tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11612730703219293692024-03-12T18:34:12.812-07:00Marta's JourneySay what you need to say.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-79183305628941684202015-07-28T15:38:00.000-07:002015-07-28T15:38:32.293-07:00Thank You For ComingThank you for coming.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KswwOGtn-78/VbgBvEPHPKI/AAAAAAAAcTs/1H0nySWcMLE/s1600/2015-07-28%2B15.20.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KswwOGtn-78/VbgBvEPHPKI/AAAAAAAAcTs/1H0nySWcMLE/s200/2015-07-28%2B15.20.16.jpg" width="200" /></a>You've been a great addition to our family.<br />
Your sacrificial giving of your time and energy have been without question - an invaluable asset.<br />
You've held our food so carefully and given us hours of science projects.<br />
Whether full to the brim, or not even a tablespoon's worth, you've been faithful.<br />
There's only two things we can fault you for.<br />
You've lost your lid on several occasions. We know its not your fault. Between owner error and those nasty little gremlins that sneak in during the night and plunder, its totally out of your control. Thankfully we know all those missing lids are frolicking with the missing socks in that alternative universe zone.<br />
Our second issue is on a more serious note, however.<br />
We've found out your little secret. You might not be safe. You might make us sick.<br />
Again, we know its not your fault. You were created that way. You live with the hand you're dealt. But we had to draw the line.<br />
We discovered the numbers on your little undersides.<br />
<br />
#1 PET - Polyethylene terephthalate.<br />
#2 HDPE - High density polyethylene.<br />
#3 PVC<br />
#4 LDPE -Low Density Polyethylene.<br />
#5 Polystyrene.<br />
#7 Other<br />
BPA - Bisphenol-A.<br />
<br />
#2 and #4 are the safest. All the rest are bad news. They cause a world of hurt and illness.<br />
Unfortunately, #2 and #4 were not your numbers. In fact, most of you had no numbers at all. And sad to say, you've been part of our family for years - before they made your kind identify themselves.<br />
<a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/goodbye_post_card-r948560deb9c74362bc68b0a7de56276c_vgbaq_8byvr_512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/goodbye_post_card-r948560deb9c74362bc68b0a7de56276c_vgbaq_8byvr_512.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>So it is with sadness and fond memories we must say, au<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, Tahoma, 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 27.2000007629395px;"> </span>revoir, arrivederci<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, Tahoma, 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 27.2000007629395px;">, </span>shalom, dasvidaniya,<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Open Sans', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, Tahoma, 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 27.2000007629395px;"> </span>toodles, - bye bye.<br />
Yes, we see it in your plastic eyes. You feel we've dumped you for someone better.<br />
You watched from your exile bags as we brought in your replacements. It must be painful for you.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0-kqhB6n_B0/VbgB0KjKmuI/AAAAAAAAcT4/OcqDX_Uc-20/s1600/2015-07-28%2B15.17.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0-kqhB6n_B0/VbgB0KjKmuI/AAAAAAAAcT4/OcqDX_Uc-20/s200/2015-07-28%2B15.17.56.jpg" width="200" /></a>Glass.<br />
Bright, shiny, new glass.<br />
<br />
Although you've multiplied through all these years, we decided it was time to scale down. We've streamlined. We only need a few to replace the many.<br />
<br />
Parting is such sweet sorrow.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-55995431404427739232015-07-12T16:25:00.000-07:002015-07-12T16:25:23.309-07:00Aunt Cora<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Don't let that smile fool you, she was a tough cookie - Aunt Cora Jaynes.<br />
My dad was in the Air Force, in Goose Bay, Labrador when I was born. Mom lived in Colorado. Aunt Cora came from North Salem, Indiana to care for my mother and me. My birth was quite traumatic. The doctor couldn't find my heartbeat at one point and my foot was caught on my mother's pubic bone. She was in excruciating pain. So they knocked her out and did who knows what to get me out. It wasn't a c-section. Think military doctors in the early 1950s. She recovered slowly.<br />
Aunt Cora was my father's half-sister/1st cousin. She was old school - very strict. She had one son who she doted on. Her husband came back from WW1 shell shocked. Now they'd call it extreme PTSD. He was locked away in an institution in Kentucky.<br />
Her philosophy on raising children was - spare the rod, spoil the child, give a baby too much attention, spoil the child.<br />
<br />
My father was able to return to Colorado to be with us not long after I was born. Aunt Cora went home to Indiana.<br />
<br />
Every few years we'd make the trek to Indiana to visit family and friends. Aunt Cora's house was our home base. It smelled musty with a hint of Chihuahua. Skeeter ruled the roost. Nasty little dog that shook when you looked at him, and nipped your nose if you got too close. When I was older, I had to give up the comfort of the double bed I shared with my parents in the spare room for the couch in her compact living room - with a fine layer of dog hair.<br />
<br />
Sounds like a miserable time doesn't it? I had a love hate relationship with Aunt Cora and her house.<br />
I looked forward to spending time there. In spite of the irritations, I developed lots of happy memories.<br />
Aunt Cora was the head cafeteria cook at the North Salem elementary school. Their menu <br />
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consisted of home made food - home canned fruit and veggies and baked goods to die for. Aunt Cora made it all. During the summer, Mom, Dad and I were the recipients of her cooking TLC.<br />
She had a small mud room in the back of the house with a work bench. That's where my cousins and I cleaned our fish. We'd all line up with knives and buckets of water. If we wanted dinner, we cleaned our own fish. Mind you, we did this at the ripe old age of 7 and 8.<br />
<a href="http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTA2MlgxNjAw/z/w~4AAOSwg3FUoLd0/$_35.JPG?set_id=880000500F" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/MTA2MlgxNjAw/z/w~4AAOSwg3FUoLd0/$_35.JPG?set_id=880000500F" height="132" width="200" /></a>After dinner, we'd eat watermelon on the grass. The adults sat on the front porch swing and various metal chairs in the vast yard, drinking ice tea from metal tumblers or tall, thin rubber spaghetti string glasses while we kids ventured in the back 40 near the apple orchard to catch our nightly firefly allotment. It was dark and spooky back there, but the little lightning bugs thrived among all the trees. Easy pickins'. After a rain storm, it smelled of over ripe apples and wet grass.<br />
On Fridays we'd all venture out in her pink rambler that she affectionately named, Rose Bud. Small neighboring towns held Friday Fish Frys. You could always find one. Fresh fish, greens, potato salad, corn bread and baked beans. And for dessert - an array of hot out of the oven pies made by the local ladies.<br />
Life didn't get much better.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-88107795807473682122015-06-26T14:53:00.000-07:002015-06-26T15:07:30.294-07:00Author AuthorI must have been bored one afternoon in my teen years - either that or my mom challenged me with consequences to clean out my bedroom closet. I rummaged through the collection of boxes that housed keepsakes and other useless stuff of childhood. And yes, I still have a penchant for collecting things in boxes. And yes, I know some call it a sickness...<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s4I7OESO_rI/UwuvMUcfxII/AAAAAAAABEo/pYeg_h-sAMM/s1600/Feb26th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s4I7OESO_rI/UwuvMUcfxII/AAAAAAAABEo/pYeg_h-sAMM/s1600/Feb26th.jpg" width="173" /></a>Layered among report cards and papers was a yellow folder. On the cover I'd glued a picture of a hand drawn set of large footprints and a title - <i>The Mystery of the Giant Footprince</i>.<br />
My first attempt at a novel.<br />
I laughed.<br />
It was supposed to have been, <i>The Mystery of the Giant Footprints</i>. I think I was around 8 or 9 when I wrote the beginning of my literary masterpiece. I guess I lost interest, or found it too hard, because it was only a few pages long. And to be honest, I haven't a clue what I wrote. That's how engaging it must have been.<br />
I've always loved to write. I treasured my diary, complete with lock and key. My most secret admissions were tucked safely away from prying eyes. Saucy entries like, "Johnny looked at me today." And, "I hope Jimmy notices me tomorrow in my new skirt."<br />
In high school I took creative writing classes.<br />
In college, my major and double minors took me away from journalism, but I continued to keep a journal. Oh, the angst of those early young adult years.<br />
In the summer, I devoured fiction books, staying up half the night to read, "just one more chapter".<br />
And then life ramped up into full gear - marriage and children.<br />
Except for an occasional season of journaling, my writing took a back seat.<br />
When the life dust settled some, and I had time to think for myself again, I entertained the idea of writing a book.<br />
<a href="http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/55300/55327/55327_girl-writing_lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/55300/55327/55327_girl-writing_lg.gif" height="194" width="200" /></a>Then I laughed. Well, that mixed with a tummy flip flop. Too much work. I wouldn't know where to start. Impossible.<br />
<br />
God smiled - and planted a story, and characters in my mind one night while I was trying to sleep.<br />
Then He gave me another one, and another.<br />
He reminded me that nothing is impossible with Him in charge.<br />
<br />
I'm launching a new page. <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting';"><span style="font-size: large;">Story Time</span></span><br />
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When you enter, you'll notice my published writings and where to purchase them. Check back from time to time - there may be new stories added.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-7644329905881048512015-06-23T16:45:00.000-07:002015-06-23T16:45:36.573-07:00Trailer Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There's nothing quite like being an only child on a road trip in a station wagon in the 50s. The back end was my playground. And when my dad pulled down the back seats, I had a bedroom.<br />
Before we had our trailer, the suitcases were lined around the sides of the trunk area. But the middle was mine, all mine. I was surrounded by my dolls, picture books, coloring books, crayons...anything a little girl could want for entertainment.<br />
Oh my, "how did you get by without a DVD player or iPad," they ask. <br />
And when I got tired, I had room to lay down and sleep.<br />
Was I spoiled? Um - yeah.<br />
Dad bought a trailer in the 60s. That took our summertime adventures and fun to a whole new level.<br />
For my mom, I'm pretty sure it was a mixed blessing.<br />
No more eating out and sleeping in motels where she'd walk out of the room without a glance back to the unmade beds and used towels.<br />
Our first trailer was small and basic. It came with a double bed tucked in the back. The only way you could make it was to crawl around on top and tuck in sheets and blankets. My bed was a cot sort of thing above.<br />
We had an ice box, pump faucet, propane stove and one or two gas lights that had to be lit with a match. Camping out in a metal box.<br />
Our next trailer afforded us more room. It had a real refrigerator, electric lights, hot and cold running water and my bed, still above my parents, was plywood with a foam rubber mattress. An added bonus was two tiny windows, one at my head and one at my feet. Fresh air! We traveled in luxury now.<br />
There was nothing better than sitting at our table for an evening meal - canned green beans and whole potatoes with spam cooked in pineapple on melmac plates. Seriously, I looked forward to it.<br />
Another treat for me - fireflies.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_n9B1e8uYdms/TBWFhpyhT6I/AAAAAAAACHQ/OTqtOU0fs5w/s1600/lightning-bugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_n9B1e8uYdms/TBWFhpyhT6I/AAAAAAAACHQ/OTqtOU0fs5w/s1600/lightning-bugs.jpg" height="200" style="cursor: move;" width="138" /></a>I counted the days until we crossed the border into Missouri and stopped overnight at Our Lady of the Road park. It was nothing to write home about. Not much more than a place off the highway for a few trailers and cars. I remember a statue of whatever saint or Mary that "guarded" the highway and a swing set. And every once in awhile, other children to play with. But the highlight...<br />
Lightning bugs.<br />
Those of us who live on the West Coast can only read about or dream of fireflies, or lightning bugs.<br />
I'd wait on pins and needles until dusk, clutching my glass jar, it's lid poked full of holes.<br />
And then I'd see my first one tucked in a bush. Before long the sky would twinkle with tiny dancing fairies, and I'd chase them until I had a jar full.<br />
I'd tuck the jar in a corner of my bed and fall asleep to the flash, flash, flash of my nightlight. In the morning, I'd release them into the air.<br />
Although I enjoyed various aspects of our trip up to this point, I knew within a day or two, my nieces, nephews, cousins and I would spend our evenings collecting lightning bugs in jars. Now this is what I called - summer vacation.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-24424394589845640072015-06-22T16:08:00.000-07:002015-06-22T16:08:28.516-07:00Summer Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Summertime...and the livin' is easy. Janis Joplin belts out her invitation to grab a mason jar of sweet tea, and laze around the water hole on a sweltering afternoon.<br />
In this case, come along as I ponder and reminisce my childhood memories of summer.<br />
<br />
Mom's with kids love it. No school, no packing lunches, no alarm clocks. That is until a week later when everyone is bored, bored, bored and bickering non-stop.<br />
<br />
My summers as a kid were a mixture of the best of times...the worst of times.<br />
Trips back to Indiana in our trailer.<br />
Early morning swim lessons at the Plunge.<br />
Hide and seek with the neighbor kids until it got dark.<br />
Rolling around in the grass and finding all the little bug bites that itched like crazy.<br />
Playing "Mermaids" in the backyard above ground pool - with the middle a little deeper.<br />
Two weeks in the Santa Cruz mountains for summer camp.<br />
Summer school.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/2e/c1/a8/2ec1a848c06ba6ec3aa8c09ac69a6b8e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/2e/c1/a8/2ec1a848c06ba6ec3aa8c09ac69a6b8e.jpg" height="242" width="320" /></a>Every two or three years my parents would make the trek across country with our small <br />
blue and white Shasta trailer - destination, Indianapolis, Indiana. Sometimes we'd head out the last of May, a week or so before school was out. I'd have my packet of schoolwork in tow.<br />
My dad was a leisurely traveler. He'd plan for a week travel. That meant stops along the way.<br />
It went something like this:<br />
Our first day included all of Nevada and an overnight stop in Salt Lake City, Utah. Back then, it was safe to park at rest stops, filling station parking lots; even along the side of the road with a wide turnout. More than once, we'd be the only ones parked in the gravel. Come morning, though, we'd smell coffee, bacon, burnt toast and step out of the trailer to find a wagon train of other campers and trailers. There were always "good mornings," and, "so where did you come from and where are you heading?"<br />
One year, it was a dark and stormy night when we found a turn out in the road somewhere just outside of Salt Lake City. I was around 10. It was late and my dad was tired. He was the only driver then. We dashed out of our car and into the trailer as sheets of rain, thunder and lighting assailed us. The wind rocked our small metal container throughout the night. Needless to say, none of us slept much.<br />
In the morning, the storm had passed over, the sun shone bright and it was warm. My father stepped out of the trailer. We were parked close to the edge of a cliff. The drop off a few feet from our car and trailer.<br />
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<br />
Little America, Wyoming was a highlight of our trip. For miles and miles we passed through dry, brown, flat land. Every once and awhile, we'd see a herd of antelope or buffalo, but for the most part it was BORING. And then... we'd begin seeing signs for Little America. Each time Mom, Dad and I would comment that they moved it further away. It seemed to take forever to get there. Out of nowhere, it seemed, there would be an oasis of a few buildings and cars. We'd safely made it once again.<br />
What was the draw? Soft serve chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream cones!<br />
I lived for the experience. All that driving through desolate wilderness for a soft serve chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream. It was cool, creamy - a long awaited treat for the palate. I was in heaven.<br />
Oh, and the bathroom. All that driving with no towns in between - the bathroom was a close second to the ice cream.<br />
Next: Fireflys<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-54826185893135179842015-06-20T21:13:00.000-07:002015-06-20T21:53:43.050-07:00The MakeoverHubster and I live in a small post WWII house. It was built in 1948.<br />
Back then, most middle class folks didn't have a bunch of stuff.<br />
There are two little closets in both bedrooms - a his and hers thing. He had a few slacks, a few shirts, a few suits, a few pair of shoes... She had a few dresses, skirts, blouses, shoes... you get the picture.<br />
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The kitchen accommodated a modest collection of plates, cups, bowls - enough for a small family. Because appliances and gadgets were just gaining popularity, all one needed was perhaps a coffee maker and mixer. Thus, three electrical plugs were plenty.<br />
My parents bought this house in 1967. The only change they made was to add more juice to the electrical circuits to accommodate a dryer and freezer.<br />
I began high school in this house.<br />
Each winter I got dressed in front of the wall heater. Each summer we switched on the swamp cooler with it's moist air filling the living room. We lived with our bedroom doors open because if we didn't, we'd freeze or swelter.<br />
Mom, dad and I shared one bathroom - and I don't remember ever fighting over it.<br />
My mom willed the house to me after her death. It was a blessing. Hubster, our 2 kids and I lived in a rented house and we were living paycheck to paycheck. Sometimes the money stretched and sometimes, it didn't.<br />
When we acquired the house, our daughter was married and on her own. Our son lived with us for awhile and after that, we had a boarder for awhile. But now it's just Hubster and myself.<br />
We did some upgrades to the insides - a kitchen and bathroom remodel, new carpet, central air and heat and new paint for the living room and 2 bedrooms. Sad to say, though, our money ran out before our plans did. The second bathroom, laundry room and family room are still bumping around in our dreams.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mnmJ_o_YHFY/VYNXZKSFqZI/AAAAAAAAZqo/GTzZDH7nOUk/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mnmJ_o_YHFY/VYNXZKSFqZI/AAAAAAAAZqo/GTzZDH7nOUk/s200/house.jpg" width="120" /></a>Now, 12 years later, the outside of the house is jealous and wanting attention. I guess that's fair. Thankfully, my dad put on aluminum siding, so it doesn't need paint. But the garage door... Now that's another story.<br />
"Honeyyyyy," I whined. "I want a garage door for my birthday." After all, at my age, I really don't need anything else.<br />
Honey obliged. He ordered the door (which had to be special ordered because our house is oooold).<br />
Now, however the porch posts and window shutters are demanding attention.<br />
The ol' 1948 gal is going to look pretty good when she gets her makeover.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-5082516767245630652015-06-03T14:32:00.000-07:002015-06-16T23:06:05.158-07:00New Beginnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My thoughts go back to May 4th.<br />
I'm sitting in my car, summoning my courage to kick in.<br />
"I can do this..."<br />
Three weeks ahead of me. How will I react to the IV chemo? Will I fly by or be one of the "problem children"?<br />
Lots of questions. Lots of unknown.<br />
<br />
Fast forward. As is the case every time, each day happened. Morning - evening. A new day. Every day.<br />
<br />
I did fly by. My body responded to the IV nutrients and chemo without incident. My blood test results caused my doctors to smile. I met new friends - compatriots on the same journey of healing.<br />
<br />
Three weeks.<br />
And then - it was over. Graduation day, we called it. As each one finished their last IV and their PICC line was removed, pictures were taken, contact information exchanged, hugs and, yes, a few tears were shed. Back to Colorado, California, Wyoming, Massachusetts, Hawaii...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LsWHiXPY0KA/VW9rBqd0SFI/AAAAAAAAZcU/lxeawFn5N5U/s1600/IMG_1724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LsWHiXPY0KA/VW9rBqd0SFI/AAAAAAAAZcU/lxeawFn5N5U/s200/IMG_1724.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://truewhisper.com/media/37948-new-beginning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://truewhisper.com/media/37948-new-beginning.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>Hubster came to help me pack up. It's amazing how one can accumulate so much extra in just three weeks.<br />
One last trek down the mountain, and just for good measure to remind me that I'm glad I don't have to make the trip again, it rained. In the middle of a rain cloud rain. The kind that makes you wonder if they should install turbo drive on the windshield wipers. That kind of rain.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--8Gs-xrL8tg/VW9rFMKjt2I/AAAAAAAAZcc/ymoOvHS8z0Q/s1600/IMG_1719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--8Gs-xrL8tg/VW9rFMKjt2I/AAAAAAAAZcc/ymoOvHS8z0Q/s200/IMG_1719.JPG" width="200" /></a>So now I'm home with my new best friends for 3 months. These guys pretty much took over the house...and my life. Some I swallow before a meal, some with a meal and some - after. Yellow ones, brown ones, white ones.<br />
But lets face it, the alternative - you know - eight hours per day hooked up to poisons dripping into my defenseless body for 6 to 8 months...<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-UTelt6KnU/VW9rG05k3oI/AAAAAAAAZck/C5MTj2Au4cU/s1600/IMG_1754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-UTelt6KnU/VW9rG05k3oI/AAAAAAAAZck/C5MTj2Au4cU/s200/IMG_1754.JPG" width="200" /></a>This is a picnic at the park.<br />
My tumor is located in a spot that makes it uncomfortable to stand and walk at times. As the treatment hits its mark, the tumor will expand and shrink. This is the nature of the beastie.<br />
I just began my low dose oral chemo. 3 times a day for a week, and then a week off. This continues with all my BFF supplements for 3 months. Then...<br />
Cancer free?<br />
That's what the doctor ordered. That's what we're all hoping and praying and working for.<br />
Time will tell.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-42509071471040568272015-05-20T08:00:00.000-07:002015-05-20T09:17:27.503-07:00A Hope and a Future.<a href="http://students.umf.maine.edu/andrew.arena/public.www/images/sick-person-300x286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://students.umf.maine.edu/andrew.arena/public.www/images/sick-person-300x286.jpg" height="190" width="200" /></a>Stage 4.<br />
Breast cancer<br />
Lung cancer<br />
Rectal cancer<br />
Prostate cancer<br />
Brain cancer<br />
<br />
Makes you want to stop reading, doesn't it? So depressing. Hopeless. Edge of death.<br />
<br />
There are six black recliners on one side of the room and six on the other - side by side with a small glass top table between. We're close enough for conversation. Close enough to hear each other's business. But then, it doesn't matter. We're all fighting the same battle. We're all comrades on the front lines up against the same foe. We watch each other's back. Care about each other's outcome, test results, setbacks and victories.<br />
Some of us have been together from the beginning of the 3 week cycle. Others, we say good-bye to after only a few days. Some will say farewell to us and continue on to fight for another week or two.<br />
<br />
Let me share a few of their stories.<br />
<br />
Betty started out with lung cancer, which moved into her brain. She went the conventional way. She's undergone different chemos and treatments. All of them made her sick. All of them came with the price of side effects. She's from Wyoming.<br />
Berry, also, started out with lung cancer which moved into his liver and brain. Conventional treatment - side effects. The day after his last radiation, against his doctor's advice, he and his wife hopped a plane so he could begin treatment at Century Wellness on Monday. They came from Massachusetts.<br />
<br />
Jerry has prostrate cancer. He also did the conventional treatment. Same story. Sickness and side effects. He still has cancer. An avid golfer, he now has a hard time walking around. He's from Southern Nevada.<br />
<br />
Mel is from California. He's in advanced stage stomach cancer, and has to carry around his stomach feeding tube machine. As all the others, he tried the conventional approach. Same song, different verse. Side effects. Some days are better than others for him. He's determined to kick the disease. Seriously, he should be dead by now, but he's not.<br />
<br />
Aaron has rectal cancer - again. After the full round of conventional - chemo, radiation and surgery, he was given the "in remission" title. However, that didn't last. It came back. All within a year. He's from So Cal.<br />
<br />
Each person speaks about the living hell they went through with their treatments. Not one of them speaks highly of their journey. They all dealt with doctors who considered any other alternative something only witch doctors dabbled in. They were all categorized, staged, given the dreaded countdown to eternity numbers and sent on to the infusion rooms and radiation rooms.<br />
"This is how we do things. There is no other viable way. No studies to prove any other approach."<br />
And in the immortal words of my dear ol' surgeon, "when are you going to use real medicine?"<br />
But each of my comrade's stories don't end on a sour note.<br />
They've all survivors. Not of their cancer. No, they are survivors of conventional methods that did not work, or caused more issues.<br />
Each one of them walk in to the center every morning with hope and a future. They all look pretty good. Sure, there are red light and green light days. A little nausea; looking forward to an afternoon nap. Let's face it, we're still doing chemo - albeit in small doses. But the chemo is sandwiched between layers of nutrients, vitamins, minerals which repair and protect the healthy cells. Our bodies are fortified with life and energy to fight the good fight.<br />
And along with that - something that I feel is the yummy sauce which holds the fixins' in place - we are given hope, encouragement, laughter, joy, peace, kindness...<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l1JVOwGXa1w/VVvfI6lawaI/AAAAAAAAZEM/PU2tnaoQEXI/s1600/IMG_1718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l1JVOwGXa1w/VVvfI6lawaI/AAAAAAAAZEM/PU2tnaoQEXI/s320/IMG_1718.JPG" width="320" /></a>We're told every day by the staff, whether in word or deed that we're important and cared for. They are on our sides. They want us to thrive - not because that's what pays their bills, but because they see on a regular basis the results of love and compassion and G~d given tools to repair and restore our bodies.<br />
Combining science, nature, hope and prayer in the treatment of cancer.<br />
Yes, this about sums it up.<br />
(<span style="font-size: x-small;">I've changed names to protect privacy)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
Next - Graduation Day<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-69794573530379422942015-05-12T22:04:00.000-07:002015-05-12T22:05:16.719-07:00Week One. It's a Wrap<a href="http://grandstreettheatre.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/Chorus_Line.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://grandstreettheatre.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/Chorus_Line.JPG" height="117" width="200" /></a>"You're in the front row of the chorus line."<br />
I like these words.<br />
At the end of my first week, Dr F gives me the low-down on my blood tests.<br />
They look good. Very good.<br />
I leave the Center with a spring in my step and a big smile on my face. My first week - in the can. My body is responding, G~d is on His throne, and all's right with the world.<br />
<br />
My schlep down the hill is uneventful. Two hours later, I pull into my driveway.<br />
I'm home. My house, my family, my bed. Ahhhhhh.<br />
From Friday evening to Sunday afternoon, I can relax. No infusions.<br />
<br />
Hubster and One and Only Son prepare Shabbat dinner while I hang out on the couch. You know, I could get used to this. Costco rotisserie chicken and artichokes hit the spot. Yes, I'm a blessed woman.<br />
And there's more.<br />
On Saturday evening, after a restful Shabbat day of napping, I'm treated to dinner, gifts and lots of love from Lovely Daughter, Son-In-Love, a pile of Grands (count them...5), Hubster and One and Only Son. Pre-Mother's Day, don't you know.<br />
And there's more.<br />
On Sunday, I'm loved on by 3 more Grands.<br />
<br />
But now, I must pack up and take my leave. It's been a delightful weekend - too short. <br />
Time to return to Century Wellness Center for my second week.<br />
<a href="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-xpa1/t5.0-1/71055_381145184096_5866144_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://profile.ak.fbcdn.net/hprofile-ak-xpa1/t5.0-1/71055_381145184096_5866144_n.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><br />
On Monday, the routine begins again. I meet with Dr I for an exam. All my innards are good and healthy. Recovery is progressing as planned.<br />
As I enter the infusion room, my IV friends are there too. We've all survived our weekend, and we greet each other like college buddies returning from our weekends. We catch each other up with our stories.<br />
Back to the business of healing.<br />
<br />
On Tuesday, I meet with Dr M. Such a treat. His upbeat manner is good for the body and soul.<br />
We talk about the weekend and he gives me the blood report from the test taken on Monday.<br />
Yup, my little blood soldiers are doing their job - everyone from the Lieutenants to the Special Forces. All are carrying out their duties.<br />
It's chemo day. Finger pokes and orange juice. Within 2 hours, I'm done.<br />
It's a windy day. I'm ready for a little nap before I venture out to Whole Foods.<br />
<br />
My mind goes back to the infusion room at the hospital and I can't help but become sad. Very sick people, curled up in blankets, alone and silent, enduring yet more bags of chemotherapy. Most will be there for 6 to 8 hours. And then there are the ones confined to beds in the cancer ward. Hair gone, strength gone; and many with no hope of recovery. They've given up, biding their time until their bodies can't take the stress of more poison.<br />
Is conventional Western medicine really in the business to save lives...<br />
I wonder.<br />
Next: My friends and their stories.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-87940806359290525652015-05-07T08:00:00.000-07:002015-05-07T08:00:00.987-07:00Healing Cruise<a href="http://bestclipartblog.com/clipart-pics/-cruise-clipart-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://bestclipartblog.com/clipart-pics/-cruise-clipart-6.jpg" /></a>Century Wellness Center cruise. At least so far, that's what it feels like.<br />
<br />
Hubster and I took an Alaskan cruise several years back. We boarded a ship, set sail, met<br />
new people - all headed for the same destination. The ship staff's main goal was to insure that we were happy, pampered and had our needs met.<br />
We hobb knobbed with people from all walks of life, of varied ages and from all parts of the US. Some were wealthy and the trip didn't even dent their bank accounts while others no doubt mortgaged the farm to fulfill their dream. But as we sat together in the dining room, we were all on equal ground. It didn't matter. We were living the high life.<br />
<br />
And now, I'm experiencing somewhat the same thing.<br />
<br />
As I sat in the parking lot on Monday morning, allowing myself a few final moments of thought...<br />
What's it going to be like? Will my body respond to the treatments? Can I chicken out and go home?<br />
I received a phone call from my son telling me he loved me. It was quite unexpected and very serendipitous. I'm sure the L~rd planned that one. I breathed a last prayer and made my way into the waiting room to begin the new adventure.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aaVX5W2JZHA/VUrw-xlHE2I/AAAAAAAAY2Y/ScNNkK1bhTc/s1600/IMG_1717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aaVX5W2JZHA/VUrw-xlHE2I/AAAAAAAAY2Y/ScNNkK1bhTc/s200/IMG_1717.JPG" width="200" /></a>After waiting awhile I was ushered into the back room by the nurse with an apology for the wait. There were quite a few others who were newbies ahead of me. The first day takes a little longer.<br />
I met with Dr I who went over my chart and our consultation meeting. We discussed my present health. Then I was ushered into the infusion room to begin my first bag o' gold.<br />
What a difference from the hospital infusion room where I had my PICC line inserted. Night and day!<br />
The atmosphere was cheerful and hopeful. Conversations filtered around me. Already, the meet and greet was in gear.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ut5clKl9qso/VUrztrgkJoI/AAAAAAAAY3E/bYYYwYCeff8/s1600/20150504_153417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ut5clKl9qso/VUrztrgkJoI/AAAAAAAAY3E/bYYYwYCeff8/s200/20150504_153417.jpg" width="112" /></a>I was prepped and attached to my first infusion. The cruise was on. Within minutes, I was included in the introductions. We were all first timers. The two hours passed quickly and friendships blossomed. We're all on the same journey and we want to do it together. As others finished their treatment, we'd all wish them a pleasant day.<br />
"See you tomorrow."<br />
"Let's do this again."<br />
<br />
Yes. I made the right decision. This is a place of healing. With every drop of liquid in my veins, every swallowed capsule, every smile, every conversation, new friend, touch - my body, my soul and my spirit are being renewed, restored, refreshed.<br />
I'm on a journey of recovery. I'm on a cruise.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-1050625805135506522015-05-05T22:08:00.000-07:002015-05-05T22:09:28.344-07:00The Time Has Come<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5oo72z_T4IU/VUmVqguytDI/AAAAAAAAY1A/gcIMKXrig44/s1600/20150503_110228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5oo72z_T4IU/VUmVqguytDI/AAAAAAAAY1A/gcIMKXrig44/s1600/20150503_110228.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a>The day has arrived. Chaim is ready. Hubster and Lovely Daughter will join me on the trip to settle me in.<br />
"Are you nervous?" asks Lovely Daughter.<br />
"Yes. But I'm also excited."<br />
So much prayer and preparation has gone into this adventure. I know the L~rd has arranged it to happen. And I know there has been opposition from the enemy of our souls. I've had a few melt downs as I second guessed, wondered how it would all work out - worried how we'd finance it all. Things are still up in the air, but it's time to take that walk of faith. Here we are. Ready to go.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v9WbF1uEMNQ/VUmYZmoeC8I/AAAAAAAAY1s/QKhPUhBqX1Q/s1600/IMG_1713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v9WbF1uEMNQ/VUmYZmoeC8I/AAAAAAAAY1s/QKhPUhBqX1Q/s1600/IMG_1713.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
After unloading the car into my spacious studio Residence Inn room, we were off to a Sunday buffet. The food was abundant. As you can see, Chaim approved of my first course.<br />
<br />
On the way back we hit up the local Trader Joe's to fill my kitchen.<br />
<br />
The afternoon went by fast. It was time for Hubster and Lovely Daughter to return home. Although I knew I would make the trek back down the hill on Friday for the weekend, it was hard to say good-bye.<br />
Although I've gone solo in Israel on several occasions, this would be different. Time to be brave and all that...<br />
And besides, I wouldn't be alone. The G~d of angel armies had His hand on my shoulder. One last, "I love you". One more hug. The door closed.<br />
<br />
Time to settle in. <br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TECi-LSqu0U/VUmYf0iGpMI/AAAAAAAAY10/daszTtucN5U/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TECi-LSqu0U/VUmYf0iGpMI/AAAAAAAAY10/daszTtucN5U/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>Chaim and I pulled up a pillow. Turkey BLT and a cup of tea while watching Call The Midwife.<br />
<br />
Next time:<br />
A new day is a dawnin'. <br />
<a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey"><span style="font-size: large;">You Can Help!</span></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-18296507206634472482015-04-29T17:24:00.000-07:002015-05-05T21:07:29.881-07:00PICCn' and Grinnin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cF8UrNfKOFw/VUE5JHMBfEI/AAAAAAAAYnw/EJbN7Rlm2K8/s1600/PICC%2Bline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cF8UrNfKOFw/VUE5JHMBfEI/AAAAAAAAYnw/EJbN7Rlm2K8/s1600/PICC%2Bline.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
My new BFF.<br />
We're growing quite attached.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-89sl6UxRPSE/VUFHwQgYN9I/AAAAAAAAYo4/HNvd34fJUx8/s1600/PICC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-89sl6UxRPSE/VUFHwQgYN9I/AAAAAAAAYo4/HNvd34fJUx8/s1600/PICC.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a>Because my veins don't take kindly to being poked on a regular basis, it was determined that a PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) be inserted.<br />
I schlepped to the hospital yesterday, took the elevator to the lower level - aka basement and found the infusion center. It's a large room. In the center were recliner chairs where those getting IV therapy could relax while their "liquid gold" dripped slowly in their veins. Around the center are bays separated by curtains with beds. Quite comfortable, I might add.<br />
This is where my procedure took place.<br />
My specially trained nurse M invited me to sit on the bed while she positioned herself next to me. We went over the dreaded, but required list of, "this is what could go wrong". This is where I took the deep breath and summoned my courage to keep from shaking her hand and very politely thank her for her time, but I'd changed my mind and would be leaving now...thank you very much. At least she was slow and caring about the whole thing, unlike the bullet speed voice over at the end of a drug commercial on TV.<br />
It was now time for the production to begin. Lots of blue paper drapes, tubes, syringes and other paraphernalia to be revealed and positioned.<br />
To be honest, the whole thing was relatively painless. Yes, the initial poke required some birth coach breathing, but it only lasted seconds. Then the second poke was the magic lidocaine which kicked any discomfort to the curb.<br />
<br />
However... oh yes, there was a however.<br />
The guide wire wouldn't advance to where it was suppose to. M pulled it out a little and tried again, and remember, no pain, so all I knew that something wasn't working was her vocalizations. Sill no dice. So much for my left arm.<br />
Another unpacking of sterile equipment and... lets try the other arm. Once again,the ultrasound showed a luscious, round, ready for action vein.<br />
The wire slid in and kept going. She was pleased.<br />
<a href="http://sr.photos2.fotosearch.com/bthumb/CSP/CSP990/k11305782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://sr.photos2.fotosearch.com/bthumb/CSP/CSP990/k11305782.jpg" height="200" width="130" /></a>Now it was time for the x-ray tech to arrive with his machine to snap a glossy 8X10 to make sure the tube was where it was meant to be.<br />
The wait wasn't long and the picture popped up on M's computer.<br />
Houston, we have a problem.<br />
The tube slid up into my juggler vein in my neck instead of down toward my heart.<br />
Try again. She pulled the tube out to the junction point and gave it another go. We waited for Mr. X-ray again. Smile for the camera...<br />
Results? Even after turning my head and tilting my chin as instructed, it wanted to slide up again. Bad, bad tube!<br />
By now, I'm worried, and frustrated and M is more than frustrated. This twirnt spose to happen. I'm quietly praying, I can tell she's praying and we give it the third time's a charm. But this time M has requested help from the other PICC nurse, C. She pushes my head over and down - not quite into an exorcist position, but let's just say, your nose can touch the pillow when you lay on your back. She also pushed on my juggler vein to discourage the tube from entering. She told me to tell her if I started to feel my brain turn to mush. Now, how am I suppose to know that... I gave my brain cells to my kids at birth.<br />
One more wait, one more visit from THE MACHINE, and...<br />
High fives all around. It worked. She finished the procedure, taped my new jewelry in place and I was good to go.<br />
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.<br />
I was sent home with my "care and feeding of your new PICC line" paper.<br />
<br />
See how much fun you can have at a hospital?<br />
Next time: Hi Ho Hi Ho, it's off to the cancer center I go. <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey">It's Not To Late To Help</a> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-37645593339812207122015-04-27T20:30:00.000-07:002015-04-27T20:35:22.429-07:00The Stats Are In<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xLHf-S-fj4/VT6pE_1blSI/AAAAAAAAYkk/TAxCtfJMdTU/s1600/blood%2Btest%2Bresults.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xLHf-S-fj4/VT6pE_1blSI/AAAAAAAAYkk/TAxCtfJMdTU/s1600/blood%2Btest%2Bresults.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a>The stats are in.<br />
My blood was separated, isolated and amalgamated. The cancer cells received chemotherapies and nutrients to see which ones responded. Imagine that, all done in little glass tubes without touching my healthy cells. Instead of bombarding my body with a huge dose of what may or may not work and hoping for the best, it was all done in the comfort of a lab. <br />
<br />
Now the battle plan is in order. Time to prepare the arsenal.<br />
2 chemos and and 17 nutrients.<br />
Because cancer feeds on sugar, my body will be denied the pleasure. The cancer cells will cry out for food - aka sugar and the little receptors will be like baby birds with their tiny beaks wide open. Insulin will be infused with chemo and like a trojan horse the cancer cells will greedily open their doors wide when they see the "food" a-comin'. Ka-blam! All my other cells will be doing what they normally do, thriving and living while the cancer cells are filled full of the tiny warriors with one purpose - death and destruction.<br />
<a href="https://tse1.mm.bing.net/th?&id=JN.azJu8qEWhQuyofaEkss5IA&w=300&h=300&c=0&pid=1.9&rs=0&p=0&r=0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://tse1.mm.bing.net/th?&id=JN.azJu8qEWhQuyofaEkss5IA&w=300&h=300&c=0&pid=1.9&rs=0&p=0&r=0" width="200" /></a>Only around 10% of chemo is needed because they are targeting only cancer cells. I won't be plagued with side effects. And that's not all... I'll have the 17 nutrients acting as the repair and rebuild crew to shore up the walls. l have a 90% chance of full recovery. Now that's a good deal!<br />
My little explanation of treatment is very elementary, but I think you get the point. Lots of bang for my buck. Lots of hope for the future. I have much living yet to do!<br />
<br />
On May 3rd, Hubster and darling daughter will load up the covered wagon and ship me and Chaim across the mountain pass to my new digs.<br />
But first...<br />
PICCn' and grinnin'. <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey">Somebody Help the Girl</a> </span>GiveForward Fundraiser<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-68043352502542911042015-04-19T17:00:00.000-07:002015-04-19T17:04:16.126-07:00Let the Party Begin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KaHUZ-qoXqo/VTQrc-otSNI/AAAAAAAAYdM/CvXHISHGKBo/s1600/IMG_1689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KaHUZ-qoXqo/VTQrc-otSNI/AAAAAAAAYdM/CvXHISHGKBo/s1600/IMG_1689.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
I made the phone call and set up an appointment with the cancer center. The consultation appointment and blood test was going to cost a chunk of change, but after prayer and ponder, Hubster and I knew it was the way to go.<br />
Chaim was on board.<br />
Our trek began at 8am. My appointment was scheduled for 11am.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UxhhZUv8jZQ/VTQrijwKXkI/AAAAAAAAYdU/BTkEj_p0P3M/s1600/IMG_1691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UxhhZUv8jZQ/VTQrijwKXkI/AAAAAAAAYdU/BTkEj_p0P3M/s1600/IMG_1691.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>Over the river and through the woods to the cancer center we go.<br />
We settled in the office and filled out the paper work. As with all medical waiting rooms - we waited.<br />
But the atmosphere was very pleasant and comfortable. I noticed several greeting others as they came in, like a small family sort of thing. I guess when you hang out in the waiting room or IV suite with the same people for 3 weeks, you begin to connect. Nice.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ilo1pPdqQO4/VTQrkmBmN5I/AAAAAAAAYdc/dp2BA4ApTS4/s1600/IMG_1700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ilo1pPdqQO4/VTQrkmBmN5I/AAAAAAAAYdc/dp2BA4ApTS4/s1600/IMG_1700.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
It was my turn.<br />
Three doctors, one blood test, one hair analysis - four hours.<br />
I was getting my money's worth. And this is a good thing.<br />
Dr. F greeted Hubster and I warmly and then took the time to go over his treatment plan, my records that I'd sent ahead and answer mine and Hubster's questions. It was not rushed. He listened to my concerns and took the time to address them.<br />
Doctor #2 - Dr. M<br />
He enveloped my hand in his large beefy one. I felt the passing of welcoming energy.<br />
His expertise is two fold - nutrition and emotional/mental care.<br />
He spent the time discussing in detail - pulling out the white paper on his exam table and drawing diagrams of cancer cells and how the protocol would destroy the little buggers. Go get um!!! Kill em daid!!!<br />
He also spent time showing me how much my attitude and how I see myself, works in tandem with the chemo and nutrients in the healing process. He'll be my "life coach" as well as my nutritionist, helping me to plan the diet my body needs.<br />
Dr. I was third in the trio.<br />
He's an oncologist and the "hands on" doctor, doing the physical exams. He also explained the treatment plan as well as doing a mini exam to check vitals and such. His pronouncement was encouraging. For someone with cancer, I'm in good health.<br />
Now for the blood test.<br />
Only 2 pokes and 2 vials of blood. Not bad. To Greece it goes. This will determine the exact chemotherapy and nutrients my cancer cells respond to. Taylor made treatment, just for me.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yUIcZriitaU/VTQrtOIL61I/AAAAAAAAYd0/auzgF6zkyd0/s1600/IMG_1704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yUIcZriitaU/VTQrtOIL61I/AAAAAAAAYd0/auzgF6zkyd0/s1600/IMG_1704.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7e6OBQTam0/VTQrqjGGfZI/AAAAAAAAYds/WEsGcSI_5EU/s1600/IMG_1702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7e6OBQTam0/VTQrqjGGfZI/AAAAAAAAYds/WEsGcSI_5EU/s1600/IMG_1702.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>It's been a full and fulfilling day. Hubster and I are hungry. We decide that since we're in casino country, we want to take advantage of a buffet and maybe a quarter or two into the ol' one arm bandit. Lets see if we can hit that jackpot and pay for the treatment here and now...<br />
Chaim enjoyed his chow and watched me down a few sweet, plump strawberries. Yes, they were good!<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_yAmJYN-pok/VTQrn5Bx5ZI/AAAAAAAAYdk/CCScB75k6i8/s1600/IMG_1701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_yAmJYN-pok/VTQrn5Bx5ZI/AAAAAAAAYdk/CCScB75k6i8/s1600/IMG_1701.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
As for our wild gambling extravaganza...?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Next: Blood test results and strategy.<br />
<a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey"><span style="font-size: large;">GiveForward</span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-9494979786558995352015-04-14T16:57:00.003-07:002015-04-14T16:57:56.452-07:00One Thing Leads to Another<a href="http://dietsinreview.s3.amazonaws.com/diet_column/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/doctor-patient.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://dietsinreview.s3.amazonaws.com/diet_column/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/doctor-patient.jpg" height="127" width="200" /></a>Time for the end of treatment pow-wow with Doctor Y.<br />
We go over the new blood test results. They look good. My body has responded well to the treatments. But...<br />
Cancer markers still indicate bad boy cells are lurking, like a criminal hiding in the closet waiting to attack when the guard is down.<br />
We talk about my options. I still need a second opinion and a repeat CT scan from the HMO provider. I'm under the impression that surgery is my first course of action now that my immune system is in tip top shape.<br />
She mentions a doctor she'd met at a naturopathic cancer convention she recently attended. She's impressed with what she hears. His treatments sound promising. His patients are getting well. I take down his name so I can research. I know it will be pricey, and my HMO will not cover it, but it won't hurt to check it out. After all, once the surgery is completed I'll be "strongly encouraged" to follow through with the chemo/radiation protocol.<br />
It's December. Not only is Chanukkah around the corner, but I'm dealing with my bout of tonsillitis. I decide to wait until January to continue the cancer battle.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to March.<br />
I've met with my second opinion, Dr. S. That was a disaster.<br />
I've had my second CT scan. Everything looks pretty good.<br />
I've had a third opinion visit with a gastrointeroligist. He spells out the reason that I need chemo/radiation before surgery, and tells me that I <i>might</i> not have to have surgery at all if we can shrink the tumor. Although I'm encouraged by the news, it still boils down to my HMO wanting me to undergo their prescribed treatment.<br />
Time to check out the doctor and clinic Dr. Y told me about.<br />
Everything I've read sounds promising. All the reviews from past patients encourages me. But here's the catch... it will cost way more than we can afford. It seems like an impossible dream.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d2eId6mpmII/TWKVHQpuiGI/AAAAAAAAAnk/iOpvzLjSIoY/s1600/a+hezekiah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d2eId6mpmII/TWKVHQpuiGI/AAAAAAAAAnk/iOpvzLjSIoY/s1600/a+hezekiah.jpg" height="192" width="200" /></a>I'm reminded that nothing is impossible if G~d is involved, so I once again lay the "letter" before Him.<br />
"Here it is, L~rd. These are my options. I know what I want, but it's up to You. You know what's best, no matter what."<br />
Gulp.<br />
<a href="http://media.salemwebnetwork.com/worshiphousemedia/resource/images/main/s/mm/dan/mm/elijah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.salemwebnetwork.com/worshiphousemedia/resource/images/main/s/mm/dan/mm/elijah.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a>That's a hard prayer to pray knowing that G~d might lead me to the HMO rather than the cancer center.<br />
Waiting is not one of my strong suits. I'd much prefer one of those "ahhhhhhh" moments with ethereal music and an audible Voice. I figure, though, if I did get one, I wouldn't know what to do, so I waited.<br />
It started with an email from a writer friend. We don't communicate very often. She told me that she "happened" to talk with an acquaintance who "happened" to mention that she just returned from this same cancer center I was interested in. I had just "happened" to send out a prayer request to a private prayer group that my friend belonged to and she knew I was interested in it. Short story long... this acquaintance of my friend contacted me. She was very impressed with her treatment and the staff and encouraged me to proceed with my inquiry into the clinic. Then a few days later, another lady in the prayer group read my request and mentioned that her son had gone to the clinic several years before and again, the report was positive.<br />
I had my answer.<br />
<br />
Next: Let's do this!<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey">GiveForward</a></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-65343029975797487172015-04-13T09:00:00.000-07:002015-04-14T16:03:24.076-07:00Onward and UpwardOne year.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.elementshealthspace.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/1-year-12-months2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.elementshealthspace.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/1-year-12-months2.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
One year since Dr. Little Black Cloud breezed into the recovery bay and delivered her now famous line,"we have a problem, you have cancer."<br />
I wish I could report that I am now cancer free and training for the Boston marathon. Or that I'm featured in a new book - How to Beat Cancer Without Giving Up the Foods You Love.<br />
But I still have the nasty little beastie hanging out in my southern hemisphere. The tumor is still compromising my sphincter muscles. I haven't moved back to Mitford.<br />
<br />
But, here's what has happened in the course of the year.<br />
<br />
Every few months, I had follow-up full meal deal blood tests. And the results?<br />
My body was getting healthier.<br />
How can it do that? You still have cancer?<br />
<a href="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f6/96/1b/f6961b210b2b7f65cba0258c1377191f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f6/96/1b/f6961b210b2b7f65cba0258c1377191f.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>My cells began working together, like a herd of elephants protecting a little one. They banded together to protect and defend. Unlike conventional chemotherapy that cannot differentiate between the good, the bad and the ugly, and destroys everything in it's path, the IV therapy and supplements I received helped the healthy cells get stronger. My immune system was not compromised. On the contrary, it took on new powers to keep the cancer from spreading.<br />
I endured the seasonal maladies - colds and such the same way I had before my diagnosis. I had the usual week of the cruds, and then it cleared up. In fact, in December I went through a bout of tonsillitis. And although it was miserable for a few weeks, I got over it without any setbacks. My immune system fought like little troupers and won.<br />
My follow-up CT scan showed no noticeable changes. No mastitis to other organs.<br />
For having cancer, I'm one healthy chick. Go figure.<br />
<br />
And now? What does my future hold?<br />
Glad you asked.<br />
I'm embarking on a new healing journey. Or, really, not new at all, but the next phase in the adventure.<br />
I'd like to introduce you to my new friend, Chaim.<br />
Chaim in Hebrew means - life.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m1rth7KUNBY/VSrwXJmi5zI/AAAAAAAAYFY/_21U9es5irk/s1600/Chaim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m1rth7KUNBY/VSrwXJmi5zI/AAAAAAAAYFY/_21U9es5irk/s1600/Chaim.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a>He will be joining me as I post future blogs.<br />
I've reported on my past road trips - girl friend road trips and Israel road trips. This one is called - a healing road trip.<br />
<br />
Next: It begins with a suggestion.<br />
<a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey">GiveForward</a><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-58791568357961969772015-04-11T10:00:00.000-07:002015-04-11T15:29:26.368-07:00And It's Tasty Too.<br />
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<a href="http://static.hypable.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/vitameatavegamin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.hypable.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/vitameatavegamin.jpg" height="163" width="320" /></a></div>
Vitameatavegamin... And it's tasty too. The next salvo in my arsenal of weaponry...<br />
Actually, it's called PolyMVA.<br />
<br />
"A unique formulation contains a proprietary complex of Alpha-Lipoic Acid and the mineral palladium (which we refer to as LAPd), Vitamins<br />
B1, B2 and B12, Formylmethionine, N-Acetyl Cystiene, and trace amounts of Molybdenum, Rhodium, and Ruthenium. It is designed to provide energy for compromised body systems by targeting the energy charge transfer mechanism of our cells (the mitochondria) while protecting them as well from free radicals." (PolyMVA website)<br />
<div>
<a href="http://www.animationmagazine.net/images/mighty_mouse3.gif#Mighty%20Mouse%20Gif%20480x361" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.animationmagazine.net/images/mighty_mouse3.gif#Mighty%20Mouse%20Gif%20480x361" height="150" width="200" /></a>All those big, $5 words to say it's like re-charging your cells with energy. Makes them into mini superheros to fight the bad-guy cancer cells.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The protocol began with an oral dosage - and I will not lie, the stuff tastes nasty. Thankfully, it's only 2 teaspoons at a time, and with coconut or almond milk and a drop of stevia, it goes down better...like...like a spoon full of sugar! Or not.</div>
<div>
I moved on to an IV bag of the stuff. Tuesday and Thursday, I'd schlep to the clinic for a 2 hour drip. It looks like Dr. Pepper or root beer in bag form. Then I did an IV chaser of Myers - or Mountain Dew. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My body drank in the brew and smiled. My veins, however were getting rather tired of the whole thing. By this time I'm into my ninth month of needle pokes. The ol' veins started playing a game of hide and seek or smoosh. The needle would approach, and the vein began to crawl away or scrunch down and hide. We could hear the little dudes with their tiny voices, "noooooooo. Run away, run away."</div>
<div>
I elaborate more in this past blog, <a href="http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2014/09/five-pokes-and-puppy.html">FIVE POKES AND A PUPPY</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In December, the four month IV PolyMVA protocol ended. No more pokes, no more bags. I would, however continue my diet, vitamins and minerals and oral PolyMVA. Now it was time to see how my body responded to all the "real medicine". Would Dr. M and Dr. S gloat and smirk if my body didn't respond and I began to fall apart because I didn't go the conventional route? Would I be "another statistic" of holistic healing gone bad?</div>
<div>
Next: Numbers and images tell the truth.<br />
<a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey"><span style="font-size: large;">GiveForward</span></a><br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-22253755105319145332015-04-09T09:00:00.000-07:002015-04-11T15:15:30.467-07:00Real Medicine<div class="MsoNormal">
♫ Let’s
start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start… ♫</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's a whole different ballgame when you enter a healing place for yourself instead of a loved one. Now I was the one sitting across from Doctor Y. I was the one having my vitals checked, records created - telling my story and my ultimate goal for recovery. This was now my fight, hearing battle plans with life or death consequences. It was for real, now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First line of defense - a no stone untouched blood workup. Not just the bare minimum CBC test, but a full meal deal, dessert included panel. Since this was all out of my pocket, no insurance company was involved in deciding how little to get away with. No, I got bang for my buck.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://healthsciencedegree.info/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/holistic-medicine-symbol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://healthsciencedegree.info/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/holistic-medicine-symbol.jpg" height="197" width="200" /></a> Based on the results I got a complete diet change and introduction of vitamins and minerals to boost my immune system and correct the areas that needed help. I got a two plus hour block of time with my doctor. I listened to her, and she listened to me. At the end of our session, I walked out of her office armed with an arsenal of weapons to kick my nasty little enemy in the touchas (pun intended), along with hope and a warm enveloping hug. Oh, and remember in my last blog where I wondered why I didn't get to sit in the doctor's office with the desk, but instead had to do the "results" chat on the narrow hard exam table? Dr. Y's office had a bonafide desk and padded chair. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I mentioned in my blog - Carbs and Salads:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-wouldnt-we-give-for-that-extra-bit.html">http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-wouldnt-we-give-for-that-extra-bit.html</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Out went my favorite pasta dishes, baked potatoes and warm toasty bread. In came salads and green vegetables - lots of them. But my body welcomed it - like it was just waiting for me to get the wake up call.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next course of action was to introduce my body to some hard core treatments. IV therapy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yup, needles in the veins, three times a week.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We began with vitamin C and Myers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although the body can't absorb the high levels of vitamin C orally, and can have some pretty negative affects, given in IV form, it goes directly into the blood stream. Unlike conventional chemotherapy which indiscriminately kills all cells - cancer and healthy ones alike, vitamin C targets only the cancer cells. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.drnirvana.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/IV-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.drnirvana.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/IV-pic.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>Along with vitamin C, I was given a Myers cocktail. No, not a fancy colorful drink with floating fruit and an umbrella. This little number includes magnesium, selenium, vitamin C, B vitamins and calcium. It helps boost the body's immune system and helps it fight the cancer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each treatment took between 2 to 3 hours depending on the IV drip speed. With recliners, a movie or soft, relaxing music and conversation with those around, the atmosphere was comfortable. And there were times when a nice afternoon nap came in handy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No gurneys, beeping machines, antiseptic smells. Call it a spa for the veins. I'm sure there might even be clinics where a mani/pedi is available.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next: But wait...there's more!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey">GiveForward</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-40471241552926976632015-04-07T12:59:00.000-07:002015-04-07T17:43:42.227-07:00Will the Real Medicine Please Stand Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.glasbergen.com/wp-content/gallery/healthinsurance/ins2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.glasbergen.com/wp-content/gallery/healthinsurance/ins2.gif" height="151" width="200" /></a></div>
My HMO wants me to thrive...as long as I play by their rules. And I guess that's only fair. It's their dime. Well, theirs and the bigger picture corporations that own them.<br />
<br />
Time to turn the corner and follow the road less traveled.<br />
<br />
This is an overview of naturopathic medicine according to the American Cancer Society.<br />
<i>"Naturopathic medicine is a complete alternative care system that uses a wide range of approaches such as nutrition, herbs, manipulation of the body, exercise, stress reduction, and acupuncture. Parts of naturopathy are sometimes used as complementary therapy along with mainstream medicine. Naturopathic medicine is a holistic approach (meaning it is intended to treat the whole person) that tries to enlist the healing power of the body and nature to fight disease."</i><br />
Sounds good. Looks like they've done their research.<br />
However, this comes next:<br />
<i>"Available scientific evidence does not support claims that naturopathic medicine can cure cancer or any other disease, since <u>virtually</u> (underline mine) no studies on naturopathy as a whole have been published. The individual methods used by naturopathic medicine vary in their effectiveness. Homeopathy, for instance, has been shown in studies to be of little value. Other naturopathic methods have been shown to help in prevention and symptom management. Examples include diet for lowering the risk of severe illnesses such as heart disease and cancer and counseling, relaxation, and herbs to help reduce anxiety.<br />Available scientific evidence does not support claims that naturopathic medicine is effective for most health problems. Most of the claims of effectiveness are based on individual cases, medical records, and summaries of practitioners’ clinical experiences."</i><br />
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Who's scientific evidence are we talking about? Large insurance HMO's? The pharmaceutical industry? Who's studies are they speaking of?<br />
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If millions of dollars goes into cancer research yearly, why are more people dying from the various forms of the disease?</div>
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Wouldn't individual cases, medical records and summaries of practitioners' clinical experiences give an accurate picture of results?</div>
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These were the questions I asked myself as I pursued the path of healing.</div>
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<a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/70/b9/f5/70b9f5518efc192bbaa223d2782013a3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/70/b9/f5/70b9f5518efc192bbaa223d2782013a3.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>Considering that the people who hold the purse strings of the American health industry go to no lengths to discredit naturopathic medicine, I reasoned that there might be more to it than meets the eye. Perhaps if there was a cure for cancer - the American Cancer Society would be out of a job (and if you do an internet search, you'll find out where the millions of dollars really go). If there is a cure for cancer from natural elements - food we eat, vitamins and minerals found all around us, free for the taking, the pharmaceutical industry would take a big hit. </div>
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Time to do my own research. Time to find answers.</div>
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This is a short list of books I read. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fit into place.</div>
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<ul>
<li><b>Five to Thrive</b> - Lise Alschuler, Karolyn A Gazella</li>
<li><b>Defeat Cancer: 15 Doctors of Integrative and Naturopathic Medicine Tell You How</b> - Connie Strasheim</li>
<li><b>Knockout: Interviews With Doctors Who Are Curing Cancer</b> - Suzanne Somers</li>
</ul>
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And these are the websites I found helpful.</div>
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<ul>
<li><a href="http://www.integrativeonc.org/">http://www.integrativeonc.org/</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.oncanp.org/">http://www.oncanp.org/</a></li>
</ul>
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And then there were the reports of chemotherapy and radiation treatments I read about, and heard from family and friends. Most were not favorable. Most spoke of mental and physical suffering. Most shared that the quality of their lives took a nosedive. Many battled their cancer - some for years - the end result - they died. Many shared that their initial cancer was defeated only to come back in another area of their bodies with vengeance. </div>
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After placing everything I'd heard and read and studied on a scale, the balance was tipped.</div>
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Next: Diving in head first.<br />
Please partner with us in this healing journey.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-3970102494662732712015-04-05T16:35:00.000-07:002015-04-06T15:36:47.554-07:00Seconds Please<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.glasbergen.com/wp-content/gallery/cartoons/toon752.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.glasbergen.com/wp-content/gallery/cartoons/toon752.gif" height="272" width="320" /></a></div>
One of my last attempts to make friends with the conventional medical world through my HMO was the decision to get a second opinion. My naturopathic doctor encouraged me in this regard. She told me to shop around within our three HMO covered hospitals in our city for a surgeon that might be more innovative. One that was up on the newest procedures and technology. One that would take the time to listen to me, and perhaps validate my decisions. I studied physician bios, both their education and personal pages. Then I sent three names and bios to Doctor Y for her perusal. I told her to read between the doctor speak and promos to see if one seemed doable.<br />
We narrowed it down to one and I made the call. But unlike a page from a feel good novel, the news I received was real world time. This doctor didn't deal with my surgical needs (even though his bio said he did). The office recommended another surgeon.<br />
Ah yes, Doctor S.<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OqTABOQ2T8E/Tm_QFUTznhI/AAAAAAAAARo/pES5sa8Jf0k/s400/doctor_cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OqTABOQ2T8E/Tm_QFUTznhI/AAAAAAAAARo/pES5sa8Jf0k/s400/doctor_cartoon.jpg" height="196" width="200" /></a>The exam was conducted with two medical students at his side (which I did give approval for - after all they need to learn their craft). I felt, however that I was being used as the specimen - the teaching cadaver. All conversation was around me. Dr. S slapped on the white glove and did his exam (I'll spare you details) followed by one med student's white glove. She wasn't practiced in the fine art of patient comfort. Don't ask me why med student #2 was there. Just observing, I guess. And then they discussed their "findings" above my head. I was instructed to meet them in another room for their assessment. So I went from one examining room to another. I hopped on another exam table - which I always wonder - why do people in TV shows and movies get their results in posh offices with the Divine Doctor sitting at the big wood desk and patient sitting in a padded chair? The doctor and his entourage swept in, Dr. S sat on one of those fun little twirly chairs while Thing 1 and Thing 2 stood, back to the counter, arms folded and nodded as he gave his proclamation.<br />
I now "probably" had stage 4 cancer and the tumor had "probably" invaded another part of my body by what they felt during the exam.<br />
Well, that's a fine, "how-do-you-do."<br />
I tried to show him my latest blood tests (which, by this time I'm well into my naturopathic treatments). It showed that the cancer had not spread. Because they were not done at sacred HMO labs, he gave them a 5 second glance and told me I needed chemo and radiation. He started to pull out the same pamphlet I was given by surgeon #1. Standard procedure, I guess. I declined, thanked him for his time and told him I would keep in touch.<br />
He ordered me another CT scan, which I needed. After all, HMO will pay for this.<br />
However, the contrast dye he ordered, is not even used anymore. I had to go through my GP to get the right one.<br />
Skipping ahead in my story.<br />
After the CT scan was complete, the results went to Dr. S. I received a phone call from him personally to give me the results. Thankfully my GP doctor sent me a copy of the written results before the phone call. And, thankfully, the results showed no significant changes except for the "suspicious" lymph node had gotten a little larger. Everything else looked good.<br />
This is what Dr. S presented to me. I "probably" had stage 4 rectal cancer now and instead of the tumor invading the one area he mentioned in my initial 2nd opinion visit about 6 months before, he now decided it had "probably" invaded my groin. I needed chemo and radiation.<br />
By now my blood pressure was pretty dang elevated and I tried to keep my voice steady and polite as I informed him that his interpretations and mine of the findings were quite different. When I told him I was in the care of a naturopathic doctor, and the treatments were helping me, he asked me when I was going to use "real medicine". Yup, his exact words.<br />
Next: Real Medicine<br />
<a href="https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/sbb8/marta-burden-s-healing-journey"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">GiveForward</span></a><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-16144837296855363562015-03-31T16:42:00.000-07:002015-03-31T16:43:03.714-07:00Healer, Heal MeHubster and I belong to a large corporate HMO provided through his place of employment. We have benefited from it greatly. Both he and I have seen the inside of the ER, logged up plenty of doctor visits for various illnesses and injuries and taken advantage of their pharmacy and radiology departments. So in no way do I wish ill will or mass destruction on the institution. They have served us well.<br />
But... when I received my cancer diagnosis, I knew I had to be well informed about treatments and procedures. This was a major life changing decision I would make - one that would impact not only me but my circle of family and friends. I needed to explore all my options.<br />
After the conventional medicine follow-up tests, I was immediately placed in the cue for appointments with a surgeon and oncologist and offered a visit to a radiologist. I turned that one down. I was getting overwhelmed.<br />
<a href="http://mselenalevontraveling.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/cutpoisonburnlogoofficial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://mselenalevontraveling.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/cutpoisonburnlogoofficial.jpg" height="200" width="169" /></a>Conventional medicine offers the trinity of treatment for cancer - chemotherapy, radiation and surgery. Sad to say, it is also known as cut, poison and burn.<br />
Each doctor presents their method of treatment much like one would sell you a time share. You go in their office, and after the prescribed welcome hand shake, they sit you down, tell you that you need their services and if you don't take advantage of their offer within 24 hours, your window of opportunity will be gone - oh and so will you...<br />
Doctor Surgeon told me I had stage 3 cancer, needed surgery and gave me the colorful pleasant pamphlet showing the different methods of cutting out your colon, depending on where the cancer is located. The pictures showed happy, smiling doctors with happy, smiling patients before and after the procedure - oh, they were all artist rendered pictures - and gave a brief description of what would take place. Reminded me of the pamphlets you get when you buy into the new housing subdivision, shiny new houses with shiny new lawns and pretty flowers. What they don't show you is how your subdivision is really going to look like when they are behind schedule and you still only have a foundation sunk in mud two months after you were scheduled to move in.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3mNB5WCOr0I/VRsuvjhHYiI/AAAAAAAAX3g/W7zTml3mr6Y/s1600/colonostomy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3mNB5WCOr0I/VRsuvjhHYiI/AAAAAAAAX3g/W7zTml3mr6Y/s1600/colonostomy.jpg" height="163" width="200" /></a></div>
My picture showed a happy lady looking at her colostomy bag like it was a tattoo. Neat and easy.<br />
I figured by the steady, controlled look on Doctor Surgeon's face that she was familiar with doing the surgery, but not so much the aftermath of what her patients went through after the deed was done.<br />
After her pitch, I kindly let her know that I was contemplating a naturopathic approach, gave her my research findings and assured her that I was under the care of a licensed educated naturopathic doctor and not doing the witch doctor approach with bones and eyes of newt. Her eyes took on a glazed and guarded look, let me know that there was no founded studies "out there" that supported naturopathic cancer treatments, told me that she could not accept my decision and sent me on my way with a pronouncement that I'd probably be back like the others too sick for her to save.<br />
My next appointment was with the oncologist. He was an older, serious man who cut to the chase, told me he'd read Dr. Surgeon's report and knew of my "alternative treatment plan". He offered me his treatment - 5-FU chemotherapy along with radiation at the same time. He told me that there would be side effects - hair loss, nausea, diarrhea, severe anemia, low immunity to other illnesses, and although they don't know why, my hands and feet would turn red and blister. Oh, and the radiation? Just imagine an enema with acid... need I say more? He sent me on my way with a little more compassion. He let me know he could not agree with my alternative approach, but wished me well and would support my decision - because it was <i>my</i> decision.<br />
So, I came away thinking - I have a better chance of dying from the treatments rather than the cancer.<br />
Next: Healer, Heal Me - Part 2<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-75497210835481637882015-03-25T12:21:00.000-07:002015-03-25T13:09:25.729-07:00Carbs and Salads<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">
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<a href="http://www.jrbriggs.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/potluck11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.jrbriggs.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/potluck11.jpeg" height="232" width="320" /></a>What wouldn't we give for</div>
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That extra bit more</div>
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That's all we live for</div>
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Why should we be fated to do</div>
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Nothing but brood on food</div>
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Magical food,</div>
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Wonderful food,</div>
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Heavenly food,</div>
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Beautiful food,</div>
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Food, Glourious food glororious fooooooood</div>
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What are we waiting for?.............FOOOOOOODDD!</div>
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<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Lyrics from Oliver</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I'm a bit of a foodie. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I enjoy cooking it and eating it. I enjoy watching the Food Chanel even if I can't eat much of what they prepare. Needless to say, before my "adventure", my weight was a wee tad on the heaver side of optimum for my height. My blood pressure - on the higher side of normal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">After Hubster had his heart attack, see link - <a href="http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2013/07/have-heart.html">http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2013/07/have-heart.html</a> I decided that we would face the music. Our diet - although not bad, needed an adjustment. We began with </span></span><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">smaller portions and</span><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"> more fruit and veggies. We both lost a little weight. </span><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">Off to a good start.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">And then my world flipped upside down in January of 2014 with the cancer diagnosis. I knew it was all out war. Cancer or me. One was going down. I'm a fighter. Ain't no cancer gonna do me in. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">First course of action - vitamins and minerals to strengthen my immune system and extreme diet change. My naturopathic doctor (ND) put me on a reeeeally low carb diet. We're talkin' 35 grams a day low carb diet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: proxnov-reg, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">If you go online, you'll get conventional doctors who argue that sugar does not feed cancer. Of course most of them in their medical studies are not required to take nutrition classes. On the other hand, naturopathic doctors do study nutrition. They understand the connection between what we eat and how our bodies process what we put in our mouths. Seems like a no brainer to me. </span></span><br />
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Simple carbs turn into sugar. <a href="http://howtothinkthin.com/instincts2.htm">http://howtothinkthin.com/instincts2.htm</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Bottom line. Cancer <i>does</i> feed on sugar. <a href="http://www.naturalnews.com/024827_cancer_sugar_women.html">http://www.naturalnews.com/024827_cancer_sugar_women.html</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> So what does a low carb diet look like? At first - hell. No pasta, starches (potatoes, rice) bread, sweets, fruit - comfort food. Out went mac and cheese and cheese cake. Spaghetti Factory and Olive Garden? Nope. Instead, the salad bar became my best friend. And you know what? My body began to thank me. I lost a ton of weight. The pounds melted off of me. I began to feel better and had more energy. Sure it was hard. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.latfusa.com/article_images/20130228101700Salad_Bar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.latfusa.com/article_images/20130228101700Salad_Bar.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<a href="http://foodswithbenefits.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/pasta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://foodswithbenefits.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/pasta.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I whined a lot - glared at people who slurped down spaghetti noodles and chased it with thick slices of sour dough bread.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There were melt downs when fast fix chemo/radiation seemed better. Get it over with. Fill me with poisonous chemicals and burning radiation. But thankfully the voice of reason (aka G~d) would remind me that His ways for <i>me</i> might be long and hard and restrictive, but in the long run, best. Did I want side effects which produce side effects or did I want one step at a time healthy alternatives that might take a lifetime? Quality of life won. And let me stop right here for a moment. I am not advocating my choices for everyone. This is the direction, after much prayer and thought,<i> I</i> have chosen to go. If you are or have gone the chemo/radiation route, may you have much success. May your life be full and long. We're all in a journey. This is the direction I'm to go in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next: So what treatment are you doing? </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-77004456728466041872015-03-14T08:00:00.000-07:002015-03-14T08:00:05.061-07:00Soul Clutter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://tse3.mm.bing.net/th?id=HN.608045611577970413&pid=1.7" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://tse3.mm.bing.net/th?id=HN.608045611577970413&pid=1.7" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Above all else, guard your heart; for it is the source of life's consequences. Proverbs 4:23</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Collecting comes naturally to me. It's in my DNA. When my father passed, we plowed through paper piles - speeches, sermons, research material and photo magazines. My mother, on the other hand saved coupons, clipped recipes; collected canned food,toilet paper and paper towels. The latter, I think because she lived through the depression. I've heard similar stories of children cleaning out their parents homes to find a larder of staples. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I find that the rule of thumb is this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No matter what you throw out, you'll need it the next day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, it makes sense to hang on to it. Saves money. Don't you think?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAD82Dlk9GA/TONY6O4QwxI/AAAAAAAAB4k/hXXLuEX-bgU/s1600/CLUTTER.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iAD82Dlk9GA/TONY6O4QwxI/AAAAAAAAB4k/hXXLuEX-bgU/s1600/CLUTTER.gif" height="200" width="168" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This doesn't work for spiritual and emotional clutter, however. Our bodies were not created to collect mental, emotional and spiritual baggage. There have been many studies done, and the conclusion is the same - our mental, emotional and spiritual health dove-tails with our physical health. It's been found that many cancers, along with other physical maladies can be linked to a previous traumatic experience or unforgiveness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So it came as no surprise to me that this would need to be my next course of action in my healing journey. A spiritual and emotional clean out was in order. The cupboards and drawers of my soul needed de-cluttering. Anger, resentments, unforgiveness, what ifs, cares and worries had to go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am so very grateful that my Heavenly Abba (daddy) is kind, compassionate, merciful and gentle with me. My time of soul searching and cleansing was guided. Never did I feel overwhelmed. After all, G~d is holistic and the Master Physician. He knew that to create a healing environment within my body, He needed to create a healing environment within my soul. I was safe in His Hands.</span><div>
<a href="http://www.jeremycwilson.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/path.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.jeremycwilson.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/path.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The holistic healing process is slow, steady, gradual. It doesn't happen overnight. Unlike conventional medicine - take a pill or do a procedure for immediate relief in spite of the long term damaging effects, my journey is a process. Its all about repairing and restoring; well being and wholeness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can't have a hidden junk drawer. Life happens. New things try to replace the old. My job is to fill my soul with things that nurture and heal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here are tools that help me in renewing my mind:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Everyone has a story. When someone makes me angry, I determine that their actions or words come from what they are dealing with themselves. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even if someone truly hurt me and I have every right to be angry with them, will rehearsing the deed create an environment of peace within me? Will wishing ill will upon them change what has already happened to me?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In most cases, the person who has wronged me, has put it out of their mind and they've moved on. It's me who remains in a thought prison bound to re-live the deed. My anger, resentment and unforgiveness changes my body chemistry, not theirs. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">G~d is on my side. He has not caused my misfortune. He may have allowed it, but like one watching a parade from the Good Year Blimp, He sees the beginning as well as the end. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Most things I worry about never happen. And if they do, G~d is there to walk with me and give me what I need to get through it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Melt downs are inevitable. When I have one, I allow myself the tears and fears for a moment and then pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I talk to myself. Yup! I really do. Out loud, even. But then again, so did King David. Read the Psalms. He was always talking to his soul. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Prayer, deep breathing, listening to soothing music, aromatherapy, good trustworthy friends, good deeds, petting my cat, laughing, crafts... Things that occupy my mind, fill my soul, make me smile - these produce the chemicals that my body needs to create healing.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1161273070321929369.post-85542333636897969762015-03-11T09:00:00.000-07:002015-03-11T10:54:07.691-07:00A Visible Means of Support<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/02/11/article-0-11AA3F21000005DC-685_964x674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/02/11/article-0-11AA3F21000005DC-685_964x674.jpg" height="223" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; line-height: 28.6000003814697px;">"Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer." Ed Cunningham</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember sitting on my couch, plotting my means of survival. If I'm to get through this, what will I need? Prayer - check. A team of medical providers who wanted me to live; healthy and whole - check. Research material to educate and empower me - check. A support team who would surround and protect me.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Due to a very unfortunate turn of events, Hubster and I were forced to leave our spiritual family - the ones who had carried us through the death of our baby grandson and Hubster's heart attack. We'd walked through the valley of the shadow of death with their love and support. Who would be here for us now?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">G~d is faithful.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We still had the friendship of two of the elders of the congregation. Hubster called and they came over, oil in hand and prayed over me - twice - no hesitation - no judgement. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">G~d's timing is perfect.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A few weeks before I got my diagnosis, we were invited to join a small home fellowship from our daughter and son-in-law's church. We knew the pastor and his wife and several from the congregation due to their support for our family at Rhys' passing. We were still tender from our excommunication, but they welcomed us with open hearts and arms from the beginning. </span><br />
<a href="http://crosswayknoxville.org/home/180013269/180013269/images/FellowshipGroups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><img border="0" src="http://crosswayknoxville.org/home/180013269/180013269/images/FellowshipGroups.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></span></a><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I shared my "news" during our time of prayer, they gathered around us, prayed, cried and held us. My son-in-law lead out in prayer. It was a powerful, healing time. I knew I was safe. One family in particular took an interest in my healing journey and provided me with several books that proved to be instrumental in the L~rd's special communication with me as mentioned in my last blog, <a href="http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2015/03/trust-in-lord.html">http://verbalismbuffet.blogspot.com/2015/03/trust-in-lord.html</a>. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I also joined the women's fellowship Secret Sister program. I received encouragement cards from my secret sis </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">at the perfect time,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> on several occasions</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. After one particular melt down, pity party, the next day, a card arrived with exactly what I needed to hear. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I also had my family, including my brothers and sisters-in-law who rallied around me and offered their prayers and encouragement.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is an excerpt from my blog <u>Blankets and Seasons</u>:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">I may have to bundle up awhile longer, or I may be headed into a sweet spring, but this one thing I know. My Heavenly Father has an endless supply of blankets that He will provide. And when spring and summer come again, I have a keepsake cabinet that I will store all my blankets in. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">If you find yourself in one of those seasons where you need a blanket, I pray for you someone to reach in their cabinet and pull out one of their prized blankets to share. And if you know someone who looks like the chill of winter is upon them - give them one of yours.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XgJZ8gv6Gmw/S_yZ3S_gkoI/AAAAAAAABZw/r9tFWKyOBSc/s1600/10may-pl-12blankets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XgJZ8gv6Gmw/S_yZ3S_gkoI/AAAAAAAABZw/r9tFWKyOBSc/s1600/10may-pl-12blankets.jpg" height="124" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've learned that blankets come in different "fabrics" - prayer, a listening ear,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> hugs, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">phone calls and cards of encouragement. These blankets are necessary for optimum health.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">May I encourage you to think of those in your circle (or even those you don't know well). What kind of blanket can you give them? </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Physical health thrives on </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">spiritual, emotional and mental </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">well being. we're all in this together.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next: Cleaning out the closet.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, 'Liberation Sans', FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">"Cancer is but one of the many ways the body tries to change the way you see and treat yourself, including your body. This inevitably brings up the subject of spiritual health, which plays at least as important a role in cancer as physical and emotional reasons</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, 'Liberation Sans', FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;"> do." Andreas Moritz</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">I have choices and I have time. I have Heaven on my side, and I have people who care for me.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.kranzcom.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/bad-news.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.kranzcom.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/bad-news.jpg" height="125" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">I knew I couldn't be pressured into making life changing decisions without lots of prayer and support. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">My surgeon, void of compassion, gave me the grim battle plan. Due to the nature of where the mass is located, I would have to endure chemo (hair loss, blisters on my hands and feet, nausea, diarrhea...) and radiation (think an acid enema - chemical burn in the place the sun don't shine) at the same time, then, the lower portion of my colon (rectum) removed and for the rest of my life have to wear a colostomy bag. And yes, I know that there are worse things others deal with and, yes, if this is my fate, I'll woman up and deal with it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">Everything was said, probed, tested and done. The ball was in my court.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">I have Heaven on my side.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pWBEW7YOR8U/UMIhPLAwXWI/AAAAAAAAAXE/-lFeDmudHNY/s1600/Angel-Armies-3w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pWBEW7YOR8U/UMIhPLAwXWI/AAAAAAAAAXE/-lFeDmudHNY/s1600/Angel-Armies-3w.jpg" height="136" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">My first course of action was to take Hezekiah's example. He was a King in Israel and received bad news.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Liberation Sans, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">And Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers, and read it; and Hezekiah went up unto the house of the LORD, and spread it before the LORD. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;"> And Hezekiah prayed unto the LORD... Isaiah 37:14-15</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">Then I waited. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;"> G~d is faithful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">I began to receive verses from scripture. Not the hunt around and find something kind of thing. I've done that before. I ended up with...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">Flip, flip, flip, close your eyes, point - "And Judas went and hung himself."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">Flip, flip, flip, close your eyes, point - "Go and do likewise."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">No, this was the "you know it's a supernatural thing". I'd be watching TV and a scripture reference would pop into my mind. I'd look it up and it would address the very thing I'd just prayed about - mostly a concern or fear. This happened several times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">And I'm not one to hear the voice of G~d on a regular basis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">Along with the verses, I'd be reading - scanning actually, a book or article and something would pop out. Something that addressed the very question I'd just had. Or, my mind would go into a mini melt down and I'd doubt my decisions or path I felt I was to walk, grab one of the books my naturopathic doctor, or a friend </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">had recommended, open a random page and, bingo, the sentence that addressed my concern would jump out at me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 34px;">Coincidence or coinkidinkles? Nope.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389771973292057978noreply@blogger.com0