Determination

Determination: firmness of purpose sunset portland oregon summer

Since I last posted, I have been to the depths of despair and back again. This fifth journey through lymphoma was painful, literally and figuratively. I have never seen cancer the way I did this time. I was stuck in bed, watching it grow. My husband, family and friends got me through each difficult day. We tried so many things to heal me. We finally found a treatment that was stronger than the lymphoma. It was hard to tolerate, but worth it. Since finishing treatment, I have been embracing life! Walking, swimming in lakes and rivers, painting, etc. I have been eating whatever I want too! I am rebounding. It's been two months since treatment ended. I'm still finding my way, figuring things out, unsure of my future, grateful for every minute I can bend at will, jump, walk -- everything I could not do for months.

As for my work? Who knows. I am my work and my work is me. HOW I share it and live from it is another story to be written. I wanted to capture some of my thoughts here, tonight. I cannot compare myself to anyone else, any more. It serves zero purpose, even though I do try sometimes. I am determined to live fully, with love and in color. That's all I know for sure.

A Healing Journey

I am on a healing journey. I have been tuning inwards more and more as I work to heal myself. I soak up wisdom about intuition. I have learned I can now clearly hear my intuition (unlike before) and now it's time to act on it. Days before Christmas, I could see the lymphoma activating again, where it had been quiet since October's biopsy. Discouragement was quickly replaced by disappointment and then, a decision to trust my intuition which was guiding me towards alternative and holistic cancer treatments.

winter sun

I'm no longer angry at lymphoma or at war or in a battle with my body. I am working with my body. I now view lymphoma as a symptom of an imbalanced system. I truly believe that I have the power to heal myself and that my mind, my body and my spirit know exactly what to do. It is my job to give my body the support it needs to do its job.

So I have now assembled a holistic team to work on helping my body do what it needs to deal with the lymphoma, On Team Jess: Dr. Dave, a naturopathic oncologist, Dr. Rebecca, my regular naturopath for the past 9 months, Elie, a gifted acupuncturist I have been seeing since September, Mary, a specialist in psychoneuroimmunology, Dr. Serena, who specializes in NET. I also have a traditional oncologist, Dr. M, on the team who passed my bedside manner test and is in charge of my PET scans. I started an aggressive protocol with Dr. Dave yesterday, the next 9 weeks will fill my days with supplements, mind/body work, and daily exercise. I am patiently waiting to bring on a functional nutritionist to work on my long-term nutritional healing plan to correct what is probably a lifelong imbalance in my system.

fern

I chose a word for the year very carefully after last year's unintended manifestations. JOY. In all of my reading about the emotional and psychological causes of cancer, distress and lack of joy were common themes. I have had to revisit my childhood and young adulthood these past months, and do some healing work around the traumas I experienced. It's hard work but it's worth it. I am making great progress in opening my heart to myself and allowing my sadnesses to flow through me instead of holding them back in a tight well as I have for many years. I now invite joy into my day every day. For example, a couple of weeks ago, I set an intention and entered a giveaway for Flora Bowley's Brave Intuitive Painting e-course. I won one of the five spots! Painting brings me such deep joy and to start my year in Flora's magical and capable hands while I am doing my protocol is a certain kind of alchemy.

painting

I am finding that some people have quite a bit of fear around the idea of not choosing conventional treatments for cancer. I certainly had my fears and I am doing the hard work to release them. I have only pursued conventional treatments up until now. It has been nine years since I needed treatment and I am a different person now. I want to try something different. Plus, I know that my intuition leads me to making good decisions and ignoring my intuition has led to making bad decisions in the past. So I take one step at a time. I listen to my heart and my inner voice. I lean on my team. I take daily actions to live as long and as healthy as I can. Misao Okawa is my new hero, her advice is to eat well and get a lot of sleep. Okay then Misao! I'm on it.

Misao Okawa

Photo credit: Reuters/Kyodo

I am making radical lifestyle changes. First it was my diet in October and now it will be daily exercise and joy. I am releasing work for right now. I am my work. I am my full-time job.

I am on a healing journey. Yes, yes I am.

10 Tips for Dealing with a Cancer Relapse

 

photograph of a stack of books on healing from cancer

my current stack of books

I have been in remission from lymphoma since 2009. In 2011, I discovered a lump in my abdomen. Many doctors felt it, looked at it and told me confidently that it was a benign lipoma. This summer, the “lipoma” changed in size and shape and on September 25th, I found out it was actually lymphoma again. My world fell upside down with this news, especially coming less than a month after my husband’s dramatic bmx accident (which happened only a few weeks after we moved into our newly purchased house). I chose the word WILD for my word of the year so, I will be more careful about what word I choose next year.

Here are my 10 Tips for Dealing with a Cancer Relapse

1. When you find out the bad news, let the emotions flow fast and furious. Fall to your knees in grief. Ask why and have that pity party. Cry until you can’t anymore. Lean hard on your inner circle. Hold hands with your loved ones, squeeze their hands. Take your shoes off outside and feel the earth literally under your feet because right now, you feel like it was ripped from you. Go fully to the dark places, just do not stay there for more than two weeks.

2. Find a mantra and say it endlessly. I have two: 1) Right action is taking place right now and 2) Every day in every way, I’m getting better and better. Ask everyone you know to say them with you and for you.

3. Identify your core purpose in life. Write it down. Hang it up where you can see it every day. Read it out loud to yourself as often as possible.

4. Delegate things immediately. You are overwhelmed with the loss of your health after you worked hard to regain it and thought you had secured it. This is a blow. This is not a time for you to do it all. Let people take over your volunteer commitments. Let people make you dinner. Let people take your kids for a playdate and bring them home from school. Let people do your grocery shopping and water your plants.

5. Remember the wisdom you gained when you dealt with cancer in the past. For example, you can and MUST fire any doctor who does not ooze positivity, optimism and encouragement in your presence. Your doctors should, and I use that word rarely, first and foremost remind you that you are going to be okay. Then they can talk details. If your doctor is panicking, you do not have to follow suit. Breathe. If you have to stand barefoot on the grass all day and breathe till you feel better, do it. Then get a second opinion no matter what. Remember, these are all opinions and points of view. You don’t have to make a decision about what to do or how to proceed the day you get an opinion. Write yourself the following note: “This is an opinion. This is not a decision.” Hold your note in your hands during medical appointments. Look at it frequently. Let the tape recorder remember everything. If the opinion is negative, trash the recording.

6. Tune in to your mind, body and spirit. Remember in step one how you asked why your cancer came back? You got your huge, scary emotions out and possibly fired doctors so that your intuition can now guide you to the answers you need to hear. Do the work that you have identified that you need to do.

 

crystals

7. Be open minded. Try acupuncture. Try holding a crystal in your pocket or putting one under your pillow at night. (I recommend black tourmaline and smoky quartz). Try smudging. Try guided meditations. Try reading about non-Western cancer therapies. Try learning about alkaline vs acidic foods. Try quitting sugar. Try putting lavender essential oil on your wrists whenever you start feeling upset, and especially at bedtime. Try dry brushing. Try oil pulling. Try reading books about how your body is designed to work and what you can do to help it succeed.

8. For parents, be honest with your kids. Honesty means saying things like, “I found out there are some bad things happening in my body and I’m sad about that. I’m gathering information. I will decide what to do about it soon. There are also awesome things happening in my body. Meanwhile, I love you. Can I have a hug?” (Did you know we need 12 hugs a day for optimal health?) Set a tone of positivity without ignoring that a health crisis is stressful and causes sadness. Use age appropriate language of course.

magic light

 

9. Find something beautiful around you every single day. There is still magic all around you. You need to see it more than ever.

10. Trust yourself implicitly, even if it causes conflict with medical professionals. No one cares about you more than you.

I have to be honest, after a long remission I was out of practice for dealing with the cancer world. I have used every single one of these tips in the past 26 days. The knowledge that my staging PET scan was all clear except for the known abdominal mass has deeply bolstered my strength. I asserted my rights as a patient and insisted on a full surgical biopsy of the mass, which was successfully removed two weeks ago today. I am traveling for a second opinion at Stanford this week. I have been treated there in the past.

 

post surgery

selfie taken 10 minutes after arriving home from surgery,

feeling awesome to have that #*%! out of my body!

I am healing from the inside out, I quit sugar on October 2nd and I feel fantastic and healthy. I feel grounded with the earth beneath my feet. My heart is more full of love and gratitude than ever. I have more work to do, I know, but I am on my way. I affirm to myself every day that my body is capable of miracles, as evidenced by my last relapse, also in one location only and which went away “spontaneously” which I now recognize as my body doing what it was designed to do.

I have a big story to tell, that I identified after using tip #6. Stay tuned.

Giveaway Time for One Branch Postcard Subscriptions

I'm so pleased to announce that Bonnie Christine from Going Home to Roost and I have partnered to offer a beautiful giveaway for my One Branch Postcards. Winners will receive a special edition 8x10 print of the custom illustration that Bonnie created for me.

blog image

All of the details are on the giveaway blog post on Going Home to Roost, including how to enter. The givewaway ends on 12/15 at midnight Eastern time.

handmade northwest sweet eventide photography booth display

You can view every image in the One Branch Postcard subscriptions collected on this new Pinterest board. It is the first time I have shown all the images in one place! Go enter the giveaway, I hope you win!

One Branch: Cancer Profiles

I would like to profile some of the people and charities that are connected to One Branch, my postcard subscriptions for people to support loved ones with cancer. one branch cancer support postcard subscription by sweet eventide photography

I will start with the one I know the best, me. If you are new to my blog, you can learn a lot about me by reading this Willow Glen Resident newspaper article written about me in 2005. I was training for a century with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society that ultimately I was unable to do because of my lymphoma acting up. Team in Training is celebrating their 25th year of fundraising for blood cancers. Back in 2005, I raised $6,000 for research and I hope One Branch sales will add to their coffers.

Saturday, May 11th was the 13th anniversary of my lymphoma diagnosis. I still remember the phone call, but the rest of the day has disappeared from my memories. I remember before the call, and I remember the call, and I remember feeling 1,000 things at once after I hung up the phone. Then, I remember nothing. I am sure a lot of people can relate to that feeling of the world screeching to a halt. Last year on my NHL anniversary, I dedicated my post to my Stop NHL family, cancer survivors everywhere and all those left behind.

It's more poignant than ever to me now, seeing what my sweet friend and mama Meri is going through with her precious daughter. Stay tuned for the next cancer profile!

Ten Years

Jeff and me in April 2002, 
at the Ride for the Roses finish line.

Ten years ago today, I was diagnosed with lymphoma. I was 29 years old.

Like the yellow sign says, I am a survivor. When this photo was taken, I had no idea how many times the beast would come back, although I was totally terrified of it recurring even once. I am now a four-time survivor. I'm even stronger than I could have possibly imagined at the end of that 42-mile bike ride in the Austin heat.


Jeff asked me, "How is this day for you?"

I have anticipated this day for months, but I don't have an easy answer. Ten years ago, I couldn't have possibly anticipated this day. When I think about the past decade, it's all so complicated and jumbled, yet simple and concise.

Kind of like life.

Driftwood

This is some driftwood I passed on the beach in Pajaro Dunes.


A week went by in the following ways: a PET scan and results*, a weekend trip to the beach with family and the first sickness of the season has set up camp. I will catch up eventually!


*The scan results were better than expected; there are no new areas of cancer, two of the prior three decreased a little and the third increased as I knew it had. I am holding steady Freddy. No treatment yet, next scan in February.

Brutal

I have three friends whose children are in major medical battles right now: Emily was the first, then Lauren, followed quickly by Caitlin.

It doesn't matter that I hadn't kept up with Traci (high school) or Gordy (Long Beach State) for years. Cancer, tumors, chemo brings people together in a heartbeat, bridges all kinds of water.

I follow all of their blogs multiple times a day for the past several months. I cheer for the ups and try to help during the downs. My heart is pounding now as I read this post on Lauren's blog.

Universe? I feel helpless. How much can people take? But really now? How much....? I am at a loss for words and I'm terribly, terribly, terribly sorry for what is happening to this family.

From Blue to Yellow

Friday's PET results left me quite blue. It's not exactly surprising once you've relapsed to find out from a PET machine that the cancer is actually growing. No, not a big whopper there. Still, in between scans I tend to piece my life together such that I don't spend waking hours actively thinking about stupid lymphoma. Then PET time arrives and really, there is no place to run, no place to hide.

Also my lymphoma? Apparently has a short attention span or has wanderlust because it does not like to return to places it has already been. This time it is checking out my aorta, saying "hmmm, wonder what that's like?" I say "Stay the fuck out of it!" That's what. "You are near it, that's beyond my limit."

So. I am rattled and blue by this little aortic adventure my lymphoma is on and to counteract all that blue, I decided it was time to bust open that gallon of Cornsilk I bought a month ago. A little furniture rearranging also never hurt anyone and I have a lifelong love affair with that activity.

Welcome to our new bedroom!



before & after (east wall)




before & after (west wall)




before & after (south wall)

There is more goodness planned for the "office" area of the room. The best thing about this new layout for me is that when I walk down the hall to the kitchen or bathroom, I am no longer assaulted by state of the desk and its endless work. I swapped out the the view on the dresser also so I can be reminded of Maui countless times throughout the day. The bedroom makes me feel calm now which is the antidote I needed after Friday.

P.S. The lighting was very tricky for photos this morning but I was too excited to wait!

A Binder Project

I have so many of these white binders filled with medical bills and Estimate of Benefits (EOBs). EOBs flood my mailbox like yellow pollen from an oak tree on a spring day. It is hard enough to be a cancer patient but the amount of paperwork and headache it all creates is truly adding insult to injury (but that's not the point of this post).

I had this idea awhile ago that if the binders are prettier to look at, I might be more inclined to look at them and use them. So, the point of this post is Paper. The Glorious Healing Powers of Paper! Okay that's a bit melodramatic, but they do heal my spirit a little bit. Now I just need to get more paper as I only bought one sheet to see if it was a good idea.


Evil Medical Binders "Before"


Evil Medical Binder "After"

Definitely a good idea! :)

Steve and Tommy

When I was 25, my uncle Steve died at the age of 35 on Cinco de Mayo, ending a 10-year saga of medical drama that started when he was 25.

That's a lot of 5s, I never noticed that before.

Funny how one little sentence cannot possibly convey who Steve was, what happened to him, when, where and how he died and surely, we'll never know why. I know that my dad's only sister was the most dedicated caregiver to her high school sweetheart who was the father of three children. I know that lots of people participated in Steve's journey and caring for my cousins so their mom could care for their dad. And then, in a torturous 36-hour finale, we said good bye to him.

Until that weekend, the only other contact I had with death was my dad's dad who died when I was nine. I didn't know him very well. Frank Valli (born Valinotti) was a man who was a New Yorker in every fiber and cell of his being and at the time of his death, he had been a fish out of water if there ever was a human version. He moved from NYC to sunny San Diego for his daughter Jo, who fell in love with California while visiting her bro -- my dad. Can you only imagine? A teenage girl seeing California for the first time?

But those are stories for another day. On May 3, 1996, I left San Diego for another visit to the hospital to see Jo, Steve, Scott, Christina and Thomas. It was one of many times I headed up I-5 to see them that year. And even though it wasn't my dad who died, it was the most traumatic thing I had ever experienced. It is awful when someone dies, more when they're young, more when they've been sick, more when it was for a long time, more when they've fought like hell against every setback, more when they are loved by their wives tirelessly and endlessly, more when they leave three beautiful children behind.




These three beautiful children have been left behind now too. Their dad Tommy, and their mom Kerstin? I have been in the lymphoma battlefield with them for nearly 8 years now. Can it be that long? But what does it matter how long, it only matters now that he is gone.

Since Steve died, I've gotten more experienced with death. My dad died three years later and my beloved grandma followed her son a few years after that. They are all buried together in San Diego: my grandpa, my dad and my grandma. Then my college roommate Corey died tragically when Jaden was one. He is also buried in San Diego. Then my Harpo. Oh Harpo. She is not in San Diego. Most recently (for now, as such is life) Opa died, he was the oldest person I knew to die and in the six years that I knew him, he taught me a lot about family & what it means.




Since I wrote this note in Austin almost five years ago, my lymphoma family has lost more beautiful and brave people. Back then, our other Kerstin had lost her Shawn, another brave husband and father. Now in the past year Cleo lost CW, and we all lost Trudi, our online matriarch. We had a good long streak going, but it will never be long enough for me. It wasn't long enough for Tommy.

Each death is different, just like each life was different of course. It makes sense when I think about it that way. But death to me continues to be senseless. Why do we have to die when there is so much living to do? I have (almost) always wanted to cling to life eternally. In elementary school, when I was taught that our sun could burn out "someday" -- I cried thinking about life ending everywhere. I still cry. I have learned more about life through all of these deaths, some lessons stay strong, others ebb & flow, but all are in my heart.

I could ask my aunt Jo now for some advice to give to Kerstin, but I already know a little of what she will say. "In the beginning, you will get out of bed each morning because your kids require you to get out of bed. And that might be it, the only reason you get up for awhile." I was there when someone gave her that advice.

As for how to transition back to the non-hospital world after MONTHS of the hospital life? I remember some of that too because I was there for that part also. Find some joy and hold on to it because that is what Steve and Tommy did, they held on as long as they could to the love and joy they gave and received. Jo is one of the best that I know at finding joy, not sweating the small stuff and having fun every single day.

Tommy, Kerstin, Cody, Riley and Hannah, I am sending a whole lot of love is coming straight up the West Coast tonight. Soon, I will send the fun. For now, je suis triste, tres tres triste.

The Letters are Helping

Got an update from my Stop NHL board tonight on the Bexxar/Zevalin issue, so wanted to share it with all of you who have taken the time to write and email your representatives.

ACTION ALERT: ALL, Especially NM, OR,IA,UT,ME,AZ,KY,ID,KS,NV residents

RE: The CMS issue that will make two potential lymphoma cures unavailable to patients because of calculation and classification errors.

We have just learned that the Senate bill that will include "our" language to save Bexxar and Zevalin will be marked up on Friday, not (today) as we had originally thought. We understand that this delay is actually encouraging because members want this to happen and they need extra negotiating time.

It appears that Senator Bingaman of New Mexico is close to agreeing with the members who want this. We can all help to persuade him by calling his office at (202) 224-5521. You probably won't get through to his assistant for CMS issues, but you can leave a message that you are calling about CMS-1392-FC as it relates to Bexxar and Zevalin and say that you hope Senator Bingaman will agree to hold the 2007 rates in place during 2008.

Senators are more responsive to their own constituents, so if any of you live in New Mexico, you will carry more weight than those of us who don't live there - so you may be able to get through to his aide for CMS affairs, who is Frederick Isasi. The rest of us can leave messages with the person answering the phone. Every message counts at this point - but New Mexico, we need you more than ever!

Thanks for your continued support! The saga continues and we'll update you as we know more.

Other Senators that have not committed include:

Ron Wyden (D-OR)
Nicole Tapay: 202-224-5244

Charles Grassley (R-IA)
(202) 224-3744

Orrin Hatch ( R-UT)
Pattie L. DeLoatche : (202) 224-5251

Olympia J. Snowe (R-ME)
Bill Pewen: 202-224-5344

Jon Kyl (R-AZ)
Jennifer Romans: 202-224-4521

Jim Bunning (R-KY)
Holly Santry: 202-224-4343

Mike Crapo (R-ID)
Katie Oppenheim: 202-224-6142

Pat Roberts (R-KS)
Jennifer Swenson: 202-224-4774

John Ensign (R-NV)
Andrew Shaw: 202-224-6244


And from Karl's Lymphomation site, here is an idea of what to say if you call, as well as a complete list of contacts to call.

You might tell the receptionist:

My name is ______. Please direct my message to the health staff. I am asking the Senator to amend the CMS ruling to restore reimbursement rates for Bexxar and Zevalin to 2007 rates during 2008. (I/my friend/my loved one) needs this invaluable treatment for lymphoma -- a common, and sometimes fatal, blood cancer. Thank you.

My Letter

I am a patient with follicular non-Hodgkins lymphoma. I was diagnosed when I was 29 years old and have received treatment three times in 7.5 years. Just last month, I found out the cancer is back again. My husband and I have a four-year-old son.

I am contacting you regarding a CMS ruling that will have a devastating effect on the survival of patients with lymphomas. The ruling is contained in CMS-1392-FC as it relates to Bexxar and Zevalin.

If this ruling is not reversed, patients in need will be denied access to a life saving therapy, and future patients will be denied access to Bexxar or Zevalin and similar targeted drugs.

The last time I was treated for my lymphoma in September of 2005, I received Bexxar at Stanford. It was by far the easiest treatment I have endured and it gave me 23 months of remission. When my oncologist told me I was relapsing, my first thought was to see if I can receive Bexxar again; if not, Zevalin.

To find out one month after my biopsy that both Bexxar and Zevalin are at risk of becoming inaccessible to me and thousands of other lymphoma patients leaves me feeling more hopeless than at any time in my 7+ year cancer journey. It is hard enough to get a cancer that typically strikes an older patient population (60s and up), it was hard to go through chemotherapy with a five-week-old newborn as a first-time mother. It has been hard relapsing twice since giving birth. But my husband, son and I get through these challenges with the support and love of our family, friends and amazing doctors.

This CMS ruling leaves us in anguish. Forget all the insurance woes we have dealt with and the financial repercussions of living in a high-cost of living state coupled with a serious medical condition at such a young age. To know that even if we could come up with $25,000 to buy Bexxar ourselves, we will not be able to have access to this drug, that is unthinkable.

Are the folks at CMS going to come explain to my son that Mommy has to receive standard chemotherapy and be sicker than ever when there is cutting-edge therapy on the market like radioiummontherapy? I think not. Do they understand that my form of lymphoma has had standard therapies for over 40 years and is classified as incurable with those standard therapies (i.e. traditional chemotherapy)? Do they understand that unless we support and encourage the research for these novel therapies like Bexxar and Zevalin, I face an uncertain future. At least with RIT, there is hope. They are taking away my hope.

Even the medical experts cannot believe this ruling, and that RIT is being called "diagnostic" which is a bold lie. ASH (The American Society of Hematology) has written: the CMS ruling will have “a chilling effect on the development of future drugs and radiopharmaceuticals for treating other forms of cancer and other diseases.”

ACTION NEEDED

I respectfully request that you take all necessary actions to reverse CMS-1392-FC as it relates to Bexxar and Zevalin.

For background on the consequences of this ruling to patients, please see the Newsweek article of Nov 14: (http://www.newsweek.com/id/70301).

With great sincerity,
Jessica Nichols