Is this love- bob marley lyrics


Dave and I were huge Bob Marley fans.  This was one of Dave's favorite songs.

If Someone Said...

If someone said I could see you one more time...I would give them my eyes.
If someone said I could hear your voice whisper my name...I would give them my ears.
If someone said I could taste your sweet kiss just once again...I would give them my mouth.
If someone said I could hold you for just a moment...I would give them my arms.
If someone said I could walk beside you if only for a step...I would give them my legs. 
But if someone said that I could feel your heart beat one last time, I'd have nothing left to give
because I already gave my heart to you.
And if someone said I only had one breath left to take, I would take it saying your name. 

Original poem Suzanne Ballard 2010

Yes, Shit Happens...but mostly, it happens to me.

The following is pretty much what happened to me the first couple of months after my sweet Dave died. This story is extremely negative and in some way I am ashamed that I am not able to put aside my hurt and anger over all of this but I simply cannot at this point. I don't expect anyone to feel sorry for me or to even sympathize.  My struggle to understand moves me to write this down, like somehow if I put it into words on a page, I can start to make some sense of it all.
I wish I didn't feel so strongly the need to put this into words, but the truth is that I cannot begin down any path toward healing myself until I purge this from my soul. It is eating away at me and as hard as I have tried, I have not been able to move on from how I feel over what has happened to me since Dave died.  After this post, I have sworn to myself that I will never again post anything else on this subject but I am somehow compelled to write this one.




When my husband died in March 2010, I moved to back my hometown, to be closer to my parents and frankly, because I wasn't given any choice in the matter.  Family dynamics change when someone dies and this time was no exception. I have never been particularly close to Dave's family. The reasons don't really matter any more but they had a profound impact on my life after Dave died.  I am trying to make the best of a bad situation but I think it bears an explanation to anyone who is reading this blog so that one can get a feel for what I am up against and why some times my posts sound so bitter and angry.  It is not a matter of me being unable to deal with this grief.  There is so much more to this story.

Losing Dave was the absolute worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life up until now. It has forever changed me. The death of the one you are closest to always affects the one left behind in ways you can't even imagine until it happens to you. I feel like losing Dave set me on the road to oblivion and I am struggling with finding a way back to a place where everything is not so black.

Near the end of March, 2010, only six days after Dave's passing, his mother announced  to me that she was planning on renting Dave's beloved organic fields to another farmer and that this farmer intended to grow hay. On those fields that Dave put 10 years of his blood, sweat and yes, even sometimes his tears, into.  I was so stunned I was speechless. I was not offered any choice in the matter, the decision had been made. No opportunity to stay and be the renter, nothing. Just pretty much "you need to go", strongly implied the sooner the better.  

Ironically, as she was telling me this, she was saying that she wasn't pushing me to leave but that I needed to get all of my equipment, tomato cages, plant stakes, etc, out of the field by the end of May because, on June 1st, the new farmer would want to start working in the field. In the next breath she was telling me that she needed to work on the house, the one where Dave and I had lived for the last 10 years,  so she could rent that out, also. That didn't leave me much time since it was already almost April.  It seems that house needed to be vacated for the repairs and so that the new tenant could move in by August. Since there was a good bit that needed repair and since that couldn't be done while I was still in the house...well, you see where I am going with this.  It was quite obvious that she had been giving this a lot of thought for quite a while. Without giving me an actual date to be out, that was effectively exactly what she did. In other words, I had between 45 and 60 days to pack up and move the last 10 years of my life....my home, my farm....everything. So much for not pushing me out.

I don't even remember what I said to her that day because I was too stunned to even reply to most of what she said to me. I am still not exactly sure what happened. The next few days after this devastating news are a blur and I can't quite get them to come into focus. That might be a good thing.  Imagine, if you will, the effect all of that would have on a grieving widow, who had not even had time to wrap herself around the fact that her husband was gone forever... much less how to orchestrate such a move so quickly. I was so completely devastated by this announcement that I didn't get out of bed for 2 days.


Since we made our living as farmers and I lost access to the farm the week after he was gone, I was essentially left with no income and no way to produce any income. I haven't been in the regular workforce for 15 years, not since Dave and I have been together. I am 58 years old and all of my marketable skills revolve around organic farming, etc. and, while local, organic food is in high demand, if you are not the one producing and selling it, there is little or no chance to put those skills to any profitable use. Plus the small town where I ended up moving to has one of the most depressed economies in the state where I live, so finding work was almost out of the question.  I guess she never gave that a second thought, either. 


And so just a week after my husband's death, I was packing up our life and stuffing it into boxes as fast as I could. I would run around and pack whatever I could manage during the day and then fall into bed at night. I spent those nights laying in our bed, wracked with sobs, unable to sleep, feeling like I was falling into a bottomless, black abyss. It was as close to Hell as I ever hope to come. 

One thing that has puzzled me about all of this is that Dave was staying at her house during this time and she had been included in many of our conversations about the Farm. We all knew Dave would not be able to do any work this year and talked at length about what would happen with the garden, with CSA, etc.  We talked at length about how I would manage things with Dave unable to participate physically (at this point, we were  counting on him being healthy enough to at least manage the farm even if he could not work it...he was not that sick until the last 4 weeks before he died).

We talked all the time about what we were going to do, farmwise. Our garden plan for the year was to use the small plot for early spring crops and to plant just a portion of the larger garden space that we knew I could manage with little or no assistance. That was a good plan and it would have worked out fine. I had volunteers waiting in the wings to help me with anything I needed help with at the farm. Dave's mother knew way before Dave's death that this was our plan. And yet she listened and sat in complete silence and said nothing contrary.

At any time, while Dave was alive, she could have voiced her intentions. She could have given me some time to adjust and to make some plans while Dave was still alive to help me. She was completely aware that I had obligations to my CSA members and that what this farm produced was my sole source of income. She heard me tell Dave that I would do whatever I could to keep the farm going. She even sat at Dave's memorial service and listened to the pastor read a eulogy that included the statement from me that stated "I will continue to operate New Moon Farm, no matter what happens in the future. It is Dave's legacy, what he left behind as a testament to his dedication and love of what we did here. I intend to continue our dreams and follow the path..." 

And yet she sat through those conversations (and in that church) and never said a word to either Dave or myself about her intentions for the Farm. If at any point prior to Dave's death she had expressed that she needed to do something different with the Farm, she had more than ample opportunity to speak up to both of us. If she could have looked beyond her own selfishness for just a moment, I would not now be in the position I find myself.  

As I stated before, the land we farmed has always been Dave's "family farm" and we have never stated otherwise, not to anyone. His mother is the one in control of it and  is perfectly within her rights to do whatever she likes with it. There has never been a question in my mind about that and I cannot and will not blame her for that. What I do blame her for is that she didn't have enough compassion in her to allow me to grieve for my husband, her son.  She took that away from me without even a second of thought about it or how it would affect me.

And I blame her for being such a coward and for not speaking up when Dave was alive. I know it was because she didn't want to promise him that I could stay or that the Farm would go on.  She never "got" what we were doing there at the Farm so there is no surprise there.  She claimed at the time she was kicking me out that she needed the money from the rental income which I can understand, but did she just realize she needed it 5 days after Dave died?  I find that so very hard to believe.

The emotional aspect of all this is overwhelming. I had to break up 16 years of our life together during a period of time in my life when I am grieving for the man I loved more than life. It took me three weeks to even be able to walk into his closet and then I just stood there and cried. Imagine having to pack up all of his belongings, basically the entire last decade of our live together, under such pressure and in such a short time. This has been gut wrenching for me but I have no choice but to move ahead best I can. I miss him but sometimes, I really need him here to help me figure out what to do.

When all this started, I was already into the 2010 gardening season with.  I had one garden already planted and another waiting on the weather to break so that I could get out and prep and plant it for my early summer crops. Because it was so wet this spring (2010) it was about 2 weeks later than usual but not that big of a problem. I also had a lot of plants in the greenhouse that needed to get into the ground but their harvest season was summer.  In other words, I was already invested and in the middle of my growing season. How could she not see that?  I don't understand and I guess I never will. 

My most generous parents offered me space to start all over but having a new garden that I needed to be prepared and tended while trying to pack up my life while in the throes of grief over losing my husband proved to be extremely hard to work around.  I am grateful that the offered me the use of this land (it may be mine someday, so that was logical) but it is simply a flat field at the moment. Nothing has been done to prep the soil, etc.

While trying to figure out what to do, I came up with the idea of setting up the raised beds first. I want to raise herbs in beds, so it seems seemed logical to start with those. Dave and I grew a whole lot of stuff in a tiny garden space before and I know how to achieve that using intensive and square foot methods of growing. Not a problem...in theory. We'll have to see about the reality.  So far, I have made very little progress forward because I have had so many obstacles to overcome but I fervently hope that 2011 will be different.  It has been 6 months since Dave died and some days I can see a bright, shining light on the horizon and standing in that light there is always the image of my beloved Dave, smiling and waving me on, just like always.

Being forced to move in with my parents has been difficult at times but I don't know what I would have done without them. None of us had time to prepare for my sudden appearance and it has been hard on all of us.  It has now been a little over 4 months since I moved in and it is still a bit of a struggle to get my mind around all of this. I haven't lived at home since I was 18. To say that we have different ideas on many things would be the understatement of the century. They are so great, though, and so willing to accomodate me. It must be almost as hard for them as it is for me but ah, the things we do for love... 

Another obstacle has been the expense of the move which has been more of a burden that I could have forseen.  I moved an entire household and farm so storage of my belongings has been an issue. I rented a POD to move in and it filled up, so I had to rent another storage unit.  I have things stored in somebody's garage, in another person's attic, in my mom's spare bedroom....I just hope I can remember where everything is if I ever find a place of my own to live in. Right now I am worried about finding my winter clothes as it is getting chilly finally. 

So, with all of that said I am ending this post. There is much, much more that I could say but enough of the maudlin tale.  This is my burden to bear, I guess. But I sure could use some help and the person that was my rock, my shoulder, my strength is not here to provide that help now.  Just me...



March 26, 2009
The Farmer is still recovering from his back surgery

The Farmer is still recovering from his back surgery. It has been nearly 7 weeks and while he is still experiencing some pain and weakness, overall he is making progress. He had 3 weeks of radiation treatments and that took a toll on his energy level and general well being, but that is over now and he is getting a little better every day. We don't start the next round of treatment for another 3 weeks and so are trying to enjoy this break. The therapies he will be undergoing are extremely hard on the body and we have our fingers crossed that he will have minimal side effects. But, like everything else, it is a "wait and see" scenario. His doctor is an expert in the particular type of rare carcinoma that the Farmer has and we feel very blessed to have been accepted as patients. Also, the incredible outpouring of volunteers, coming out to help on the Farm has been wonderful and we are thankful for them everyday. Things are going pretty well, although we are slightly behind in planting...although that is due to all the rain we have been having lately. Hope it dries out soon...my chickens are starting to get webbed feet.

April 17, 2009
This cancer strikes like a cobra...

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.

This cancer strikes like a cobra, one 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 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, just 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 rat 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 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.
Farmer Dave
All of the posts at this blog are in random order. I strongly suggest that you use the menu left under the labels to navigate through it.  Much of the content here has been tranferred from other blogs as I have the time and they are in totally random order.

February 13, 2009
The Beast is back....

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 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, just 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 rat 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 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.
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 than 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.)



Widow
Origin: bef. 900; (n.) ME wid(e)we, OE widuwe, wydewe; c. G Witwe, Gothwiduwo, L vidua (fem. of viduus bereaved), Skt vidhavā widow; (v.) ME, deriv. of the n.;
def. A women whose husband has died and who has not yet remarried.

What a narrow definition for something so consuming. It is interesting to me to note that this definition says who has "not yet" remarried. Somehow thinking about having another person in my life is the farthest thing from my mind and it seems strange to me that it should be part of the definition of what I have now become. I do not like my new status as a widow. It is lonely and everything seems to be going by me in slow motion. Little things make me well up like a fountain and they are usually the silliest things imaginable. Like walking through the aisle at the market and seeing Dave's favorite cereal on the shelf or finding a pair of his dirty socks in the laundry hamper. Part of me wishes that he wasn't every place I look but mostly I am terrified that I will stop seeing him everywhere.

I thought that the nights would be the hardest but strangely that has not been the case. At night, in our bed, I am comforted with thoughts of all the nights he lay beside me there and sleep comes easily to me. He became so fragile near the end that it was impossible to give him more than a cursory hug or to just stroke his arm and I think I miss not having one of his hugs most of all. He used to enfold me in those impossibly long arms of his and he could encircle me almost completely. I never felt safer or more secure than when he did that. I take my comfort in knowing that in the years Dave and I were together we shared enough hugs, pats, squeezes, touches and more than most people have in their entire lifetime. Once Dave said that we had shared enough love that if we stopped right at that moment and never touched again, what we had already had would last the rest of our lifetime and into the next. How could he have known those words would be true?

Writing on this blog about my life with Dave is how I am getting by right now and I thank those of you who follow it for indulging me. The title says that it is about my life on an organic farm and this is the part of life that has to be dealt with. Dave and I believed strongly in the natural order of things, in the circle of life. How can I profess to have believed if I do not accept that death is a necessary part of that circle. Nobody lives forever, as much as you might want them to. Dave just completed his circle ahead of me and I hope he is waiting for me on the other side.
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.

The Aftermath....June 28, 2010

My farm blog has become passe.  There is no more organic farm for me to expound on and talk about how wonderful my life is.  My mother-in-law saw to that almost immediately after Dave died. I can't believe that the very people who were supposed to be my family could turn on me like that at a point where I was dealing with the most devastating blow of my life. Over 4 months later and the hurt from that is almost unbearable and I fluctuate between anger and misery at being treated so shabbily.

So, now I am living in as a virtual homeless person.  Oh, I do have a roof over my head and people all around who love and support me but I have no place to call my own, not really.  And that is very depressing for someone who is and has always been, fiercely independent. Having to depend on others for everything is depressing and embarrassing but I simply have no choice. But I am so very lucky that I did have someone to turn to in my time of need that all I can feel for that is gratitude and love.

That does balance some of the negative energy from the other situation, but it is exhausting to be on such an emotional roller coaster. If that wasn't enough, I have no money and no income. Dave's illness took virtually every nickel of savings we had, so there was not much left when he died and there are not a whole lot of job prospects for me where I am living now. Until I can get myself together, nothing will change and so I am trying to hang on best I can.

The love of my life is no longer beside me and I am so lonely for him that some days I can hardly function.  I run on the adrenaline of the near panic that I feel at being in this situation. Everything I own jammed into a storage unit where I can find nothing.  I packed up our entire life in a haze of numbing grief and tears and now I can't recall  if I even managed to pack some things. (Many widows I have talked to have taken literally years to be able to part with things that belonged to their spouses yet I was forced into doing just that literally within the first weeks after Dave's death. I wasn't allowed the privilege of having even time to process my loss emotionally and that has taken a dire toll on my psyche.)

I know that I have to do something but the grief that I still feel at the passing of my best friend/husband is paralyzing me into non-action and I don't know what to do about it.  I spend all my waking hours trying to fill the void that his death left me with while I try to figure out what the next step I should take will be.  Some days I am jazzed about new directions I think I might take and other days getting out of bed is like dragging a 2-ton weight out with me.

Don't misunderstand this post today.  I am just venting some feelings, I guess.  I still feel hopeful for the future and I know that I will survive this.  I have had other tragedies in my life and I survived them. What doesn't kill you really does make you stronger sometimes, even though it really doesn't feel that way right now.  I have to get  back to the business of living...really living...or I am tossing away everything that Dave and I so firmly believed in. He left me with some powerful lessons about life and I just need to get to a point where I can act on those lessons again.  He wouldn't want to see me this way and I know that I have to live the best life I possibly can.  That is all he ever wanted for me and helped me to do that for 16 years.  I owe it to him and I owe it to myself.
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 is 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.

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 Coopers hawk flies over when he is looking out.

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, 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 we embarked on 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 choose, 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 on 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 and I am still struggling to understand why. 
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 this 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.

This post was from our Farm website blog....

Wow! I thought it was time to post something important to our many loyal customers and blog followers, since I know that many of you might be curious as to what is happening with Dave and myself right now, in regards to the Farm. Since many of my readers knew us during Dave's original bout with renal cancer and were so supportive at that time, it seemed that it was important to let them know that Dave is now in the fight of his life.

Back in October of 2008, a rather large tumor was discovered when it caused him to have a compression fracture of one of his lumbar vertebra. It was painful and he had extensive surgery to repair the damage but the scans he had for this event revealed that the cancer was back in several spots and he had moved into Stage IV of this dreadful disease. Treatment options are extremely limited and with rather small rates of success for the ones that do exist. But, most of them were not available at all in 2005 when he was originally diagnosed and had his kidney removed, so at least we have some small glimmer of hope for a miracle and are thankful for that.

Throughout this ordeal of the last nearly 5 years, we have never wavered from our pledge to our friends and customers to provide them with the best and healthiest food we could possible grow. Even when he could hardly stand for the pain, he insisted that crops had to get into the ground and weeds had to be hoed. This year, we struggled but with the help of many wonderful and generous volunteers, we managed to have a pretty good season. Nothing like in the past, but satisfactory anyway.

One of the other reasons I am posting this is because we mostly know many of our followers through the Farm and the Farmer's markets we have attended over the last 10 years. Some of them we have seen in recent years, but some of them not at all but the occasional email lets me know they still follow the blog and check out the website. Everybody expresses their concern but nobody ever asks the hard questions, so I thought I would answer them anyway.

Because of the seriousness of Dave's illness, there is always the possibility that we will no longer be able to operate New Moon Farm Organics. That is the reality of it. I think that a personal explanation is in order. Rumor always swirls around events that are not explained adequately and I simply do not want any misinformation about our Farm to be out there in the world. Once those kinds of things hit the air, it is hard to call them back. No matter whether there is a shred of truth or not, people sometimes choose to believe what they hear without ever checking the facts and I want them out there. (I am sure that there was plenty of speculation about why we stopped coming to Charlotte Farmer's Market, when the simple fact is that we have a much better and more lucrative market, 15 minutes from the Farm. Simple as that.) If, and I do stress IF, we are no longer able to continue farming, it will be the absolute last resort we have and it will be because of Dave's health. No other reason.

What 2010 holds is anybody's guess but we plan on pressing ahead with doing the thing we love best....growing things and going to our farmer's market. We are looking to that end for 2010, also and will be making some adjustments to how we do things to accommodate the situation. I am neither as strong and agile or as intuitive about growing things as Dave, but I can hold my own. I am looking forward to getting into a couple of new areas, which we have not been able squeeze in for the last few years. By reducing the size of our CSA to a manageable number and time frame, I foresee that it will be a good year in 2010. The first segment of CSA will be just for spring and I am looking forward to meeting a whole new crop of families to provide with awesome food! There are a couple of dedicated folks that have expressed an interest in helping out for the entire season next year and I hope that comes to fruition. And we will again be offering our "Hands Across the Table" work for food program in 2010.

Blessings and gratitude to each and every one of our customers. You have all been a part of our success over the last 10 years and we want everyone to know how much we have appreciated all the support we received over the years. Come see us at the Davidson Farmer's Market this summer. We'd love to see you!

Happy holidays and Merry Christmas to all!

Suzanne and Dave
New Moon Farm Organics
It has been quite 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 else. Mostly for Dave, but that isn't hard...he is such a part of me that being there for him is like being there for myself. The hard part is when he is in such pain and he takes it out on my 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, 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.

Farmer Dave


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This post was from the blog I set up for updates on Dave for our friends...

Went in for yet another MRI this week. There are more tumors showing up along Dave's spine and one of them is really large and causing him some great discomfort and pain. He may be facing another surgery and/or radiation, possibly embolism of the large tumor and radiation on the smaller ones. At this point, we just don't know. His doctors will be conferring on Friday and we should get an answer then or on Monday, once a decision of how to proceed is made. All this waiting is nervewracking, but at least we don't have to wait for MRI results for days like at other medical facilities. My dad had a CT scan done last week and he hasn't gotten even a report from that one yet. We feel very blessed to be where we are in terms of our doctors.

On a happier note, yesterday was Dave's 50th birthday and we had a party at his mom's with his closest friends present. He didn't feel great earlier in the day and his mom, sister and I were afraid he was gonna miss his own party but it turned out great. Seems like soon as everybody started arriving, he perked right up and had a great time. Amazing how much love and friendship can affect your well being. Thanks to the guys for coming out. Of course, Dave's mom served an incredibly delicious meal, along with one her special cakes (Red Velvet..whew!) to top it off. I think a good time was had by all.

It is very hard not to think about this. It is actually impossible. I tried not to think that this might be the last birthday I would spend with Dave but like on my birthday, the thought just would not stay out of my head.  I can't imagine my life without him and it is tearing me to pieces to think that he might not be here in 6 months or a year.  His doctors are careful not to place any time limits on his life, but I know that we are living on borrowed time.

It is when I have these dark thoughts that I thank the Universe that we have had such an incredible life together.  I only have happy, wonderful, loving memories of the last 15 years we have been together and I could not have asked for a more loving, caring, special man to have shared my life with. This cancer is about the worst thing that could have happened to us but to quote Dave "it is what it is" and so he helps me to remember not to let it take over our lives. He tells me almost every day how lucky he is to have someone like me and I tell him the same thing.  Love is like that you know. You find your strength in it.

Today was my birthday and Dave insisted that we celebrate like we always have. I hate to think that this might be our last one but I can't keep that thought out of my head.  I have to, though, because it is not fair to him for me to be thinking that way.  Dear, sweet husband. What would I do without you?
The 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.
Wow! I just realized how long it has been since I posted anything to this blog. Guess the old saying "no new is good news" applies here.

Dave is doing pretty well, all things considered. He has now finished two months of his Sutent treatment, with minimal side effects. The first time around his beard started turning a stark white but this time around that didn't happen. He has not had the foot and hand syndrome associated with this protocol, either. Last time we went in for a check up (he goes every 3 weeks for monitoring) his vitals were perfect. Sutent can cause extreme high blood pressure, but his was just about perfect. His oncologist is both surprised and pleased with how well he is doing on this treatment. The telling tale will be when we go for MRI/CT Scans in another week.

If the tumors are shrinking, we will dance the hallelujah dance, so keep your fingers crossed for a good report from that. We also have a scan to check on the brain tumor to see if it continues to be static, which is the good news we hope for.

All things considered, things are going okay now. Still have extreme fatigue, sometimes has to sleep most of the day and night but that isn't the case everyday. One thing that occurs on this drug is depression and that is hard to deal with some days. The upside is that it is mild and some days I think it might just be intense boredom. On the two weeks off Sutent, life almost resumes a normal pace, although the back issue continues. The two off weeks last time were interrupted by a Zometa treatment, which made him intensely ill for about 4-5 days, so we didn't enjoy it too much. Hoping this time that the two off weeks return some symblance of normalcy to our lives. We'll see. It is weird to have your life dictated in these two and four week cycles.  Guess it could be a lot worse.

Like I said in a previous post, this is not a simple or easy path we are following right now, so every little positive thing seems huge. Sometimes I feel like there is a great cosmic stopwatch ticking away but then I remember that Dave says that time is a man-made invention that keeps us all its prisoner, so I should shake off my perceptions of what time really means. I try very hard to do that. Who am I do challenge the Great Mystery?

Anyway, before I get too out there,let me just ask that you keep sending those good energies, prayers, etc., our way. We have a lot going on now and sometimes it is just not a good time but please, if nobody gets back to you when you call, keep trying. We will eventually catch up with you.

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.
The version that was posted on our personal blog:

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).



The version that was posted on the Dave's health updates blog:

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.
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.
Good day to everyone reading this blog.

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.

May 3 and 4, 2009

Week of May 4th, 2009
Surgery to remove a lymph gland is on our schedule for tomorrow. It is one day surgery but it will take that whole one day. Thank goodness it is supposed to rain, so we won't feel like we are getting no work done at the Farm.

Dave is having  that surgery today (Monday May 4th). After this procedure, we wait 2 weeks and go back for another series of MRI/Scans to see if there is any change with the mets, especially the brain met. That is the one that bears watching now, so we will have our fingers crossed that there has been no change. No change is good. That means we might not have to do the Cyberknife procedure and Dave can start his drug therapy. So far, we have done nothing in the way of actual cancer treatment, other than to cut and paste stuff. Very frustrating, I tell you. We are now 3 months into diagnosis, with mets growing larger and still not treating anything.

 We are anxious to get his treatment for the cancer started. Because the drug creates a situation where healing is a huge issue, we have now been waiting almost 7 weeks and still no start date has been set. Everytime something crops up that needs to be addressed surgically, it pushes his actual cancer treatment out a little farther, which is very distressing. Tomorrow he is having a malignant lymph node removed from his face and it should be an easy surgery, unless that facial nerves are involved, which is a possibility. This tumor has grown visibly over the last few weeks, which is distrubing but hopefully its removal will be quick and easy. After this, he sees a neurologist and brain specialist next week and has another MRI to see about that tumor. He has to heal up some from tomorrow's procedure before they can consider the brain tumor. We are ready for some action on the other tumors.

Say a prayer for us.

April 13, 2009
Dave can drive again after March surgery

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 lumph 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.

April 19, 2009 Just What the Doctor Ordered

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.

Here are some pictures taken of Dave on that last trip to the coast.  That is him, flying over the water, behind his kite.  The doctor advised against him going but I believe he knew it might be his last trip even though he never said so.  
Always remembered to put on Sun Screen.
Doing what he loved....
It seems like 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.

Several new tumors had just been discovered along his cervical spin 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 that 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 else. Mostly for Dave, but that isn't hard...he is such a part of me that being there for him is like being there for myself. The hard part is when he is in such pain and he takes it out on my 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, 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.

This is the stretch of beach where we I fell in love.
I swear his eyes were the same color as the ocean here...they were mesmerizing. 
Our experience with Hospice was not a good one. After their initial visit, they neither listened to our requests or seemed to care about much beyond doing the bare minimum required via their "mission statement".  I will always believe that if the hospice nurse had been more invested in our family, she would have communicated that Dave was so near death. She was there the day before he died and all she had to do was communicate that we should stay close to him. Since no one ever talked to us about what to expect as he approached the end of his life, we didn't think he was so close to it.  I was not there when he died and that will haunt me forever  (although I am not 100% sure that he didn't wait until I was not there because I know he couldn't bear to leave me behind and all alone). He had told me that was the hardest thing for him because he couldn't stand the idea of bringing me such sorrow and  unhappiness...we even talked about it a couple of days before. All I could tell him was how much I loved him and that it was okay for him to go because he would always be with me and that he shouldn't have to suffer so much pain. But I am still not loving Hospice.
This is addressed to anyone who thinks I should be "getting over"  grieving for my Dave.


"You are the one who should get over it. It isn't your life, it doesn't affect you for more than the hour you have to spend with me. It is with me 24/7-365, whether I want it or not. I am not looking for your sympathy anyway. Take me or leave me the hell alone. Thank you."


Sometimes you just gotta say what you are feeling. And I am feeling like I am tired of people acting like there is something wrong with me because I miss my husband. I get depressed about it and about lots of other stuff in my life right now, of course I do. I am 58 years old, I have been married twice, divorced the first time, widow this time. My kids are grown and gone. My grandchildren live 3000 miles away. I am living at home with my parents after 41 years of not living with my parents because my mother in law kicked me out of our house the week after Dave died. Last week my dog died in the vet's office after they treated him for his mesothelioma. I have no job and have no hope of finding one anytime soon, so I have no money. I am waiting to get a couple of checks from the state but who knows how long that will take so until them I have $10 to my name.  I try to keep my sense of humor and not be in such a funk all the time but, yeah, once in a while I am not all that fun to be around.

....taken from a post on my fb page.
The Dream
The golden light was all around me, turning me likewise to gold. It could only be you, only your light could transform me into this gilded being.