is certainly an elevated level of planning and patience to merge the dietary needs with getting out.  I’ve also been working through troubling joint and tendon pain.  The overall consensus from docs and Queen Google are that it is a chemo side effect.  I’ve also wondered if it’s related to one of the pharmaceuticals I’m taking due to my neutropenia.  The page long dictation of potential side effects includes tendon pain and possibility of rupture, no bueno!  There is also concern of arthritis, which can be associated with auto-immune diseases such as Chron’s and Colitis.  I continue to assume that it is not cancer related as it feels different than bone pain and I’m not experiencing fatigue or dizziness.  All of this said, I am truly feeling optimistic about my last treatment and am fully on board with what I have been asked to do dietarily.  I am also doing my best to access deeper aspects of healing.  The biggest part of that, I believe, is simply being present and positive.  But just “being” is such a challenge.  That’s why gurus and sages for centuries have had no shortage of work.  For me, it’s living life with a heightened awareness of the precarious balance required to be healthy.  It’s being engaged and actively participating with “reality” while making the time to truly practice self-care.  It is a practice of falling off and getting back on.  What lies ahead will be determined as it unfolds.  I have put off a bone marrow biopsy until Larkin and I return from a trip to Montana.  For now, it is vacation time!  And, taking a break from it all, I’ve decided, is the best medicine.

The Camping Diaries part 1

June 18^th, 2012- Camping off Forest Rd 254, Grand Mesa

            Quite a lapse in my journal since the last entry.  I guess you could say quite a lapse of time.  My last entry was early March; I was pondering what was going on with my health… 

I find myself lounging inside the protective bubble of my tent.  The seasons are early this year in Western CO, including mosquito season.  I have been here long enough that many of them that were frosted onto the netting have given up.  Still, a dozen or so, with the leg-span of a quarter, hopefully await my departure from the tent.  I imagine this will come soon and I will navigate their buzzing and parasitic nature.  I should free my pup as well.  I have quarantined Beacon to the back of the truck for her own protection.  The pathetic look on her face earlier expressed her own solemn irritation at the onslaught she was suffering.  We’ve both napped the morning away.  I’ve also put a nice dent in my book, Mom’s Marijuana… (AND WHOOO! At that very moment a large cinnamon colored bear just lumbered across the field in front of me.  I am suddenly energized!)  My thoughts seem unimportant now- I have been blessed by bear medicine, introspection.  Perhaps my thoughts are important now! 

            I remarked to Larkin a few days ago that I am tired of reading books about cancer stories.  It reminds me too much of my reality.  I have been living lately with such life.  No fears or concerns around my AML diagnosis or the “failure” of the two rounds of chemo I’ve been through.  I’ve been to Tijuana and back on a crazy adventure the whole time optimistic and completely confident in success.  At times I’ve wondered if I’m in denial, but I know I’m not.  I’m carrying the mindset that will cure me.  But reading the book, today’s account of a bone marrow biopsy with ravaging chemotherapy after a Hodgkin’s relapse, and me, in the grandest solitude I have felt in months… the “what ifs” arise.  The ache in my elbow joint, the occasional throbbing in my shinbones, what is happening in my body, my blood, my marrow?

            I am so content here in my MSR bubble.  The natural world is moving all around my stillness.  A ground squirrel has twice walked up to the mesh of my tent and hopped on.  Fearing rips in the delicate yet protective barrier, my protesting feet sent it fleeing up and over to slide down the slick rainfly attached to the aft half of the tent.  What levity!  The chorus of feathered ones has been a constant meditation since sunrise.  Thankfully, the irritating rattle of tree squirrels that woke me originally has long since passed.  Occasionally, the relative silence is broken by a gust through treetops.  The rush through the aspens and evergreens sounds like a long wave crashing to the shore.  Back in the silence, the large firs in front of me subtly ungulate like anemones in a tide pool, each branch independently swaying.  With an unfocused gaze that takes in the complete scene there is sweetness.  The view from my mesh bubble has me sandwiched between sky blue and various shades of green Earth.  I like it here, certainly better than in the tattling pages of my compelling book.

June 18^th, 2012

Leeches and Lilies

The lure of the Buddha in lily pads drew me to this mesa lake sitting spot.

Dragonflies with medieval enchanted magic, charged from illuminated pedals in bloom,

dance the Hop to Hop and hover in stillness, pausing for realness.

Like I’ve done on this “getting out.”

My gaze drops below to the watery realm and unmoving current.

Wildlife viewing of leeches, in mass, beyond reaches,

take me to parasitic actions I know.

Daydreams ensue of abdominal strife, healing cuts of the knife,

And this battle I should now be waging…

That moment or more, past,

once my eyes took the shore, refocusing my sight on the surface.

There, stillness and charm, an unbothered account of surface beauty.

Present, the length of the pond.

There the vision stays, until the mind betrays with fears of my Beyond.

And back to the surface, to the practice of Beauty.

The Buddha in lily pads.

From the Desk of David Letterman

Top 10 Reasons why to come to Tijuana for Cancer Treatment:

1. The immune masks are way more Ninja!

2. Doctors who answer every question with both feet in the door.

3. The “Healing Garden” is quiet, soft, green… and alive!

4. Because you’ve always wanted to learn a second language.

5. Pudding and “health shakes” OR celery, tilapia… and more celery?

6. Sleep.  It’s an honored part of your treatment program.

7. Getting there is half the fun!

8. Incentive programs: If you’re healthy and strong by April take a trip with Dr. G to Nepal and Everest base camp.

9. Sun therapy is encouraged because Vitamin D is muy importante.

10. A needle in the groin… OR …seven days of chemotherapy?