October 12, 2009
Hello to everyone who reads my blog. I am very sorry that I have not posted anything in so very long, but posting here has been toward the bottom of the priorities list. For those of you who know us personally, you know about the journey we are presently on. It is a long and rocky one, fraught with twists and turns that sometimes make even simple things a bit difficult. For those of you who do not know us personally, I am going to talk about things here at the Farm via this blog entry.
THE FARMER'S STORY
New Moon Farm is, and has always been, a labor of love for the two of us. Together, we are the beating heart of this farm, but the Farmer is its true "soul". Without him, we could never have achieved anything close to what we have at this farm. His creativity, intuition and knowledge about the nature of living things has provided the cornerstone of what we do here. This has been a hard year for the Farm, because the Farmer has not been 100% for almost a year now. We have been pressing forward with all things organic, but it has been a rocky road for us both.
New Moon Farm was originally established in 1999, with our intention to homestead and live as simply, organically and self-sufficiently as possible as our main goals. Since that original plan took shape, the Farm has evolved and grown in many positive ways. We expanded the number of acres we farm from 7 to 17 (out of 30), became certified organic in 2004 and established and operated a CSA since 2003. In 2005, the Farmer was diagnosed with Renal Cell Carcinoma and at that time, he had the "bad" kidney removed and after three months was pronounced cancer free and fit to farm! He never even missed planting season because the surgery was in January and we didn't start planting until April, after he was released from his doctor's care.
In October of 2008, however, things changed. The cancer returned and caused a spinal injury that has been both debilitating and extremely painful. Since February of this year, the Farmer has been battling this cancer. In the four years since his original diagnosis, there have been many forward steps in treatments but like with so many cancer treatments, sometimes it is worse that the disease. If you have missed seeing him at markets this year, and wondered why, that is the reason. He is spiritually and mentally mostly unchanged, but the physical limitations brought on by this disease have been dramatic and challenging. Obviously, the Farm continues on....maybe not as efficiently as previously, with the Farmer at the helm, but it does continue.
(This year, we have had many wonderful volunteers come to help out at the farm and we thank them for their caring and for the time that they shared with us. I hope they went away with a little more knowledge and a feeling of knowing that they made a difference in our lives. Thanks to them all.)
“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”
After 5 years the cancer is back...Nov 18, 2009
November 18, 2009
The latest protocol that Dave was on when I posted last did not work. In fact, they were concerned that it had caused the bone lesions that we are now dealing with to appear, as they were not evident prior to the Sutent. He was so very lucky in that he didn't have any of the horrible side effects that drug could have produced, but in the end, it may have made the cancer more agressive in his bones. He is taking infusions of Zometa (like Fossamax, but intravenous and much stronger) to harden his bones to try to fight more bone mets appearing. This is a very long, ardous road but we are ever hopeful that we will find the right combination of treatments to slow down the progress of this disease.
With the summer and fall farm season buzzing, it was hard to get to this blog to post anything meaningful. I have to say that at this point, we are at the "wait and see" stage of treatment, meaning that Dave is on a new protocol, since the Sutent didn't work. It hasn't been but 2 months and that is barely enough time to see if it is working. He goes in next Tuesday for bone scans, CT's and an MRI and we have an appt. after those are done with his 2 oncologists to see what the results are. It is hard not to think about it all the time.
Since my last posting, Dave has had to have more radiation for the bone lesions in his hip and ribs. We chose the radiation option, even though he had said "no more" because it is for pain control and he is in so much pain now, he would probably do most anything to relieve it.
Of course, the radiation made him sick and the fatigue was overwhelming, but that has mostly passed and he is up and around again. We joined the YMCA and he is trying to use swimming as a rehab activity. He is still experiencing a lot of pain where the spinal surgery was done. But he is walking better now and his mobility has improved a bit. Not using the cane regularly, but still needs it sometimes. Overall, he is doing pretty well, all things considered. Hopefully the news next week will be good news. I will try to post the results here afterwards.
NOTE: Many of you who know us well know that we are very much into the idea of natural cures, so all of this "modern medicine" has been very hard to accept. Our stance on the medical profession as overusing synthetic drugs, etc. has always been about their overuse for things that could be easily cured with natural methods, not about something as serious and life threatening as cancer but it still has been hard to accept all of this.
The latest protocol that Dave was on when I posted last did not work. In fact, they were concerned that it had caused the bone lesions that we are now dealing with to appear, as they were not evident prior to the Sutent. He was so very lucky in that he didn't have any of the horrible side effects that drug could have produced, but in the end, it may have made the cancer more agressive in his bones. He is taking infusions of Zometa (like Fossamax, but intravenous and much stronger) to harden his bones to try to fight more bone mets appearing. This is a very long, ardous road but we are ever hopeful that we will find the right combination of treatments to slow down the progress of this disease.
With the summer and fall farm season buzzing, it was hard to get to this blog to post anything meaningful. I have to say that at this point, we are at the "wait and see" stage of treatment, meaning that Dave is on a new protocol, since the Sutent didn't work. It hasn't been but 2 months and that is barely enough time to see if it is working. He goes in next Tuesday for bone scans, CT's and an MRI and we have an appt. after those are done with his 2 oncologists to see what the results are. It is hard not to think about it all the time.
Since my last posting, Dave has had to have more radiation for the bone lesions in his hip and ribs. We chose the radiation option, even though he had said "no more" because it is for pain control and he is in so much pain now, he would probably do most anything to relieve it.
Of course, the radiation made him sick and the fatigue was overwhelming, but that has mostly passed and he is up and around again. We joined the YMCA and he is trying to use swimming as a rehab activity. He is still experiencing a lot of pain where the spinal surgery was done. But he is walking better now and his mobility has improved a bit. Not using the cane regularly, but still needs it sometimes. Overall, he is doing pretty well, all things considered. Hopefully the news next week will be good news. I will try to post the results here afterwards.
NOTE: Many of you who know us well know that we are very much into the idea of natural cures, so all of this "modern medicine" has been very hard to accept. Our stance on the medical profession as overusing synthetic drugs, etc. has always been about their overuse for things that could be easily cured with natural methods, not about something as serious and life threatening as cancer but it still has been hard to accept all of this.
After 5 years the cancer is back...June 26, 2009
June 26, 2009
Just wanted to let everyone know that Dave is progressing thru his "therapy" and seems to be doing okay with it. The brain tumor appears to be benign but it is being watched and scanned every 3 months to check for changes. So far, there have been none, so that is a weight off for the time being.
While I have made it seem a bit like everything is going fine, I don't want people to think that this is a simple or curable cancer. Dave's treatment is going as well as could be expected in a situation like this. This cancer is considered a relatively rare cancer, although the increase in cases is changing that, alaming as that sounds. It is also one of the hardest to treat, there is NO cure and Dave is in Stage IV. Right now, we are dealing with things that I never thought I would have to deal with. I am tired, worried and scared half out of my wits. Everytime we go in for a visit to the doctor, it seems like there is a new problem we have to deal with.
We don't know if the Sutent is working yet because he hasn't been in for the scans to determine that. That comes in about 4 weeks. It hasn't been long enough to take a look yet. He has had nothing major in the way of side effects, but most of the bad ones are cumulative and come after taking this substance over a long period of time, so that is yet another "wait and see". Personally I have high hopes.
Dave is having to take more tests than a school student. Some are like exams, for which we have lots of time to prepare and some are like pop quizzes. He has to have an echo-cardiogram every 8-10 weeks, he is fatigued and has some problems with nosebleeds if he over exerts himself but that could be from something else. We go in every 3 weeks for a monitoring of his other vitals...weight, blood pressure, etc. Yesterday he had an infusion of Zometa, to strengthen his bones against any invasion by the RCC and to help with the healing of his back surgery. It has made him really sick and he is running a fever, but that is supposed to be short lived....48 hours or less. His hair and beard are definitely turning whiter now and I imagine he will look like a really skinny Colonel Sanders in a couple of months, as that is one of the side effects (hair color change, not the Colonel Sanders part). He seems to be getting stronger and feeling better but this isn't a bad cold he is recovering from. The "getting stronger and feeling better " needs to be taken in context.
We have no insurance coverage for any cancer treatment right now (he was cancelled after his first round with this cancer back in 2005...we have lived with that reality since then) and we have doctor's bills well into 6 figures. The medication that Dave is on costs $100 per day. We received some assistance on the first month from the clinical trial he is participating in but we had no idea how we are going to cover the next month's supply. It will just about wipe out our entire savings account to pay for it out of our pocket. So far, Dave has seen 8 different physicians, all specialists in oncology, radiation therapy or immunology, had major surgery, so many MRIs and scans, I have lost count, not to mention the cost of the meds.
We have applied for every kind of medical assistance around and so far, we have not met most of the criteria....no dependent kids, too many assets (anything over $3000 is considered too high....), not young enough or not old enough. The state of NC has declared that Dave is, indeed, disabled, but not eligible for most of the disability assistance for one silly reason or another. Every rejection letter we get is ended with the phrase "If you feel this decision is in error..." and we start the process all over again. We finally were able to get insurance coverage for Dave out of the NC High Risk insurance pool and the premiums are not as steep ($400 per mo as opposed to $1200 for private insurance). Problem with that is that nothing pre-existing is covered until sometime in late October and nothing retroactively. We are paying towards all of these bills to make sure that he continues to have access to medical care so there is not a lot of disposable income around here...good thing we grow food.
The sole source of income we have is this farm. I have been managing things for the entire 2009 season so far. I have no choice but I am no Farmer Dave. He is recently getting to the point where he can actively participate and is doing so, but he is the heart and soul of this farm and it has suffered from his not being more part of it this year. All the rain we have had has not made things easy either and we are a bit behind, but things are finally coming together, now that we have our captain back. There is no way for either of us to get an outside job because I have to take care of everything from paying the bills and feeding chickens to going to markets. Obviously, Dave can't get a job either. I truly don't believe I could be working any harder.
We appreciate all the concern, thoughts, prayers and good energies sent our way. We couldn't do this alone.
Just wanted to let everyone know that Dave is progressing thru his "therapy" and seems to be doing okay with it. The brain tumor appears to be benign but it is being watched and scanned every 3 months to check for changes. So far, there have been none, so that is a weight off for the time being.
While I have made it seem a bit like everything is going fine, I don't want people to think that this is a simple or curable cancer. Dave's treatment is going as well as could be expected in a situation like this. This cancer is considered a relatively rare cancer, although the increase in cases is changing that, alaming as that sounds. It is also one of the hardest to treat, there is NO cure and Dave is in Stage IV. Right now, we are dealing with things that I never thought I would have to deal with. I am tired, worried and scared half out of my wits. Everytime we go in for a visit to the doctor, it seems like there is a new problem we have to deal with.
We don't know if the Sutent is working yet because he hasn't been in for the scans to determine that. That comes in about 4 weeks. It hasn't been long enough to take a look yet. He has had nothing major in the way of side effects, but most of the bad ones are cumulative and come after taking this substance over a long period of time, so that is yet another "wait and see". Personally I have high hopes.
Dave is having to take more tests than a school student. Some are like exams, for which we have lots of time to prepare and some are like pop quizzes. He has to have an echo-cardiogram every 8-10 weeks, he is fatigued and has some problems with nosebleeds if he over exerts himself but that could be from something else. We go in every 3 weeks for a monitoring of his other vitals...weight, blood pressure, etc. Yesterday he had an infusion of Zometa, to strengthen his bones against any invasion by the RCC and to help with the healing of his back surgery. It has made him really sick and he is running a fever, but that is supposed to be short lived....48 hours or less. His hair and beard are definitely turning whiter now and I imagine he will look like a really skinny Colonel Sanders in a couple of months, as that is one of the side effects (hair color change, not the Colonel Sanders part). He seems to be getting stronger and feeling better but this isn't a bad cold he is recovering from. The "getting stronger and feeling better " needs to be taken in context.
We have no insurance coverage for any cancer treatment right now (he was cancelled after his first round with this cancer back in 2005...we have lived with that reality since then) and we have doctor's bills well into 6 figures. The medication that Dave is on costs $100 per day. We received some assistance on the first month from the clinical trial he is participating in but we had no idea how we are going to cover the next month's supply. It will just about wipe out our entire savings account to pay for it out of our pocket. So far, Dave has seen 8 different physicians, all specialists in oncology, radiation therapy or immunology, had major surgery, so many MRIs and scans, I have lost count, not to mention the cost of the meds.
We have applied for every kind of medical assistance around and so far, we have not met most of the criteria....no dependent kids, too many assets (anything over $3000 is considered too high....), not young enough or not old enough. The state of NC has declared that Dave is, indeed, disabled, but not eligible for most of the disability assistance for one silly reason or another. Every rejection letter we get is ended with the phrase "If you feel this decision is in error..." and we start the process all over again. We finally were able to get insurance coverage for Dave out of the NC High Risk insurance pool and the premiums are not as steep ($400 per mo as opposed to $1200 for private insurance). Problem with that is that nothing pre-existing is covered until sometime in late October and nothing retroactively. We are paying towards all of these bills to make sure that he continues to have access to medical care so there is not a lot of disposable income around here...good thing we grow food.
The sole source of income we have is this farm. I have been managing things for the entire 2009 season so far. I have no choice but I am no Farmer Dave. He is recently getting to the point where he can actively participate and is doing so, but he is the heart and soul of this farm and it has suffered from his not being more part of it this year. All the rain we have had has not made things easy either and we are a bit behind, but things are finally coming together, now that we have our captain back. There is no way for either of us to get an outside job because I have to take care of everything from paying the bills and feeding chickens to going to markets. Obviously, Dave can't get a job either. I truly don't believe I could be working any harder.
We appreciate all the concern, thoughts, prayers and good energies sent our way. We couldn't do this alone.
After 5 years the cancer is back...May 31, 2009
May 31, 2009
Dave finally started his treatment on Sutent and so far is experiencing only minimal, if any, of the side effects we dreaded. While it is too early to say that is all good, it is a good sign that he won't develop any very severe ones. Some of them are cumulative, though, and so we have no idea what that might turn out to be, but for now, we are totally thankful to the Universe for giving him this blessing. The only side effect that we can actually see now is the one where his hair is turning white. Only a little right now, but we can already notice it without looking too closely....so if you see him down the road, don't be suprised if he looks like a tall, skinny Colonel Sanders.
We go back to the oncologist this week and again in a couple of weeks to check on the brain tumor and to make sure it is still not getting any bigger.
He is actually feeling pretty good right now, all things considered. It is funny that he was hale and hearty one week and flat on his back the next. Never take anything for granted in your life, because you never know what is around the next corner. Tell people that you love how you feel. Play with puppies and kittens and babies. Take that trip you've been putting off. Quit you job if you hate it and find something to do that you love. Stop living your life like somebody is going to give you another one (and I mean that symbolically). Time is never on your side...so don't be afraid to use it...it will certainly use you.
Things are going pretty well for Farmer Dave at the moment. He is now almost 2 weeks into his Sutent treatment and has far, knock on wood, has experienced none of the horrendous side effects associated with this treatment. Of course, some of the worst of these are cumulative and 2 weeks is only half of the treatment period (you take this drug 4 weeks on and 2 weeks off...it is too powerful to take all the time).
Dave finally started his treatment on Sutent and so far is experiencing only minimal, if any, of the side effects we dreaded. While it is too early to say that is all good, it is a good sign that he won't develop any very severe ones. Some of them are cumulative, though, and so we have no idea what that might turn out to be, but for now, we are totally thankful to the Universe for giving him this blessing. The only side effect that we can actually see now is the one where his hair is turning white. Only a little right now, but we can already notice it without looking too closely....so if you see him down the road, don't be suprised if he looks like a tall, skinny Colonel Sanders.
We go back to the oncologist this week and again in a couple of weeks to check on the brain tumor and to make sure it is still not getting any bigger.
He is actually feeling pretty good right now, all things considered. It is funny that he was hale and hearty one week and flat on his back the next. Never take anything for granted in your life, because you never know what is around the next corner. Tell people that you love how you feel. Play with puppies and kittens and babies. Take that trip you've been putting off. Quit you job if you hate it and find something to do that you love. Stop living your life like somebody is going to give you another one (and I mean that symbolically). Time is never on your side...so don't be afraid to use it...it will certainly use you.
Things are going pretty well for Farmer Dave at the moment. He is now almost 2 weeks into his Sutent treatment and has far, knock on wood, has experienced none of the horrendous side effects associated with this treatment. Of course, some of the worst of these are cumulative and 2 weeks is only half of the treatment period (you take this drug 4 weeks on and 2 weeks off...it is too powerful to take all the time).
After 5 years the cancer is back...May 20, 2009
May 20, 2009
Got some great news last week. Dave went in for an MRI of his brain, to follow up the previous one to see if there was any change in the tumor there. It HAD NOT changed at all, which is a good sign that it may not be RCC. He will go back in for another MRI in 6 weeks and if no change, the next one will not be for 8-10 weeks. If still no change, we will go to a 3-4 month rotation and then 6 months. If no changes after all that, it will only be once or twice a yead for a look see.I have never had an MRI but Dave says it is not too much fun. I think if I had to have one, it would require heavy sedation.
This week, we go for an echo cardiogram and yet another MRI, this time of the spine. He started the new drug, SUTENT, this week and they need benchmark tests for that, to measure if it is working. So far, no side effects, but I understand that they don't manifest for a while. Dave is still having trouble sleeping and he gets fatigued but he is still well able to get out and direct the troops and do some light farmwork occasionally.
Part of the reason he can't do much is that the back surgery he had requires a long recovery for anyone who has it, much less someone fighting cancer. I was a little concerned about how long it was taking, but then I spoke to someone who also had the same type of surgery almost a year ago and he is still having some recovery issues, too.
Keep sending your thoughts, good energy and prayers for Dave. We appreciate them all.
Got some great news last week. Dave went in for an MRI of his brain, to follow up the previous one to see if there was any change in the tumor there. It HAD NOT changed at all, which is a good sign that it may not be RCC. He will go back in for another MRI in 6 weeks and if no change, the next one will not be for 8-10 weeks. If still no change, we will go to a 3-4 month rotation and then 6 months. If no changes after all that, it will only be once or twice a yead for a look see.I have never had an MRI but Dave says it is not too much fun. I think if I had to have one, it would require heavy sedation.
This week, we go for an echo cardiogram and yet another MRI, this time of the spine. He started the new drug, SUTENT, this week and they need benchmark tests for that, to measure if it is working. So far, no side effects, but I understand that they don't manifest for a while. Dave is still having trouble sleeping and he gets fatigued but he is still well able to get out and direct the troops and do some light farmwork occasionally.
Part of the reason he can't do much is that the back surgery he had requires a long recovery for anyone who has it, much less someone fighting cancer. I was a little concerned about how long it was taking, but then I spoke to someone who also had the same type of surgery almost a year ago and he is still having some recovery issues, too.
Keep sending your thoughts, good energy and prayers for Dave. We appreciate them all.
After 5 years the cancer is back...May 6, 2009
May 6, 2009
Dave had surgery on Monday to remove a lymph node that was, of course, cancerous. We secretly hoped that wasn't the case. The surgeon was not able to remove the whole thing, so now they will be talking about radiation on what remains. I am afraid that won't be happening. Dave has said no more radiation. It is not worth it based on the fact that it does little good for renal cell carcinoma (I am talking about the usual stuff, not the Cyberknife procedure...totally different) and the side effects are much worse than worrying about the tumor.
We are already worn out from doctors, surgeries, hospitals, MRI's, CT scans, the flood of information, the conflicting reports from one doctor to the next and the general frustration of wondering why we are doing all this when the chances for survival are so low. We are both trying to stay as positive and hopeful as possible but believe me, this is no picnic. It is kind of like being stuck in a dream you can't wake up from, knowing something terrible is lurking in the dark but you have to keep walking toward it, no matter what. And we haven't even started the actual treatment for the cancer yet.
I know that some of you who read this blog must wonder why I refer to all of this using "we" and "us" instead of "he". That is because this disease has taken over my life, too, and every thing that happens to Dave happens to me in some way or another. There is no one single person affected here. It is here with me every moment of every day, just like it is with him and it is taking a toll on both of us. Good thing we have each other. With love, you can survive and I hope that we survive this.
As I said, we try so very hard to be positive about all this, but some days all we can do is cry and cling to each other.
Dave had surgery on Monday to remove a lymph node that was, of course, cancerous. We secretly hoped that wasn't the case. The surgeon was not able to remove the whole thing, so now they will be talking about radiation on what remains. I am afraid that won't be happening. Dave has said no more radiation. It is not worth it based on the fact that it does little good for renal cell carcinoma (I am talking about the usual stuff, not the Cyberknife procedure...totally different) and the side effects are much worse than worrying about the tumor.
We are already worn out from doctors, surgeries, hospitals, MRI's, CT scans, the flood of information, the conflicting reports from one doctor to the next and the general frustration of wondering why we are doing all this when the chances for survival are so low. We are both trying to stay as positive and hopeful as possible but believe me, this is no picnic. It is kind of like being stuck in a dream you can't wake up from, knowing something terrible is lurking in the dark but you have to keep walking toward it, no matter what. And we haven't even started the actual treatment for the cancer yet.
I know that some of you who read this blog must wonder why I refer to all of this using "we" and "us" instead of "he". That is because this disease has taken over my life, too, and every thing that happens to Dave happens to me in some way or another. There is no one single person affected here. It is here with me every moment of every day, just like it is with him and it is taking a toll on both of us. Good thing we have each other. With love, you can survive and I hope that we survive this.
As I said, we try so very hard to be positive about all this, but some days all we can do is cry and cling to each other.
And so it ends....
March 31, 2010
Farmer Dave
After 16 incredible, amazing years with the man that I loved almost beyond reason, my sweet, organic life changed last week, in the blink of an eye. Dave left this world behind last Tuesday and now I miss him more than I imagined possible. When we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that he wasn't ever going to get better and that his time was growing short, I tried to imagine how it was going to be without him, simply to prepare myself for the inevitable. When the time actually came, it was 1000 times harder than anything I was capable of conceiving.
While you try to prepare yourself for the eventuality of a death, especially when someone is fighting a disease as sinister as cancer, nothing, and I mean N-O-T-H-I-N-G, prepares you for that moment when you realize that this person you knew and loved is really and truly gone. It is like something grabs your chest and squeezes the life out of you, too. It is like a wave of unimaginable agony that strikes you powerless and paralyzed. You can't breathe, you can't move, you can't even think. All you can do is be held in the grasp of that moment while the world stops around just you and everything else keeps moving. When that grip suddenly is let go, it feels like the entire bottom of the universe has dropped away and left you suspended, beyond space and time. And then, the shockwave of reality hits you and you are forever changed.
I have thought long, hard and much about my life with Dave and I keep coming back to the same thing. We loved each other without reserve, without boundaries, without most of the trappings that come with a marriage sometimes. We never focused on careers, we had both done that in the lives we lived before we met. Instead, we decided to forgo the pursuit of happiness through things as artificial and man created as money, position and power because those things are worthless in the end. We vowed to focus all of our energies on the power of love, both between each other and for Mother Earth and her children.
In all our years together, we never quarreled (of course, we differed in opinion sometimes but how could we use our individual strengths if we didn't express them?), spent less that 2 dozen nights apart, expressed our love for one another at every opportunity and left absolutely nothing left unsaid between us. We worked side beside for most of those 16 years, first in our store at the beach and then at the Farm for the last decade. Every effort was made to insure that we remained able to spend our time and be together as much as possible.
We tried to guide and support each other in everything we did but Dave was always the better teacher. The lessons he taught me have shaped the person I am today. I never felt like I gave as much as he did in that regard, but he always said that I taught him what you could accomplish through the power of love. He taught me that it is okay to just be who you are, that growing as a person is necessary for one to move forward on their path toward enlightenment and that fear is the mind killer. I no longer fear many things because of Dave's lessons and that has given me great peace and serenity on many levels. His most important lesson was that I was worthy of being loved by someone like him - intelligent, wise, spiritual, amazing, kind, gentle and the most beautiful soul I have encountered in my 50+ years. That was a lesson he never tried to teach because he was too humble to think he was any of those things I mentioned.
We both truly believed that we were soul twins, joined for eternity and that comforts me greatly. I will miss him in ways I can't yet imagine. But there is so much of Dave, and who and what he was, in me now that he is with me still, in every fiber of my being and always will be there.
Namaste, my love, good journey.
After 16 incredible, amazing years with the man that I loved almost beyond reason, my sweet, organic life changed last week, in the blink of an eye. Dave left this world behind last Tuesday and now I miss him more than I imagined possible. When we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that he wasn't ever going to get better and that his time was growing short, I tried to imagine how it was going to be without him, simply to prepare myself for the inevitable. When the time actually came, it was 1000 times harder than anything I was capable of conceiving.
While you try to prepare yourself for the eventuality of a death, especially when someone is fighting a disease as sinister as cancer, nothing, and I mean N-O-T-H-I-N-G, prepares you for that moment when you realize that this person you knew and loved is really and truly gone. It is like something grabs your chest and squeezes the life out of you, too. It is like a wave of unimaginable agony that strikes you powerless and paralyzed. You can't breathe, you can't move, you can't even think. All you can do is be held in the grasp of that moment while the world stops around just you and everything else keeps moving. When that grip suddenly is let go, it feels like the entire bottom of the universe has dropped away and left you suspended, beyond space and time. And then, the shockwave of reality hits you and you are forever changed.
I have thought long, hard and much about my life with Dave and I keep coming back to the same thing. We loved each other without reserve, without boundaries, without most of the trappings that come with a marriage sometimes. We never focused on careers, we had both done that in the lives we lived before we met. Instead, we decided to forgo the pursuit of happiness through things as artificial and man created as money, position and power because those things are worthless in the end. We vowed to focus all of our energies on the power of love, both between each other and for Mother Earth and her children.
In all our years together, we never quarreled (of course, we differed in opinion sometimes but how could we use our individual strengths if we didn't express them?), spent less that 2 dozen nights apart, expressed our love for one another at every opportunity and left absolutely nothing left unsaid between us. We worked side beside for most of those 16 years, first in our store at the beach and then at the Farm for the last decade. Every effort was made to insure that we remained able to spend our time and be together as much as possible.
We tried to guide and support each other in everything we did but Dave was always the better teacher. The lessons he taught me have shaped the person I am today. I never felt like I gave as much as he did in that regard, but he always said that I taught him what you could accomplish through the power of love. He taught me that it is okay to just be who you are, that growing as a person is necessary for one to move forward on their path toward enlightenment and that fear is the mind killer. I no longer fear many things because of Dave's lessons and that has given me great peace and serenity on many levels. His most important lesson was that I was worthy of being loved by someone like him - intelligent, wise, spiritual, amazing, kind, gentle and the most beautiful soul I have encountered in my 50+ years. That was a lesson he never tried to teach because he was too humble to think he was any of those things I mentioned.
We both truly believed that we were soul twins, joined for eternity and that comforts me greatly. I will miss him in ways I can't yet imagine. But there is so much of Dave, and who and what he was, in me now that he is with me still, in every fiber of my being and always will be there.
Namaste, my love, good journey.
After 5 years the cancer is back...March 20, 2010
A little more somber topic here today. Dave, my husband and co-founder of the Farm is gravely ill. He has had kidney cancer since 2005 and has finally reached that stage where quality of life has become paramount. He is home and in hospice care. Alert some days, others completely "gone somewhere else", he is still guiding my hand when he can but mostly he just gazes out the window from his hospital bed and looks out across the fields. We are so blessed that he can watch deer and wild turkey cross from the pine woods, across the pasture and into our backyard. From his perspective in the hospital bed, he can see birds in the sky and the trees and he never misses when the local Cooper's hawk flies over when he is looking out the window.
Some of the friends here at this page know Dave and some don't. Those of you who do know him know him as a dedicated organic farmer. For the last decade, we have carved our little 30 acres into something that we are very proud of and with good reason. From an original tiny plot of 1000 square feet to 17 of the 30 acres being under organic cultivation, we have pushed forward each year to make the Farm a success. And I don't mean a monetary success, that has never been all that important to us (if you took a look at our bank account, you would concur with that statement). Of course, we have been so very, very lucky to have had the blessing and support of both of our families, even though in the beginning they were a little skeptical of what we were trying to do.
Originally, we didn't intend for the Farm to make our living. It was a labor of love for both of us and a part of a spiritual journey that we embarked on together a long time ago. Being able to dedicate so much of our lives to this labor is the culmination of our belief in something greater than ourselves and the manifestation of that belief into something tangible. There is no greater faith that to put a tiny seed in the ground and believe that it will eventually be fruitful and that it will feed the soul as well as the body. We experience that manifestation of our faith every single day and gives our lives tremendous meaning. How can you not believe in something greater than yourself when you see the miracles of Nature happen before your eyes every single day?
Setting an example for others to follow has always been something that we strove for at the Farm. Passing along the knowledge and experiences that we gained, too, has been something equally important. If one lives their life dedicated to their principles, that example can be an inspiration for others to follow. We have tried to make that the main tenet of our philosophies about organics, sustainability, living a life of voluntary simplicity.
From the day we met, we have done everything that we could to make sure that we spent as much time together as possible. Dave is truly my soulmate and when we are apart it feels like something is missing in myself. Not longing, like when you miss someone when they are gone, but just a little feeling in the background that something is not quite as it should be. Since establishing this farm, every day we have worked together, side by side, toe to toe, on nearly everything we have done. It has made our relationship strong and unbreakable.
Love is too small a word to describe what Dave and I share. His illness has given me pause to reflect on many of the things I have expressed here in this writing. My heartache at the possibility of losing him was overwhelming me recently, until I decided to stop focusing on what is to come and reflect on what has been and how we came to be at this place where we are now. It has made me realize that there will be no regrets for things undone between us. We have never failed to express everything we felt about each other, with both our words and deeds, left nothing unsaid. I know that when he is gone, I will feel the weight of the world on my shoulders but I also know I will be lifted to the Heavens knowing that someone like Dave so loved someone like me and never, ever failed to make me feel completely safe and loved for as long as I have known him.
Learning how to bend with the wind, instead of fighting to make it do what we chose to have it do, is something that every true organic farmer learns quickly. That bending leads one to find balance and harmony. Harmony leads to peace. And peace and love are what truly matter in the end.
I will continue to operate New Moon Farm Organics, no matter what happens in the future. It is Dave's legacy, what he leaves behind as a testament to his dedication and love of what we do here. I intend to continue our dreams and follow the path. He may not continue to walk with me in this realm, but he will always walk at my side, no matter where the path takes me.
Four days after I wrote this, Dave died. Most of what I had written here was read as his eulogy at his memorial service. Five days after Dave's memorial, his mother told me that she was planning to rent the farm to someone else and so I had to move away. It broke my heart to leave the place where we had shared so much. Every day I struggle to try and understand why.
Some of the friends here at this page know Dave and some don't. Those of you who do know him know him as a dedicated organic farmer. For the last decade, we have carved our little 30 acres into something that we are very proud of and with good reason. From an original tiny plot of 1000 square feet to 17 of the 30 acres being under organic cultivation, we have pushed forward each year to make the Farm a success. And I don't mean a monetary success, that has never been all that important to us (if you took a look at our bank account, you would concur with that statement). Of course, we have been so very, very lucky to have had the blessing and support of both of our families, even though in the beginning they were a little skeptical of what we were trying to do.
Originally, we didn't intend for the Farm to make our living. It was a labor of love for both of us and a part of a spiritual journey that we embarked on together a long time ago. Being able to dedicate so much of our lives to this labor is the culmination of our belief in something greater than ourselves and the manifestation of that belief into something tangible. There is no greater faith that to put a tiny seed in the ground and believe that it will eventually be fruitful and that it will feed the soul as well as the body. We experience that manifestation of our faith every single day and gives our lives tremendous meaning. How can you not believe in something greater than yourself when you see the miracles of Nature happen before your eyes every single day?
Setting an example for others to follow has always been something that we strove for at the Farm. Passing along the knowledge and experiences that we gained, too, has been something equally important. If one lives their life dedicated to their principles, that example can be an inspiration for others to follow. We have tried to make that the main tenet of our philosophies about organics, sustainability, living a life of voluntary simplicity.
From the day we met, we have done everything that we could to make sure that we spent as much time together as possible. Dave is truly my soulmate and when we are apart it feels like something is missing in myself. Not longing, like when you miss someone when they are gone, but just a little feeling in the background that something is not quite as it should be. Since establishing this farm, every day we have worked together, side by side, toe to toe, on nearly everything we have done. It has made our relationship strong and unbreakable.
Love is too small a word to describe what Dave and I share. His illness has given me pause to reflect on many of the things I have expressed here in this writing. My heartache at the possibility of losing him was overwhelming me recently, until I decided to stop focusing on what is to come and reflect on what has been and how we came to be at this place where we are now. It has made me realize that there will be no regrets for things undone between us. We have never failed to express everything we felt about each other, with both our words and deeds, left nothing unsaid. I know that when he is gone, I will feel the weight of the world on my shoulders but I also know I will be lifted to the Heavens knowing that someone like Dave so loved someone like me and never, ever failed to make me feel completely safe and loved for as long as I have known him.
Learning how to bend with the wind, instead of fighting to make it do what we chose to have it do, is something that every true organic farmer learns quickly. That bending leads one to find balance and harmony. Harmony leads to peace. And peace and love are what truly matter in the end.
I will continue to operate New Moon Farm Organics, no matter what happens in the future. It is Dave's legacy, what he leaves behind as a testament to his dedication and love of what we do here. I intend to continue our dreams and follow the path. He may not continue to walk with me in this realm, but he will always walk at my side, no matter where the path takes me.
Four days after I wrote this, Dave died. Most of what I had written here was read as his eulogy at his memorial service. Five days after Dave's memorial, his mother told me that she was planning to rent the farm to someone else and so I had to move away. It broke my heart to leave the place where we had shared so much. Every day I struggle to try and understand why.
After 5 years the cancer is back...March 11, 2010
March 11, 2010
It has been another one of those week, months, years. Hubby has been in the hospital for the last week and just got him home. I pray that nobody has to go through what we are going through, but I know that as long as there is no cure for cancer, that won't happen. Taking each day as it comes is all you can do. My sweet Farmer is beyond being cured and now we are in palliative care.
Thanks to all the people who have been so kind to us in the past and the present and to those I know will be kind in the future. While we are still looking at a relatively long road, it is just so hard to come to terms with your whole life changing in ways you never imagined it would. But I have learned that the fears I had about my ability to care and comfort for someone this intensely have been assuaged and I now know that the depth of love truly does conquer all.
It has been another one of those week, months, years. Hubby has been in the hospital for the last week and just got him home. I pray that nobody has to go through what we are going through, but I know that as long as there is no cure for cancer, that won't happen. Taking each day as it comes is all you can do. My sweet Farmer is beyond being cured and now we are in palliative care.
Thanks to all the people who have been so kind to us in the past and the present and to those I know will be kind in the future. While we are still looking at a relatively long road, it is just so hard to come to terms with your whole life changing in ways you never imagined it would. But I have learned that the fears I had about my ability to care and comfort for someone this intensely have been assuaged and I now know that the depth of love truly does conquer all.
After 5 years the cancer is back...February 26, 2010
Note: I maintained a special blog during Dave's illness just for our family and friends, to keep up with his progress. I was also posting on the farm website, so if some of these posts don't make sense or seem out of snyc, it is for that reason.
February 26, 2010
It has been a while since I posted anything to this blog. Mostly because things change so rapidly that is almost seems pointless to even keep up with what is happening to Dave but I will try to catch this all up without getting into too much detail.
First of all, the last post was back in early December when new tumors had just been discovered along his cervical spine and in a couple of ribs. Radiation was the call for those and seem to have stopped their growth for a while. Last scans just a couple of weeks ago showed no huge growth in any of the tumors, anywhere. There has been growth, but very small increases. Since he hasn't been on any cancer drugs since before my December 9th post, that seems to be veiled good news.
The lymphatic tumor on his face started to increase in size and just got totally out of hand and we just finished radiation for that last week. It actually started to shrink, but another node has showed up in about the same place, so that may be a problem waiting to happen.
Biggest hurdle we are now facing is the pain from all of these bone mets that he has. Bone pain is excrutiating and extremely hard to treat and so easing his pain has become an all consuming effort. On top of the cancer, he contracted shingles about a month ago and the pain from that on top of the bone pain is just about more than a human being ought to have to endure. Nothing seems to relieve it unless he is rendered just about unconscious. Since he hates that and since we have to be really careful of falls, lest he break one of these damaged bones, we try to keep the narcotic pain meds to the threshold that allows him confort without taking away his mental clarity. Unfortunately, that is nearly impossible to do, so he ebbs and flows through a maze of alertness and total incomprehension. That is wearing both of us down.
We go back to the oncologist on March 9th to see if he has reached a stable enough level of health to proceed with any cancer treatment. Unless he is deemed strong enough, they will not put him on anything to treat the cancer. Sometimes the cure is as bad as the disease and this is one of those cases. He has to be spot on, healthwise (or as healthy as a person can be in his situation) or it is not good medicine to add the problems with these powerful drugs can bring. Because he only has one kidney that is an issue since most every drug on the pharmacy shelf can cause kidney damage and that is just the over-the-counter stuff.
I am having a really hard time with all of this now because I feel like I have to be so strong for everybody. Not for Dave, because he is such a part of me that being there for him is like being there for myself. I can't stand trying to maintain my composure for the benefit of people who should be helping us.
With Dave, the hard part is when he is in such pain and he takes it out on me and then feels so bad later that he apologizes over and over for being mean to me. I tell him it is okay, and it is, really and truly, but it doesn't stop those outbursts from being extremely hurtful, even though I know he doesn't mean it. And it isn't hurtful in that moment, it is because I see our future in those moments.
I love this man with all my heart and soul and would do anything if I could relieve this pain he is in. If I could take it on myself I'd do it in a minute, without hesitation. My life with him has been better than I could ever have hoped for and I owe him so much for bringing me to the place I am today. The strength that I am finding that I have through all this is because of my love for him and nothing else.
February 26, 2010
It has been a while since I posted anything to this blog. Mostly because things change so rapidly that is almost seems pointless to even keep up with what is happening to Dave but I will try to catch this all up without getting into too much detail.
First of all, the last post was back in early December when new tumors had just been discovered along his cervical spine and in a couple of ribs. Radiation was the call for those and seem to have stopped their growth for a while. Last scans just a couple of weeks ago showed no huge growth in any of the tumors, anywhere. There has been growth, but very small increases. Since he hasn't been on any cancer drugs since before my December 9th post, that seems to be veiled good news.
The lymphatic tumor on his face started to increase in size and just got totally out of hand and we just finished radiation for that last week. It actually started to shrink, but another node has showed up in about the same place, so that may be a problem waiting to happen.
Biggest hurdle we are now facing is the pain from all of these bone mets that he has. Bone pain is excrutiating and extremely hard to treat and so easing his pain has become an all consuming effort. On top of the cancer, he contracted shingles about a month ago and the pain from that on top of the bone pain is just about more than a human being ought to have to endure. Nothing seems to relieve it unless he is rendered just about unconscious. Since he hates that and since we have to be really careful of falls, lest he break one of these damaged bones, we try to keep the narcotic pain meds to the threshold that allows him confort without taking away his mental clarity. Unfortunately, that is nearly impossible to do, so he ebbs and flows through a maze of alertness and total incomprehension. That is wearing both of us down.
We go back to the oncologist on March 9th to see if he has reached a stable enough level of health to proceed with any cancer treatment. Unless he is deemed strong enough, they will not put him on anything to treat the cancer. Sometimes the cure is as bad as the disease and this is one of those cases. He has to be spot on, healthwise (or as healthy as a person can be in his situation) or it is not good medicine to add the problems with these powerful drugs can bring. Because he only has one kidney that is an issue since most every drug on the pharmacy shelf can cause kidney damage and that is just the over-the-counter stuff.
I am having a really hard time with all of this now because I feel like I have to be so strong for everybody. Not for Dave, because he is such a part of me that being there for him is like being there for myself. I can't stand trying to maintain my composure for the benefit of people who should be helping us.
With Dave, the hard part is when he is in such pain and he takes it out on me and then feels so bad later that he apologizes over and over for being mean to me. I tell him it is okay, and it is, really and truly, but it doesn't stop those outbursts from being extremely hurtful, even though I know he doesn't mean it. And it isn't hurtful in that moment, it is because I see our future in those moments.
I love this man with all my heart and soul and would do anything if I could relieve this pain he is in. If I could take it on myself I'd do it in a minute, without hesitation. My life with him has been better than I could ever have hoped for and I owe him so much for bringing me to the place I am today. The strength that I am finding that I have through all this is because of my love for him and nothing else.
After 5 years the cancer is back...February 13, 2009
February 13, 2009
In my previous post, I mentioned that we were having some issues with the Farmer's back and now it has become an even bigger issue. Four years ago, he was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma. If that sounds like a big scary disease, it is. No question. It strikes like a cobra that has to be killed in one blow. With RCC, that blow is the removal of the kidney, where the tumor originates. If it hasn't moved on to other parts of the body, you are pronounced cured and sent home, told to get a CT scan once a year and have a nice life.
Sometimes it doesn't come back, only that rarely happens. This is a hard disease to fight. The problem is that it doesn't respond to normal chemo and radiation has very little, if any, affect on it. Thank goodness there has been some real progress and some profound breakthroughs made in the treatment of this cancer over the last four years...provided you are able to obtain these treatments. There are a lot of stumbling blocks, particularly cost, location and availability.
This is one insidious cancer, because it is always lurking in the background of your life, waiting to rise again from the ashes. But, unlike the mythical Phoenix, it has a much more sinister purpose and it usually comes back with a vengeance. So, you have to decide how you are going to live your life...sitting in the house waiting for the ax to fall or live your life like there is no tomorrow...always in the moment and looking forward to the next. Luckily for us, we chose the latter.
The last four years have been up and down for us but we have never waivered from our mission of growing the healthiest food we possibly could and getting it to the people in our community. Our committment to our brothers and sisters of Mother Earth has always been at the core of everything we do. We live our own lives with that committment to excellent stewardship always at the forefront (by example is always the best way to teach) and try to never waiver from our goals of sustainability, self-sufficiency and simplicity. In some ways, that has made us outsiders, not quite fitting into the flow of what is happening around us. In other ways, it has made us richer than royalty.
Sometimes it almost seems like people are hinting to us that we should apologize for how we live and I can't imagine why. Our life here at the Farm is one of relative peace and harmony and if that sounds hippyish, that is because it is. There was nothing wrong with those lofty ideals that so many had in the 1960's and early 70's. The problem was with the means to the end and so it didn't stick. Humans are pack animals and we are hardwired on some levels to always try to fit in, which usually means taking the path of least resistance. Ergo, the old hippies became wealthy opening health food stores and record companies. Personally, I became a financial advisor and spent 25 years on that hamster wheel before I could get off and save myself.
Finding ourselves in this present position, that of knowing basically nothing about what the future holds, has left us bruised and battered but underneath all that, we know how strong our bond is and know that we will deal with it all, as best we can. Hopefully, our best will result in only positive things and we will continue along the path we have chosen. Love really is the answer and we have that in spades.
I don't imagine I will be posting very frequently here at this blog for a while. During the next several weeks and months there is a lot of work to be done both at the Farm and to fight this illness. I may be wrong about the postings, though, because I find this is a good place to vent, let out feelings, etc. especially since this blog is about my life on an organic farm and this is all part of that life.
In my previous post, I mentioned that we were having some issues with the Farmer's back and now it has become an even bigger issue. Four years ago, he was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma. If that sounds like a big scary disease, it is. No question. It strikes like a cobra that has to be killed in one blow. With RCC, that blow is the removal of the kidney, where the tumor originates. If it hasn't moved on to other parts of the body, you are pronounced cured and sent home, told to get a CT scan once a year and have a nice life.
Sometimes it doesn't come back, only that rarely happens. This is a hard disease to fight. The problem is that it doesn't respond to normal chemo and radiation has very little, if any, affect on it. Thank goodness there has been some real progress and some profound breakthroughs made in the treatment of this cancer over the last four years...provided you are able to obtain these treatments. There are a lot of stumbling blocks, particularly cost, location and availability.
This is one insidious cancer, because it is always lurking in the background of your life, waiting to rise again from the ashes. But, unlike the mythical Phoenix, it has a much more sinister purpose and it usually comes back with a vengeance. So, you have to decide how you are going to live your life...sitting in the house waiting for the ax to fall or live your life like there is no tomorrow...always in the moment and looking forward to the next. Luckily for us, we chose the latter.
The last four years have been up and down for us but we have never waivered from our mission of growing the healthiest food we possibly could and getting it to the people in our community. Our committment to our brothers and sisters of Mother Earth has always been at the core of everything we do. We live our own lives with that committment to excellent stewardship always at the forefront (by example is always the best way to teach) and try to never waiver from our goals of sustainability, self-sufficiency and simplicity. In some ways, that has made us outsiders, not quite fitting into the flow of what is happening around us. In other ways, it has made us richer than royalty.
Sometimes it almost seems like people are hinting to us that we should apologize for how we live and I can't imagine why. Our life here at the Farm is one of relative peace and harmony and if that sounds hippyish, that is because it is. There was nothing wrong with those lofty ideals that so many had in the 1960's and early 70's. The problem was with the means to the end and so it didn't stick. Humans are pack animals and we are hardwired on some levels to always try to fit in, which usually means taking the path of least resistance. Ergo, the old hippies became wealthy opening health food stores and record companies. Personally, I became a financial advisor and spent 25 years on that hamster wheel before I could get off and save myself.
Finding ourselves in this present position, that of knowing basically nothing about what the future holds, has left us bruised and battered but underneath all that, we know how strong our bond is and know that we will deal with it all, as best we can. Hopefully, our best will result in only positive things and we will continue along the path we have chosen. Love really is the answer and we have that in spades.
I don't imagine I will be posting very frequently here at this blog for a while. During the next several weeks and months there is a lot of work to be done both at the Farm and to fight this illness. I may be wrong about the postings, though, because I find this is a good place to vent, let out feelings, etc. especially since this blog is about my life on an organic farm and this is all part of that life.
After 5 years the cancer is back...February 4, 2009
February 4, 2009
The Farmer is presently hospitalized and having back surgery, so I am suspending the blog temporarily. We have been preoccupied with this for a while not (hence the lack of postings) so bear with me and I should be back on line when he gets home from the hospital next week, since we will be sticking close to the house until he is ambulatory again. Thanks.
The Farmer is presently hospitalized and having back surgery, so I am suspending the blog temporarily. We have been preoccupied with this for a while not (hence the lack of postings) so bear with me and I should be back on line when he gets home from the hospital next week, since we will be sticking close to the house until he is ambulatory again. Thanks.
After 5 years the cancer is back...April 17, 2009
April 17, 2009
In some of my previous posts, I mentioned that we were having some issues with the Farmer's back that has now it has become an even bigger issue. Four years ago, he was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma. If that sounds like a big scary disease, it is. No question. It strikes like a cobra that has to be killed in one blow. With RCC, that blow is the removal of the kidney, where the tumor originates. If it hasn't moved on to other parts of the body, you are pronounced cured and sent home, told to get a CT scan once a year and have a nice life.
Sometimes it doesn't come back - only that rarely happens. This is a hard disease to fight. The problem is that it doesn't respond to normal chemo. Radiation as most people know it, has little effect on this cancer, but there are some cutting edge techniques being used now that may render the old info obsolete. There has been some real progress and some profound breakthroughs made in the treatment of this cancer over the last four years, provided you are able to obtain these treatments.
While there is no "cure" there are at least some life extending options available now that were only experimental in 2005. Biggest problem with them, though, is that the possible side effects are pretty intense and QOL can be considerably affected by them. Plus, there are other stumbling blocks to the newer treatments, particularly cost, location and availability.
This is one insidious cancer, because it is always lurking in the background of your life, waiting to rise again from the ashes. But, unlike the mythical Phoenix, it has a much more sinister purpose and it usually comes back with a vengeance. So, you have to decide how you are going to live your life...sitting in the house waiting for the ax to fall or live your life like there is no tomorrow...always in the moment and looking forward to the next. Luckily for us, we chose the latter.
The last four years have been up and down for us but we have never waivered from our mission of growing the healthiest food we possibly could and to get it to the people in our community. Our committment to our brothers and sisters under Mother Earth has always been at the forefront of everything we do. We live our own lives with that committment to excellent stewardship always at the forefront (by example is always the best way to teach) and try to never waiver from our goals of sustainability, self-sufficiency and simplicity. In some ways, that has made us outsiders, not quite fitting into the flow of what is happening around us.
Sometimes it almost seems like people are hinting to us that we should apologize for how we live and I can't imagine why. Our life here is one of relative peace and harmony and if that sounds hippyish, that is because it is. There was nothing wrong with those lofty ideals that so many had in the 1960's and early 70's. The means to the end was just flawed and so it didn't stick. Humans are pack animals and we are hardwired on some levels to always try to fit in, which usually means taking the path of least resistance. Ergo, the old hippies became wealthy opening health food stores and record companies. Personally, I became a financial advisor and spent 25 years on that rat wheel before I could get off and save myself. Dave's story is similar.
Finding ourselves in this present position, that of knowing basically nothing about what the future holds, has left us bruised and battered but underneath all that, we know how strong our bond is and know that we will deal with it as best we can. Hopefully, our best will result in only positive things and we will continue along the path we have chosen. Love really is the answer and we have that in spades.
In some of my previous posts, I mentioned that we were having some issues with the Farmer's back that has now it has become an even bigger issue. Four years ago, he was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma. If that sounds like a big scary disease, it is. No question. It strikes like a cobra that has to be killed in one blow. With RCC, that blow is the removal of the kidney, where the tumor originates. If it hasn't moved on to other parts of the body, you are pronounced cured and sent home, told to get a CT scan once a year and have a nice life.
Sometimes it doesn't come back - only that rarely happens. This is a hard disease to fight. The problem is that it doesn't respond to normal chemo. Radiation as most people know it, has little effect on this cancer, but there are some cutting edge techniques being used now that may render the old info obsolete. There has been some real progress and some profound breakthroughs made in the treatment of this cancer over the last four years, provided you are able to obtain these treatments.
While there is no "cure" there are at least some life extending options available now that were only experimental in 2005. Biggest problem with them, though, is that the possible side effects are pretty intense and QOL can be considerably affected by them. Plus, there are other stumbling blocks to the newer treatments, particularly cost, location and availability.
This is one insidious cancer, because it is always lurking in the background of your life, waiting to rise again from the ashes. But, unlike the mythical Phoenix, it has a much more sinister purpose and it usually comes back with a vengeance. So, you have to decide how you are going to live your life...sitting in the house waiting for the ax to fall or live your life like there is no tomorrow...always in the moment and looking forward to the next. Luckily for us, we chose the latter.
The last four years have been up and down for us but we have never waivered from our mission of growing the healthiest food we possibly could and to get it to the people in our community. Our committment to our brothers and sisters under Mother Earth has always been at the forefront of everything we do. We live our own lives with that committment to excellent stewardship always at the forefront (by example is always the best way to teach) and try to never waiver from our goals of sustainability, self-sufficiency and simplicity. In some ways, that has made us outsiders, not quite fitting into the flow of what is happening around us.
Sometimes it almost seems like people are hinting to us that we should apologize for how we live and I can't imagine why. Our life here is one of relative peace and harmony and if that sounds hippyish, that is because it is. There was nothing wrong with those lofty ideals that so many had in the 1960's and early 70's. The means to the end was just flawed and so it didn't stick. Humans are pack animals and we are hardwired on some levels to always try to fit in, which usually means taking the path of least resistance. Ergo, the old hippies became wealthy opening health food stores and record companies. Personally, I became a financial advisor and spent 25 years on that rat wheel before I could get off and save myself. Dave's story is similar.
Finding ourselves in this present position, that of knowing basically nothing about what the future holds, has left us bruised and battered but underneath all that, we know how strong our bond is and know that we will deal with it as best we can. Hopefully, our best will result in only positive things and we will continue along the path we have chosen. Love really is the answer and we have that in spades.
After 5 years the cancer is back...April 13, 2009
April 13, 2009
If you are reading this blog, I will assume that you are interested in what is happening with Dave. The truth of the matter is that his situation is not too good. He is still experiencing weakness and pain in his legs, along with a tremendous reduction in mobility, due to the spinal reconstruction. He can drive again, but our car is a 5-speed and it hurts to change the gears, so I drive most places. Usually, he borrows his mom's truck to go anywhere, but lately he hasn't felt like leaving the house too often.
The radiation treatments he had for the edema and the tumor that remained after the surgery has kicked his booty. He has been nauseated now for almost 5 weeks and his appetite ebbs and flows. Some days he can't get enough to eat and some days he doesn't eat anything. The reason for this is that the radiation was targeted at the spine, but traveled straight through to the body and killed the cells lining the stomach, etc. While they are healing, the nausea, pain, etc. will continue. According to the radiologist, this could last for several months or be well overnight. I was hoping for overnight but looks like we rolled snake eyes on this one.
Last week, we went to the oncologist for another consultation and for a reading of the MRI and CT scans that were done earlier that day. Up until now, we haven't seen any pictures of the region from the shoulders up...neck and head, in other words. There is a nodule in the facial lymph gland that bears looking into because it can't be definitively identified visually. In other words, it has to be biopsied, which can be done two ways...needle or excision. Yet another surgeon came in for a consult and advised removal because of the location, so that happens the first of May. Also, we are having yet another consult with his neurosurgeon about the very large tumor that showed up in one of the ventricles of the brain. Although it looks benign from the structure, again, there is no way to tell. We don't have any recommendation on that yet.
As of last week, Dave has a large tumor in his right lung and a small one in the left. Also the lymph node between the lungs has been affected. Our oncologist said if he developed a cough we should come straight into the office. There are two very small tumors in the liver and several along the spinal column. We haven't started the drug treatment for these tumors yet because of all of the other issues. You can't take this powerful drug 7-10 days before or after you have any surgery or other procedure that causes bleeding. That means we can't start on that treatment until mid-May. That might not sound like a long time to you but these tumors grew visibly in just the 4 weeks between their original discovery and the follow up scans last week. This means that the Renal Cell is relatively aggressive so we are caught in a loop of what to do when.
I feel very blessed that we have one of the best oncologists in this area attending Dave. The doctors we have seen so far have been incredibly concerned, caring and involved.
If you are reading this blog, I will assume that you are interested in what is happening with Dave. The truth of the matter is that his situation is not too good. He is still experiencing weakness and pain in his legs, along with a tremendous reduction in mobility, due to the spinal reconstruction. He can drive again, but our car is a 5-speed and it hurts to change the gears, so I drive most places. Usually, he borrows his mom's truck to go anywhere, but lately he hasn't felt like leaving the house too often.
The radiation treatments he had for the edema and the tumor that remained after the surgery has kicked his booty. He has been nauseated now for almost 5 weeks and his appetite ebbs and flows. Some days he can't get enough to eat and some days he doesn't eat anything. The reason for this is that the radiation was targeted at the spine, but traveled straight through to the body and killed the cells lining the stomach, etc. While they are healing, the nausea, pain, etc. will continue. According to the radiologist, this could last for several months or be well overnight. I was hoping for overnight but looks like we rolled snake eyes on this one.
Last week, we went to the oncologist for another consultation and for a reading of the MRI and CT scans that were done earlier that day. Up until now, we haven't seen any pictures of the region from the shoulders up...neck and head, in other words. There is a nodule in the facial lymph gland that bears looking into because it can't be definitively identified visually. In other words, it has to be biopsied, which can be done two ways...needle or excision. Yet another surgeon came in for a consult and advised removal because of the location, so that happens the first of May. Also, we are having yet another consult with his neurosurgeon about the very large tumor that showed up in one of the ventricles of the brain. Although it looks benign from the structure, again, there is no way to tell. We don't have any recommendation on that yet.
As of last week, Dave has a large tumor in his right lung and a small one in the left. Also the lymph node between the lungs has been affected. Our oncologist said if he developed a cough we should come straight into the office. There are two very small tumors in the liver and several along the spinal column. We haven't started the drug treatment for these tumors yet because of all of the other issues. You can't take this powerful drug 7-10 days before or after you have any surgery or other procedure that causes bleeding. That means we can't start on that treatment until mid-May. That might not sound like a long time to you but these tumors grew visibly in just the 4 weeks between their original discovery and the follow up scans last week. This means that the Renal Cell is relatively aggressive so we are caught in a loop of what to do when.
I feel very blessed that we have one of the best oncologists in this area attending Dave. The doctors we have seen so far have been incredibly concerned, caring and involved.
After 5 years the cancer is back...April 19, 2009
April 19, 2009
First of all, Dave is well on the mend and feeling much better. I won't say he is 100% better, but I wouldn't be remiss if I said probably 80% better. Still having a lot of stiffness in his spine and some leg pain, but the nausea and loss of appetite are abating more each day. It is good to see him eating with gutso again. We have a break for at least 7-10 days....no doctors appts, so Dave headed to the coast for a couple of days. He left this morning to go to visit some of our friends in Wrightsville beach for a few days and hopefully, I can join him mid-week for a day or two. His sister, who also lives there, came this weekend and he decided to go back with her. I think a change of scenery is just what this "doctor" ordered.
Last week, we had yet another consultation with a radiological oncologist. This was in reference to the latest tumor found in the brain. Even though several of the consulting doctors have said that the mass in the ventricle looks different that the others, it may be because it is in a fluid filled cavity, instead of tissue, so it has to be investigated.
Because of the location of the tumor and the blood vessels that feed it, it is almost impossible to pursue the normal course, which is biopsy. That leaves us with observation. In 4 more weeks, Dave will have another MRI and the mass will be measured for growth. If there is none, we will wait a bit longer, say 6-8 weeks, and have another MRI. If there is still no growth detected, we will wait several months and repeat the process. In other words, if it isn't growing visibly, it may not be a renal cell tumor. Although that is highly unlikely, it is still a possibility and I am taking that as a positive thing.
If it turns out to be RCC, then Dave will have a procedure done, called stereotactic radiosurgery or "Cyberknife". This is a cutting edge technology, were microbeams of radiation are used. It is precise, less injurious, and more successful that many radiation treatments. 9 out of 10 people who have this treatment see dramatic results, with minimal side effects because of the manner in which the dose of radiation is given. This is probably the best news we have had through the course of this whole ordeal.
First of all, Dave is well on the mend and feeling much better. I won't say he is 100% better, but I wouldn't be remiss if I said probably 80% better. Still having a lot of stiffness in his spine and some leg pain, but the nausea and loss of appetite are abating more each day. It is good to see him eating with gutso again. We have a break for at least 7-10 days....no doctors appts, so Dave headed to the coast for a couple of days. He left this morning to go to visit some of our friends in Wrightsville beach for a few days and hopefully, I can join him mid-week for a day or two. His sister, who also lives there, came this weekend and he decided to go back with her. I think a change of scenery is just what this "doctor" ordered.
Last week, we had yet another consultation with a radiological oncologist. This was in reference to the latest tumor found in the brain. Even though several of the consulting doctors have said that the mass in the ventricle looks different that the others, it may be because it is in a fluid filled cavity, instead of tissue, so it has to be investigated.
Because of the location of the tumor and the blood vessels that feed it, it is almost impossible to pursue the normal course, which is biopsy. That leaves us with observation. In 4 more weeks, Dave will have another MRI and the mass will be measured for growth. If there is none, we will wait a bit longer, say 6-8 weeks, and have another MRI. If there is still no growth detected, we will wait several months and repeat the process. In other words, if it isn't growing visibly, it may not be a renal cell tumor. Although that is highly unlikely, it is still a possibility and I am taking that as a positive thing.
If it turns out to be RCC, then Dave will have a procedure done, called stereotactic radiosurgery or "Cyberknife". This is a cutting edge technology, were microbeams of radiation are used. It is precise, less injurious, and more successful that many radiation treatments. 9 out of 10 people who have this treatment see dramatic results, with minimal side effects because of the manner in which the dose of radiation is given. This is probably the best news we have had through the course of this whole ordeal.
Last Sunday marked the 7th month that I have lived without you. I thought I would die myself so many times, but here I still am...missing you, lonely, heartsick from the weight of it all. But I still smile everyday because of memories of you. You were my last love, my best love, my only love. I miss you.
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and I was sure that Dave was there with me. Not like I could feel his presence or anything mystical like that. More like I was dreaming about him being there next to me and when I woke up I didn't know if it was real or a dream. I guess it was because my feet were cold and I put them over on the side of the bed where he should have been and it woke me up when I realized he wasn't there. I used to put them on him to get them warm in the wintertime. Probably ought to buy myself some new socks.
Looking through widow eyes (from my facebook page)
Before I friend someone I don't know I always go to their page, read their info, see if we have anything in common. I always look at their pictures, too, especially if my new friend is a widow(er). That is when I see the "before" pictures. Before pictures with smiling faces, handsome husbands, gentle fathers, family vacations, years gone by and such. Mostly in these pictures I see the love that was shared.
And then there are the "after" pictures, although usually there are very few of those. When I look at those, even if the person is smiling, I can still see the sadness, the pain, the loss in the eyes...I call those "widow eyes". I too have widow eyes and I see the world in a different way when I look through them. Sometimes I wish I was blind.
I was Queen of the World
Grief 101
I am 58 years old and the prospects of me ever having another relationship are almost nil as I see it. Not that I ever want another relationship. The one I had was perfect and that would be a tough act to follow. I don't think I could be with someone else without comparing him to Dave and that would be so unfair. But I am a realist and I know that I probably have another 30-35 years to go in this life and being alone for all that time is very scary to me. The weight of all that started really getting me down.
With nothing much to fill my days, I have all this empty time on my hands. I have had plenty of time to focus on what is wrong with my life and that is what I was doing up until about a month ago. I can't really explain it but I kind of had a "vision" that changed my mind about things and so I have been working very hard on remembering only how incredible my life with Dave has been and not on "poor me".
I used to live in a place where there was a Light
A Light that shined on me all the time
The Light was warm, safe, comforting and
I sought it often
Now that Light has been turned off
I walk in darkness
Feeling my way with my hands, my head and my heart
It is like being blind while still being able to see
I bump into things I had forgotten were even there
I lose my way a lot and sometimes
I am not sure where I am
Sometimes I trip and I fall
I am careful, though
I walk around those things that might cause me to stumble
I avoid those places where the chasms are deep, where I feel too much
Those are the ones that could cause me to fall forever
I noticed lately that there seems to be a little more light
A little more clarity, as I move through the day
Could the Light be returning?
Original poem by Suzanne Ballard, copyright 2010
I choose to stand in the light...
"Today I choose to stand in the light of your love. I will not seek the darkness, I will not lose my way. You loved me. It is enough."
Dave once told me that I was a force of nature and that he had never known a woman so strong or so capable. That is who he fell in love with, the woman I was, not the woman I have become in these 6 short months. The only thing he ever wanted for me was to be happy and to grow and flourish as a human being and I will not disappoint him any longer.
Dave once told me that I was a force of nature and that he had never known a woman so strong or so capable. That is who he fell in love with, the woman I was, not the woman I have become in these 6 short months. The only thing he ever wanted for me was to be happy and to grow and flourish as a human being and I will not disappoint him any longer.
The Labyrinth
The Labyrinth
by Suzanne R Ballard on Sunday, October 17, 2010 at 9:25am
Today I am filled with Spirit. I feel so much love and gratitude for my family, for my friends, my life. And all because of a word.
Lately, I have been in one of those places widows go sometimes and it is always a scary thing. Many times, when I enter this place, I envision the ancient labyrinth of Greek legend for some reason. A dark, cold, dank place that I can almost feel, even though it is all in my head. I think that mental picture comes to mind because I have always liked mythology and the story of the Minotaur's labyrinth. Recently, that vision is hard for me to get out of my head, it was so prevalent it was positively unnerving. So I decided that I would look up the word "labyrinth" because when we are armed with knowledge, we are usually stronger for it. This is what I found.
"Labyrinths are believed to have served as traps for malevolent spirits or as defined paths for ritual dances. In medieval times, the labyrinth symbolized a hard path to God with a clearly defined center (God) and one entrance (our birth). Labyrinths can be thought of as symbolic forms of pilgrimage; people can walk the path, ascending toward salvation or enlightenment. Many people could not afford to travel to holy sites and lands, so labyrinths and prayer substituted for such travel. Later, the religious significance of labyrinths faded, and they served primarily for entertainment, though recently their spiritual aspect has seen a resurgence.
Many newly made labyrinths exist today, in churches and parks. Labyrinths are used by modern mystics to help achieve a contemplative state. Walking among the turnings, one loses track of direction and of the outside world, and thus quiets the mind.
As with other pagan cultural practices, the prayer labyrinth was adopted by the Church across Europe during the medieval times, being often used as a means to meditate, pray and connect with God in a higher spiritual way. Numerous cathedrals in Europe have prayer labyrinths embedded into their floors, with the Cathedral of Chartres (Notre-Dame de Chartres Cathedral), located about 80 km from Paris having one of the most famous prayer labyrinths in the world. Prayer labyrinths were often viewed and modeled as a journey to Jerusalem and were even called Chemin de Jerusalem (Road of Jerusalem) serving as a spiritual pilgrimage for those who could not afford to travel to Jerusalem, the center of the world.
The widest accepted prayer labyrinth in the Church was the eleven-circuit labyrinth, which is more symbolic of Christ's cross with its four quadrants, and grace being symbolized by the never-ending path to the center and back, allowing the pilgrim to walk the path at his own pace, stop for prayer and meditation as needed.
By the 17th and 18th centuries however, prayer labyrinths had lost much of their spiritual meaning. Some clergy and other believers now associate them with New Age mystical practices or even occultism. However, with the practice of walking the prayer labyrinth becoming popular again in contemporary Christianity, particularly in the Emerging Church movement, many Christian denominations from across the theological spectrum are again adopting the practice of walking the prayer labyrinth. Some churches opening their labyrinths to any pilgrim in need of contemplation and prayer. The prayer labyrinth is not a maze in the popular sense, and rather has one path on which one cannot get lost, serving a powerful symbol of individual life journeys and pilgrimage in faith.
The labyrinth is a universal symbol for the world, with its complications and difficulties, which we experience on our journey through life. The entry to the labyrinth is birth; the center is death and eternal life. In Christian terms, the thread that leads us through life is divine grace. Like any pilgrimage, the labyrinth represents the inner pilgrimage we are called to make to take us to the center of our being. In some Christian circles today the labyrinth continues to be used as an instrument to facilitate meditation, prayer, personal reflection, etc.
For example, when walking the Chartres style labyrinth, one meanders through each of the four quadrants several times before reaching the goal. An expectation is created as to when the center will be reached. At the center is a rosette design which has a rich symbolic value including that of enlightenment.."
Whoa....that was so much more than I expected. And the irony of the use of the example of the Cathedral of Chartres is that I have actually been there and visited that labyrinth. It is there, in the floor, you almost have to walk it.
Sometimes on the widows forums I frequent, the question is asked "do you ever see signs that your loved one is near?". Usually I toss those questions out the window because I am not a strong believer in the conventional idea of angels, heaven, hell, the afterlife, etc. Not that I don't believe in something, I just have my own very specific ideas and that is enough said about that. I do believe that there is a Greater Power than myself and I believe that strongly. Today I believe that maybe there is a possibility that this "vision" of the laybrinth and the word being so stuck in my head is because it was put there. I have had no other reason to even think the word. And it makes sense to me in a way. If my Spirit guide was trying to tell me something, to help me with my struggle, this is certainly the way it would happen.
Call me silly, but I believe that I will start paying much more attention from now on. And I will be creating my own meditation labyrinth as soon as I can decide where to put it. Thanks, Honey.
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