a different flavored healing path

I was last sprung from the hospital on January 2nd, 2-1/2 months ago. It was my 2nd 25-day stint called a Consolidation; the 1st was the rude awakening of Induction chemotherapy last October. While each week I watched myself grow stronger and more vibrant, I was penciled in for a 2nd Consolidation (3rd round so far - keeping track?) in mid-February. "Until we find a bone marrow donor," intoned Dr. K and nurse Rob, "we need to have you in the hospital every 4-6 weeks to make sure you don't relapse." I blanched. I cringed. "....but my numbers keep coming up.... and see how good I feel!" I burbled. My fears saw the white coats morph into the big bad wolf while they seemed to sneer, "... and all the better to pump you full of chemo with, my dear." I felt like the Christmas goose being fattened for the meal. 

It was becoming time to go back and I didn't want to go. So I prayed. I scoured online. I made calls. I kept jogging and taking the simple vitamins I had been forbidden to take. My friend Stacey sent me an email late one night; "Aren't I taking you to the hospital this coming Wednesday?"

"Let's talk," I wrote.

And so we did. We met at Aroma Cafe in San Rafael before my choir practice. I was nervous. I had to tell her first, though, and I did. She looked at me and said, "I get it. Enough is enough already."

Now I'm sharing with you that after not a small amount of prayer, meditation, journal writing, research, medical consultations and more, I have decided to suspend the continuing rounds of high dose IV chemotherapy for my leukemia and instead embrace not only today's continually robust remission but several avenues of alternative healing modalities. I am doing this with the awareness and acknowledgment of my medical team. (Ok, so they didn't throw a party congratulating me). I have looked them all in the eye and shared this from my heart and innermost being. No bridges are being burned with high drama flourishes of "watch me now!" To quote one of my oncology nurses, "I know of people who are alive today who've had one Induction and one Consolidation.... I know people who have said "no" [to the traditional allopathic trajectory]... you can make this decision today and you can redecide a month from now. It's cool to take a hiatus...."

When I first considered even asking this question, it was along the lines of, "... if I stop now, how much time do I have?" I hadn't even given myself permission to contemplate that some working in Western medicine knew of long-term acute leukemia survivors who hadn't exactly played by the books.

I shall take this hiatus in northeast Scotland, staying with close friends of the past nearly 20 years. Tony & Ali live in and rent out restored 19th-Century "bothies" (pronounced bah-theez) and are often booked two years in advance. They text-messaged me from their holiday in Madiera when I was first hospitalized. I've written about them in earlier posts. Click HERE for a Scottish Highlands photo Gallery!

After a nearly 6-year run, I am leaving the Bay Area on March 30th. I will return only to visit, if that opportunity is available to me. 

As of April 6th and for up to 6 months if my health and Her Majesty's Immigration seem to be on the same wavelength, I will be here: Fisherman's Bothies, Mains of Sluie, Dunphail by Forres, Morayshire IV36 2QG, Scotland UK. I will suspend my (415) cell phone for 6 months. As for the (510) number, we'll see if I hook up my traveling Vonage VOIP deal. Email works best while I continue to whine that I gave up long ago trying to be reasonably responsive. I'll be busy healing and living! 

(Yes, it's Fisherman's and not Fishermen's. I fought that one for years and lost). 

For a week en route over and - God Willing - after my 6-month "tourist Visa" nudges me back Stateside, I shall stay with my dear friends Susan and Klaus in Georgia. Next steps will be taken as they're encountered. I can dream dreams and have intentions, however with this leukemia I cannot make plans. It's a delicate balance and oftentimes the poise between the worlds becomes weighty. For now exhilaration wins out while I am become just a little teensy bit Krispy Krittered with the Great Undoing.

I don't know whether I have 20 years, 2 months or 2 weeks of good health. No one else does, either. "Only God knows," said an oncology nurse. "We don't." This particular leukemia can return without warning and regardless of the number of Consolidations or whether one has gotten a bone marrow transplant. That procedure alone carries 50/50 odds of survival. Since October 27th, I have spent 50 days in two hospitals for two wrenching rounds of chemotherapy and antibiotics, with a half a million dollars billed to my now far more expensive insurance policy. Did I mention the thousands of dollars in co-pays and being sidelined in my work and spiritual pursuits? Luckily I have had some savings to live on frugally. My frugality continues while my heart is dancing a "shhhhh, don't tell, it's Lent" jig.

I am grateful for this remission and I am going to ride it out as long as I can. I am neither "giving up" nor planning to crawl away and die. Should I fall very ill again, I will have the opportunity to seek Western medical care either overseas or back here in the States. The idea of getting pumped full of chemo at this time to prevent me from relapsing, while I can understand the preventive methodology, lands like a thud in my solar plexus. There is a tipping point where the treatment causes more damage than the efficacy it promotes. Few physicians have a clear handle on that. If my intuition and sense of calling fail me, clearly I will have to accept that. 

Once I am over the seas, I will create a new blog, releasing the thoughtform of the paradigm gauntlet this has been on many levels. I'll link the new name here. I want to close out this theme with this news.

Many of you have prayed for me. Your love and your caring are elixir to my soul. Thank you! I ask that you please keep praying for my increasing wellness and as well that I may continue to attune my ear to God's guidance. Your prayers - whatever is prayer for your spiritual path - matter more to me than even the finest Western medical care. While I thank my Creator for the gifts of most of my medical team, you don't think I'm still kicking around just because of the chemo, do you? 

Onward!