Life Lessons Radio Show

After a whole month on "break" from chemotherapy - today was a chemo day that happened!

During this past week, I was interviewed by Judy Simon, for her radio show, Life Lessons, which airs on Arutz7 Israel National Radio. The show aired this evening and is now available online.

Click Here to be redirected to Israel National Radio


You can also listen directly below:

In That Dream

I haven't slept well for quite a few nights and tonight is the same (it's nearly 3 AM). The anticipation of a PET scan and impending results is a special kind of hell. I hesitated about writing any of this at all....

I'm afraid to write anything because the road ahead of me is still long and winding. I stopped living from-chemo-to-chemo.  I found my own way to keep going and enjoy life in spite of an uncertain future. At times, I'm able to put cancer completely aside. This Journey has taught me that I need to let go. I need to embrace love, faith, and happiness. I stopped focusing on, The Fight, and "the killing" of cancer, and also, perhaps especially, I began focusing on the healing.

This afternoon, as David and I trembled with anticipation, my oncologist told us that the results of the PET CT scan are the best we could've hoped for! It shows that the tumors are responding well to the treatment!

It's an enchanted gift wrapped in a daringly fragile bow and I want to grab it and run. It's like being in that dream where you try to speak but you have no voice. You try to run but your body moves in slow motion.  Keeping my eyes on the horizon, I have to jog forward.... completely embraced in love and support and prayers. Miracles happen every single day and this one is mine.

Which Hat Shall I Wear?

Tomorrow could be a very important day. I'm not being philisophical or metaphorical.

I'm gearing up for a very scary meeting with my oncologist. 

I underwent a PET CT scan yesterday. Tomorrow, we receive the results and there's a possibility that my future depends on the outcome - my treatment certainly does.

The last PET scan told us that the tumors were spreading and growing quickly. I immediately began chemotherapy treatment with Carboplatin and Gemzar. After one treatment, my blood counts plummeted and I was unable to continue treatment for a number of weeks. I received a lowered and delayed dose of Gemzar and my blood counts were, once again, depleted. My oncology team decided to switch me from Carboplatin to Cisplatin, in hope that my blood would respond better. I've never been so sick in my life! Three days after treatment with combined Cisplatin and Gemzar, I basically got into bed and couldn't do much for an entire week. My blood counts reached an all time low and I haven't had chemotherapy since... nearly a month. The good news is, my CA125 cancer markers went down significantly after only one dose of chemotherapy. We are optimistic.

I feel like I've arrived at a crossroad. Which direction will this cancer Journey take me next? We received word from Champions Oncology that my mice, at Johns Hopkins, are living it up, healthy and cancer-free. Great news for the mice; terrible news for me. Based on the results of the PET CT, we'll know if and how much those few chemo treatments had an impact on the cancerous tumors. We'll find out if there's been progression of disease or triumph over it. We'll also find out if there are tumors that can be accessed and removed. If tissue can be safely removed, I'll have a second chance at receiving designer chemotherapy. My tumor/s would be grafted (again) into mice and flown to Johns Hopkins for further research and testing.

Tomorrow could be a very big day. I'm preparing myself for feeling some powerful emotions.

How about this hat? Should I wear it to my appointment tomorrow? 

I'm leaning towards a yes on the hat...

Live, Love, #happylanche

Before I close my eyes for sleep

I pray to God

Sometimes I weep

First, I thank Him for so many reasons

My husband

My children

The changing seasons

Second, I ask Him for many means

Much strength

And safety

A cancer cure please

I don't worry I'll die before I wake

I believe in Him

My soul, He'll take

My fear is mounting and it's painful

Not now

In the future

Gone from my place at the table

A new woman may come to stay

New wife

New mother

Not sure if that's okay

I will keep dancing in my happiness avalanche

Every moment is a blessing

Live, love, #happylanche

At first I feared that posting this might lead to upset however I think it's healthy and normal to express feelings and emotions... even if it's fear or something that seems negative. We all have fears. Expression of even our deepest fears can lead to release and that release eventually leads to enhanced faith and happiness. This is mine. Tonight, as I lay me down to sleep....

Metastatic Happiness

I am happy.

If a stranger were to bump into me on the street, for the first time, they might think that I'm a woman with a very funky buzzcut. I don't think they would know what lurks under my physical facade. 

I smile.

I laugh.

I AM happy.

I have all of the prerequisites for being happy:

I'm married to the man of my dreams.

I'm blessed with five wonderful children.

I have the best parents, brothers, sisters-in-law, nephews and niece.

I'm blessed with a loving and supportive extended family.

I'm blessed with caring friends who are so fun to spend time with.

I live in a loving supportive community.

I believe that there's One God above and He is good.

I live in the Holyland.

I have an awesome pet dog.

I enjoy my life.

I feel loved.

Today, I needed to fax my medical papers to Bituach Leumi (Social Security) and when I stopped to read my own PET scan results and pathology reports, I felt like I was reading someone else's disastrous nightmare. Surely I cannot be the site embodying such an aggressive and nasty colony of cancer! I'd forgotten so many of the details. How can it all be true?

I'm happy. I chose this happy path that I'm on... Not the cancer. Life.

I want to spread it around... Like cancer spreads. Not only do I want to infest my world with the joy and love that I feel, I want my happiness to metastasize to every person I know and every person I meet along the way.

That's all I have to say for now.

Cancer Journey Milestones

On my sometimes hideous, sometimes beautiful Cancer Journey, I've accomplished many milestones. I'm aware that some people question whether or not having a life threatening illness, like cancer, should even be a defining attribute in life. I like the saying, "You're not fat, we all have fat but that isn't what defines you... you also have fingernails but you are not fingernails".  I'm not my cancer and my cancer isn't me however it's presence in my life has changed something about me in almost every single important aspect of my life and my being. This Journey has a timeline which has created a pattern in my history that can never be erased.

Examples of these milestones include my original surgery in July, 2012, beginning chemotherapy in September, 2012, and especially completing chemotherapy in January, 2013. I can almost think back to the occasion of completing chemotherapy with nostalgia *sigh* and in those days having hope that I was cured of ovarian cancer and free to live out the rest of my life almost like any other 30-something year old mother, wife, daughter..... But then there were other milestones. The clear CT in February, 2013. A general feeling that something was wrong began in April, 2013. An ache, a pain, nausea, and vagueness that I couldn't quite put into a specific ailment or complaint but I knew something was wrong. Intuition. That's when I began going back to my doctors too often. I had blood tests, mammography, ultrasounds, colonoscopy. Everything was normal but I felt so abnormal! There were moments that I worried I'd become the fragmented leftovers of my disease. Perhaps I just couldn't move on with my life and that terrified me to my core. In July, 2013 the CT showed free fluid in my abdomen and I knew then that the cancer was back. Now, in hindsight, I can admit and share that I knew, without the fear of being called alarmist or hypersensitive or G-d forbid something worse. I went on to enjoy one of the happiest summers of my life even though I knew something was wrong inside my body before it was detectable. I've experienced this type of awareness or self diagnosis every time it's been necessary. Once with an extremely rare and aggressive tumor in my parotid gland in 2011 and again about 6 months before my original cancer diagnosis. The same intuition has told me on countless occasions that I'm safe and healthy. Through 5 pregnancies and births, that inner intuition was there for me. When doctors feared the worst about my son and wanted to do invasive tests and amniocentesis, I knew we were both healthy and was so sure that I turned down every single test even under great pressure and the dismay of my doctors. It's not a fine tuned gift. Just knowing something is wrong isn't enough to save the day but I've come to accept the reality of intuition and I believe that it's another one of our Creator's greatest miracles that exists in every living being that He created.

I remember another milestone. December, 2013, I received confirmation that the fluid in my abdomen was cancerous. I remember feeling such relief; macabre ecstasy that I could finally relax. I could stop looking and searching because they finally found where it was hiding. I could rest and leave it up to my doctors to solve. From then until now, the journey has certainly changed. We had some hope that I could undergo a drastic surgery and heated chemo procedure which was nixed as soon as my first PET CT results came back, in January, 2014, showing metastatic disease deep inside my liver and next to my lungs, heart and diaphragm. Stage IV cancer. Our hope was raised again with the possibility of biologically personalized oncology. In January, 2014, I underwent surgery to remove a tumor situated between my right lung and my heart. The tumor was then analyzed and grafted into mice who were then flown to Baltimore, to Johns Hopkins, to be grown into a full blown Cancer Mouse Army, so scientists could test different treatments out on the Mouse Army instead of on me. In the meantime, the cancer continued to spread and we could no longer wait patiently. I began chemotherapy again in March, 2014. 

Here we are. Today.

The good news is, after only one chemotherapy treatment, my CA125 markers went down 20 points! That is great news! For what it's worth, apparently, the type of ovarian cancer I have isn't very sensitive to being tested for the CA125 markers and remained within normal range even though I had cancerous tumors. At one point, right before I began chemo again, my markers did go up into an unhealthy range and they're now back down which seems to indicate that the treatment is working.  I'm comforted that a combination of prayer, love, support, and my amazing medical team and treatment are to praise for the success. 

...And how are the mice? The mice are still at Johns Hopkins though they've yet to show any signs that the cancerous grafts are growing. That means that so far, we haven't had a successful outcome with the biologically personalized oncology and we are still hoping and praying.

Tomorrow is chemo day yet again. I finally recovered enough, yesterday, to enjoy feeling like a human. I participated in the best Israel Independence Day yet, here, at home with so many of the people that I love all around me. That's a Life Milestone.

Sometimes the Truth Hurts

"If you had to think of the absolute worst thing that could happen to you, what would it be?" 

"If G-d forbid someone that I loved was sick or hurt or....."

"No, not someone else. YOU. What's the worst thing that could physically, actually happen to you?"

Imagine, G-d forbid, that "thing" is happening.... To you.

It's happening. To me.

A couple of days ago, I cracked. Again. The umpteenth person sent me a text message that said, "How are you feeling?" and I cracked. I broke and I wrote about it here, on this blog.

The response has been very interesting. Mostly loving and understanding. Questions. What is the right thing to ask? Or say? Part of me feels guilty and sad. I could've held back and kept those emotions to myself because some of the feedback shows me that not everyone understands what I was trying to say.  I am not angry about being asked how I'm feeling. When you ask me, how are you feeling, you're showing me that you're  thinking of me. I get it. But, before you ask me or anyone, please think about the question and think about how you would be feeling in that situation. 

Well, what exactly is the situation? The situation is, an advanced, life threatening illness that has already defied treatment. An illness that is getting worse and usually ends in death. I'm publicly trying to defy the odds. I'm trying and succeeding at finding meaning and happiness in the blessings that come with this life threatening cancer. 

Right now, the treatment is killing me quicker than the actual cancer. Yesterday, we went to the hospital, hooked up to fluids, had blood tests and the results show that I have half of the lowest normal white blood cell count. With a level of 0.6 neutrophil count, I appreciate the miracle that I am pretty darn healthy. With a WBC of 2, I'm very lucky to be fever-free and walking around like a regular person. These miracles amaze me. I'm happy that I'm this well! When my doctor told me I cannot receive treatment, I cried. Am I losing this? Am I dying? Is the cancer taking over? What's happening??? The answer, "We don't know". How would you feel about that?

I have a lot of emotions and obviously I don't and shouldn't share them all with the world. I don't write about what I'm feeling or going through on a daily basis. Usually I write when something profound or especially poignant happens in my life or in my heart. 

I think about how I've reacted to illness and death around me. Have I always said and done the right things? No. I've felt uncomfortable and choked on my own heart while yearning to say or do the right things too. I've experienced so much kindness and love from so many people and sometimes I find myself tolerating things that are meant to be kind and loving but are not. If I have the opportunity to share and express a truth that is hurting me then surely that's the correct thing to do? But it hurts. Yes.  I am sorry about the hurt I have caused. I'm happy and blessed if I make a difference in one person's life with my painful truth. Not everything in life feels good all the time. Sometimes the truth hurts.

I'm Fine...

 I should probably be worried that what I'm about to write is going to upset you and leave some people wondering or worried that they said or did the wrong thing. I have no fear. I can't hold back. How am I feeling? I'm surprised at the amount of times per day that I'm asked that question. Seriously? How do you think I'm feeling? Do you really want to know? How long do you have?

I hate myself for feeling low, for wasting a perfect moment on worrying about tomorrow. I feel sad counting down the days to chemotherapy day.  Tomorrow. Again. I don't want to throw away time to cry and wallow. I should have a life.

I wonder if when people see me or think of me, the first thing that comes to mind is, poor her. "How is she really feeling?" I wonder if people think, how sick is she? Is she going to live? Or die? Will it be soon?  As soon as I hear the question, I freeze inside.... "How are you feeling?"

Yes, it's awkward to be that person; the one with cancer. It used to just be annoying but now it's infuriating to listen to the mundane babble about the stupid things that people worry and complain about. Things that waste time and effort. Petty things that feel like being slapped across the face because I only wish I could worry about such nonsense.

I wish I could realistically muse about graduations and Bar Mitzvahs, making weddings and becoming a grandmother someday.

I realize how natural and normal it is to want to ask that question.... It's automatic like, how are you? Only it's not exactly like that. It's how are you feeling.

Still here. 

Still have cancer.
Fill in the blank ________________.

I've been in the middle of a happy carefree activity, almost completely forgotten that I have a life threatening illness, and a text message comes up on my phone: How are you feeling?

BOOM! Smack!

...and I know the intentions are good and pure. I guess when anyone thinks of me these days, they think of cancer and illness. That's sad for them (sadder for me fyi)....

Just the other day, someone said, "You look so healthy! Last time you did chemo, you looked awful, but this time you look great!". People actually say things like that to me. In some ways I appreciate their honesty and it sure beats hearing about the (insert person they know of ) who died of cancer. On the bright side, at least they're not asking me a question that I'm sick of pretending to answer.

I'm so sad now because I know I'll feel worse tomorrow and the next day.  I want to dwell on the happiness and reflect on those weeks I took a break from this dreadful reality of chemo and cancer and dying.

I've been very open about every step of this cancer journey. I have no issue being public. Keeping things real.  Just please stop asking me how I'm feeling. I have nothing new to say.

Rabbi Shlomo Katz - A Home Visit

A week ago I had chemotherapy. Shlomo Katz, a well know rabbi, educator, musician, and a dear family friend, made a special trip to our home. I finished chemotherapy, for the day, and we drove home. My dear SIL, Briana, brought all the meat, French fries and salad, my DH barbecued, while my mom, brothers, Levi, Matt, and Josh, SIL, Hadar, children, nephews, and niece joined in the celebration of....  Rav Shlomo came to celebrate with us. I think what we were celebrating developed easily and clearly. Just life. Just being alive. Just being a family together. 

http://youtu.be/SJJXqGZiw84

I'd like to think? Or thank?

When I was first diagnosed, had my huge surgery, was declared NED (no evidence of disease), and began chemotherapy in September, 2012, it was different. I had love, and faith, and hope and I was also euphoric. I thought I'd beat every odd. I thought I'd already kicked cancer. Some people worried that I would eventually hit a low point and crash. I did. It really hit me around the middle of treatment after my blood cell counts were too low, I'd missed two treatments, there was a nursing strike and a grouchy nurse's poor reaction sent me into a raging tailspin. I remember the details of it all like yesterday but it's also like a part of a hazy dream; or nightmare.

I'd like to think I'm here for a reason. Alone in my thoughts, especially in the middle of the night,  everything gets rehashed. In 2014, with social media, Facebook, Twitter the internet, we're all THAT much closer and instantaneous.  I know what you're thinking as soon as you comment or click the Like button. Even while doing or saying what we think is right, none of us knows for sure. A heartfelt comment and a shared link translates differently for each individual. A misplaced Like; a disaster.

I'd like to think that I've learned so much from what I've experienced. I'd like to think I've grown over this period of a year and nine months and that my emotional and spiritual IQs have gained a few points. Some nights I can't sleep so I toss and turn, grinding my teeth and eating my heart with worry. What did I miss? What did I overlook? Many times it's worry over not acknowledging or personally thanking each person in my life who is here, who has shown me kindness. I receive so much. Some of them wish to remain completely anonymous and I cannot publicly thank them. Ever. 

As I thought this through and became entangled in thinking and thanking, for the first time, I realized that the only difference between thinking and thanking is the "i" or the "a". One letter. It's so easy to overlook one tiny detail and have that be the absolute end of everything. Cancer is also like that. One tiny cell can be the beginning or the end. It's that easy and dangerous to miss one tiny thing. I'm living a life that's open ended and unknown, and that's my unveiled truth because I have cancer but perhaps it awakens somebody because they don't have this cancer, this constant reminder. Maybe you do or you will or maybe never. I hope it's never. But maybe I can help remind you of that, of how precious each moment really is and that's why I'm here? I don't know but I'd like to think my suffering has a purpose.

Most of my friends are so humble, I may never get the opportunity to even know who to thank for certain things. To my friends and community who organize and host tehilim reading (reading of psalms) for me every Friday night, thank you! Thank you to the founders of Tehilim groups and a Shmirat Lashon group (guarding the tongue from gossip) that are organized and filled with people who both know me and never met me. Thank you for the hafrashat challah and prayer evening that filled a house from end to end with women. Thank you for sharing my story via Facebook and other social media, creating a network of prayer around the world. I missed running in the Jerusalem Marathon this year and many people ran in my honor, with my recovery in mind. I want to thank one of my best friends, who does so much for me and my family, and her son, for raising money for Tishkofet as a Bar Mitzvah project. Tishkofet honored me by allowing me to be Team Leader again, this year, for the Jerusalem Marathon! Another dear friend and her son led the way with a huge teal banner with my name in pink letters!  Yet another friend completed her first marathon and carried a #happylanche sign for me!  I received a 10K medal and a Marathon Completion medal from two great guys.  Just one week ago, my friends organized and hosted a shiur (lecture) given in name of praying for my full recovery, which I sorrily missed.  Friends and neighbors keep us in their thoughts and prayers every single day and there's a constant flow of caring and loving messages and gestures. Friends and acquaintances send us meals, flowers, gifts. Gifts I don't deserve. I admit, all of the attention, prayers, love, and care reminds me of how blessed I am and I've been able to shift gears and keep on going even at my lowest low. So, I'll try not to think about it too much... but I never want to forget about the thanking. Thank you so much to each and every person in my life for being here in every way that you are!

And a Pink Guitar

I decided on Tuesday, after receiving news for the second week straight that my blood counts were too low for chemo, that in two days time I would be getting my chemo no matter what. The first week, my white blood cells protested and the second week, it was my platelets. I had a count of about 51,000 (normal is between 150,000-450,000/mcL). I asked my oncologist, What can I do to increase my platelet count? The answer: Nothing - just wait, only time can heal it. But I don't have time!.... I cannot come back here next week! Pessach (Passover) is coming! So I asked, May I come back and try again on Thursday, in two days? My oncologist looked at me with a tilted gaze, the kind eyes twinkled and he said, It's very unlikely that your blood counts will recover in such a short time but if you're willing to come back here, I'll do what I can to make it happen. David and I left cognizant we'd be back in less than 48 hours. I was deflated knowing we were giving cancer the advantage again. Come on blood! Stop betraying me! I need to be treating this, not letting yet another week go by without chemo!

The next two days were a bit somber. There really isn't any way to force red blood cells to proliferate for the purpose of taking chemotherapy drugs. I already begged my oncologist to, "just give me a transfusion or something to make my cells behave," but that's not an option. Blood transfusions are to save lives in critical situations. If chemo is administered after a transfusion, the cells are decimated. It's like trying to contain sand in a sieve... completely futile. By Wednesday night, I was a complete mess. Even though I'd prayed and willed my bone marrow to comply, it might not have been enough.

On Thursday morning, I woke up with an extra jolt. We flew through the morning routine and arrived at the extra busy Oncology Day Ward by 8:40 am. I was pumped. Suddenly, I knew I'd be getting chemo and I was happy about it. A couple of hours later, we received confirmation that my platelet count had gone up to 93,000 which, was just enough to receive treatment!

Me Tali

While enduring the usual waiting around, I was uplifted with company of women I'd met along my life journey and my cancer journey and reunited with in the Chemo Lounge. My room mate, R., from my last surgery, L. from the cancer retreat, and an old colleague from my days of working as a physical therapist. Coincidences don't exist, so when I meet people I didn't expect to see, I'm honored; I get excited. Tali, a special soul, and a longtime NICU nurse, 1 floor up, came to visit me too. Sometimes, I withdraw into my own bubble at chemo and I can't really socialize with the other patients. Other times, I speak a lot with the other oncology patients and it really inspires me and gives me strength. Thursday was a good day. We made it into a really happy day in the Chemo Lounge at Shaare Zedek Medical Center... and there was even a Medical Clown. We finally signed out after 2:30 pm, with an appointment in 21 days time. I'm free!

dancing

This was my first time getting a dose of Gemzar only. I did receive a reduced dose due to the trouble with my blood counts so I have no idea what to expect. How bad will I feel? I hope not too bad but I really don't know. Shortly after arriving home, we had a surprise home visit, organized by my brother, Eli, and his wife, Briana and accompanied by my DH, my mom, brothers, SIL, nephews, niece, our children...... Rabbi Shlomo Katz! My brother, Eli, and R' Shlomo go way back to yeshiva high school days in Raanana and California days.

R'Shlomo Katz & Maya's guitar

Friends for about 20 years. They share many memories and one of an infamous friendly basketball game with Matisyahu about 8 years ago...  Strumming on my daughter, Maya's pink guitar, R' Shlomo agreed to cover his friend, Matisyahu's amazing song, One Day. One Day is a family favorite, especially for my son, Zachariah, and the lyrics speak to me - today more than ever. #happylanche

Blown Away

I have many reasons for sharing my journey... some of them I'm only discovering as I go. Spiritually and emotionally, I've received so much strengthening of the soul (chizzuk in Hebrew) from so many people near and far. I'm genuinely convinced that part of this ghastly test is also a huge blessing. One of the great things about sharing my journey publicly is, not only the loving and supportive feedback I receive from people who tell me that my writing has helped them through a difficult time or inspired them in some way, but also the kindness that I gained from people who were complete strangers one moment and have either remained so or have come into my life to stay.

When I first started chemotherapy back in September, 2012, one of the side effects I suffered from was painful ulcers in my mouth and throat. I received many suggestions from readers of my blog on how to help relieve them. The two things that helped were a combination of sucking on ice during chemotherapy and the other thing came from a woman named, Carol, who I've never met in person via my friend, Suzanne; Kanka mouth gel. I was so touched that Carol took the time and expense to send me the mouth gel which isn't available here, in Israel. Fast forward to Chemotherapy The Sequel. I'm back in chemo and once again dreading the side effects. I received an offer of mouth sore medicine that is still in clinical trial from a stranger, A.H. that for whatever reason I wasn't able to follow up on yet I'm moved by the kindness of a stranger. In the meantime, my friend, Tzippy, spoke with her friend, Moti, and the rest of the story will blow your mind. For the past 7 years, a scientist in America, has been working on a solution to the terrible mouth sores that chemotherapy patients suffer from. These mouth ulcers have been known to be so painful that simple things like eating, drinking, and even talking are impossible. Many medicines are available on the market but there's never been one that completely adheres to the sores or heals them. It's very problematic to get medicine to remain inside the mouth over time, for obvious reasons. Well, a miraculous medicine has been successfully developed and it is currently available in the United States on a very limited and exclusive basis as it has just been approved and is gradually making its way onto the market.  Last Tuesday, accompanied by 2 men I'd never met before, some of it came to Israel for the first time. I met these two strangers, a man named, Moti, who heard about my story from my friend, Tzippy, and the other, a paramedic named, Sim, who heard about me from Moti. A bit of a sting operation went down, orchestrated by people who had never met me, and within 24 hours, including a Fed-Ex trip from Florida to New Jersey and a VIP seat on a plane from the United States to Israel, Sim, the paramedic, Moti, and 2 bottles of this expensive, prescription-only medicine arrived at my house! Sim, the paramedic, was so enthusiastic about being able to deliver this miracle medicine to me, he and Moti drove directly to my house from the airport! This medical product is incredible! Thankfully, the sores that I have from the first treatment
of chemotherapy were mild so far in comparison, however after using the mouth gel only one time, I barely noticed them at all! The effect of the mouth gel was so powerful, I think I can confidently stop sucking on ice throughout the actual chemo treatment knowing that I can rely on the mouth gel. The level and amount of kindness (chessed) that went into bringing such a change, a solution, to one person, one stranger... I'm just blown away! When I think about it, I don't know what is more incredible.... the actual medicine or the story of how it arrived. I hope that this will only be the beginning of this story and that somehow this mouth sore cure will be made available both in America and in Israel, and around the world, to cancer patients who suffer so horribly from painful mouth ulcers during chemotherapy. That would send an absolute #happylanche to so many people who truly need it. I hope that's going to happen. I believe it will.

The Power of Love

Chemo was a no-go yesterday. My blood counts were too low but I left the Chemo Lounge feeling very very high....

After my first treatment of Carboplatin and Gemcitabine, I felt physically very bad for 3 days. By the end of Shabbat I had such a burst of energy I just wanted to tie on my running shoes and get outside and I did. Obviously nobody looks forward to receiving a therapy that's going to make them feel so sick. As advised to me by, Dr. Garcia, of USC Norris Cancer Center, I'm following a fasting regimen each chemo session. I begin the fast on Sunday, for 48 hours before chemo. I continue the fast on the day of chemo and for 24 hours after chemo finishes. That's 4 days of not eating. I drink plenty and can eat up to 200 calories per day which I limit to celery, lettuce, clear broth, tea, and water. It's not easy but it's also not horrendous and it helps me feel that I'm contributing to weakening the cancer cells and that's an empowering feeling. I can weaken cancer! Even so... I absolutely dreaded the countdown to chemo and had a pretty strong feeling that my blood counts were going to be low. The real test is walking up the stairs to the 7th floor Oncology Day Ward. If I'm puffed and out of breath, I know chemo is not happening.

Tuesday morning, I had blood drawn from my port and then we sat down to wait. Surrounded by David, my friend, Gaby, my SIL, Briana, and friends, Dena and Jeremy, we made small talk and then Gaby told me she'd prepared me a gift. Part of the gift was in a box and the other part was in her voice. My friend, Gaby, has the voice of an angel and after asking the other patients if they minded, she looked straight into my eyes and belted out, The Power of Love, by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. I don't know if anyone got through the song without tears. I think I might've squeezed Gaby's hand the whole song. Then the young woman, A., next to us, asked Gaby if she would sing some Celine Dion for her father, Z., who was also receiving chemotherapy. Gaby sang a few songs for A.'s father and tears rolled down his face as he hummed along. Everyone in the Chemo Lounge seemed to enjoy the impromptu Gaby concert including my beloved, Professor Cherny, and the nurses.

A while later, one of the nurses came to let me know that my blood counts were too low for me to receive chemotherapy and I might have cheered loudly. I know that I need treatment for cancer. I know, but the day wasn't wasted. We brought some happiness and light to the ward with Gaby's voice. That's The Power of Love.

Unfortunately the video recorded without audio... so I added the voice of, Gabrielle Aplin.

Where Is Love

I packed my bag; Ipad, chemo quilt, insulated cup for ice. Bright and early, my DH, David, and I returned to Shaare Zedek Medical Center for Tuesday morning chemotherapy. 

 

Ugh

 

Nobody wants to return to the Chemo Lounge for Part II, the chemo sequel. All the familliar faces; the nurses, the doctors, the secretaries, the volunteers bringing drinks and chocolates.... Every single person working in oncology is there to help save lives and lessen the pain of those suffering through the disease that is Cancer. It's probably one of the most difficult places to work. A place where NONE of your customers wants to be. Everyone has a life threatening illness. Everyone is probably at an all-time low in their life. I have a choice - I can be miserable and mean or I can put on a brave face, and find reasons to laugh and smile.

 

I have the most supportive and loving husband who holds my hand and accompanies me to every single appointment and treatment.  When I realized I would have to start chemo treatment again, I was so angry! I could've punched a hole through a concrete wall... but I had nobody to be angry at... 

On my first morning back-to-chemo, I was greeted with loving hellos from every nurse and doctor and secretary on the ward. My sister (in-law), Briana, met me there. I don't encourage anyone to come and spend time in the Chemo Lounge. I feel guilty bringing anyone there who doesn't need to be. 

 

 

  Briana is the kind of sister you always want around.  She IS sunshine - which would be a cliche about anyone else but her. I was (guiltily) VERY happy to have Briana with me most of the day. Before the chemo drips arrived, I was lavished with reflexology and healing from one of the volunteers. ...And then there was, Sarah Zadok, a close friend of mine, who drove all the way down from the Golan. With David, Bri, and Sarah, the chemo day flew by and we even laughed (a bit too loudly) quite a few times!

One of the highlights of my day was when my oncologist sang his way into my room with, Where Is Love. You know, because my name, Ahava, means, love....  At the end of the day, my friend, Orit, surprised me with a visit and lit up the room with her smile and humor... around the same time large group of medical students came to visit my room to speak with me. That was very special and inspirational.

My Facebook, Whatsapp and Twitter were buzzing all day with words of love and encouragement.

Chemotherapy aside, it was truly a fun day!  As we left the hospital... a huge group of medical clowns happened to be pouring out of the main building - WHAT?! Yes! I don't know what hit me but it was hysterical laughter. The long and tiring day climaxed with medical clowns; adults, all women, dressed in the silliest attire and red noses. Wow.

The day after was pretty awful. It's something similar to having a very bad stomach virus. Achy body, nausea... you want to stay close to your favorite bathroom and not much else.

Today, is a day for celebration... our second child's 11th birthday! It wouldn't be right or fair to let the day go by without properly acknowledging the miracle of our baby girl! So, I got myself dressed, and my mom, Briana, and I went shopping for birthday presents. We pulled together a bouquet of birthday balloons and made the day pretty fine considering how physically awful I'm feeling.

Where is love? I never have to look very far.

 

3-2-1... Blastoff!

Counting down... 1 more day til chemo...

Yesterday, I had the time of my life! My family came over and we had so much fun dancing and partying! Friends came and went all morning exchanging mishloach manot (gift baskets). The costumes this year were better than ever... so many of our friends dressed up the whole family with themes. I sure have some creative friends!

This morning, I received an e mail letter from Meuhedet (healthcare provider), letting me know that the drug, Gemcitabine, has been ordered and approved. "We are happy to let you know that your doctor ordered bla bla bla... and it's been approved bla bla bla... best wishes and blessings for a full recovery and good long life.... Blessings, Meuhedet". Is that only in Israel? I thought the wording of the letter was cool.

I'm restarting chemo tomorrow with a slightly different schedule... using the same platinum based, Carboplatin, along with Gemcitabine (Gemzar is the known brand name). The schedule is Carbo every 3 weeks and the Gemcitabine 2 weeks on 1 week off.

Gemcitabine is supposed to have less harsh side effects than Taxol... here's the list:

• Flu-like symptoms such as muscle pain, fever, headache, chills, and fatigue
• Fever (within 6–12 hours of first dose)
• Fatigue
• Nausea (mild)
• Vomiting
• Poor appetite
• Skin rash
• Allergic reaction
• Diarrhea
• Weakness
• Hair loss
• Mouth sores
• Difficulty sleeping
• Shortness of breath

When I did chemo last year it was different mainly because I mostly believed that it was a "mop up job". I wasn't one of the sad cancer stories. I was the exception - cancer free, no evidence of disease... just doing chemo as a precaution. It feels different and even disjointed now because we're deviating  from our plan. I felt optimistic about the high tech plan with growing my tumors in mice and then testing out the chemo on them first. Now we're testing out the chemo on me and I hope my skepticism doesn't hold any power over this course of treatment.

Last time, I knew the timeline. 6 courses (which became weekly dose-dense mid-treatment). Five months and then we're done! THIS time it's open-ended. We're doing a certain number of chemo treatments and then a PET CT to check if it's working to shrink the tumors.

Last week, I had a "procedure" to have a port "installed". So now I have a button to go along with my zipper (that's what I call the ovarian cancer surgical scar that extends from sternum all the way down). The port will make drawing blood and receiving chemo much easier. Getting the port-a-cath was not so easy. My intention isn't to whine and complain however if anyone reading this can be helped... that is my intention. I don't know if I'm just a big baby or if I overly attached myself to what many tried to convince me was "nothing". "It's such an easy procedure you don't even need sedation." "It's nothing." "Piece of cake." Well, only second to having 4 syringes of fluid removed from my pelvis WITHOUT any pain medication... it was the most traumatic experience of my life. Just one day before, I had a sigmoidoscopy and biopsies taken - no problem - no trauma whatsoever. The key... sedation. Even though I was awake and I remember everything said and done, I was relaxed, not scared and fully functional. Lying on a surgical table in a freezing cold operating room with sterile sheets draped over my body and face, strapped down, my body began to shake violently. I felt the repetitive jabs of the local anaesthesia needle going into my chest and I realized I was going to freak out!  I let everyone present know that... and was told that the sedation drugs aren't recommended because they're "poisonous" to my body. Really? As opposed to the herbal chemotherapy I'm about to receive??? I see no reason for any person in the Western World to have to go through that.  I hereby SWEAR (with all of you as my witnesses) that no syringe or knife wielding person will EVER touch my body EVER again without my permission unless they've offered me sedation. I eventually convinced them, after the first incision, that they weren't going to complete the procedure without calming me down first but not before a meltdown complete with sobbing and tears. Sedation might make you sleepy, forgetful, whatever... that works for me. It's so much better than traumatic memories which NEVER go away. ...and that's my message for today. MY body. MY decision.

See you tomorrow.... at chemo.

It's Purim! There's gonna be a #happylanche all over the world!

It's started! The pre-Purim shenanigans! The kids are all dressed up today in their costumes to celebrate the holiday of, Purim, at pre-schools, kindergartens, and schools all over Israel! It's such fun to go from school to school and see all of the brides, soldiers, princesses, warriors, lions, cats, and circus animals.... Funny masks, wigs, and make-up.

It's definitely cause for mass #happylanche activity!

At the beginning of the week, it was decided that I would start chemotherapy today. In the meantime, I had a portacath inserted into my chest and other medical tests taken care of. By midweek, my oncologist and I agreed that I should just enjoy the holiday... So chemotherapy is postponed to begin next Tuesday. Today I'm enjoying my pink wig and my אהבה (Ahava/love) shirt that my friend, Efrat, got for me on the day I changed my name.

Purim is the holiday of hidden miracles. G-d's name doesn't appear at all in the entire Megillah of Esther. The whole saga and breathtaking suspense unravels with G-d behind the scenes, yet hidden in name, while the entire drama unfolds. It's true... Just about every Jewish holiday boils down to the same point; They tried to kills us, The Almighty Above saved us, let's eat! We eat (and drink) to celebrate Purim but we also give food and money to the poor and deliver gifts baskets filled with treats to our friends and neighbors.

The main theme of Purim, or at least one of them, is the aspect of היפוך (hipuch- sudden reversal). The evil, Haman, had the gallows set up and ready to hang the Jew, Mordechai. What could have been a great tragedy for the Jewish People was reversed at the last minute, turning our story into one of the greatest ancient comedies of all time! ...ending with Haman, the Evil, dangling from the rope.

This joyful comedy isn't for one second lost on the Nation of Israel... Or on me. The month of, Adar, the Jewish month that hosts the fun and happy holiday, Purim, is a month of miracles! Purim is a celebration of the sudden reversal. A perfect time to pray for reversal.... Please G-d, hear my cries, my prayers! Please reverse the decree.... Of Cancer! ...and please bring me refuah shleimah (full recovery)! 

May we all be blessed and enjoy a peaceful and restful Shabbat around the world! May it be G-d's will to reverse any decrees of illness or death (chas veshalom) on me or my family or my friends or Am Yisrael!

Happy Purim!

My friend, Susie, made this giant AWESOME #happylanche hamentaschen for me! The Hebrew translates to: Happy Purim to the Lange Family, when there's love (Ahava) and faith (Emunah) there is joy (simcha). Thank you so much Susie!!!

Love & Faith

There are laws and customs that have been passed down for thousands of years on how to choose a name for your baby. Names are extremely important in Judaism. An individual's name is said to be like the direct line for a soul’s energy to enter the body.  We like to name our children after important people, especially biblical figures, and beloved deceased relatives.  A name is not merely a medley of letters put together as a convenient and trendy way to refer to someone. A given name is believed to be a definition of the individual and a description of his personality and a translation of their character traits. As far as I know, Erika, is a Nordic name and means, "eternal ruler", "one ruler", or  "ever powerful". I was always proud and happy to be, Erika (Ehta), named after my Grandma Edith, of blessed memory, who died appallingly young after battling breast cancer in her thirties.  In the case of tragic death, parents don't always choose to name their baby after that beloved relative or they add another name that will be used as the first name.  My Hebrew name, Ehta became controversial when I was first diagnosed with ovarian cancer. People, around the world, prayed for me, using my Hebrew name, which also happened to be my mother's Hebrew middle name and lots of chaos and questions came out. We consulted with a rabbi and decided to ask people to pray on my secular given name, Erika. Not my Hebrew name, Ehta.  My dear childhood friend, D. a devout Hassidic woman, asked her husband to consult with their rabbi, a learned and respected Torah Giant. After consulting, D. begged me to change my name. In my community, we call our kids by their given Hebrew names. Erika doesn't quite fit my religious circle but I always clung tightly to the name my parents gave me, even after immigrating to Israel where NO ONE is named, Erika. Erika was me. I cherished it.

When we knew that the cancer was back, confirmed in December, discussions about my very unHebrew name were rehashed. Once again, close friends and family members, unconnected to each other, questioned whether I should change my name. I began to question it. My dear friend, E.'s  husband met with a great rabbi who said I should change my name, to a specific Biblical name, which I just didn't connect with. "We'll speak with another great Rav, " my friend assured me. There was one name that I'd always been excited about and had wanted to name one of our daughters. "No way we are going to give any of our kids a Hippie name," said my darling husband. My 2nd PET CT scan was on Sunday and a few hours later, the tip of the iceberg crashed through the calm of my seemingly healthy and less stormy reality. It's a true kindness that I don't have to wait for days to know whether the results are positive or negative. My oncologist tries to minimize my anxiety and emotional torture whenever possible. I went home with some bad news and knew I'd get more detailed answers in two days, when the official radiologist report came through. One thing was certain, the cancer proved to be spreading quicker than we hoped and if I don't begin treatment, my future on this Earth is unlikely. We received an answer directly from an extremely well respected and learned Torah Giant that I should choose a new name that my soul connects with.

When we met again with my oncologist, we learned to what extent the cancer had advanced. Throughout my abdomen and pelvis, in my liver and chest wall and in multiple lymph nodes far and wide. What's on offer? Chemotherapy. Carboplatin and Gemcitabine. No way!!! I made up my mind. No chemotherapy yet! I want to wait for my mice... I don't want to be the mouse! Chemo failed last year and I don't want to go through that again!

Love and faith... are all I have.  If I decide not to take chemotherapy, I might die. Chemotherapy might not work either or it could work and I might live. It's my choice and yet I have no control of the outcome. ONLY how I choose to deal with it today. Will I cry? Be angry? Will I still be happy? Laugh? Celebrate? Dance? That's what my #happylanche is all about. Will I continue to cling to Hashem (G-d) and have faith at ALL times?

My sister in law, Briana, invited me to attend a shiur (a class) in Nachlaot, Jerusalem. A very spiritual class with Rebitzin Emunah Witt and I had my own unique experience. All the months of debating over my name suddenly converged on an impulsive decision as I meditated, with Briana's hand in mine, on love and faith and faith and G-d and love, achdut (unity) and a whole lot of faith through the worst test of my life. We are all Earthbound but we hope to get to Heaven someday. Whether I'm 38 or 120 when I go, what do I want to leave behind?

 photo credit: Nechama Verter sent AFTER I changed my name!

Ahava = Love

Emunah = Faith

We took a long and spiritually guided journey to the Kotel (Western Wall) and on the way MANY wonderful things happened.

I washed the great stones of the Kotel with my tears - crying and begging G-d to please help me. 

And then, I left Erika behind. 

I want to be known as, and called, Ahava Emunah. Whether I go or I stay, that's what I want to be and emulate, and share. AND now, I have a new strength to face the next step. Chemotherapy AGAIN.... and spread love, and have faith that no matter what, it's all for the good. It will be okay.

Progression

Progression. I've always had this wonderful definition in my life.  I progressed from childhood to adulthood. I made great progress with the choices that I made. My successes and my failures have been a blessing. Progression. We encourage our children to progress at every stage of development. We hope and we pray for progress in every avenue of our lives. Progression financially, progression with the peace process, progression with projects... hey, I'm always relieved when there's progression of movement on the roads... especially in rush hour traffic! Progress, progression... it's always good stuff!  Passing successively from one member of a series to the next; succession; sequence. You can have progression in any situation! Usually when I think of progress or progression, it's obviously in the positive sense. There's no direction but forward in life. Look back occasionally, check your rear-view mirrors but ALWAYS keep your focus on moving forward... keep your eyes on those rear-view mirrors for too long and you are going to crash.

Why am I meditating on this word, Progression?!

What about progression in treatment? And progression of disease..... 

The cancer seems to want to move forward right along with me. I have progression of disease. Not ordinary or small progression. I do things BIG. So my cancer progression is not getting stuck in rush hour traffic or waiting for my mice.

In the meantime, I'm not waiting around either... I'm continuing my #happylanche. I can either keep moving forward or I can get caught up in the misery of this terrible news that the cancer is spreading and progressing. Music and dancing have fabulous powers. So does laughing. When I sing or dance not only do I laugh but everyone around me does too (you haven't seen me dance or heard me sing if ya don't know what I mean :-)

THIS is progression of happiness:
  

And this is another great version filmed in Tel Aviv-Yafo ISRAEL 

Please join my #happylanche by using the hashtag  #happylanche on Facebook and Twitter. It does make me happy!

Cancer: an equal opportunity provider

I've written about this before... People with cancer are, for some reason inexplicable to me, tragedy magnets. "Oh! You have cancer???? Well listen to this, my (insert relation) had/ has/died of cancer! Tsk, tsk, such a dreadful disease... The whole world has cancer. It's an epidemic." Over the last year and a half, that I've been in on this Cancer Club, I've entered a whole new realm and developed not only a new circle of friends but a new authority. Cancer is a part of me that I'm learning to live with, in spite of and I'll go as far a to say, in face of.

I don't know if cancer is an epidemic. It seems like it's everywhere. Especially breast cancer. Am I just getting older or does every other woman have breast cancer or had it or might have it, and if not, their mother, grandmother, sister, cousin, or aunt had/ has it. Why? Was it always this way or is this something new? It's the cellphones or the pollution, obesity, fast food, chemicals, radiation.... Who knows? It doesn't matter.

Recently, I participated in a women's retreat with an organization that supports people with cancer. For three days and two nights, I disconnected from my life and connected with 80 women who either had or have cancer. We came from Bet Shemesh, Jerusalem, Bnai Brak, Betar, and even Beer Sheva. These are places all over Israel however most of the participants were Ultra Orthodox along with a sprinkling of traditional or non observant Israeli citizens. What a mix. When I first arrived, I admit, I was a wee bit nervous. Who would I share a room with let alone common ground for more than small talk? The workshops were deep and intense. We had music and movement, talks, and even some comedy. A few hours into the retreat, I found myself being hugged and hugging back. The older woman in the dark clothing and the wig from a long line of Chassidic ancestry became enthralled in my words of hope and faith and opened herself to share her story. The worried immigrant from Ethiopia was my roommate and we laughed together in our pajamas and later she cried in my arms. I danced with the widow who lost her only son until both our cheeks were so wet with sweat and tears.....  I found myself completely lost and absorbed in the storytelling of a seemingly needy and elderly woman I'd tried to avoid, worried she'd talk my ear off and even exchanging phone numbers and hoping to stay in touch. Beyond the layers of clothing, and the accents, and the cancer, we are "just" women. Daughters. Sisters. Mothers. Wives. 

In three days I met people that I hope to see again. Women with souls. Did the cancer DO that to them? Did cancer make us different? There's no denying that this life threatening illness has changed me forever but what I experienced with 80 strangers was love and sisterhood and what it gave me was strength and hope. Cancer brought us all together but it soon left the building. We were just women. We were just sharing and caring and giving to each other. 80 strangers.

Perhaps I do live in a bubble and Cancer has forced me into places and situations I never would have had the chance to go. The world is divided. We live with nuclear threat. In Israel, we live in close proximity of our enemies, who seek our destruction. We live in sheltered communities separated from different cultures and religious sects... And there is a lot of fear and animosity towards those who think differently, dress differently, pray differently. We are divided and we have no common ground, no place to meet. Maybe no desire to do so. The contrast was overwhelming for me! Is God Himself providing the reason and the venue? Is cancer a common denominator? Who am I to say? Cancer is, by far, the fairest equal opportunity provider. That's a fact.

The retreat was CPR for my soul. One of the greatest gifts that I brought home with me was a completely new view of all of humanity..... Yes only 80 women gave that to me. Beneath the sad eyes of a stranger, under the seemingly unfriendly gaze of another person is someone just like you. As soon as we began to share stories and meals, everything else was history. I believe that we are supposed to live together, interact, share... It's the only way to bring peace into our homes, our communities, our world. Something so simple and yet so magical. That's what I decided to bring home with me to my family. Hopefully it is contagious. I think it is.

Mania and My Happylanche

My journey has taken me on a roller coaster of experiences and emotions... and I'm pretty sure that we're just getting started. I can't speak for anyone else or their own journeys with the often deadly, cancer, however for me it has been and continues to feel like a very manic chronic condition.

This manic condition includes euphoria, blood curdling fear, uncertainty, hope and joy, sometimes anger, deep sadness, and even silliness, laughter, and fun. When I was first diagnosed, in July 2012, I had no time for any of the emotions... it was BAM! Surgery and then an absolute avalanche of happiness and then euphoria. As soon as I was able to take my first steps in my hospital room, I floated on air because I truly believed that I beat cancer. We slayed the beast! The chemotherapy, that was to come shortly after, was just a "mop up job" - kind of like insurance to make sure that any sneaky remaining cancer cells were snuffed out like the little murderers deserved.

Fast forward to the end of 2013 and roller coaster derailed. Cancer is back. Ok, but wait, there's this really cool experimental yet promising surgery called, HIPEC. And there are these promising new drugs called, PARPS, that are in advanced clinical trial stage. Then BAM! PET CT scan reveals metastasis (Metastasis, or metastatic disease, is the spread of a cancer from one organ or part to another non-adjacent organ or part) in my liver, next to my heart, and spleen, and later discovered in my diaphragm too. So HIPEC is off the table. PARPS can be my lifesaver but clinical trials available are 2/3 meaning 1/3 get a placebo (a harmless pill, medicine, or procedure prescribed more for the psychological benefit to the patient than for any physiological effect.). Thankfully, with the help of leads, my DH, and of course my personal oncologist, Prof. C, we investigated and decided on trying biologically personalized oncology with Champions Oncology teamed up with Johns Hopkins. This required a team of Shaare Zedek's excellent thoracic surgeons headed by Dr. Maher Deeb, not only a top skilled surgeon but an extremely kind and caring man. Thankfully, 2 cancerous samples were removed and grafted into mice. The mice arrived safely in Baltimore, USA, and we're waiting for the completion of the process and praying for success at finding a treatment for me.

It's been a month since surgery. The pathology on the infiltrated lymph node came back and one of the things we learned is that the current cancer is hormone receptive which means I should, in theory, stop taking HRT aka estrogen. Plenty of women on earth go through menopause and never take HRT. They experience what they experience and move on. Great. Lucky them. Surgically induced menopause is a nightmare for me. I experience many things, the worst being extreme nausea. Women who had nausea in early pregnancy can understand what I'm talking about. AND THAT... is what kicked off my bout of a manic nosedive to the depths of despair. Nausea, exhaustion, depression; deep and dark.

Time to move on. I'm not staying there. It's not fair to my husband, my kids, my family, or myself. Under medical guidance, I am continuing to take estrogen - for now.

I feel like now is a perfect time to address a few things. 

First of all, cancer is a killer.
 
If you've ever (G-d forbid) had cancer and you've survived it, YOU are very very lucky! AND I'm happy to hear all about it.
 
If you have a friend or a grandparent, a neighbor or some distant cousin who once had or currently has cancer.... do me a favor, save it. Your stories not only do not help me but they upset me. They drain me and make me want to screen your calls and delete your unread e mails. Harsh? No. Why would someone with stage 4 cancer benefit from sad stories and tales about other people's struggles? I have a limit to how much sadness I can handle in my own life. I have real friends in my inner circle who are struggling with illness - these are real to me. At this time in my life, I just can't add to it.
 
Please don't try to raise my spirits by informing me that there are people worse off than I or that any given person can be struck by lightening, or a bus, or a bomb.... seriously? I HAVE CANCER! It's happening now, today, 24-7. Should I really be worried about lightening or buses? Will that make me grateful or thankful? No, it doesn't. It's just insensitive. It hurts me and makes me turn the volume down on my imaginary hearing aids.
 
Lastly, please don't apologize or feel bad for "not being there for you". I get a few messages like that and honestly, I don't notice people NOT being there for me. I notice ALL the people that are. So, busy moms and overwhelmed people... do not feel guilty or bad or worried! If and when you are here for me, that's awesome and I love and appreciate it BUT I won't notice if you can't be and I certainly won't hold it against you. Every act of love and kindness feels wonderful yet none of it is taken for granted or ever expected. Just do what feels right to you. I am not keeping tabs on who doesn't....

Anyhoooooow, I'm going to try my best to beat this. I have to stay healthy and hopeful, realistic, and keep on keeping on. EVERYTHING else is in place. Wonderful family and friends! Supportive and loving people all around me both in person and afar! I know that studies have proven that mindfullness helps fight disease. I want to rebuild my happy armor and gear up for the next battle. I wrote earlier, on Facebook, that I want to kick off a Happy Avalanche - a Happylanche! Let's see what that means.... to be announced!