DON'T LET THE TURKEYS GET YOU DOWN

Good morning from a VERY soggy, foggy From Away Farm. The mist is very irish, when it is misting and very Maine when it is pouring as it has done for the last 2 weeks. I look out the window and down to the pond almost hidden in the gray dampness. And speaking of windows and looking - LOOK! Here is my Thanksgiving feast marching across the garden on their was to the woods at the end of the road. I presume you will be able to see this as it is my first time for uploading a video from my tiny camera. (don't laugh, I learn these things slowly! I am always afraid some troll will come out of the computer and hit me with a bat, rather like the clowns do in the circus Anyway, the turkeys are, it would seem, a splinter group from last year's army of 22. I guess the neighbors ate the others. I know Thursday looks like lead on the horizon, but just march on like these turkeys. After all, they made it!!!!!!

Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone.
You'll NEVER walk alone. - Oscar Hammerstein

Letting Go and Resting.

Dear All,

The skies outside my window are looking ominously grey... we've had several days of warm and humid weather, so a rain shower is in order. Chiara is camping out in Wimbledon's park for the day and overnight, in line for tickets to see some good tennis tomorrow. Luckily, she and Anthony have brought a tent with them and, per her last cell phone call, they have settled nicely into the spirit of the crowd who have similarly flocked to participate in British sporting tradition. These are hard core fans, who patiently wait for hours on end and enjoy the atmosphere of doing so, in order to be rewarded with tickets in hand tomorrow morning. I so wish I was healthy enough to join them, but that shall have to wait until next year. Wimbledon 2010, I will be there.

This weekend has certainly been "different" for me, in that James went down to Sevenoaks yesterday with Julian for an overnight stay. Orchestrated so as to give James time with his Murdoch grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins, and to give him exclusive "Daddy" time with Julian, it had also been arranged to give me a chance to get some rest, and focus on "me". Admittedly, I have missed my boys so much! There I was, packing everything up for them, and all of a sudden having such a hard time letting James go. "It's just one night, for goodness sake!" I told myself, appalled at how completely clingy I was. I then realised that I had never been separated from James for a night except for when I was in hospital - being apart from him has always been associated with my being unwell, so it just felt so strange to imagine choosing to be apart... oh, clingy mother that I am.... it was all about me. In fact, James was a bundle of excitement that morning, aware that there was something "fun" happening, and that he was going to be part of that "fun". So, he and Daddy set off, loaded up with food, clothes, nappies and toys, on their "boys' adventure" to Kent. Julian has sweetly called me throughout, touching base to let me know that all is well. Actually, that is an understatement: all is more than well! I have heard James in the background squealing with laughter, I have heard stories of his romps in the garden as Julian shares with him the wonders of flowers and plants, I have been told of his play time with his cousins and his delight with getting to know Max the dog, I have been told that he has been introduced to even more foods that he drools over - marmite, apricots - (this child simply loves to eat!), I have learned that he slept 12 hours last night loving the fresh country air of the open bedroom window... my son has had a blast! I attach a photo of him on the swings. I can "hear" Julian's smile over the phone as he fills me in on their latest activity, and I just love the image of father and son together, en famille, enjoying their weekend away. But let's be honest, I remain clingy, and super excited to have them back this evening! I adore my boys.

So yes, I have "let go" of my munchkin for a moment, and have turned to trying to rest. I have slept in this morning, and have taken naps. I have focused on just "being". No computer until now, no calls. I have put aside the "I must do..." list and the "I should do..." list (both of which are endless), and simply tried to give myself permission to sit and do whatever the moment brings, in the knowledge that others will understand my need to do so. My feet are a lot better, but still sore and swollen, so I have not walked much, trying to have them heal as best as possible. I feel very fatigued, even after seeking "down time", so again I am reminded that I am in the thick of treatment, and that I must be gentle on myself and taper my expectations of all the "doing". It is my goal to try to build-up my strength in preparation for the next round, for I begin cycle #3 of chemo on Thursday, where I get the triple whammy of two different chemos (Oral & IV) plus the third anti-angiogenesis IV medication. Another full day in hospital, another round of battling this disease in full force. My weight is proving harder to maintain, but I keep at it as best as I can, forcing myself to eat as much as I can stomach, although zero appetite and multiple mouth ulcers don't make it easy.

And so it goes, as they say, one week at a time. I am learning to "let go" and to rest, while all the time never ceasing to appreciate all the fighting that both my body and mind are doing 24/7. Because, on the latter front, I refuse to stop, even for a second.

Hugs to all.

The magic of fireworks

Hi Panda,

Yesterday was the last day of the Feste Vigiliane, a week of festivities that takes place every year here, in honor of the saint patron of the city. It includes a raft race in the river, a 1 km swim in the river from one bridge to another, a reconstruction of a fully operational medieval town in the main square and streets of the city center... lots of interesting crazy things, most of which, I admit, I missed. But I didn't miss the fireworks that last night concluded the festivities. If I had, I would have missed a unique experience.

First of all, I love fireworks. In my parents' house I would often run upstairs and look from the balcony whenever I heard the shots in the evening. From the position of their house you catch the fireworks in Rome and those of a big portion of the suburbs and countryside in the area. There are fireworks often. They are usually far away, small, although colorful. In the US I was a great fan of the 4th of July celebrations mostly because of the fireworks. But even there I must have been unlucky, because they would last only a few minutes, would be far away and not very colorful, even those in Chicago from the Navy Pier! I liked all of them, but I always thought that if something had been different (more colors, more variety, longer or closer) I would have enjoyed them much more.

Anyway, continuing my quest for the perfect fireworks, yesterday Uri and I walked out of the house a few minutes before the scheduled time. There were rivers of people walking steadily in one direction... so we followed them. They were headed towards the river, where supposedly they could get the best view. Now, this town is in a narrow valley. Wherever you look, between two buildings, you see a mountain in the background. At night, you only see a very dark sky up to a certain height, and if you look more closely, you notice that there are occasional lights from what look like buildings suspended in the middle of a pitch dark sky. That is the mountain. Now imagine placing the fireworks cannons on top of this mountain, so that, wherever you are in the city, you get a perfect view of whatever they shoot in the sky.

That is exactly what I saw last night. The fireworks started when we hadn't reached the river yet--like many other people still in the street with us. We looked up, and we could see each and every shot from its departure point (we couldn't see the actual cannons in the dark) to the full bloom in the sky. It was the most beautiful firework show I have seen in my life. For 25 minutes straight, there were flowers, stars, fountains, circles, twirls of all colors and kinds. Everything was so well choreographed, wonderfully arranged in the sky, with a perfect balance between repetition of the same and introduction of the new, and a specific tempo that escalated and then slowed down, for two entire cycles, until the final escalation for the grand finale. I had never seen fireworks that felt so alive, so masterfully orchestrated like a visual symphony. It was really magic.

But the real magic came right at the end, when I looked down again at the street. For an instant, nobody moved, the eyes still fixated on the mountain, everyone keeping their breath. The most impressive thing was seeing everyone's lips open in a big bright smile: Everyone was completely happy! Imagine, an entire city with their nose up in the air, a smile on their face, their hearts full of joy.

By far the best fireworks of my life.

Balance and Fight

Alex -
There are pieces of your latest post that are music to my ears. I don't really believe fully in the idea that everything happens for a reason, but I guess I do believe in some sort of universal, natural energy that brings us the experiences we need to create balance (earth energies are all about balance, after all...), even when we don't know we need them. Or at the very least, that we learn what we need to learn from all of life's experiences, good and bad. For example, I have come to learn that my back goes out every year or so, and it isn't random. It happens when I am pushing too hard, giving too much without replenishing myself, valuing everything and everyone on my list above myself. So the universe wipes me out and says: "You will lie on the floor now and be totally dependent on others to help you, and that is what has to happen to create a balance of the energy you are putting out. There must be balance. You have created one side of the scale...guess what?! This is what the other side looks like." Finally I have thought, "Oooohhhh...perhaps there is a less painful, less irritating, and less volatile form of balance to be struck here with the universe..." You wrote: "I have to say, that my perspective on life and what is important to worry about or not, continues to shape itself into an increasingly simple stance. It centers more and more on the importance of health and love and family and friends, on actively prioritising what really matters, on allowing oneself to put "me" first and feel okay about it, on appreciating that most things have a solution, and on recognising that living life feeling that one is battling stress and pressure is not a virtue but a fault. " I read that and felt like I was going to burst into happy tears. If there is a reason why the universe gave you this challenge, it is so you could feel this. And even though there may not really be a reason for this suffering (a la shit happens), this is certainly the very best lesson and gift you could take away from this experience. I read your words and the unsolicited thought that sprang to mind was, "Yay! Now this cancer can go away...mission accomplished! She's done what she needed to do!" You rock.

All that said...nobody, especially you, deserves the heartache of not being able to romp with your babe, glory in the arms of your lover, or indulge laughter and beauty. So we balance all that calm balance with the fight. Keep fighting the fucker. I love you - Lindsay

TIME OUT TO WONDER

Have you taken time out to wonder today? To marvel? To let a smile curl up the corners of your mouth? To blink your eyes just to make sure you are seeing clearly? On my 3-mile walk on a misty Friday morning, I chanced upon the above "wonderments". Wow! There were those droplets again, this time a la Tiffany - small liquid diamonds strung on a filament of such charm that I stood for at least 5 minutes as the Beltie in the background chomped the grass in an ecstasy of gluttony. I outright giggled at the thought of Oreo cows as the kids call Aldemere Farms Belted Galoways. Arriving home I heard a squeak to my left and could not figure out from where the sound emanated until, upon closer inspection, I beheld one of my chipmunks hanging out in the downspout. If it rains, which is likely in about an hour, he is going to be VERY surprised! I leave you with the following:
"Look at those cows and remember that the greatest scientists in the world have never discovered how to make grass into milk" - Michael Pupin - Inventor

Hi Alex,

I was doing some of the required reading for the adoption and I came across this quote and it reminded me of you and your latest posts.

"The truth is that progress is usually small and sneaky.  The lie is that only big will do...Big is the magic we look for first, but grace is what makes things work out against all odds.  If it were too big, it might sweep away all the bits of knowledge and insight we're granted as we go along.  If it were too big, it couldn't get through the almost invisible cracks and holes in our walls, in our stone hearts; knowledge comes in tendrils."  - Anne Lamott

The stone heart thing doesn't apply to you - maybe sometimes stubborn heart, but never stone.  Grace, though, grace is what you've got in spades, so you keep going girl!  I'm so happy to hear about the shrinkages and the pleasure and distraction that James and work provide for you.

And, I wanted to comment on the deodorant story - because what would a post from me be without a little gross in it - I too have given up antiperspirant.  I still wear deodorant, just not antiperspirant.  And man, when I noticed how much I sweat there, I was horrified and disgusted.  But I also felt like, oh my, if that much sweat needs to get out, I've got to let it out!  I can't be plugging it up!  How many years of sweat are stuck in there?!?!?  But I must still be eating toxins because sometimes I smell absolutely French.  Anyway, in solidarity, I go antiperspirantless!

The picture I've posted is a repeat to you, but I've decided to make it a mascot of sorts and a reminder of sorts - a symbol of patience and faith.  (Both of which are required in bread-baking.)

Good vibes and lots of love coming your way!

xoxoxoj

Rocket Man's mom!

Danda,

The suffering of the chemo topped with the tenderness of hand and foot seems like too much to bear, but I am so impressed again and again with your resolve to not let it stop you and give up. You are a force to be reckoned with. I hope that the doctors can find a way to lessen the pain, even if it means slowing down the chemo slightly to afford you a little more comfort in the day to day. I wish I could be there to lay clouds on the floor to give you soft cushioning upon which to walk.

I am in awe of your awareness of your every action from taking on patients to discovering you are what you eat. These are milestones in your treatment. Realizing that as much as you would like some more normalcies to life, it is not life as usual. I am glad you were able to see patients to remember who Doctor Danda is, but I am also glad you see your limitations due to fatigue—this is understandable, but sometimes you have to try something just to see where you are. You are fighting a very hard fight, you are in the middle of an endurance challenge, you are breaking records for staying in the game no matter how hard it gets-this should show you how strong and capable you are-visualize this! You have a lot on your plate!

I still giggle every time you tell us about your new shake of the day. The broccoli and cauliflower, carrots and ginger-who knew, I am two shakes away from trying one myself. Again, for the sake of discovery and learning my limitations—are you sure I am going to grow to like these?!

And James, children are resilient and children are patient. I think you show James your love in every squeeze and cuddle you give him. Every time you look in his eyes and every time you tell him your mother is a fighter. Trust me he understands your need to take care of yourself. The desire to romp with him and play in the park is only because you see other mother’s doing it, they do not see what you do for him in the garden flat and all the support and love he gets from having his family close-I am sure they would be envious of having their child immersed in that kind of love. We will all be three to tell James “Rocket Man” Murdoch what a strong and loving mother you were back when you were fighting off cancer and you will be able to smile and nod and tell James it is so!

Lots of Love and Lots of Strength being sent your way!
Lex

Summer is here!

Dear Alessandra,
It is wonderful to read your latest posts, full of determination, wisdom and hope. I was delighted to see the great news about the oral/IV treatment results! Combined with your own indomitable spirit, and the troops you've assembled, this can only lead to a successful recovery.

I've finished teaching for the summer, said goodbye to those graduating (with a few tears - some things never change!), and am about to head for Spain and visits to family and friends. This is probably the most difficult thing about living on the other side of the Atlantic, the distance between my people and myself. Sometimes they drive me crazy, but I know we are always there for each other, no matter how much we argue. I guess this sounds familiar, judging by the input from your own family and friends in this blog!!

Anyway, I will be checking in with you during the summer, not only to see how you are doing, but also to keep my own thoughts centered with what I read here. I don't know what other contributors feel, but I am continuously amazed by the depth of the reflections posted here.

Thank you all for sharing, and most of all to you Alessandra, a remarkable soul. Besos!

Dear Panda,

I've been a slow writer again, but I'm as fast in reading your posts and thinking about you as always. I send you my wishes and good vibes every day. Things at work have been a little busier than usual, unexpectedly, since in the summer you would imagine that the pace at work slows down. So I understand your need to work for the sake of what it means to you and not only to taste that normalcy that only slowly and gradually is coming back to you. I also agree that, in perspective, when time and energy are limited, we have to prioritize, and then, yes, health and family come first.

I was very happy to read of the shrinkage... lately I am shifting my visualizations from an aged toothless you--remember, we will be toothless in a picture together again (I'd never dare to imagine you toothless and with lines on your face in your old age without sharing with you the ugliness--and the beauty!--this brings with it. And now that I come to think of it, although Chiara will always be younger and a few steps ahead of us, where is she in all this? Of course with a couple of teeth more than us, but she'll be in the picture too). So, I am gradually shifting my visualizations from an aged you to a younger healthy, happy, and tanned you. Just your old you, as I know you, as I remember you from our vacations in Sardinia (hence the tan, in case you were wondering) and as it is becoming again. Slightly older, of course, and a grown up James on the side.

Hugs!

Dearest Danda - I read your latest post which seemed far and away your gentlest, as I sensed real strides forward in the battle for "calm" and "peace of mind. You are, I think, finding the "zone" which I see as the ability to read yourself and your needs and your feelings and then to act upon them. The world will not reel off its axis if you take time for YOU.

Here's a little lesson that I have found helpful. When the day moves too fast, when things go awry, when people express themselves in less than steady terms, I head for a slice of nature. It has rained here for the last two week, the ground is saturated and tempers are razor sharp. But, if one uses up a minute or two just looking at small things, the rough edges smooth. To marvel is to take the time to absorb wonder. Look at the drops clinging to the stem. They don't look uptight and harried. They look calm and patient, a refection of their place in the natural world. Each drop, as we see it, is transparent. It is like a glass windowpane giving us vision beyond where we stand. So crawl out to your patio after the next rain, or have Julian swoop you up for a look at the water drops on your deep, green ivy. Look for a drop perched on a geranium. I guarantee it will be a very calm few moments. Take some soapy dish liquid too and blow some bubbles. James will like that.

Love and hugs and peace from FROM AWAY FARM and its occupants

Love and health.

Dear All,

I have spent the past week doing cases at work. It continues to be good for the mind, although I am glad that next week will be my last set of appointments until the end of the summer, as my body has been tired. There is such adrenaline in doing parent feedbacks (especially the challenging ones I have had of late) and I play the mind game of wondering whether that is good for me or not. I trust that a "jolt" of adrenaline is a good boost to my lethargic system, but I also realise (and look forward to) focusing more on having my body experience peace and calm in the summer weeks ahead. While work is an attempt at "normalcy", it does not feel "normal" to become so easily fatigued by so little, so it can both lift my spirits and sadden me to be back in the office in this capacity. It's an ongoing adjustment, an ongoing learning lesson, an ongoing reflection on life style choices and changes.

I have to say, that my perspective on life and what is important to worry about or not, continues to shape itself into an increasingly simple stance. It centers more and more on the importance of health and love and family and friends, on actively prioritising what really matters, on allowing oneself to put "me" first and feel okay about it, on appreciating that most things have a solution, and on recognising that living life feeling that one is battling stress and pressure is not a virtue but a fault. There are things that I cannot control and which give me an angst that I must seek to manage, but there are many things that are in my control. I don't get worked up about the little things any more - it's just not worth it. One day, when (not if) I am blessed with the peace of mind of being healthy again, I know that this marathon of mine will have shaped my life to be all that more full, colourful and appreciative. I would not wish this journey on anyone, but I hope that everyone takes from my experience a pause to really think about what matters and to treasure "peace of mind". Because, when it all boils down, much of what we typically complain and stress about is really so misplaced and unimportant in the big picture of things.

My health continues to hold up well. I now force myself to no longer obsessively check the size of the tumours that can be felt... but when I do, I smile, as things keep getting smaller. I deeply dread the scans that I will have in a month, while another part of me welcomes the opportunity to tangibly confirm, "See, I am beating this f*?ker!" I start cycle three of this chemo regimen on July 2nd, and I continue to fight this fight and run this marathon with all my being, one step at a time.

The downer of the past few days is that I have developed one of the known possible side effects of my oral chemo, called "hand & foot syndrome". The soles of my feet are red and extremely sensitive to the touch, and it is very painful to walk, as it feels like my soles are one large blister. So when I stand and put my body weight on them, much less push on them to move forward, it kills. I walk like I am an old lady - tentative, tiny steps. As for my hands, my finger tips are red and swollen, as if I had burned them on the stove. I have creams and pills to try to manage these symptoms, but we may have to revisit the chemo dose I am on if they continue to be this bad. I would take pain over nausea any day, so I can handle this. And if this is what it takes to make me better, well then bring it on, I can do it.

My appetite continues to be poor, but I force myself to eat and try to get as many nutrients as possible through fluids. For all you juicers, my latest favourite combo is: broccoli florets, cauliflower florets, couple of carrots, one apple, 1/4 lime, half a red pepper, and a large slice of ginger. Sounds disgusting, but it is actually great. Also, I braved wheatgrass yesterday (it tastes and smells so strong, NOT my favourite!), and made a great juice combining pineapple, fresh mint, wheatgrass, 1/4 lime, and ginger. I truly believe that you are what you put in your body, and I have witnessed first hand how good nutrition really determines what toxins you walk around with. Maybe too personal a disclosure, but what the hell, I find it to be a perfect example: I have always been a big believer in deodorant - there should be no excuse for body odour! Well, once diagnosed, my sister immediately dictated that I should stop using ANYTHING that had chemicals in it - shampoo, toothpaste, creams etc. - all had to be organic. And deodorant was a no-no, especially given my lymph node tumors under my arm pit. The latter horrified me: I was sick and I would now stink too?! The first week was rough, but by week two, and ever since, I have not had any B.O. whatseover. Absolutely nada. My body was no longer releasing toxins, as what I was putting in it and on it was natural, and 100% healthy. It is quite extraordinary to me to think that my radical change in pursuing a very healthy diet could manifest itself so unequivocally clearly in helping me stay and be "clean" and "well".

On a different note, the meditation workshop that was supposed to be hosted this weekend has been cancelled, which is disappointing, but I am searching for other venues where I can pursue guided "quiet time". I still practice my visualisations and seek "stillness" when and where I can. One of the things that I battle with is the balance between being a good mother by looking after James as much as possible, and being a good mother by looking after myself as much as possible. I often feel guilty that I am not doing enough for him, that I don't have the energy that I should to care for him more, that I don't have the freedom to take him to play dates and activities because of my immune system restrictions. I know it is silly, as James has so much attention, love and stimulation in his day from all of the wonderful people that surround me and help me care for him. And the last thing he needs is to be smothered by me! But deep down, I still wish that I could do more and be more. I watch mothers and their children in the park, or down the street, and I long for the day when I will have the vitality that I see them have, when the "me" will be whole again. So, I seek quiet and stillness when I can, while hoping that James knows, at some unconscious level, that I am taking that time out from being with him so as to make his mama strong and well.

On that note, I attach a couple of pictures of my little munchkin. These were taken on Sunday morning, while he played on my bed with me and my sister Chiara. She nicknamed him as an infant to be "Rocket Man", as when you lift him up in the air, he sticks his legs straight out, and looks like a rocket. He loves the game, and I love the expression on his face as he "flies".

Love and health. That's what life is about. That's what this marathon of mine is all about.

MEET "TEDDY"

Lisa Smith Curreri & Barbara Ellis Cascio at From Away Farm 2008
***********

Good afternoon, Mrs. Murdoch - My name is Teddy (Bear). I am an apricot, standard poodle with a PHD, of sorts. I am a therapy dog, licensed internationally, and as such have the right to go into shops, restaurants as well as hospitals, nursing homes, and hospice.
Now this took some doing! You see, I was abused. The tale of my woe started at a breeder's kennel where I was born and raised and eventually sold for a hefty sum to an Asian family. To make a long story very short, I never made it to Asia, but was embargoed (sounds awful, doesn't it) and returned from whence I came. The hitch is that I really spent all that time in a cage with cement floor. My exercise consisted of levitating up and down with a small amount of circular pacing for variety. I want to tell you, I nearly lost my mind! But, as the fates would have it, I finally found a home.....and thereby hangs a tale which the author of this blogette will tell you.
***************
Isn't Teddy about the most wonderful face you ever saw? And I am not a fan of poodles, until now - too poofie - but not Teddy! He exudes a quiet masculinity. His confirmation is perfection, and his curly, cropped coat velvet ripples. To lay one's head on his top-knot is to go cheek to cheek with a cloud.

His owner is an elementary school classmate of mine. We first met in Kindergarten when our coat hooks were next to each other and our houses separated by a bike ride across a rose garden. Life was glorious at that age. The worst thing that happened was loosing a mitten in the snow or having the ice cream fall out of one's cone. Anyway, we had not seen each other in sixty-one years, reconnected and have enjoyed three reunions. Sadly, my friend's son passed away two years ago, and she was, quite naturally, devastated. Consolation was not in her lexicon. She is, however, one of those people who, actually, sails through life - while short in height, she is round of middle and as such, dresses in voluminous skirts with beads and sequins. Her apricot hair is piled, askew, on top of her head. Her skin is that of a peach and her eyes sparkle with intelligence. She is no shrinking violet! Anyhoo, when she had shed an ocean of tears, she decided to drop anchor and come ashore with a purpose. Having spent her corporate years in medical administration, she decided that getting close to patients might be a valuable means of assuaging her own grief as well as helping others. How? Enter Teddy. Someone to love, to hug, to cuddle, to help. Ah, help. A four-legged conduit of caring. A means of sharing, giving and receiving. She bought Teddy for a song, and he is now her symphony! He had never touched grass. Imagine the wonderment of it all! He had never run free. He had never RUN! He now self-exercises, as Barbara cannot run and can barely walk 100 yards. She travels with a wheel chair because of a bad back problem. He had never lounged on a rug, jumped up on a bed, let alone been stroked and told he was magnificent. It did not take long to see the fruits of her labor. Teddy blossomed and then went to school. He passed with flying colors! He has a special vest and collar that he wears when he "works". He has accomplished "miracles", getting people to speak to him when they have not uttered a word for months. He has put his head on the chest of a patient in pain, and she has smiled and relaxed. He is, to my friend and those she attends, a gift from God. It is a fairly simple tale, is it not? God is love, and then there's Teddy.

Escaping fear and embracing postive thinking!

Dear Danda,

Like you, I had to unplug for a few days before getting back on the blog, despite wanting to write so much. I was enjoying the freedom of coming home with no strings attached, no training to get through and nowhere to be. It was quite liberating. But admittedly I felt a little bored and began researching future triathlons! Today my hand is feeling a little looser making typing more than pecking at a keyboard! still as I peck at the keyboard. I am finally able to share my experience with you-grab a big cup of green tea-this might be a long one!

For two and half weeks leading up to the race I tended to by bad knee-stretching, icing and indulging on ibu-profen to try and heal it before the race. As race day neared the thought of damaging my knee further weighed heavily on me and beyond that the question of whether I could actually physically run on it also proved an item of discussion. On Wednesday night before the race I took a two mile run on it to see how it held up and although uncomfortable from the start I thought with mind over matter I could endure for another 6 miles when push came to shove. At that moment I thought of you and how one can endure if put to the test so although once I thought I would not race because of my knee I was suddenly thinking I would race in spite of my knee!

Then Thursday came. It was a normal day at work until I crushed a Reidel water glass in my hand while using my extra buff muscles to dry the top of the glass. Mom always said I don't do many things gently. I froze and looked at the damage. The cut was clean, but deep. Stitches were necessary. Off to the hospital I went to plead my case to the doctor about my upcoming race and wanting desperately to hear that getting Bay water in my wound would not jeopardize my health. Her response was quite the opposite. Exposing the wound to the water could lead to infection and a whole host of issues-better to keep it dry she told me. Then she warned of tearing the stitches if I was too demanding of my hand while racing. The words you don't want to hear..."you can't", " you shouldn't", "I would not recommend it". Tears. No one ever wants to be told they can't do something-Danda, does this all sound familiar?!

I went home that night defeated, thinking my goal was no longer in my reach. The next day I had pretty much thrown in the towel as my hand had little mobility. Then Saturday I woke with doubt as I spoke to everyone letting them know I was out of the race and after all the injuries I had this season maybe God was trying to tell me something...like, after 150 years the number of shark attacks in the Bay was going to go from zero to one...the day I took to the open water!?!

Then the inner-warrior in me got up the courage to get on the bike to just rule out the possibility once and for all that I could even steer my bike, let alone shift and break. Cautiously and tenderly I guided my bike up and down our street with one hand and the partial use of the other. Ok, so I could be the world's slowest bike finisher, but I could ride. My bike and I logged some miles in the past few months and have grown quite close-it is not just a piece of metal, it is Sylvie the silver Specialized bike who will help me if I trust her to get me through. Don't think that I don't talk to my bike, when I need a little extra a treat her with respect asking her to get me through in one piece.

With that out of the way I decided to tackle the possibility of swimming. I called my brother, the engineer , for some tips on water proofing objects in water. Duct tape, not the imitation kind and latex gloves he told me. Alright, I had both and would give it a shot. I also brought a dish washing glove for added protection against friction during my swim stroke. So down to the water Jeff and I went with my taped hand. Wading through the brown seaweed in my green speedo with my yellow swim cap and yellow hand must have looked like something out of the movie Creature from the Black Lagoon! Looking silly was not my concern because it is not often, if ever, that pride gets in my way, I could swim! Awesome, I was back in it! But found that my water proofing had not worked and water got into my wound. I figured with some minor tweaks I could use what I had to keep the hand dry, but then there was the question of bulk because I could not fit my gloved hand through the wrist hole on my wetsuit. More tears.

I was running out of time to make this all come together before I had to pick up my race packet. So Jeff and I loaded all my things into my car with bike on top and figured we would work through the remaining logistics after I got my race number. And indeed we did. Some really nice people at a sports store rented me a sleeveless wetsuit so I could get my hand in it. Another friend changed my tire that had gone flat days before my injury and Jeff kept me steady as I tried to get my head back in the game because I was doing this thing come hell or high water!

I did not sleep a wink the night before. I was going through checklists, thinking about the course, wondering if my training was enough to get me through, thinking about the flesh eating bacteria I could get from the water in my wound, the potential pain of sweat in my cut, the wind chime blowing in the wind that night could mean a windy day. You name it, I thought about it.

At 5am, the thinking was over and the fear set in. I have never felt so overwhelmed by fear in my life. Knees shaking kind of fear. I called home and asked my mom if I was crazy and if this was all a bad idea. She talked my down from my pedestal of doubt and told me to go and do what I could on the course and that would be good enough because at least I gave it my all.

The next thing I knew it we were all being ferried out to the "jump spot" in the Bay. I was excited and nervous and hoping that my tape job would hold up in the water. And then I jumped and swam for my life. It was the greatest feeling being out in the open water just swimming to your own rhythm, riding the waves and aiming for shore. My hand stayed bone dry which thrilled me and made me confident I was going to make it through the race. I came out of the water feeling strong.

The bike was great and breaking wasn't an issue after realizing-- who breaks in a race anyway?! I climbed the hills with gusto frequently looking down at my yellow Live Strong bracelet that I wore on race day to match Danda's and remind me of how long and hard a struggle can, but how one can prevail!

I rode conservatively hoping to save my knee for the run, taking advantage of the downhills when I had them and keeping pace on the flats. But the surprise came on the climbs. I swear to you Danda, I would take one look down at my Live Strong bracelet and think of you and I was off! I engaged every muscle in my legs and began powering up the hills. Not lethargically trudging up, but seamlessly spinning and passing people along the way. What a high! You don’t trudge, you push forward and that was my inspiration.

One more leg to go…the run. My transitions were easy, my legs felt fresh for each event, a testament to all my training on those nights when bad weather blew in and I climbed hills to keep warm. I began my run with my knee feeling a little weak, but knowing this was the last 8 miles of the race I could endure and I did. Up the hills I went again, glancing down to draw energy from that yellow bracelet that reminded me life is a struggle that we can overcome with the power of positive thinking. And once again my legs ran faster and I was picking people off as I shortened my stride and steam engined up, up, up!

The little twist they throw into the race at the 4 mile mark is having us run down a beach, turn around on a dune all the while filling our shoes with sand and run back along the beach until we hit the infamous sand ladder. The volunteers shout “only 200 something steps to climb, get after it,” never sure if that was the voice of encouragement or fact! Sand covered stairs straight up hill looked like fact. But I have to say all of these infamous climbs that put the fear of God in participants are nothing, but a little challenge. I have yet to be defeated by one-the dreaded Nasty Grade was a 5 mile bike climb up a mountain at the Wildflower Triathlon and the Sand Ladder on this course—but it is meant to make you dig deep to see if you can keep positive despite the clear lack of sympathy for how tired your legs are. Positivity will ALWAYS prevail in my book. It makes you all the stronger once you conquer what stands in between you and the finish line.

I felt that positivity when I had exited the sand ladder and was on the last ascent of the race. A coach who was cheering runners on, made my day when she called me out and said, “that….that fast cadence is what you want to get you to the top, this girl’s got it.” The smile that came over my face!! I couldn't help but get happy feet and pick up the pace even more up and in the kindest of voices, I whispered “excuse me”, “pardon me”, “on your left” all the way up the hill passing people. Amazing. I was on my way home; my knee was an afterthought because I was doing it!

Danda, on more than one occasion in the race I was overwhelmed with my sense of accomplishment, racing against the odds. And each time my thoughts would then turn to you and your fight. Your uphill battle that you are faced with and your determination to heal from the inside out. I raced this race for you and I am glad I did because it is a reminder of how strong the power of positive thinking is. Crossing that finish line was great, but there is still a great distance still to go and I will keep fighting if you will! You are my inspiration! I love you! LIVE STRONG!

Attached is the link to pics from the event!

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=r7vgfz7.bbdsh07b&x=0&y=6pohyu&localeid=en_US

Woohoo!!

What a great letter, Alex. It is so wonderful to hear about how you are, all the different parts of you. The ways you speak (so insightfully, of c ourse) about many different elements of yourself reminded me of when I was first sick with Crohn's. I was sidelined. Had to leave my job, lots of pain, couldn't leave the house...once I couldn't even make it to the next room to poop on the potty -- I had to just let her rip in the trash can in my bedroom. I happened to also be on the phone with a client at the time. That was the ridiculously absurd and surreal moment that finally made me realize I had to stop working and focus on getting healthy. So I created a challenge for myself to do something good for my body, something good for my mind, and something good for my soul every day. One day I might eat particularly well, read an engaging book, and talk to you on the phone (body, mind and soul). The next day I would do some light yoga, try to write a children's story, and walk on the beach. As time progressed, I found it harder and harder to decipher differences between my body work, mind work, and soul work. What was good for one was good for the other. What nurtured one nurtured the other. We are really whole creatures. So I love that you are working to quiet your mind so that you can heal your body. And I love that you are adoring your son and seeking nurturance from friends and family; I love that you are engaged cognitively in your own process, not only meta-cognitively, but also thinking about how to make use of your experience in your future career to stimulate yourself, and to help others. I hear how your body, your mind, and your soul are all at work, all working together, building on each other, healing each other. You go with your holistic self, sister!! :-)

I'm also feeling a bit blown away by how my dream the other night mirrors reality. You, in Dr. Plowman's office with newly re-emerging hair, hearing good news, such good news that he expressed some awe...Alex, that was my dream!!! I love that this makes me feel connected to you. I really could feel your momentum from here, even with your hiatus from the blog. and while I would rather like to give myself lots of credit for this, I really think it speaks to your unbelievably powerful energy, and the successful way in which you are engaging the healing power of love. So, I'm sending more and more and more to fill that tool bag of yours. Here it comes..........LOVE!!!!! - Lindsay

Body, Mind and Life.

Dear All,

Just back from the hospital having had my weekly bood work done, and I am here at home with nothing "scheduled" for the day. Kelly (our nanny) is back, having been off for almost two weeks as she was hit by a car (yes, you read correctly... and she is 8 months pregnant... talk about my not needing any more drama in my life at the moment... Luckily, she and baby are well). So James is in her good hands in the living room - I can hear him giggling and babbling away - and I can finally take time to write on this blog.

Body

• Health news first, as it is good! I completed my first three-week cycle of the new chemo combo (oral and IV) and it seems that my body is responding very well to it. Aside from not having much appetite and feeling very easily fatigued, I feel okay. No nausea, no feeling "unplugged", and no significant effects on my mood. So, the question that crosses my mind so many times throughout my day is, "Is the chemo working?", and my only way of trying to gauge this is by feeling my breast for the lumps and feeling my lymph node. I go through periods of obsessing about it, constantly "checking" them ("Have the lumps changed in size? Shit, they feel bigger, nope they seem smaller..." It is such a mind game). Anyway, without a shadow of a doubt, within the first two weeks of the cycle, I noticed a huge change. Whereas before I could feel my lymph node under my arm pit even just by having my arm down at my side (it was like feeling you have a golf ball under there), now I had to "feel for it to find it", more the size of a small almond. My breast used to have hard lumps, where you could literally feel their edges - now my breast is no longer lumpy, no longer hard. So, feeling good about things, and having finished the three-week course, off I go to the hospital to start cyle #2 and have my regular meeting with Dr. Plowman. I have Alex, my favourite nurse, in the room with me when Dr. Plowman arrives (By the way, Alex is one of the nicest, most helpful, and kind-hearted people I know - example: he works days as an oncology nurse, several nights a week as a police officer helping to get youths off the streets, and spends half of his yearly vacation time volunteering at an orphanage and village in Kenya where he uses his savings to pay for the children's medication.... Is he an angel in disguise?). Anyway, Dr. Plowman arrives, and examines my breast and lymph node and gives me a huge smile, saying that he is very pleased. When he leaves the room later on, Alex turns to me and says, "You were studying Dr. Plowman's face so intently as he examined you. I can see that his reaction means the world to you." I replied, "Of course it does. I want to hear, see, sense positivity. I am fighting so hard for this". So Alex added, "Well then, did you catch the comment that Dr. Plowman made about you to his colleague as he left the room?" No, I hadn't heard him. Alex grinned and shared, "He said - 'That's amazing!'" And you know me, hearing that, I burst into tears. Happy tears. Come on, body, you can do this. You can do this.

• So, I have started cycle #2, though with a change in my protocol, as Dr. Plowman wants to take advantage of this momentum. I continue to get the oral and IV chemo combo on day #1 of each cycle, but now also get a third drug (again IV) which is an antibody compound that aims to cut off the blood supply to the tumors and to prevent them from developing new blood vessels. A second dose of IV chemo (usually scheduled for day #8 of each cycle) may have to be skipped, as my white cell count takes such a hit every time and may not be able to hack the double hit.

• So, things feel positive, although admittedly, I still ride a rollercoaster at times. Hard not to be a hypochondriac when you have a pain here, and cramp there. My sternum still bothers me, but I remind myself to be patient, to believe, to trust. I can't know what is going on in my liver, so again, I have to be patient, to believe, to trust. My eyebrows and eyelashes have completely gone, but the hair on my head is growing back, so I can only be described as a "fuzz ball". I have really ramped things up on the supplement and nutrition front, as I am convinced that I am doing "better" because my immune system is being given a chance to fight back under this "milder" chemo regimen. Chiara has bought me a state of the art juicer, Julian continues to research natural interventions, and my father seeks second opinions and complimentary avenues, all with the shared goal to attack this from all sides in the best way possible. I believe in the perspective that the body is capable of healing itself if you give it the tools... I continue to try to understand and learn how my body works, what it needs, and how I can actively help it fight this f*?ker.

Mind

• My mood has been good, for the most part. I have not taken any of the anti-anxiety meds (barring that first 24 hour trial), as I did not like how they made me feel, and have found it better, at least at this point, to concentrate on how I can refocus, reframe, and relax. While I still can get very agitated in moments, I no longer experience that deep, gut-wrenching panic. I went to a meditation/healing workshop a couple of weekends ago, and it was wonderful. Hosted in a sunny loft of a yoga center, I spent the day learning the basics of Chi Kung, listening to lectures on energy and the mind's role in healing the body, and participating in group activities of healing. Led by Guy Burgs, an accomplished meditation teacher, the message was clear: in order to heal the body, you need to calm the mind - to take the mind from its restless and disorganised state, to one that is "present" and in the moment. Easier said than done, but the exercises and the thoughts that Burgs encouraged rang very true. I need to breathe. And even in the midst of this nightmare of mine, I need to be happy, for so many things. Burgs kindly took the time, during one of the breaks, to come over and sit down with me to discuss my illness. He commented that, after all of my horrendous journey so far, "I can see that you still have a lot of energy in your eyes" - I was having one of my more "vulnerable" days, and so I interpreted his comment negatively at first, dwelling on the word "still" (Yep, you're "still" here, you're not dead yet....), while later on, after a big pep talk from Chiara who helped me put the comment into the positive context of what he had spoken to me about, I took it on as he meant it: that despite how hard this fight has been so far, my body and spirit were still strong and he was impressed. Anyway, it was a wonderful day, and I am going back for a two-day weekend workshop next week. I am also attending a lecture tomorrow night given by one of his mentors, who is over from Bali. Anyway, if any of you are interested, the link for Guy Burgs' website is http://theartofmeditation.org

• James continues to be what lifts my mood the highest, in the many wonderful ways that he shows me how great it is to be him. He has found his voice in babbling strings of expressions, in giving operatic exclamations, and in testing out the many tones of language he discovers when he tries to speak with something in his mouth. He insists on standing whenever possible, and will walk across the living room, toes pointed, as you hold his hands and cheer. He seeks cuddles and hugs, and loves rough and tumble play. And music... this child adores music, and he will sit there, very still, eyes open wide, taking it all in. That is, until we dance around the room together, and then it's smiles, giggles, squeals, and the clapping of hands.

Life

• Overall, the rhthym of things feels much better, although life is far from "normal". It has been good to take on some cases at work, but I have tired myself out, and know that I must accept a much much slower pace of things. I still struggle so with my fears, and I continue to have at least one good cry a day. I still find it difficult not to worry about how everyone else is holding up and the stress that my illness has placed on their lives. It is strange to be entering "the summer" with no break or respite planned - blood work, chemo and scans dictate the weeks ahead and tie me to the hospital for now. But as the weather continues to improve, I shall spend more time in the parks near home, on my patio, and some occasional day trips to Julian's home in Sevenoaks. I hope to make the most of time with family and to plan future get-togethers with friends. And I think a lot about what I will do once I win this fight of mine - how I can help those who may not have the wonderful troops that I have, how I can put into practice what I have learned so far about self and adversity, and how I can one day "own" and represent the statement once made to Lance Armstrong that, "Those of us who have had cancer are the lucky ones in life".

Hugs to all.

Fableous Dream

Hey there -
I had the most fableous dream the other night (did I tell you the story about Tessa standing in front of her closet looking for a night gown, hands on hips, and she declared, "I need something FABLEOUS!!" Too funny. Now my favorite word.). I was with you, Alex, and you had this very cool short hair style because it was still growing back in...it was about 5 inches long and you were wearing it in this very stylish, spikey, messy way that I never would have pictured on you before this dream. But, baby, you looked hot. But I digress. So there we were, at Dr. Plowman's office, and he was telling you that your last scan showed that you were totally "clean" -- no cancer. You had kicked it. It was, well, amazing. I can't wait for that moment. I have this sensation of feeling your positive momentum...hoping it's more than a dream! - Lindsay

Oh, you already started...

I mean, you already started making a Lance Armstrong out of me! I started biking regularly in March. I've already gained about 5-6km/h in average speed and I can already cover much more distance before feeling exhausted. Not a great accomplishment compared to marathons and triathlons but, considering my standards, it is a major step. The beauty and the novelty of the land around here contribute to my need of biking. I feel that I want to explore more valleys, more paths, more woods, more lakes, and go farther and farther... and then try and go a little higher and see another view... But mostly, I started this adventure and I am able to be constant because every day I read in this blog about the accomplishments of those who, like Alessandra, keep their minds set on a goal, just go for it, every day, every time, without giving up. So, here I am, following your example, ladies. I don't think I ever did so much physical activity in my life. Be proud, it's your collective doing. You are spreading so much good energy around--and what goes around comes around! Alessandra, I send all the good energy I pick up, and hopefully also contribute to generate, to you. All of it--and a couple of pictures of my 85km bike ride last Saturday.
Hugs.

Your Turn Giovanna

Your training starts tomorrow, Giovanna. We shall make a Lance Armstrong out of you before the year is out! La Zia

In the company of exceptional women

Danda and Alexis,
No time to write much now, except to say that you obviously share some of the same DNA and have been touched by some of the same angels. Congratulations on your prowess and persistence and saying "NO!" to the possibility of defeat in any form. Meanwhile, the intrepid drummer boy there in London gives us all a vigorous tune by which to keep marching, arm in arm, along some ever-widening boulevard into a glorious future. Awesome, ladies! Hugs for you both.

HATS OFF!!

Wow, you ladies are something else! Congratulations to all triathletes and marathoners, those who do it for the feeling of accomplishment, those who do it for others, and those who do it because life forced them to. You are a great example. It's clearly time that I hop on my bike and try to do something good with my couch potato flabby muscles!
Hugs.

A Champion

Dear Alexis,

When Geoffrey told me that you had to pull out of the triathalon because you had cut your hand, requiring 5 stitches, and because your knee was complaining, I knew that you would be angry and disappointed after training so hard. Apparently your doctor more or less told you not to dream of attempting it. On Sunday I was about to call you to boost your morale when your mother called to say "she has just got out of San Francisco Bay and is on her bike!!" Alessandra, Chiara and I let out a whoop that startled little James. That is my Alexis!! Against the odds, the fighting spirit jumped to the forefront and the consequences be damned! You are a true champion and deserve a medal for pluck, stamina, perserverance and determination. You are to be admired. Congratulations and much love, Vicki

Sunday Evening.

Dear All,

Since chemo on Thursday, I have "disconnected" from phone and computer: not a conscious decision, but I guess an inherent need to tune out from electronics and to tune into my own energy as my body adjusts to a new round of meds. There are so many emails that I would like to respond to, and my answering machine informed me today that I have 26 messages, with no more room for new recordings...If only, in my periods of perceived "unresponsiveness". I could have you all feel how much you are missed and how much I think of you in so many moments of my day. I had planned to write at length today, knowing that many of you await updates and news, but instead I spent time outdoors with James, as we were graced with a sunny day. I have much to share, all good, but it will have to wait until tomorrow, as I am feeling exhausted, a side effect that I expected in what has become a familiar journey.

But one thing that I cannot leave until tomorrow to share is that my cousin Alexis, who set up this blog and writes frequently on it, just completed her San Francisco triathalon today in stellar form! You have all read about her training over the past few months and how much heart and soul she has put into the preparation. I am SO, SO PROUD of her strength and determination... and I am hoping to do her proud too, one day, when I cross my own finish line.

Hugs to all.

good morning

Hey Alex,

It is overcast in Wakefield this morning and I'm still curled up in my fleece pjs with my coffee, putting off starting the day. I don't think I have any words of wisdom yet- I haven't had enough coffee, but, I just wanted to send my love and share some good news. Wyeth Robert was born late last night at Denise's home in SF. Both baby and Denise are fine..after an excruciatingly long labor that began on the 9th....(no this is not a typo)....God bless her.

So, that's the big news of the family....I hope that Wyeth is as healthy, cute, and engaging as James....

Good luck with the chemo and please take it easy at work, my hardworking friend.
I'm looking forward to hearing about your weekend of meditation. You sound well.

Much love and strength to you.
-Julie

At the Office and Loving the Visitor.

Dear All,

A short note, as I am sitting in my office, waiting for my first client of the day to arrive. It has been good to be back at work, for the mind, for the soul, and for the body to feel that I still have it in me to do this. But, I have to say that the days have felt long and tiring, and next time around, I shall schedule things differently. Being the end of the school year, and knowing that this would be my "well week" before chemo tomorrow, I set up appointments that, with hindsight, were too close together. So, I learn, and I listen to my body, and I will change my approach.

I attach photos of my biggest hightlight while at the office these past few days... James came to visit me in my lunch break yesterday, and had a great time. In his eyes, here was a room filled with new toys! And to assure you all, no I did not test him! But it was wonderful to watch him explore. He is such a curious little boy, and the wooden rings you see here were his favourite: they are different sizes, weigh differently, you can hit them together, spin them, drop them with a bang - oh, the fun of it!

I will write more later, as I want to share about my meditation/healing workshop I went to this weekend. New chemo cycle #2 starts tomorrow and I am ready. I can do this, I will do this. Hugs to all.

I got your back!

Hi Alex,

I'm thinking of you and sending you a hug - and a visual aid for that hug.  I love this picture.

With loads of love,

Jess

Hello!!

Hi,

I love hearing that your back to work!! Even for a small bit. One step at a time!!

You really do need to get life back to as normal as it can be. I say, you Chiara and I need another visit to Wholefoods for people watching. Maybe we'll see another bull dog at the food court. I still laugh every time I think of that day, and you yelling at Chiara for taking the picture of this "bull dog" when it said no pictures, then the security guard telling us to put the camera away. You were so embarrassed!!

I just loved the movie of James drumming. Boy is he good!! So cute!! Stephen was cracking up and said "what do you expect from two intelligent parents" See that Julian, you do get some credit from him sometimes.

Another baby has joined the clan on Saturday. Charlotte Grace Johnson 6lbs .4 oz. 48 inches, 6/6/09 10:34 A.M. c-section. I saw her today and she's a little peanut. Very cute looks a lot like Jeff. She has the longest fingers I've ever seen. Very mellow personality. Rachel is so calm looks great and is going to be a wonderful Mother. I will send pictures when I get more from Jeff. Took my camera today and no battery. So far the only picture Jeff sent doesn't do her justice.

I'll call you tomorrow!!!Love ya loads and loads and wish you were here.

Eve

P.S. don't you love that photo? Were are we???

Humdinger

Dear Danda,

I have been what they call a "lurker" on your blog until now. But an active one: These posts are what I read at 4am when feeding my not-so-newborn-son-who-I-wish-would-really-start-sleeping-one-of-these-days: Lucas James Kiser (age 4.5 mos). Needless to say, I am very much in awe of your kickass fighting. I think of you every day, and it is time I actually wrote.

For this first post, a story. Lucas was born on January 20, a very auspicious day in terms of new beginnings: Both he and Obama had very full days, and inauguration proceedings made for some excellent TV during that mind-numbing labor. All went swimmingly well, except that I delayed getting the epidural a bit too long and almost went out of my mind--except for the one thing that saved me: humming.

It is funny, because I did not know about this cancer business at the time, but as I was sitting there humming through my contractions, you popped into my head. Do you remember how you used to hum when studying, while Chiara and I were busy snorting in laughter in some other room about God knows what? The first time I heard it I thought it was a vaccuum cleaner. Chiara informed me at the time that it helped you concentrate, and as I lay there some fifteen years later in the hospital bed sounding like a veritable hoover, it dawned on me that there in fact had never been, in the history of creation, a better way of focusing one's energy. All that new life, all that spirit of new beginnings, all that forging resolutely--and it was you on my mind. Funny these things, no? An auspicious day indeed.

When the anesthetist finally showed up, he behaved very much like one of those dentist types who, while suctioning your numb tongue for all the drool coming out of your wide-open mouth, ask about your holiday plans: "Oh, so you like to do triathlons? My wife is a spin instructor, might you know her?" "Oh, so how do you feel about having your first baby?" "Oh, so what do you think about Obama?" I was in such pain I couldn't answer any of the questions. After about the fifth one, he turned to the nurse: "Is she okay?"

The nurse promptly rushed to my side to see how I was handling myself. "Um," she reported, "I think she's humming?"

Happy Feet

Dear Panda,

You posted three times since I last wrote. This means that I have been slow, but also that you are more active--and this is something that makes me very happy. Lots of things you've been posting lately contributed to this happiness. For example, I really liked reading that when your uncle and aunt came to visit you all had a great time together, especially around the dinner table. These things cheer one up wonderfully and leave you with memories you want to go back to over and over for a long time. I also liked the photo of you and your uncle Geoffrey. Again I thought you look gorgeous with that haircut, more aggressive than with your usual hair pulled in a pony tail, but then again this is in perfect line with the events and with the spirit with which you are facing them. Again, I am impressed by your strength in this war.

I was so happy also to see the photo ad the video of your Mom at the race. Did I understand correctly from my Mom that she arrived second in her category? That is a great accomplishment (though I suspect she's starting to get used to the success, she's always so good when she runs a race! ;) ). Congratulate her for me. Now that I started biking with some regularity I understand how difficult it is to build the stamina to "get to the end" of a race, let alone winning!

I also loved to hear that you are signed up for meditation and relaxation workshops with your Mom and Chiara. Team work! I'm sure it's going to do you all a lot of good. Like the three musketeers you will be invincible (and James is the fourth...). I was less happy to read that the anxiety medications are not being as effective as you hoped, but I suspect that it's only a matter of time--these things take weeks to stabilize the system and become effective with little or no side effect. I'm sure you'll get there soon.

If I had not read all the things I've just listed, three things would have definitely changed my mood immediately. First, the news that the lymph node is shrinking. I completely agree we should not obsess too much on this, but I also agree that it is a huge deal, and I can't but think very optimistic thoughts after this "shift"--that's how you call it. I want to call it IMPROVEMENT! Yes, your body is doing this, and not only because of all the medications, but also because of how you are fighting. Again, you are impressive.

The second mood booster was hearing that you did an intake. Two hours of work may not seem a lot to you, used as you were to work happily very long days. But two hours certainly ARE a big accomplishment after your 7 rounds with Mike Tyson and the one new type of round you're fighting now. I'm hopeful that you will gradually be able to put in more and more hours. I believe that working will be the best healer for your battled mind.

The third mood booster is the video of James the Drummer. He is so cute! I loved how he dances with his feet to the sound of his own drum. As soon as I saw the video, I was immediately reminded of one my favorite songs, Happy Feet by Paolo Conte, which never fails to put me in a great mood whenever I listen to it (it has nothing to do with the penguin movie--it is much older). Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaOQp9zxA3w

Finally, inspired by Joe's posts, yours, and those of many others who sent you words of wisdom by great authors, I also browsed the internet in search of quotations about courage and perseverance. I'm pasting below the one that keeps coming back to my mind, although I have to admit it has a completely different tone than those posted so far...

"If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you." (Anonymous)

A big hug.

Family Huddle

Hi there -
A couple of nights ago I tried out my first ever "Family Huddle." I've always been resistant to the idea of family "meetings," but throw the word huddle in there and I'm all about it. What is the difference, my husband asks?? Well, huddle rhymes with cuddle, of course! Anyway, we had our first family huddle, and I asked the girls what is important in our family in terms of how we live our lives. Without knowing it, they generated a list of family values. I'm sharing it here for two reasons. First, it's just so darn cute and funny. Second, I realized looking at this list that these are rules you live by in your marathon struggle, Alex. And it is so notable that what is good for you is good for all -- even from a child's perspective. So, a tiny bit of background to give you the full image...Liza is 6, and Tessa is a few weeks shy of 3. This conversation happened around the dinner table, and the meal began with us spotting a bear in our back yard. Seriously. Ok, so here is the list they generated of Our Family Values:
Loving (Liza)
Don't Go Dying (Tessa)
Eat Good Foods (Liza)
Kindness (Liza)
Don't Eat Poisonous Things or Worms (Tessa)
Protect Your Body (Liza)...(Before bears come and eat you - Tessa)
Protect Your Friends and Family (Liza)
Make Good Choices (Liza)...(Like don't grab babies from your friends - Tessa)
Happy Healthy Living!! - Lindsay

Inner Peace

Hi Danda,

it feels like ages since I last wrote in the blog but I have felt uplifted reading your entries, witnessing your fighting spirit and your growing wisdom (and of course, all the wonderful and inspiring entries of your friends and family)! You are always in my prayers, and before falling asleep I quietly send you a heartfelt whisp of positive and peaceful energy. There´s nothing more beautiful in life, I feel, than to have inner peace. It´s something rare and hard to achieve but it is the basis of fully appreciating all the other beautiful presents this life gives us, as well as a source of strength in the face of life´s challenges.

I recently opened my "Sailing to Barcelona" diary and read the following entry, which I thought I´d share with you...(not the best writing but I guess you´ll get the gist:) )

"Be flexible. Work on the frame, on the essentials. Then let things flow. Trust. Believe. Be positive. Take initiative. Be ready to shift tactics with the changing winds. Pronti per virare! (a sailing term I learned at the Sardegna sailing camp) Keep the objectives clear...punto di riferimento a terra! (another sailing term) Adapt to, and make the best of, the changing winds. Trust yourself, believe in your own capacities. You are your own pillar. Know when and where to lean, how to lean on other pillars. Fight your battles constructively, gracefully. Be wise in knowing when to tighten the sail and when to loosen it. Never force. Fight but never force or the sail may break under the wind´s strength. Flexibility will get you far, to your objective. Clarity at all times. Turn a threat into an opportunity. A sudden change in wind can either stop the boat or give you a refreshing boost."

Bueno, querida, thinking of you and your family so much and wishing you love and healing (both of which you have!). I leave you with a few quotes that I hope will bring you more courage, faith and positivity (if that´s possible as you are quite a Superwoman!):

"The first steps are worthless if the path is not followed to its end." -- Parminder Singh

"You are never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true." -- Richard Bach

"Your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other one thing." -- Abraham Lincoln

"The two most powerful warriors are patience and time." -- Leo Tolstoy

"No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it." -- Albert Einstein


"When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn." -- Harriet Beecher Stowe, novelist

My Little Drummer Boy.

Dear All,

They say you should march to the beat of your own drum... but in those times when my beat falters and my march loses momentum in this marathon of mine, I am lucky to have my own little drummer boy. His beat is vivacious, gleeful and strong... and so, forward I march! I share this video with a smile on my face.

Hugs to all.

Dearest Danda - Your last post gave me far to much information to mentally chew - so many different ingredients- thoughts, questions, answers, pleas and prayers. I got quite muddled trying to come up with words that might help or in fact, possibly hinder. It was like riding the rails with you, in an uncomfortable boxcar, headed for somewhere, but where? I admit that I am rather like you, deep down. I find peace, energy and strength only when I can fully grasp a thought, a task or a nettle (remember Nanny's favorite saying - "grasp the nettle firmly"). Given this, when uncertain moments catch me and grind me to a halt, I head for what other people have to say. I wallow in quotations! I slather myself with perspicacity, profunity, absurdity, sage advice, wit, flights of fancy and everything else in between. My O my, people certainly have had much to say over time! So here are a few tidbits that I find cogent. Perhaps one will strike a responsive chord as you play your song of today.

"Fear can keep us up all night: but faith makes one fine pillow"

Faith is taking the first step when you don't see the whole staircase."

"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learniing how to sail my ship."

"When you have come to the edge of all light and you know you are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly."

OXOXOXOX old LSC