After the many days waiting for this appointment, it finally came. A very windy day but we made to Grand Junction. Cameron accompanied me for some ‘hand-holding’ if need be and to take notes.

Meanwhile, I had bought a book, Embrace, Release, Heal,’ written by a Grand Junction woman, who had horrible cancer with 3 recurrences. This is an amazing journey and after I read what she did and her decision to do Alternate and why, I felt totally re-invigorated. She spoke to me. She had the same fears, doubts and terrors….. and then, she had success and despite that her doctors/oncologist and other people tried to dissuade her, ridiculed her, she stayed the course. I applaud her. She made it. She’s well, for the time being.

After filling out some more paperwork we sat and waited. Wasn’t too long before I was called and went to the examination room.  The nurse took my vitals and my bloodpressure was up a bit but nothing like in Denver (or Montrose Cancer Center.) I attribute this to two things. First, Cameron was with me and second, I have been at this Pavilion so many times, I should own a corner of it. The staff is very nice and ‘upstairs,’ know me by name. Dr. M. came in, introduced herself and we all shook hands. She told us that Dr. D. had not send certain scans (??) and they had called and asked for them.

To explain what I am dealing with, she drew a rough sketch of the body ( appologizing for lack of artistry) with the aorta running through. In the pelvic region she drew a cluster of lymph nodes next to it. Very neatly, tightly attached to the aorta. These I had not been aware of. You mean there’s more??

She told us, why surgery would not work. Even if they could get to the 5.5 cm  ‘problem node’ and extract a portion, we’d still have to deal with the other ones and they simply cannot be excised out.  ‘Cancer is a chronic illness‘, she informed us, ‘Similar to Diabetes.’

Even though she was aware that I did not like chemo, yet it was the only available option. Cyberknife would not work due to that cluster and one other area in pelvis. Chemo had worked well for me before, she said. She had me describe the after effects. She told me, that we could do the schedule differently. Instead of throwing the whole works at me in one sitting, we could do a lower dose over one week’s time and have 3 weeks off. At the same time, add anti-nausea meds into the IV, so I could or would tolerate it better. She told me of another patient, who’s abit older than I, who has tolerated this and functions quite well. Radiation would not work either, due to where it all was and the intestines would be damaged greatly.

She asked me how I ended up in Montrose. I’d told her, she didn’t have that much time. She laughed and said, take short route. I gave her the highlights. I felt so comfortable with this nice, kind spoken Doctor, that I’d told her what I was taking and what I was doing for myself. She did not even blink. I went a bit further and added that I take Tumeric/Curcumin, etc. No ridicule, no exclamation of ‘this is nothing but quackery’. Oh, I like her, I thought. She even gave me the name of a Naturopathic Doctor, in Ridgway, whom I can consult about the Vitamin C, Iscador and other vials that I had brought from Germany and had been sitting in my fridge ever since.

She asked, if anyone had ever suggested genetic testing? No, I said, never even came to mind.  Well, since I have quite a line-up of family members with a cancer history on both sides, it would be feasible to have one. For my children and grandchildren. To find out if there’s a genetic reason. Medicare may not pay for this pricey test but we’ll go ahead and do this. I’ve had some ‘Angel’ friends visit me and others who send a check to help out with these expenses and bills that keep coming. Their love and kindness had me in tears.

I also told her about this new, piercing pain on the left side, in my abdomen. That one has me disturbed enough to mention it. I am taking my Ibuprofen 600 mg but sometimes, that’s not even touching it. I have stronger stuff but hesitate to take this as it will cause constipation and I feel so ‘rummy’ and fuzzy. I don’t like ‘drugs’

She said, that I could get just as many years out of this chemo.. and if ‘it’ came back, well we’d treat it again although the time span of remission in between would be closer together. Hey, I thought, ‘ Thank you, God’, I’ll take 10 years, to be with my family, to travel a little, to see the beauty of this world.’ I’ve made peace with my cancer and I will do things to help get better as this is another wake up call (unless it’s GENETIC) to change things in my life. No matter what its origin, now that it is here, again, I’ll try to deal with it as best and as gracious as I can.

Dr. M. suggested that we do a series of blood work, including genetic testing and a new CT scan as well as another CA 125.  (Ovarian cancer marker).

When we were leaving, I took her hand and thanked her for being so kind, gave her a spontaneous hug and promptly burst into tears. I wasn’t used to kindess. It’s unsettling.

I felt a huge weight lifting. I finally had a plan. We were doing things. I was really relieved not to be cut open and have my intestines rearranged and to deal with the pain and accompanying discomfort.

I’m not sure, whether we’ll travel to Huntsman now. We have not heard from them and what could they tell me differently? I think, I’ll just stop resisiting and wrap my mind around this and work on being accepting. Camino NOT chemo. Well, family and friends (and myself) I sure tried. You’d have to say that. I gave it a good run. And, of course, I will seek alternate advice until all these appointments. I still have a little time until then. Hope does spring eternal.

Yesterday, the phone rang and, would you believe it was Dr. M’s office (already!) to schedule these bloodtests for May 2nd. Until then, I have time to work on me with a last ditch effort, to detox, take stuff, do acupuncture, cleansing and whatever else I can do. Maybe, just maybe… it’ll disappear.

I was telling Cameron, that this thought occured to me: When I was on the camino and walked up to the cross,  offering  that the tumor be taken and then when this did not happen, I failed to see that I’d already gotten my miracle. Although the tumor was not ‘gone’, it has stopped growing since October. I mean, I have 3 PET and one CT to proof this. The markers have gone down. I am grateful.

I want to go away for a few days. Have a vacation from cancer and all this intense talk and research and accomapying fear. I am calm now and feel peaceful. Another gift.

Sometimes, I can’t remember what day it is. They all seem to blend in to pretty much the sameness. Make breakfast, then again for Cameron. Clean a little, run errands. Shop for groceries (often). Bring them home, then prep, chop cook or not. Make salads.

Cameron is busy with his work and then calling, researching, answering calls, talking to Medical Professionals.

Meanwhile, I’ve acquired an odd pain which has me puzzled and Doc doesn’t know either. Since I’ve just had so many (and expensive) scans, I’ll not have another. He called in a new prescription which is a little stronger than Ibuprofen.

Last Saturday, we went to a friend’s house to photograph all the items I am selling to help defray cost of this cancer and treatment. We have posted the pictures on Facebook and the Facebook caminonotchemo page.

Friends have been overwhelmingly generous. With Organic veggie presents and money, discreetly placed in envelopes, which allows me to ‘save face’.

So now, we wait. For the appointment on March 26th, in Grand Junction with Oncologist. Then, hopefully, we hear from Jon Huntsman Clinic, in Salt Lake City, soon.

The great thing about going there, is, that we have friends who have offered their home and we can stay while I am being examined, questioned and hopefully have a good solution.

This is getting really old. Not knowing. Not doing, and now having pain. Trying very hard to be patient, to be up-beat but once in awhile, like in the darkest hour of the night, I was caught in a weeping storm. I have nightmares.

My son,  Cameron arrived a few days ago in preparation to drive me to Denver and be there during surgery.  We’ve had snowstorms for two days and bitter cold. We only ventured out to get groceries, in case we would be snowed in. (No really.) We took a short walk just to get aired out. The rest of the time, he was busy with work and I was busy with prepping, cooking and freezing meals ahead for our return, when I can not do these things.

My little buddy came to have help with his weekly homework. My friend came to drop her two dogs off. Pumpkin and Max. They absolutely enriched our days. Other than that, nothing exciting going on.

Friday, after noon, I’d asked Cameron to give Julianne, Denver coordinator a call to ask how we’re progressing. Then, suddenly we have a date. After all that waiting, it seemed nearly too fast. As in, ‘oh, I’m not sure if  I’m ready for this!’ But, there it is. THE date. Pre-Op appointment is set for Wednesday, 11:00 o’clock in the morning. Anschutz Cancer Center in Denver. At that point I will find out everything.

This means, getting everything ready and set up for a Tuesday departure for the 5+hr trip. Hopefully, the roads and passes won’t be too stressful to get over. Luckily, we have a place to stay with a very generous lady, who offered her home to both of us.

I am ever so grateful to have my son there, to be my ears and common sense, when my brain turns to mush when I walk through those doors. To ask questions and to champion my cause. I will hang on to my daughter’s words, that I have her heart with me. I’m trying to figure out, how we can have her come, at least for Easter, so we can all be together for a little while. She’s so sad, that she can’t be here but we do understand.

Each time, that I’ve had surgery (meanwhile a few), I’ve had this fear of not waking up from anesthesia. At my surgey, ten years ago, to remove cancerous Ovaries and lymphnodes, I started to cry as I lay there IV in my arm, waiting to be rolled to surgery. My son was with me and asked why I was crying and I said “I am soo afraid of not waking up.’ I did, of course but I also remember the horrible pain.

When I was 8 and half years old, I had a tummy ache. Mom was getting ready to go to work, for a few hours and allowed me to stay in bed. (We had no babysitters those days.) I remember laying on the couch, vomiting vile and bitter stuff. Next day, I was already having delirious dreams. I do remember, vaguely, dreaming of large Gnomes. (Honest to God.)

When the doctor came, he pushed on my large, tautly swollen belly and quickly called an ambulance. I remember seeing neighbors gathered outside the apartment house, to see who was sick and I felt very important. I remember getting a thick- needled shot.

I’ve had ruptured appendicitis. Mom told me later, that it was already touch and go. Someone, meaning well in the most awful sense, had told her not to fret too much as she had three more children.

I remember waking up, in pain and after awhile, I felt overwhelming thirst. I’d asked the nurse for something to drink. I asked for peppermint tea as this was what I’d had at home. She said NO. I asked for something else but she said NO. Never explaining why not. After awhile longer, I just got up and went over to the faucet and drank …water. Lots of it. Well, the hoopla after that was bad. They rushed me somewhere but now I don’t remember what they did. (Pump stomach?) I remember, having this dream. I was walking toward a walled city. Everything was gold. Trees, houses, the river winding around, outside the walls, like a golden ribbon. Not made of Gold but like, evening summer-sun-gold. There was a bridge that I needed to cross to get inside. Suddenly, I heard my name . ‘Inge! I-N-G-E!’ I stopped walking. I woke to see my friend, Irene by the window. Since she was so young, she was not allowed to visit but I am sure that she saved my life, by calling me back.

After a few days without having a bowel movement, the nurse came with an enema bucket and hose contraption. At that time, I did not know what this was.  I had also had developed an abcess. When she tried to insert the hose, the pain was so excrutiating, that I screamed bloody murder and wiggled to get away from that source. Well, this nurse came from Haides Hell. She hauled off and slapped me in the face. Hard.  Then continued to ram this hose in. I sat in bed, sobbing when my mom came. She looked at the marks the 5 fingers left on my cheeks and asked how this happened. She took off. I could hear her shouting all the way. Mama-Bear. She went to the Administrator, she went to the Professor. She cleaned up!! I never saw this nurse again. (My daughter is a lot like her. The protectiveness is alive and well a generation later.)

After about a month, I was released. I needed to recouperate. So it was decided to send me to the country. Plenty of good, fresh air and wholesome meals. This was through the catholic ‘Caritas’. The small village was about 1 hr drive from Erlangen. Set in a very scenic and pretty village surrounded by forests, gentle, sloping hills. They call it the ‘Little Switzerland’. The little house was a kilometer or so, outside the village. Two nuns lived there. In their care was a small orchard with plum, apple and other fruit trees. Then, there was a small, lovely chapel. The ‘Sisters’ themselves were very firm and stern. (I suppose, never having had children, they just didn’t know how to interact.) It was not a good time.

My duty was, to ring the bell to assorted prayers. The length of the prayers, decided how long the bells wer to be rung and why. It all went well until another girl came. Then we both got into trouble because we were just not as pious as they expected of us. When we rang the morning vespers, we got to talking and rang and rang that bell. Village people thought there was a fire and ran outside.

When I was in Germany, several years ago, I asked my cousin to take me there. Pinsberg, fifty years later had not changed much. The village fountain, surrounded by geraniums and other beautiful flowers was the focal point. The houses, more modern and added on, white washed with brown balconies, with many, colorful flower boxes.

The Chapel still the same. Walking inside, the smell of  centuries of francincense. A beautiful, crochet, starched, white cloth on the altar as well as flowers. Even though not used much, it was still lovingly cared for. It was emotional to see myself there, as a child. We had lunch at one of the ‘Gasthaus’ there. It was the best Trout I’ve ever had.

I can safely say, that there won’t be any slapping in Denver.

My days consist of the same, daily routine. I try to walk, depending on this fickle weather which is, at times, too cold, too windy, too muddy. Our regular winter weather. The monotony is only broken by short trips to the Organic store, Post Office and other errands. My light, happy moments come in the form of my little buddy. We do his 4th Grade homework together and then visit.  (Are you smarter than a 5th Grader?) I find 4th Grade Math to be a challenge!! So different and strange from my days.) We’ve been friends for 10 years now. Practically since his birth. He says, we may not be related by blood but certainly by heart. Ahh. He does my my heart good.

I try not to be gone very long as I am waiting for the phone call from Denver. Two days ago, even after careful plotting my time, I came home just in time to hear a voice on the answering machine. Quickly I lifted the phone to my ear and it was Dr. D.’s Assistant.

But, not to give a date for surgery but to request that I call Grand Junction Pavilion, to set up an appointment for a new CT scan. As it turns out, the much lauded (and costly) PET, was an inferior view of the needed tumor position. I was to have this CT a.s.a.p and then the disc FED EX’d to the surgical team.

I immediately called and got an appointment for Thursday morning. Since I was not allowed to have any food nor drink 4 hours prior to the scan, I awoke at 3:45 A.M without an alarm clock. My brain and system at the ready for a fast breakfast as the interval would be very long  until I could have sustenance. And, boy, do I need my sustenance. So. I cooked a bucket of Oatmeal and had a cup of tea and then coffee for good measure. Punctually at 4:30 I ceased shoving anything in.

Outside, the wind rattled and tore at the bare tree limbs. As soon as it was light, the clouds chased each other over the horizon. I really would’ve rather stayed home, on such a day. When I watched the news and weather, the report of strong winds and snow stressed me out.

Punctually at 7:30 A.M my friend Inge B. came to pick me up to drive to Grand Junction and be with me. As so many times before. Never complaining. Never using an excuse of not being able to do this kind deed. Monika had to work, so she had to miss out on this grand adventure.

We arrived early and were shown to the waiting area. There we settled in to wait for whatever would come next. What came next, were two women, who upon seeing me broke out in happy greeting and surprised exclamation. They were from Rangely. I had not seen them, in over 20 years. I said, I recognize you. I just can’t place you. Oh… I know. Rangely, right? You’ve friended me on Facebook, right?

Nancy has been fighting cancer for 12 years now. Has a port inserted in her chest for easier access of whatever needs to be pushed through. Her, daughter, who was in school with my son, faithfully goes with her, each time. Soon, the Radiologist came in with a huge, paper cup and gave each of us the ‘drink’. Gatorade with other tastes. Nasty stuff for so early in the morning. But, dutifully we drank large sips and both of us, making a face and shuttering.

Soon after, I was escorted to the preparation room. Needles, plastic hose for the veine insert. Then, off to the scan room. Siemens machine. Nothing but the finest. Laying down on the gourney-bed, I looked up and saw two panels with azure sky and white, puffy clouds. Nice touch. PET people don’t have that one. Radiologist comes and shoots the dye into my veine. Just one minute later, a very warm feeling goes through your entire body. This sensation makes one feel, like urinating on oneself. Always worries me, that I accidently would do so. Then, the voice command to ‘inhale’ hold your breath…………. breath. After about 15 minutes we are done. Needle is removed. (Thank God, I have good veines.)

By now it’s after 11:00 A.M and I am starving. Off we go to Apple Bee’s and celebrate with a big salad. Now, we wait, again. Meanwhile, my son is flying in on Tuesday. Everyone getting ready. I am somewhat antsy about the whole thing. Since I am feeling so well, I wonder how I’ll feel, afterwards. I manage to surpress worries and creepy fear during the day. But, the brain won’t be deprived of this ecclectic fodder. I dreamed: I was in the hospital, a day prior to surgery. A very efficient nurse came in, rolling a cart ahead of her.

On this cart was a long line of injections. Needles of various sizes. She looks at me and declares firmly, all these 20 shots need to be given within the next 20 minutes. All in  preparation for the bag you need to wear after surgery. I woke, heart pounding and terrified that this could be a reality.

Nowhere that I can run. I am tethered to the hospital like with an umbilical cord.

I wonder, if my CA 125 has gone down more points, again? I wonder, if that would be enough to stall chemo.

I belong to a closed, Facebook Support group. Women with Ovarian Cancer. Some of them, like me, survivors of previous cancer. Many of them, like me also, have recurrence. They are very researched, knowledgeable about any and every form of chemo and radiation. They comment on their treatment. They comment on their hugely, elevated CA 125 (Blood test) numbers. Into the Thousands!! One lady’s numbers have gone up to 9000!!! The whole, horrible misery of this disease. Their cancer, unlike mine, goes rampant, aggressive and very fast. It’s in their liver, colon, lung, pancreas and other terminal places. They fear for their very lives and some, have lost the battle and their sons, daughters or other family member will post of their passing. The raw pain of their grief is more than I can bear.

I’ve decided, not to go to this site, for awhile. This is too scary and too close for comfort. I don’t want to have their painful echo and terror in my brain. I feel much compassion but this sucks energy and positivity from me. I fervently hope that they survive.

Meanwhile. I am continuing on my course. Healthful meals. Walks. Tumeric and Curcumin. I have added Black Raspberries and lemon loaded water (Alkalizing). Maybe just pitiful attempts to ward off the beast. But, so far, I have. I have done amazingly well and I’m holding on to that with all my might.