Food Matters.

A few weeks ago, a friend posted this article on facebook about a holistic approach to healing cancer from the documentary, Food Matters. The article really resonated with me, mainly because I'm taking a nearly identical approach at An Oasis of Healing.

According to the article:

"A comprehensive approach to healing cancer includes at least the following eight factors:
      1. Proper nutrition and clean water
      2. Detoxification
      3. Immune building
      4. Oxygen therapy
      5. Natural chemotherapies
      6. Lifestyle changes: adequate sleep, sunlight & exercise
      7. A positive attitude
      8. Spiritual cleansing"

I definitely encourage anyone to read the article that is looking to learn and better understand the approach I am taking with my own life. And if anyone is interested in learning more about the documentary, here is the trailer:

Chaos

Ever have one of those weeks, where at the end of it, you think to yourself: I'm sure as hell glad that's over?

This was one of those weeks.

So much so that I really don't even want to write about it. But, alas, I'd hate to keep my fans waiting...

On Monday, I received a PET Scan to get a baseline view of my tumor so I can see how I respond to all my treatments over the next several weeks. PET Scans themselves aren't too bad. I get the radioactive glucose, lie down in the imaging machine, and 30 minutes later I'm good to go. The bad part? The waiting. The wondering. Wondering, did my tumor grow between my first scan in December and now? Did my tumor shrink after doing a week of therapies? Is it worse? Is it better? Somebody tell me something! Anything!

Yep, the waiting is the worst. And no, I still don't have my results. I'm still waiting...

On Tuesday, I got a PICC line. After being poked with needles about 25 times in the previous 10 days, I decided a PICC would be a worthwhile procedure. Actually, my veins decided. I wanted to tough it out to avoid another procedure, but my normally good veins decided to start disappearing whenever a needle was near. I guess being stabbed every day will do that. I was also told that if I decided against the procedure, I would be the only patient to ever successfully finish treatment without a PICC or a Port. My pride wanted that title. My veins did not. My veins won.

Putting in the PICC is supposed to be a very routine, easy procedure. Numb the arm, stick a tube like thing into the vein, all the way up your arm from your elbow to your shoulder, insert line and you're done. But as I'm starting to learn, my body tends to reject routine, easy procedures (please refer to my bone marrow post).

My first week at An Oasis, I was told repeatedly by several nurses how great my veins are  and how easy a PICC line would be. After three failed attempts to feed the line up my arm by an outside nurse, I was finally told to "cross my fingers and hope it's good enough." Great. I've never really settled for "good enough" before, but unless I wanted head to the hospital to have this done with all sorts of fancy machines (read: lots of money), then "good enough" had to be enough. So far, the PICC has done it's job but it looks like yoga is now out since I can't fully straighten my arm without the risk of pulling out the PICC. Hot tubs, pools, rainy day puddle jumps and comfortable showers are also out since I can't get the line wet.

As if Tuesday wasn't bad enough, Wednesday was even more traumatic. One of the other patients stopped breathing and after about 20 minutes of CPR, was taken away to the hospital. Unfortunately, she didn't make it. I could try and justify it and say things like it was her time or she lived longer than anyone said she would in her condition. The reality is, she had an advanced stage cancer and couldn't breathe without an oxygen tank, but it's hard to justify anything when you witness someone die in front of you. I'd watch her come in every day with her daughter, struggle through her treatments, and leave. She rarely talked to anyone. She couldn't. Seeing someone not only lose their life, but seeing a daughter lose her mother, is hard. I didn't even know her and it's hard. And as cliche as it sounds, it definitely puts things into perspective when it comes to my own health and life. Don't take life for granted. This whole process is hard, but someone always has it worse. Carpe fucking Diem.

Thursday was a breeze compared to the day before. Structural Integration and IPT and I was done. Shortest day since I started treatment. I was also on Day 9 of my juice fast, or as they call it, feast. But I was starting to feel pretty bad and decided my 14 day fast would become a 10 day fast. I don't think I'd ever gone 10 waking hours without food, so still a good run if you ask me.

By Friday, I was exhausted. I had a jam packed schedule of therapies and a migraine to top it off. The treatments were really starting to effect my energy level and found myself dreading them more and more. I had one more day of the fast, but could no longer drink the juice. Mentally and physically I was over it.

At the end of the day, I decided that the only thing that could pull me out of this rut was a little retail therapy. I headed to H&M, where my unemployed dollar stretched the farthest, in order to add some color into my life. Apparently the universe wanted me to save my money because I ended up fainting in the dressing room and being carried out on a stretcher and taken to the hospital in an ambulance. All sorts of tests were run and as I suspected, I was just dehydrated (I knew I should have listened to Momma Bear and had more juice). After a couple hours I was discharged and immediately went home to break my fast with pureed soup that resembled baby food.

Out of all my therapies, who knew retail therapy would be the one to put me in the hospital?

Here's hoping to a better, and less eventful, week!

Sugar, Oh Honey Honey

I feel like an addict who's going through withdraw.

I’ve spent three days on a completely raw, vegan, sugar free diet and all I want is a cheeseburger.

And a milkshake.

And I would seriously consider giving my left arm for a Starbuck's Chai Tea Latte. And my right one for a Chipotle burrito. It wouldn't even matter that I would no longer have arms to eat the burrito. I'd dive face first into that burrito and devour it like a champion in a pie eating contest. 

I'm literally addicted. And when you give up an addiction, the first three days are the worst, right?

That's all bad food is to most of us: an addiction. We get addicted to the sweet high of fructose corn syrup (mmmmm, Sugar); to the excess fat in our burgers (mmmm, saturated fat); to all the processed packaged crap that fills the majority of the aisles in grocery stores. 

But we're not just physically addicted, we're emotionally addicted as well. 

Just think about it. What would Thanksgiving be without turkey and mashed potatoes? And how many times have you gone through a break up and immediately reached for that pint of your favorite ice cream? And when you hang out with friends, how often do you meet in a restaurant, catching up over dinner? So much of our experiences, traditions, and social norms revolve around food. 

When you give that up, your body doesn't just go through physical grief, but emotional turmoil as well. 

I have to admit, I have a hard time thinking about not having turkey on Thanksgiving. But that's how it works when you give something up. You mourn the loss in your life. You think about all the good times you had together. You think about how satisfying that McDonald's double cheeseburgers was after a night at the bar. How delicious that pizza and beer tasted during the championship basketball game. How these foods were always there to satisfy or comfort you in your time of need; in your time of want.

And then you get over it. You remember you have cancer. You remember why you committed to this lifestyle change. And you remind yourself that we are talking about your life. A life that you intend to live a lot longer than the 28 years you've had so far. And if you want to make it to your goal age of 94, you better start finding another way to satisfy those cravings and realize it's just fucking food.

The cravings actually weren't so bad the first couple of days. Since "checking in" to An Oasis of Healing, I had my meals delivered to me by a professional raw foods chef while I was busy with my other treatments. Honestly, there wasn't much time for the cravings. Or maybe I was too nervous about the unknown to worry about things like cravings. Either way, it helped make the transition to this new diet relatively painless. I actually thought this will be easy. 

Oh how naive.  

Then I had a free day. A day without my own chef to prepare my meals. A day where it was on me and only me to eat meals that had no meat or dairy or gluten or sugar (not even fruit sugar!). And once I found these rare, “un-American” foods, I couldn't even cook them above 115 degrees. (Is it even possible to be on a raw food diet in the Arizona summers? Your food gets hotter than that sitting outside in the farmers market stalls).

As much as I was looking forward to a free day from IVs and tests, my first one, day 3 on the diet, was tough. The treatment at Oasis includes all fresh green juices and meals Monday through Friday. Which means by the weekend, I'm the only one holding myself accountable (well me and Momma Bear who is also sticking to the diet).

On the weekends, it is so easy to cheat. And it would be a lie to say I didn't think about it. A lot. In fact, this is a pretty accurate example of what is continuously going on in my head:

Mmmmmm, SUGAR.

But instead, I cut up another avocado and add it to another pile of greens. Then I start gnawing my arm just to remember the taste of flesh.

They say the third day is the worst, right?

But when you're life is on the line, you put down the chicken wings and decide to value your life more than a bunch of empty calories. Then you grab yourself a wheatgrass shot and cheers to your upcoming health. And then you pray that you have the willpower to stick to your commitment. 

But if there's one thing I know about my stubborn, persistent self, it's that I have serious willpower.

When I was in middle school I became a vegetarian. At the time I told everyone it was because I loved animals too much and could no longer eat these innocent creatures. Also, I had a friend -- a much cooler friend – who was also a vegetarian. I guess I figured that I too could be just a little bit cooler if I became a vegetarian. 

The reality is, I did love animals and I did have a desire to be cool, but the real reason I became a vegetarian? The hard truth? Momma Bear's pork chops (sorry mom!). I hated them and refused to eat them. And in the typical parent response, Momma Bear said to me, “If you want to get up from the table, than finish your dinner.” But I had made up my mind. I wasn’t going to eat these pork chops. And the only logical way out of it? To announce myself a vegetarian. So I did.

And I stayed one for TEN fucking years. Mainly because my whole family, sitting at the table, witnessing this act of teenage rebellion, all told me I wouldn't last a week. It wasn't until I graduated college that I finally felt I had proven myself and started eating meat again. 

Cancer? That's a good fucking reason to prove my persistence and give up meat. And dairy. And sugar. And cooked foods. Because as much as I love that chipotle burrito, I'm pretty sure I love my life more.

Besides, I hear day four is a breeze.

 

(Not exactly a chipotle burrito, but surprisingly good zucchini alfredo)

THE DECISION

Remember when Lebron James, a.k.a. “King James” made a mockery of all of us with his quest for the right team...with his fucking Decision? Sorry, I mean, THE Decision.

Well, researching cancer treatments, for me at least, has felt like a similar quest (minus demanding an hour long news special announcing the final verdict).  But This Decision isn’t really one I want (although ESPN, feel free to cover this if you're so inclined).

No, This Decision blows. It's a full time job, and not the one you want, but the one you're forced to take.  And, no one is giving me 15 million dollars for my decision.

Actually, it truly has become my full time job. Sadly, I recently stopped working so that I could focus fully on getting healthier. This wasn't something I planned on. It’s not like I got Cancer and said, "hey Little Hodgy, let’s stop working."  Even Hodgy knows this girl loves me some new shoes. But my treatment plan just leaves no time for work. At least not right now.

So after weeks of searching for the right treatment plan, deciding on the plan, and then changing my mind about the plan, I finally made THE Decision (I think).

I've actually made several "final" decisions already so until I start the actual treatment, there's no guarantee I won't change my mind again (sorry Hubby, I'm indecisive until I'm not. You dated me, you should know!)

But I feel confident that this is it. So confident in fact, that, “dunt-dunt-duh!”  I'm announcing THE Decision to all of you.  After endless hours of researching and countless emails and phone calls, I've decided to take my talents and head to...ARIZONA! To a treatment center called An Oasis of Healing.

I ultimately decided on An Oasis of Healing because it focuses on an integrative approach to getting rid of cancer. Rather than just poisoning my cells with chemo, I'm taking a gentler approach for my body. As I've mentioned before, chemotherapy leads to a host of short and long term side effects, including fatigue, infertility, thyroid malfunction, heart problems, and other more serious cancers.

At An Oasis of Healing, I'll be receiving Insulin Potentiation Therapy (IPT). This is a low dose chemo that uses insulin to direct the drugs directly to the cancer cells. This allows the chemo to keep most of the healthy cells intact and reduces most of the side effects of conventional therapy. In addition, I will participate in other complimentary therapies such as yoga, nutrition, supplements, and if I'm lucky, courtside tickets to a Phoenix Suns game (Hey, I girl can dream can't she? Did I mention I have cancer?).

The goal at An Oasis of Healing is to not just get rid of the cancer, but to learn how to keep it away. Kind of important when you're only 28 and promised The Hubby you'd live to be 94.

When I asked my oncologist about IPT, not surprisingly he told me he wouldn't do it because "it may be dangerous." Last I checked, chemo wasn't exactly safe.

So am I taking a risk by going against my oncologists advice? Absolutely. Just like Lebron took a risk in alienating all his fans and pissing off the rest of the world. But it is THE risk That I, Cancer Girl a.k.a. The Thunder Stealer -- need to take. Otherwise, 5 years from now I could end up with breast cancer from the radiation and I would hate myself for not at least trying a different route. And maybe Lebron felt the same way. It may be the unconventional road, but sometimes you just have to take it to avoid your own "what ifs."

Will a lot of people think I'm crazy for going against the doctor's advice? I'm sure of it. Like Lebron, I'm sure that I too will have angry fans pissed at me for switching directions and going against what's been comfortable for us all. This team works. Why risk switching to another? But also, like Lebron, it's MY decision.

In fact, You can google alternative medicine, including IPT, and will get hundreds of negative articles to confirm my so called insanity. FYI, I've read them all, so please don't flood my inbox with hate mail. Unlike Lebron, I can't handle the negativity.

But at the end of the day, I have to be the only one that is comfortable with my decision. And this is THE Decision I believe in.

Hey Arizona, You Win!  The Thunder Stealer is Coming Your Way!

Someone tell ESPN I'm ready for my close up.