There Is No Stage Five

Also, I'm back in Mexico.  Olé! Not Mexico This trip was planned.  Sort of.  There are plans and then there's what happens.  I think there's a plan and then that plan becomes a different plan and things happen whenever they do.  Embrace it and show up is the name of the game. Mexico: New friends Old old friend.  Lobo smooshed his face into me when I said hi to him.  I'm not sure if he wanted snuggles or if he just lost his balance and had a crash landing, but it made me happy either way.   I got here Sunday night for an early and very busy Monday.  Started with an ultrasound, then lab work, an interstitial treatment (BB got a pass this time...lucky), and the usual many liters of IVs.  Because everything moved so fast, I didn't have much of a chance to be concerned about the ultrasound report.  Until the busy Monday ended and I got to wondering.  Every single cancer patient I've met has the same scan trepidation and I'm no exception.  What if I'm not resp

Familiar scenes: Familiar activities: Still charging...  The fiber optic goes from la machina, through the orange cord, which then threads through the catheter into my vein.  The red light is the tip of the fiber optic shining from inside my arm. I had 4 whole days without treatment!  Free of the IV tree, I could frolic about wherever I wanted!  Even the take home medications didn't need to start until this week, so the end of last week and weekend felt nearly normal.  The swelling and heat have still hung around for the most part, so we're still cooking even without daily provocation.   I've gone to Bellevue every day this week for IV laser therapy with my naturopath.  In Mexico, so many things happened at once, it was hard to tell what was making me feel which way.  I was curious how this would go with having the IV laser by itself.  If there was any doubt, it is impressively powerful.  By the evening, I had a sweaty little micro climate around my liver and bagel bite was

I remember after graduating from Davis, I had my time of celebration, but it seemed short and feeble compared to the hulking reality of "now what?" that followed.  I'd been told where to be, what time to be there, what to do while there, and given suggestions for what to do between those times for so many years, I had no idea how to complete my own environment.  School took up so much time, brain space, and moved so quickly, my days began with a list of empty boxes, ended with checked off boxes, and then I did it over and over for a long time.  It was very comfortable, but also I seemed like the only way to make it through the whole thing.  (though full disclosure, I had to try twice, but that's a different story.)  Point being, the shock of empty space can take one's guard right off.   Going to Mexico and having a completely different space to immerse in healing was nothing short of wonderful.  Before I left, I was tired of decision-making for myself.  Chronic il

 It's Final Day Eve and it was a doozy. I had my last (for this trip) interstitial treatment into my liver and bagel bite.   (Bagel bite is the little tumor in the soft tissue of my back.  The 2019 tumor was named "The Bagel" after I got the measurements and the largest dimension was just under 10 cm.  Being a proper American, I googled "how big is 10 cm?" and up came a cervix dilation chart with descriptors from 1 cm to 10 cm. Thank you, internet. 10 cm--bagel.  I haven't returned to the chart to figure out what 2ish cm is because "bagel bite" just seemed like it named itself.  But I digress...) Because both sites were treated today, I had to be on my side.  No matter how comfortable this positioning starts, it's not going to end that way.  Lefty had to take the IV catheter today, but cramping was a minimum.  I've figured out if I didn't move it at all, it will feel like absolute lead, but won't cramp.  Movement--the fatal flaw in

Lots of excitement and no excitement all at once.  Our plans for our one day off have been disrupted by two things.  One: me.  The other: the cartel.  Duh, of course!  Ironically, the recommendation from both is to stay in.  The part of town that's making the news is far from us.  Respecting the request from the cartel and government (yes, the cartel is surprisingly polite) seems to be a prudent choice, though we do feel totally safe where we are.  Meanwhile, I should mostly stay inside (out of the sun, at least) because of the longer lasting photosensitzer that I had at the end of the week.  The new game is "what color will I pee next?" as the photosensitzers and occasional B vitamins create some curious options.   Leannda and "La Machina" I'm starting to miss home and I think a few more days at the clinic is perfect timing to call it good for this round.  I'm generally tired of getting poked.  The acupuncture/massage therapist came to the clinic on Fri

 I think there's a plan! Before that, here's a picture of my heart because it's doing a great job and deserves top billing.   It's definitely a little unnerving for me to have to start a big life changing treatment like this before completely having a plan, but PDT is just one of those things.  No one can predict how a patient's body will respond, so you start somewhere and adjust from there.  I can imagine the same can be said of starting chemo.  The thing that made me concerned about chemo is there's no stopping it.  I mean, there is, but if you stop it because of unbearable side effects, those side effects don't necessarily stop at that moment.  With PDT, you can stop safely, should you choose to, and you're likely not left with side effects.  I understand so much more about the different types of laser, photosensitizers, modalities, and the IV support, so the approach and adjustments are starting to make a whole lot more sense.   There are 3 ways of

I was waiting at the stop for the struggle bus this morning, but decided not to get on it.  I have two solid tumors that I can palpate and they're definitely following directions of worse before better.  Even though I know this is expected and a good sign, it was a little rough this morning to think for a moment that progress was going to the wrong way.  But...it's not!   Today's interstitial treatment was way easier than last week.  The tumor on my back is responding really well to the topical laser treatment, so further direct prodding is unnecessary for now.  It's located superficially, which is great on one hand, but on the other hand, it's where there are many more nerves.  It was actually much more reactive last week and a little painful this morning, so I was happy to hear that we weren't going to poke at it more today.  What was cool though, was in treating the liver today, I could still feel the other tumor responding even though it was indirect.   The

Monday: Quick day at the clinic today, which was a pleasant surprise.  We have a new patient this week, who is also from the same ND that I see in Bellevue.  That makes three of us!  They also have horses, so...we're definitely set on topics to talk about.   My treatment continues to be pretty straight forward without any surprises.  *knocks on wood*  Leannda and I have been talking about bloodwork for her for quite awhile now, and she took advantage of the opportunity to have tests done today, too.  How it works for me in the US is that my ND orders bloodwork from LabCorp, then I stop in anytime after a 12 hour fast and have blood drawn.  He gets the results and LabCorp deals with my insurance.  My insurance then bills me--usually $200-$300 from about $3000-$3500 of bloodwork.  It can be A LOT of tests though, so don't be too shocked at that number.  Leannda has a different insurance system that doesn't make it quite as easy to request tests, so if she decided to go the ND

I never truly understood "rhythm" in dressage until I felt it.  There's the theoretical knowledge that isn't hard to understand, but describing what a good rhythm feels like only goes so far.  Feeling it is way better.  When the normal physical rhythm of a horse gets disrupted, it could be a one-off oddity, it could be a chronic compensatory pattern, or it could be an acute injury.  All of which make the rhythmic movement of energy less efficient. It's not a stretch to think of our bodies as factories of rhythm, as well.  Not just our physical movement, but cycles of sleep, inflammation, hormone presence/absence, temperature changes, etc.  If all of the gears turn as they should, we stay dynamic in motion.  If the rhythm of one gear gets a little wonky, things can start to rattle apart.  Considering what we expose ourselves to, we're really pretty robust creatures.  Rattles  are caught and repaired even before we're aware of an issue at all.  For me, cance

This is the part that you pretend it's Friday: Nothing exciting to report from today.  More IV therapies and laser only over my liver "topically," not also through the IV.  More note comparison, reading, and learning.  I got a new "tincture" to drink a lot of times per day, which smells a bit like it could start a fire if too near an open flame.  All in all, a quiet day, soooo here's a picture to look at: Saturdays are supposed to be a shorter day.  Today, however, we had the acupuncturist/massage therapist come and no one complained that the day ended up being nearly normal in duration.  Healing has gone really well from the interstitial treatment on Wednesday.  There's definitely activity happening with quite a bit of heat still, but no pain since the great laughing incident.  Leannda's sister and her sister's boyfriend arrived this afternoon and we went to check out Rosarito.  The clinic is on a cliff above the ocean, pretty much right in the

All sorts of IV therapies today.  I'll likely do the IV laser treatment daily, or nearly daily, as it doesn't create a huge inflammatory response.  Unlike yesterday's interstitial treatment, which creates a significant inflammatory and immune response.  It's all a balancing act and a guessing game, albeit a well educated guessing game.  What this whole thing comes down to is my immune system is currently in college after a "gap decade" and it's here to get some education. PDT's job is to destabilize the cancer cells.  I'm not really sure what the right word would be to describe what happens to the cells, but maybe rupture?  It might not be that exciting.  Melt into a puddle of goo? The localized heat is incredibly impressive, too, which cancer cells have a hard time living in.  This is also the theory behind mistletoe therapy, but I'll make a different post for that.  Immunopeptide therapy helps to enhance and educate my immune system to recogn

I was a little nervous this morning.  Excited nervous, but also, really, really hoping that there wouldn't be any issues with doing my first treatment of photodynamic therapy.  Livers respond very, very well to the treatment, but the approach an be tricky.  They're very bloody organs, though the concern for me was more about nerves rather than blood.  My doctor's confidence went a long way to soothing any worries--he's actually brought in specifically for liver treatments, as he's very good at the placement of the needles/fiber optic.   But I'm getting ahead of myself.  First came my labs coming back and looking nearly perfect (yay!), IV support, then the systemic treatment through the catheter in my arm.   The orange tube sheathes the fiber optic, which threads through the catheter into my vein.  The very bright red dot is the end of the fiber optic shining from inside my arm.  This part was easy peasy. The treatment directly into the liver was a little trickie

 Another day and another pile of puppies.   A few weeks ago, I was listening to a podcast interview with a man that had a freak accident that left him paralyzed.  He found he could accept this dramatic change to his life by not thinking about what was and what could have been, but that this "new" life is still his Plan A.  A life changing event (and the incredible change that comes with it) doesn't mean we have to go to Plan B-Z.  Plan A.  It's all Plan A.   I tried to keep my expectations in check about this opportunity in Mexico, but I've had a really good feeling about it from the beginning.  Yesterday was a good day, but today confirmed the good feelings. All day was spent in the clinic.  When everyone arrived this morning, it was like a reunion of people apart for far longer than 18ish hours.  It didn't matter who it was that walked in the door--everyone was happy, smiling, hugging, joking.  I kid you not...  Being in the clinic all day meant that we got

 It's only been a little over 24 hours and it seems like I'm buried in information.  Like "buried in a pile of puppies" kind of buried.  Not that other kind of buried.  There's been a lot to keep up with--settling into our hotel, scoping out the area, coordinating with the clinic, and day one at the clinic.   The area where we're staying is called the Playas.  We're a short walk from the beach and border wall--simultaneously barely Mexico and very Mexico.  At first, walking around seemed like taking one's own life in your hands as the rules of the road seem to be a bit, ehhmm, loose.  Though it's not at all obvious, the drivers are very aware and courteous to pedestrians.  It's a nice balance as the beach has an incredible energy of people, color, art, and the ocean, while where we're staying is very quiet and park-like.  Best of both worlds. The beach and the border It is a bit odd to be on "vacation" except it's not really v