Sunday started out rather nice. I had found a German channel on T.V. that played snappy music. I cleaned house to that and gleefully did the polka and waltz while dusting and waxing. When I was done I watched a beautifully done fairytale.

A friend came by and we had coffee and just baked Gingerbread Muffins, which were divine. After she left, the phone rang and it was my Doc. After not hearing for nearly 2 weeks it startled me. So. He expressed his great concern and launched into a thorough explanation of what I should do and why. (I think I covered that in a recent post). The risks were covered as well. Surgery would not be an easy one and as previously stated, the lower bowls are in the way! Once the cancerous lymphnode was removed, clips would be used to mark the spot for later radiation. And then, for good measure the dreaded, long avoided, running away to do the camino, CHEMO! There it is. I can hardly stand to look at the word.

Then I fell apart. Just howled with the memory of pain and crap and that I would have to do it again. I could barely get my breath. If they slipped, horrible things could happen. That was a bad night and a very long one. Friends would say, why didn’t you call me? I’m open 24/7. I said, well I could not have talked.  Dawn took a long time coming. This long time… the blue hours. I have to catch my emotional equilibrium again. Spirit, don’t leave me now. Strength and faith— where are you??? Someone else said I can imagine how you feel. NO. You. Don’t. I was just a quivering mass inside, scared out of my wits. I was caught. Just like an animal in a net.

I feel my control is slipping away. I have to bow to their treatment as the others are now too ureachable. Moonwater.  I said to him, wow, now I have to go to Dr. D. with my tail between my legs to do surgery. (She was the Specialist from Denver University, whom I saw 19 mos ago.) The one that lit my fire to run away. And look, what all I have done in that time. So, no. I’m not sorry nor filled with regret. I am  soo proud of what I’ve done and so very pleased all the places I went to think it over. But now, I am at the end of my tether. The things I ground up, swallowed, mixed, pureed, cooked and ate raw. The vitamins and irons I faithfully swallowed. The good thoughts I thought. The optimism I stroked so tenderly. I have to work hard to recapture this again.

As I commented the other day, they can kill me but they can’t eat me. I will be up once more and I will put my warrior coat on and I will fight for the best life I can have. To even get another chance is a blessed gift from God. That the cancer has not spread throughout is remarkable. To have removed the largest one JUST with lifestyle changes, was enormous. I am in the best shape, physically, that I’ve been in, in a long time. I am not defeated.

So. I start marching.

Flying to Denver

After many days of amazing peace and tranquility inspite of negative (or medical ‘positive’) news I went to Colorado Cyberknife in Denver. A good friend had secured buddy passes to fly there rather than our driving over snow-packed passes and enduring long hours. We would’ve spent more on gas.  I remarked how rich I felt just to fly to Denver, overnight, and maybe even get a bit of shopping in.

The Hotel shuttle picked us up and whisked us away. Barely put our stuff into the room and set off by shuttle service that took us to the nearest shopping center. (Nice Russian driver, married to German wife.) I spent very little.

The beds were a dream and I slept really well, until… this sound woke me at 3:11 a.m. …. snoring! For a second I thought I was back on the camino. I clapped my hands a couple of times and that took care of it.

The transportation to Lafayette was a quite a problem. There are no buses, except to get a cab to Bus station, get on, transfer twice and then it would take awhile to drive those 26 miles and then walk back to Cyberknife address. Renting a car was out of the question as I would not be able to navigate through Denver with all these crazy, speeding drivers, trucks and everything else. Especially, not knowing where I’d be going. My friend couldn’t drive as she’d had surgery 2 weeks ago.  Neither of us wanted any added stress and so we took a cab.

The driver had to use his GPS to find it as well. Cyberknife is a couple of miles outside Lafayette.  Nothing else there. We wondered how other people would get there? My appointment was 2 hrs away. Luckily, we’d stopped at a German deli and brought food. The recepionist was nice enough to make us tea. There are no stores or anything close by.

Cyberknife Disappointment

The nurse took us to the examination room, took blood pressure (was up a bit and I suppose I was a bit anxious, or, as the nurse said “because you are here”. I filled out pages of medical forms and possible problems, which went fast because I don’t have ANY, except for the little c. I don’t want to name it the BIG C since I think I am bigger than it.

More manageable that way too.

The oncologist, Dr. S., came and we started talking. He asked me what I knew about this tumor. I told him that, according to my doc it was a cancerous lymphnode, now the size of a golf ball.

“What!? What?” he exclaimed, startled. “I don’t remember anything like that.”  He turned his monitor on and there was my internal picture of organs, etc. Then, there it was. Colored in primary red. The Thingy, the cancer, the nodule, the beast. It seemed strange that this was really inside of me. I viewed it with curious detachment. But it was not a GOLF BALL. Not this round mass which I’d envisioned all this time. It’s smaller and rectangular and sits with squatters rights next to the aorta, feeding. Although that feast quite curtailed, lately. Starving it.

The risks are the same as with conventional surgery. The lower bowels are in the way to a straight shot to the back of the abdomen, to the spine. It would be a bit tricky but could be done, if not a desired 3-4 treatments but lowering radiation strength and having 10 treatments instead so as to not damage my bowels. Non-invasive and pain-free. This is the plus side. On the other side, it cannot detect anything else. My PET scan was clean in any other way, I said.

I asked Dr. S. about metronomic chemo, or RCT. He had not heard of either but was willing to check into it.

There could be recurrence and there could be this and there could be that. I would be treated as an outpatient. That means I’d have to get a hotel, nearby and for 10 days go there for 30 min a day. Then, nothing else to do in this ‘nowhereness’. Well, I guess I could walk unless the icy northwinds blow.

Survival for the Wealthy

I had researched and found another natural treatment clinic, in Arizona. The cost? A mere pittance. ONLY $8000 per week with a minimum of 3 weeks plus it’s out patient so there’s an added $1500 for an apartment. So, there I realized that all these gentler, healthier options are out of reach and felt defeated in that desire. Although, ther’s still Bad Mergentheim in Germany. Lot less and that includes plane fare.

I have not heard anything from my local doc. There was to be this meeting with medical professionals, discussing my case and giving recommendations. I had called to ask about CA 125 date. No call back. Nothing. I feel very much alone in this search and all the questions I would have. I called again and was told that Dr. had been out of town and was on an emergency call. Then, I received a call from local cancer center, telling me I’d missed my appointment. ???  I said, I have not been informed of one. We rescheduled for next week. This is on an information gathering only.  I want to be informed of ALL options and newer technology and/or treatments. I want the BEST because I AM WORTH it.

Being on this poverty level has now taught me, that this is what it is. If you’re poor, you’re screwed. You have to do what mainstream says or live (die?) with the consequences.

I was not very peaceful nor tranquil yesterday. I feel pressured by my well-meaning friends, who called in a steady stream, after my return from Denver, to ask “What are you going to do? What have you decided?” I had said, time and time again, I am going to make a decision AFTER Christmas. That I was still researching and working as hard as I can to help myself. So. I will tell them, PLEASE. No more questions. Stop asking.

I had sent Dr. Professor Koebe (in Germany) an e-mail, asking for his advice. As usual, his reply was fast and kind. He congratulated me on my ‘fabulous spirit’ and to keep that one up. He also put another, seemingly disappointing outcome into perspective by stating: “You don’t know how things were and don’t know what may have happened and what it was before you went to the cross.” Ohh, that soothed my spirit again. His advice is still, open up and go in there after it, examine and take care of it.

Other people have been working on my behalf and offered advice and suggestions. I will follow up every lead, gratefully.

Next decision would be, where to have surgery.

Can I trust my brain to make the right decision? Or, does it beat a path to least resistance? I think I’ve made good decisions over the past few years. I’ve tried to make the proper ethical, moral choices. In emergency situations, I did act and react with good speed and choice of treatment.

It’s amazing what one can learn when we start to educate ourselves and do not allow for pre-chewed ideas and opinions to cloud our minds.

Although I respect the genius of the cancer cell; it’s clever deception to sneak past the vigilant immune system, I do not want to get comfortable with it. Certain sources suggest that one should make peace with various, chronic illnesses. I feel that if I do this, I’ll become complacent. What with all this respect and mutual admiration, feelings of peace and light I am a complice and co-dependent in my own cell problem. Like a snake charmer who concentrates soley on the snake.

I shook myself free of this warm, fuzzy peace with cancer feeling and declared a serious Tumor Hunt. I have a few sneaky tricks up my sleeve as well to circumvent that tough, little outer wall of the C cell and obliterate it.  So there. This includes different measures at the time being. Holistic measures until I have assimilated all information, main stream medicine as well. It also includes very different culinary tastes.

Starting in the morning, upon rising, I take 3 enzyme tablets. For breakfast, 1 cup cottage cheese with 5 Tbsp Flax seed oil (from Johanna Budwig, German bio chemist who states that this will carry vital oxygen to the cells.) Add 1 tsp ground flax seeds and whip it into a frenzy to combine. To hide the oily-cheesy taste, I add frozen blueberries or other berries and this makes it tolerable and looks like a nice smoothie. It is very, very filling and I have to work to get it all down.

Then, I continue with the ‘Hufeland Clinic’ protocol, plus Tumeric, Curcumin, Vitamins: C-E-and B12, followed by the metals: iron, zinc, magnesium, copper, etc. More recently, added visits to Hyperbaric oxygen chamber.

After 1 hour I continue with juicing. Mostly carrot with apple and add ‘Green Pro’. Foul tasting and looking but filled with important chlorophyllic properties. I take fermented wheat germ which looks like dirt and when you add water/juice, it tastes like sweet mud. Yuk. Have to try hard not to get nauseous. But… this is not business as usual. I am working with everything I have to help myself so as not having to be ‘filet’ and filled with Toxins and poision.

Radiation Oncology Sydney Cancer Center studied 5 year survival rates of 22 types of cancer in the U.S.A and Australia. They studied 154,971 Americans with cancer, age 20 and older that were treated with chemo therapy. Only 3,306 lived to the 5 year mark. Study results: The overall contribution and adjuvant cytotoxic chemotherapy to 5 yr survival in adults was estimated to be 2.3% in Australia and 2.1 % in the U.S.A.

Cancer is a message. It wants to show you that something is running off the tracks in your life. ‘You go ahead”, said the soul to the body “because it’s not listening to me.’ “Alright’, replied the body, I will become ill, then he will have time for me.’  Although how this translates into children, even babies having cancer, I don’t know.

Another study, in Germany: Group A- 389  patients who underwent conventional therapy . (41.38 %)

Group B-patients who denied conventional therapy, including patients that could not be helped w conventional therapy methods. 312 patients (26.7%)

Group C: patients who did not even appear to consult and who’s fate could not be followed: 312 patients (33.0%

After 8 years, group A -only 102 (26.22% patients were alive with conventional therapy.

Group B- after 8 years, 183 were alive (85.11%) these were treated ONLY with Biological Conflict Therapy.

This is part of a treatment used in Germany. Brain scan is used to identify the spot, which highlights where those signals come from ad being sent and then this exact spot is treated with above mentioned thearpy. They also use a whole battery of holistic ingredients. ( Dr. Andreas Puttich, Darmststadt.)

Prof. Dr. Charles Mathe, leading Oncologist and Specialist for Oncology, in Paris, France stated openly: If I were to have cancer, I would not allow myself to be treated in  conventional cancer centers.  Only those cancer patients will have a chance to survive, if they stay away as far as possible. (Scientific Medicines Nouvelles, Paris.)

NOW, can you appreciate my dilemma??

Over the last few days, since my CA-125 bloodtest, I’ve been wondering about the result. Not stressing, more like being very curious.

Yesterday was doctor’s appointment. He wanted to know about my camino hike and said what a tremendous accomplishment that was. Then he showed me the paper with result, which was high. Another few points added to the fear scale.

I said, “Oh this just shows that there is more sugar in my blood.”  

He just smiled but didn’t reply. Checked my lungs, which were clear. He noticed my weight and said I’d lost 8 pounds since May. I said I would hope so as I’d just walked nearly 500 miles. But, back to discussion as to what treatment.

I told him I did not want chemo. Should be the very last choice. He said that in his opinion I should have surgery. When I reminded him that the Denver specialist we consulted did not want to touch me without chemo, he assured me that we could find someone else. He was concerned about possible “seed pods” in the abdomen. He explained that P.E.T can’t “see” those and if they’d turned cancerous, I would be in a difficult place. Only through surgery could they look around and see other areas. Of course, this surgery would not be without dangers. The same is true, though, with Cyberknife or any other.

I asked if he would go “outside the box” with me and help me with alternate treatments. I still have about $500 worth of Iscador and other holistic meds I’d brought from Germany, and which have to be injected but ONLY by a Physician. He said he knew of 2 holistic docs in Ridgway. I said O.K. we’ll wait until P.E.T results and then I need to do something quickly. He said:  “Inge, you really need to. This is cancer we’re dealing with.”

I told him that chemo had not done too well for my friend Phyllis, who died while I was on the camino. Different cancer but same effect, as for so many.

My blood pressure was up but I’d imagine it was due to anxiety. After my walk, it had dropped 10 points.

I’m scared but want to have ONE more chance before pumping poision or radiation inside and kill off half my cells and then experience those side effects. Once this is done, any holistic approach would be extremely difficult to remedy the situation. Of course, holistic means also very expensive.

I am still researching for places which have a different approach. There are quite a few choices.

I needed to breath and I needed to walk. I made a quick salad, a small sandwich, took a bottle of water, grabbed my poles, and drove up to the Black Canyon.

We’d had a week of rain, snow, gray and I couldn’t walk a lot. I drove in and parked my car. Snow-covered brush and canyon walls. Beautiful view, sun, and only a gentle breeze. I was the only person. I took my day pack, which was astoundingly light, my poles, and walked. I noticed soon that where I would’ve been slowing down or was out of breath, previously, after all, this is 10,000 feet. I just plowed through. It felt so good to just walk. Then, the familiar click-clack of my poles. Stillness, peace.  I saw tracks in the snow from all sorts of wildlife. Rabbits and large tracks, probably elk.

I thought back to just a couple of months ago, when I walked and wondered what the camino would be like. Now, I was back looking around and noticing how similar the view and the absence of noise. I’d also noticed that I clipped that 1.3 miles in under 25 minutes.

I stopped at the picnic bench, brushed off the snow and had my lunch , I looked around  and enjoyed the peacefulness. I walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down. The Gunnison river was like a small glittering ribbon. The walls of the canyon looked like they had been dusted with powedered sugar. It is so very beautiful there.

I didn’t come home with any answers to the decision I have to make but it sure made me more peaceful. I won’t be able to go up there when it snows again as I won’t have the proper boots and the terrain will be too difficult to walk. But, there are plenty of nice trails close to town.

Now, meanwhile, waiting for P.E.T scan and those results. That’s the BIGGIE.