Well, snap, it's been a while. It's been a very interesting experience lately. I've found since I got the good news of that Oncologist meeting I've felt like I have less to say/less to share but my brain has been racing. I've opened up huge parts of myself I'd sealed off to protect myself from the pain of losing them. I've been unleashing a torrent of happiness and hope and dreams upon myself and in the act of doing so opening myself back up to risk of pain, sorrow, heartbreak, and loss. Damn does it ever feel good. I didn't realize just how much I'd accepted my mortality prior to that piece of positive news. I do know, and always remind myself, than 10% of a tumour gone is a LONG way from cancer cured, but progress in the right direction has been a mind blowing experience.
Something funny I've realized lately is I've wanted to blog less because I feel like I'd be bragging. I mean I'm still on chemo but with all the other stuff going on in my life, reconnections with friends and family, new people, great experiences, opening up a future with incredible potential, and the generosity I continue to take in are amazing. I feel incredibly lucky these days and am just happy as a pig in shit non stop.
One thing that's brought about as a central focus though is to not let my guard down. A hint of progress in the right direction doesn't mean the war is won, it just means there is potential to do some damage and hold down the fort longer. I really need to make sure to not get cocky and forget how much help and work it took to get this. It's time to use this as a foundation to move into a healthier, more open life not as a brief look at the light and then stumbling back into darkness.
So on that note, I'll get into talking about the way I've been eating and how I've been figuring that out more. When I consider how ridiculously different it is from the way I was eating before this all started I realize it has to be doing something for me in this. I've switched almost to a vegetarian diet with meat as a (delicious) supplementary nutrition part. In saying that I don't mean I don't eat meat, just that for other than meat I realized I've copied a bunch of veg muncher tricks to add to nutritional density. Salad with nuts and fruit and goat cheese, hummus til my head explodes, seeds, nuts and oils up the yin yang. One of my clutch meals the nutritionist seemed impressed with was my POWERNUT SMOOTHIE OF POWER
How I'd recommend making it depends a bit on the blender. With a normal blender it's still very doable, just a tiny bit more expensive. The recipe though is pretty basic.
1. Raw nuts: a bunch. This is the part to switch for other blenders. All peanut peanut butter was my original, then I started mixing in almond butter. Best way to get these at a reasonable price I've found is Costco. In the grocery store it's crazy expensive. If you get a heavy duty blender though raw nuts can be fully blended into the smoothie and you can up the nutrition of it by getting a larger variety (mmm cashews).
2. Almond milk: a bit. Or switch it up with some nice whole milk.
3. Hemp seeds: 1tsp-1tbsp
4. Flax seeds: 1tsp-1tbsp
5. Hemp Oil: 1 squirt (not the type that gets you high)
7. Coconut Oil 1tbsp
8. 1 Banana
9. 1 scoop chocolate whey (or your choice of chocolate protein)
Blend it up, and enjoy. Some tricks that can help are adding ice to help it be colder, and the ice will melt while it blends so also make it more liquid. If you don't mind it being warm, just add more of your milk of choice until it seems the right thickness for you.
The other smoothie of power I rely on a lot is a berry based alternative that's pretty similar. Take out the nuts and chocolate protein, replace them with berries and some nice full fat greek yogurt (plain), and a bit of vanilla whey (not a full scoop usually, too sweet). I switch up details on them a lot, with the type of nuts in, the amounts of the supplementary nutrition parts, and even including some. I don't try to eat the same thing every day or even every week. I've noticed my body seems to want different things at different times and I try to look after it. I mean yesterday I ate probably an acre of field worth of salad and goat cheese. Lately as well I've noticed I want fat more and more as my diet changes. I have had moments where I've felt like biting a stick of butter ( I haven't, I promise). I definitely have been keeping on the 1g/day of fish oil and might even take it up some. My only concern with how much meat has come down in my diet lately is getting enough protein, but my response to that has been on my week off from chemo I load up pretty big on it while my stomach is less sensitive. It's going to be interesting to see where my diet levels off to after chemo is done.
There is really a lot more for me to talk about. I think now that I wrote again here, I can tap into this kind of stuff more. I'll try to build the picture more of how I've been dealing with chemo, and also the story of how I ended up here. For right now though, time to get back out there and get in touch with the second part of this blog's name.
Much love
Thursday 28 November 2013
Thursday 21 November 2013
Well Hello Again
Hey now,
It's been a while I know. I think the reason why might have been hinted at in my last couple posts. I pulled inwards a bit while I waited for the MRI. It was a combination of stress and anxiety, a desire to not jinx it, and wanting to be careful about what I say. That's over now though, the medical check's been done. I know a lot of people who read this know me personally and will have seen or heard the news: it's working.
That isn't saying some super-guarantee like cancer is cured now you're officially safe forever. There's still a good bit of tumour in there. However, it does mean a whole fuckin lot. For the basic science, it's shrunk around 10% in the second 3 months of treatment(>3mm on 2 directions, depth change I'm uncertain of), without shrinking at all in the first 3. There are 6 months left. That's pretty damn significant with Temodal. I want to be careful about getting overconfident, but it has a lot of good implications. The effect of this type of chemo often takes a long time to show. They can have successful cycles of chemo where at the end of therapy it doesn't look like the tumor has changed at all, then slowly even after, it shrinks. That's because the chemo works moreso by stopping it from growing and killing its attempts to growth than righteously destroying it. The speed at which it's making progress, and the swift acceleration its showing, both give me great hope and optimism, and further determination to stick to all the support and maintenance I'm bringing in. The other part I found out, is if this works, and keeps it shrunk long enough that my body can recover from its experience, rather than having only radiation therapy as a next step/backup, I can potentially use Temodal again. Knowing radiation therapy was going to destroy my speech center and at least for a couple years render me unable to talk was a terrifying concept, and one that felt just around the corner with my prior conception of this chemotherapy. The fact that's being considered had some pretty heavy implications about what kinds of times they're thinking of in their own plan of attack from the medical side, and they felt pretty damn good.
As for my side, I do think that the medical marijuana is playing a big role in this, and I'm going to try to build my understanding of that better so when I try to talk about it I can be careful to not accidentally outright lie to people or falsely mislead them. I know some people will view marijuana as a cure on its own and in doing so often discredit it, and others view it as purely recreational, or purely therapeutic. My interpretation so far is it is more of an enabler than a direct cause of effect. It can help someone who feels like being lazy get more lazy. But it seems to me like it can help a determined S.O.B. make it through chemo in a pretty fun fashion. Shark fishing, zensaw time, quad runs, scallop diving, surveying and planning my new property... I haven't been too lazy, I promise. My hypothesis thus far is that rather than carrying out the act of destroying the tumour on its own, it moreso enables other agents to do so, whether that be the foreign body of chemo brought into the system, or your body's natural systems of resistance.
The other hypothesis that I've been developing that has seen some reinforcement with these results, is the big picture of physical and mental status can have great sway and influence on seemingly not directly related things. I've put a huge amount of focus and energy into both confronting some of my hidden childhood psych issues and repressed bullshit, as well as trying to deal with cleaning up after a bunch of old injuries, and re-working my posture and spinal alignment. I'll never try to quantify or objectively measure the contribution of all of those parts, but I do think components that would not be directly espoused within the regulated medical system stand a chance of playing a real role. That isn't to complain or speak badly about my doctors though. They are definitely doing a great job, and I've been very lucky to get such kind, compassionate, and intelligent people to help and support me through all this.
I'm still a bit in shock over the news, trying to figure out how happy I can let myself be with it, how optimistic I can go, and I'll be able to express myself a lot more clearly and have a lot more to say as this all clears up in my head. I just felt like it was time to get back on here and say something.
It's been a while I know. I think the reason why might have been hinted at in my last couple posts. I pulled inwards a bit while I waited for the MRI. It was a combination of stress and anxiety, a desire to not jinx it, and wanting to be careful about what I say. That's over now though, the medical check's been done. I know a lot of people who read this know me personally and will have seen or heard the news: it's working.
That isn't saying some super-guarantee like cancer is cured now you're officially safe forever. There's still a good bit of tumour in there. However, it does mean a whole fuckin lot. For the basic science, it's shrunk around 10% in the second 3 months of treatment(>3mm on 2 directions, depth change I'm uncertain of), without shrinking at all in the first 3. There are 6 months left. That's pretty damn significant with Temodal. I want to be careful about getting overconfident, but it has a lot of good implications. The effect of this type of chemo often takes a long time to show. They can have successful cycles of chemo where at the end of therapy it doesn't look like the tumor has changed at all, then slowly even after, it shrinks. That's because the chemo works moreso by stopping it from growing and killing its attempts to growth than righteously destroying it. The speed at which it's making progress, and the swift acceleration its showing, both give me great hope and optimism, and further determination to stick to all the support and maintenance I'm bringing in. The other part I found out, is if this works, and keeps it shrunk long enough that my body can recover from its experience, rather than having only radiation therapy as a next step/backup, I can potentially use Temodal again. Knowing radiation therapy was going to destroy my speech center and at least for a couple years render me unable to talk was a terrifying concept, and one that felt just around the corner with my prior conception of this chemotherapy. The fact that's being considered had some pretty heavy implications about what kinds of times they're thinking of in their own plan of attack from the medical side, and they felt pretty damn good.
As for my side, I do think that the medical marijuana is playing a big role in this, and I'm going to try to build my understanding of that better so when I try to talk about it I can be careful to not accidentally outright lie to people or falsely mislead them. I know some people will view marijuana as a cure on its own and in doing so often discredit it, and others view it as purely recreational, or purely therapeutic. My interpretation so far is it is more of an enabler than a direct cause of effect. It can help someone who feels like being lazy get more lazy. But it seems to me like it can help a determined S.O.B. make it through chemo in a pretty fun fashion. Shark fishing, zensaw time, quad runs, scallop diving, surveying and planning my new property... I haven't been too lazy, I promise. My hypothesis thus far is that rather than carrying out the act of destroying the tumour on its own, it moreso enables other agents to do so, whether that be the foreign body of chemo brought into the system, or your body's natural systems of resistance.
The other hypothesis that I've been developing that has seen some reinforcement with these results, is the big picture of physical and mental status can have great sway and influence on seemingly not directly related things. I've put a huge amount of focus and energy into both confronting some of my hidden childhood psych issues and repressed bullshit, as well as trying to deal with cleaning up after a bunch of old injuries, and re-working my posture and spinal alignment. I'll never try to quantify or objectively measure the contribution of all of those parts, but I do think components that would not be directly espoused within the regulated medical system stand a chance of playing a real role. That isn't to complain or speak badly about my doctors though. They are definitely doing a great job, and I've been very lucky to get such kind, compassionate, and intelligent people to help and support me through all this.
I'm still a bit in shock over the news, trying to figure out how happy I can let myself be with it, how optimistic I can go, and I'll be able to express myself a lot more clearly and have a lot more to say as this all clears up in my head. I just felt like it was time to get back on here and say something.
Saturday 9 November 2013
On The Table
Hey,
I've dropped off the web for a while. It's been busy times! I've found since opening myself up to what's going on inside more I've reconnected with an active purposeful life more and more every day. I'm scheming and dreaming all the time now about how I'm going to start myself a new successful life by taking the skills I've developed, the passions I have, and the incredible luck I have in that my parents are willing and able to help me make a start here. Dogs, trees, and the ocean. We'll see where that goes.
For now though, and for here, I want to get back to the more serious side of the story and one part that's been on my mind a lot lately: the operation. I've actually had some serious moments of clarity in retrospect of it lately, and am coming more towards grasping the significance it held for me and the lessons I learned in that experience. Most of my memory of it is blacked out or blurry, and some parts of what I will recount may be my best guess and interpretation of the haze rather than the clear objective truth, but I'm going to try to share what that was for me.
The first part of the challenge was the waiting game. Once I knew it was coming I began to steel myself towards it. I withdrew inwards, seeking to insure myself and those around me against the chances I was warned of. 2% paralysis, 2% loss of speech, >1% death. While those aren't big numbers, for consequences so heavy they felt pretty severe. I was in a relationship then, one I'd handled like a doofus in many ways from the very beginning, and that was exponentially increased by the stress, the anxiety, and I think deep inside me a desire to push people away from me for fear of hurting them, by failing to survive the surgery or make it through as my full self. In those months there was no greater fear than of coming out disabled and having to watch helpless while I destroyed the people around me. This fear and seeking self-protection though created far more harm than good. I wasn't actually unfaithful, but I might as well have been, and I just pulled inwards, played video games, got fat, and stopped getting laid eventually. Inside though I was steeling myself for battle. I knew there was a moment coming more decisive than any of that, and I wanted to be as ready for it as possible. I sought to confront the fears as best I could in my head, to prepare my courage for the worst possible ways to go, and to be ready for what I knew could not be fun : being awake all day while my brain has invasive surgery.
Christmas passed, the new year came. Most of that is a blur to me: gifts, pity, love, fear. Then shortly into the new year the time came to fly to Montreal. Surgery is coming. We were headed to the MNI for the operation, but stayed in a friend of my mom's condo. It was a nice place, but not such a nice night. I slept sound though. I knew the value of those hours of closed eyes and peaceful mind. One thing I've held to through this all is I've never lost a night of sleep. Others have lost nights thinking of me, but no matter what fear has been in my heart when I've laid down and closed my eyes, my mind has let it go and let me sleep.
Waking up that morning felt like game day, ready for batle. We were up with the crack of dawn, stumbling into the grey dirty streets of winter Montreal. From that moment into surgery is something of a blur for me. I got to the hospital and things began at 7:00 am. First they put me under, to take out a piece of my skull around the left temple to behind the ear. Then I was brought awake. We don't know the exact time schedule of the surgery, but I was awake for over 80% of the time between 7:00 am and 4:30 pm and that we know. Other than taking apart the skull, putting it back together, and stitching the scalp through that whole surgery I had to hold myself awake and focused. The reason for this was to prevent me losing my ability to speak or becoming paralyzed. This was a challenge like none I'd ever faced before in my life. The neural anaesthetic they use there is among the best in the world, but it was a challenge finding a balance with me. If my memory is right... there wasn't a real perfect balance where my physical sensation was gone and my brain was still in full function. I lay there on the table, aware of what was happening, head bolted into a frame, strapped in on most sides, right arm free, always being told to move that hand, wiggle those fingers, keep speaking to us, answer another question. The only moment where I have a perfectly clear memory through that whole surgery was the last second. I will never forget that moment. I was asked a question, and in my head I heard myself clearly enunciate the answer, and then I heard what came out of my mouth... nonsensical. I tried again. Nothing. The last I remember were comforting words and being put to sleep right away.
Then I woke up. The instant I woke up I said out loud "can I fucking SPEAK!" and I heard myself and couldn't help but feel exhilerated and relieved like I'd never imagined. When I felt myself lose the ability to speak I thought that was the line crossed and I'd never go back. Feeling myself completely out of control being drained of consciousness with the last memory of losing my ability to express myself... that was some shit. So I woke up feeling like king of the fucking world. I scared/startled the doctors by how loud I bellowed after I heard myself "FUUUUCKKK YEAAHHH!!!!" pumping my fist into the air, head still bolted onto the table. I'm not sure I was supposed to wake up that quickly. I was brought down the elevator still on a rush, grinning ear to ear, hand in the air, laughing and smiling and crying with joy that I'd made it through that surgery and held to myself. Things were far from over then, but I'd made it through one hell of an experience.
The thing is, I didn't even realize how much so until recently. My blacked out memory, editing most of the surgery out, only remembering that last moment of failure, was what I recounted to myself as the full surgery. In my head until conversations not long ago, I woke up, blurry, struggling to communicate, and was barely able to be sliced up before being knocked back out. I kind of knew that couldn't be right, because the surgery was so long, and it wouldn't take them that long to chop skull bits off, and I was supposed to be awake for the rest, but I did't know how long. When I try to recount what it was like to hold myself still for at least 7 waking hours of surgical instruments inside my brain, and knowing that it's on record I was a serious challenge to anaesthetize well, and who I am inside, I speculatively know what I went through in that surgery. It shows in me when I go to do and experience new things. My sensitivity to pain is gone. That shit doesn't matter to me anymore, it is a tool for understanding the body and can be overcome. I think I learned that on the table. I'm almost certain that surgery was a battle for me, and that I was presented with a choice in it. I am almost certain I had a choice between levels of anaesthetic that risked me losing consciousness and surgical stability vs a level that let me feel at least some of the pain of what was happening. I know myself and know what I would have chosen in a split second, and if that's true some of what's changed within me makes a lot more sense, and brings a new context to that moment of losing my speech. I know what it felt like. It felt like the last ounce of energy within myself, the last bit of drive in my heart had been used, I'd pushed myself to the true edge of my strength of will and found the failing point. I know when I was going to darkness then I did not feel weak, I did not feel cowardly, but I felt defeated. That was a lesson that I failed to embrace for some time. It is why death is not so scary anymore. I know so long that in dying I've used every ounce of drive I have, burnt out like a burning fire, it won't matter when it comes.
That wasn't the last lesson I learned while lying in that hospital, but it might be the heaviest one, and the one that took me the longest to really embrace. In the days that followed, where I once again lost my ability to speak for nearly a week, where my skull filled up with fluid and blew up a balloon on the side of my head, where I learned to turn on and off parts of my brain with an ice pack, and where I began to see clearly the tax I'd called upon those supporting and surrounding me as I sunk downwards preparing myself for that surgery. Those are another story on their own though I think.
I've dropped off the web for a while. It's been busy times! I've found since opening myself up to what's going on inside more I've reconnected with an active purposeful life more and more every day. I'm scheming and dreaming all the time now about how I'm going to start myself a new successful life by taking the skills I've developed, the passions I have, and the incredible luck I have in that my parents are willing and able to help me make a start here. Dogs, trees, and the ocean. We'll see where that goes.
For now though, and for here, I want to get back to the more serious side of the story and one part that's been on my mind a lot lately: the operation. I've actually had some serious moments of clarity in retrospect of it lately, and am coming more towards grasping the significance it held for me and the lessons I learned in that experience. Most of my memory of it is blacked out or blurry, and some parts of what I will recount may be my best guess and interpretation of the haze rather than the clear objective truth, but I'm going to try to share what that was for me.
The first part of the challenge was the waiting game. Once I knew it was coming I began to steel myself towards it. I withdrew inwards, seeking to insure myself and those around me against the chances I was warned of. 2% paralysis, 2% loss of speech, >1% death. While those aren't big numbers, for consequences so heavy they felt pretty severe. I was in a relationship then, one I'd handled like a doofus in many ways from the very beginning, and that was exponentially increased by the stress, the anxiety, and I think deep inside me a desire to push people away from me for fear of hurting them, by failing to survive the surgery or make it through as my full self. In those months there was no greater fear than of coming out disabled and having to watch helpless while I destroyed the people around me. This fear and seeking self-protection though created far more harm than good. I wasn't actually unfaithful, but I might as well have been, and I just pulled inwards, played video games, got fat, and stopped getting laid eventually. Inside though I was steeling myself for battle. I knew there was a moment coming more decisive than any of that, and I wanted to be as ready for it as possible. I sought to confront the fears as best I could in my head, to prepare my courage for the worst possible ways to go, and to be ready for what I knew could not be fun : being awake all day while my brain has invasive surgery.
Christmas passed, the new year came. Most of that is a blur to me: gifts, pity, love, fear. Then shortly into the new year the time came to fly to Montreal. Surgery is coming. We were headed to the MNI for the operation, but stayed in a friend of my mom's condo. It was a nice place, but not such a nice night. I slept sound though. I knew the value of those hours of closed eyes and peaceful mind. One thing I've held to through this all is I've never lost a night of sleep. Others have lost nights thinking of me, but no matter what fear has been in my heart when I've laid down and closed my eyes, my mind has let it go and let me sleep.
Waking up that morning felt like game day, ready for batle. We were up with the crack of dawn, stumbling into the grey dirty streets of winter Montreal. From that moment into surgery is something of a blur for me. I got to the hospital and things began at 7:00 am. First they put me under, to take out a piece of my skull around the left temple to behind the ear. Then I was brought awake. We don't know the exact time schedule of the surgery, but I was awake for over 80% of the time between 7:00 am and 4:30 pm and that we know. Other than taking apart the skull, putting it back together, and stitching the scalp through that whole surgery I had to hold myself awake and focused. The reason for this was to prevent me losing my ability to speak or becoming paralyzed. This was a challenge like none I'd ever faced before in my life. The neural anaesthetic they use there is among the best in the world, but it was a challenge finding a balance with me. If my memory is right... there wasn't a real perfect balance where my physical sensation was gone and my brain was still in full function. I lay there on the table, aware of what was happening, head bolted into a frame, strapped in on most sides, right arm free, always being told to move that hand, wiggle those fingers, keep speaking to us, answer another question. The only moment where I have a perfectly clear memory through that whole surgery was the last second. I will never forget that moment. I was asked a question, and in my head I heard myself clearly enunciate the answer, and then I heard what came out of my mouth... nonsensical. I tried again. Nothing. The last I remember were comforting words and being put to sleep right away.
Then I woke up. The instant I woke up I said out loud "can I fucking SPEAK!" and I heard myself and couldn't help but feel exhilerated and relieved like I'd never imagined. When I felt myself lose the ability to speak I thought that was the line crossed and I'd never go back. Feeling myself completely out of control being drained of consciousness with the last memory of losing my ability to express myself... that was some shit. So I woke up feeling like king of the fucking world. I scared/startled the doctors by how loud I bellowed after I heard myself "FUUUUCKKK YEAAHHH!!!!" pumping my fist into the air, head still bolted onto the table. I'm not sure I was supposed to wake up that quickly. I was brought down the elevator still on a rush, grinning ear to ear, hand in the air, laughing and smiling and crying with joy that I'd made it through that surgery and held to myself. Things were far from over then, but I'd made it through one hell of an experience.
The thing is, I didn't even realize how much so until recently. My blacked out memory, editing most of the surgery out, only remembering that last moment of failure, was what I recounted to myself as the full surgery. In my head until conversations not long ago, I woke up, blurry, struggling to communicate, and was barely able to be sliced up before being knocked back out. I kind of knew that couldn't be right, because the surgery was so long, and it wouldn't take them that long to chop skull bits off, and I was supposed to be awake for the rest, but I did't know how long. When I try to recount what it was like to hold myself still for at least 7 waking hours of surgical instruments inside my brain, and knowing that it's on record I was a serious challenge to anaesthetize well, and who I am inside, I speculatively know what I went through in that surgery. It shows in me when I go to do and experience new things. My sensitivity to pain is gone. That shit doesn't matter to me anymore, it is a tool for understanding the body and can be overcome. I think I learned that on the table. I'm almost certain that surgery was a battle for me, and that I was presented with a choice in it. I am almost certain I had a choice between levels of anaesthetic that risked me losing consciousness and surgical stability vs a level that let me feel at least some of the pain of what was happening. I know myself and know what I would have chosen in a split second, and if that's true some of what's changed within me makes a lot more sense, and brings a new context to that moment of losing my speech. I know what it felt like. It felt like the last ounce of energy within myself, the last bit of drive in my heart had been used, I'd pushed myself to the true edge of my strength of will and found the failing point. I know when I was going to darkness then I did not feel weak, I did not feel cowardly, but I felt defeated. That was a lesson that I failed to embrace for some time. It is why death is not so scary anymore. I know so long that in dying I've used every ounce of drive I have, burnt out like a burning fire, it won't matter when it comes.
That wasn't the last lesson I learned while lying in that hospital, but it might be the heaviest one, and the one that took me the longest to really embrace. In the days that followed, where I once again lost my ability to speak for nearly a week, where my skull filled up with fluid and blew up a balloon on the side of my head, where I learned to turn on and off parts of my brain with an ice pack, and where I began to see clearly the tax I'd called upon those supporting and surrounding me as I sunk downwards preparing myself for that surgery. Those are another story on their own though I think.
Monday 4 November 2013
Stopping By
Hi everyone,
That last post took a lot out of me haha. I feel like I vented a lot of what I had to say in that, and had a couple days of processing and adjusting to deal with before I came back. It was interesting, I think spilling all that out of me mentally almost provided a direct physical release of tension. Following that post I really got caught up in stretching and borderline-meditation, for about 6 hours steady I was almost exclusively focused inward and at my body and sorting out tension and issues. I kept the same up the next day, stretching as long and vigorously as I could handle before then contrast showering, keeping the body at very high temperature while stretching. The changes I was able to make were remarkable, and very satisfying.
I'm feeling good now. It helped alot when my Dad got back and I got to talk to him. More and more my plans moving forward get clearer and feel more possible. Everything is very dynamic now and constantly changing, or I'd be sharing more, but as I bring more of these ideas to reality I will share them more.
The one thing that's a bit of a stress/concern right now is 2 weeks today I have my second MRI. This is one of those objective, decisive moments. At the first one there was no sign of growth but no sign of shrinkage. This MRI could go either way, all my subjective observations about how I feel could either be backed up with serious effects and progress or discounted by a dull lump sitting just the same size or even growing. If it hasn't shrinked that doesn't mean too much either way. It might not shrink at all even by the end, but even if that was the case it could be stopped from growing, and held against that wall a long time. The only thing that would be really bad is if there was even a tiny sign of growth. At that point more serious confrontations will thrust upon us very quickly. The chances of that do feel very slim though, and all evidence thus far points against it. Rational objective knowledge aside, I will certainly feel my anxiety levels creep up on me as I approach closer and closer to that moment of recognition.
Trick will be to keep busy and have as much fun as possible! I'm stuck in town for a day today, but I'll hopefully see some friends and take care of a few useful things. For now though I'm playing the new Batman game. So cool.
Later
That last post took a lot out of me haha. I feel like I vented a lot of what I had to say in that, and had a couple days of processing and adjusting to deal with before I came back. It was interesting, I think spilling all that out of me mentally almost provided a direct physical release of tension. Following that post I really got caught up in stretching and borderline-meditation, for about 6 hours steady I was almost exclusively focused inward and at my body and sorting out tension and issues. I kept the same up the next day, stretching as long and vigorously as I could handle before then contrast showering, keeping the body at very high temperature while stretching. The changes I was able to make were remarkable, and very satisfying.
I'm feeling good now. It helped alot when my Dad got back and I got to talk to him. More and more my plans moving forward get clearer and feel more possible. Everything is very dynamic now and constantly changing, or I'd be sharing more, but as I bring more of these ideas to reality I will share them more.
The one thing that's a bit of a stress/concern right now is 2 weeks today I have my second MRI. This is one of those objective, decisive moments. At the first one there was no sign of growth but no sign of shrinkage. This MRI could go either way, all my subjective observations about how I feel could either be backed up with serious effects and progress or discounted by a dull lump sitting just the same size or even growing. If it hasn't shrinked that doesn't mean too much either way. It might not shrink at all even by the end, but even if that was the case it could be stopped from growing, and held against that wall a long time. The only thing that would be really bad is if there was even a tiny sign of growth. At that point more serious confrontations will thrust upon us very quickly. The chances of that do feel very slim though, and all evidence thus far points against it. Rational objective knowledge aside, I will certainly feel my anxiety levels creep up on me as I approach closer and closer to that moment of recognition.
Trick will be to keep busy and have as much fun as possible! I'm stuck in town for a day today, but I'll hopefully see some friends and take care of a few useful things. For now though I'm playing the new Batman game. So cool.
Later
Friday 1 November 2013
Welp, here goes everything.
This began as me writing a set of bulletin points for a conversation I was going to have with my Dad tonight. I thought at first it would be a brief set of points to organize and help structure bringing him up to date on what had changed since he left for his safari about a month ago. I did not anticipate what would come out of me. Trying to put on paper what I wanted to share with him somehow let me tap into and express a lot of the thoughts that have been rushing through me at terminal velocity in these past days. It's not a perfect expression of them. It wasn't intended to be a blog post, it was just my quickthought writing, to help me stay organized on what I had to say. And then when I let myself move from the objective to the subjective as I sought to recount the story of what was happening in my mind, I found I'd tapped into a far greater insight than I had expected, and the best way to recognize that insight was to simply let it flow onto paper. This is unedited, it's just what I thought, and wrote at about a million miles a minute. I'm stoned as hell right now, so judge as you will, but I think this is a deeper part of myself than I've been able to share with anyone before, and that being able to see myself so clearly may change my life. This is as honest as I can get.
1. Physical status: blood test/bp 100%. weight loss significant but no concern due to external factors. last check ~210, likely still cutting. Appetite definitely down but confident still meeting nutrient needs just lowered caloric volume by focusing on nutrient density. Consider shrinking of size appropriate to future goals, reduce wear+tear, no need for physical contact style strength. Maintain ability to run saw/quad but improve endurance. Intensive work on posture/flexibility/solving old soft tissue problems. Surprised with success of independent effort. Finding research/experience combined with getting stoned and intensively focusing on body-mind connection can yield very impressive results, especially when aided by pre-release from massage. Contrast showers a must. Sense of cleansing body of bad deposits. Feel most comfortable keeping very warm temperature to mild sweat and drinking lots of water. Noticed recently armpits in particular sweat more than before while other areas sweat less. Interesting change of bodily phenomenon. Seems to be an external representation of many underlying changed brought about. Work in solving problems with back/neck/shoulders/hips/NECK has seemed to bring about substantial changes in even the feel of my body. Very interested in maintaining focus. Not certain about interrelation between marijuana, chemotherapy, and any other chemical intake. Notice that most deep insight and body connection does in fact occur when at high levels of THC intake, uncertain if direct physical consequence or pure psychosomatic effect via change of state of mind, however whichever is the cause the effect is defined.
2. Mental status: interesting. Far, far more positive than ever prior since having been diagnosed with tumor. Discovering new kind of confidence in self-ability... rediscovering the value of arrogane. Health statistics have compounded enough for me to give me a true feeling of being "superior", able to face challenges and conquer things that would leave most in their dust. I feel as though I've always known that about myself but I've held myself back from admitting it. Allowing myself to embrace the arrogance of superiority has given me a different perspective upon the world and my opportunity within it. I feel far more able to overcome such great challenges and find success. The new perspective afforded has granted far more ideas and insight into future potential, and I have gone from a lost cripple, stumbling in the shadows, to a strong but injured man stepping back upon the forefront. I know far more clearly what I value, what I need, and where my goals are. I will no longer bend to the will of others constantly, but instead I will drive my own path forward. That does not mean I am too good to need help. In discovering this strength alongside it I have rediscovered my vulnerability. Letting myself open to the highs has also opened the lows. I have relearned to communicate with those who I trust and depend upon that which I need and want. I have let go of the feeling of being too strong to need help, and in doing so I have not found weakness but further strength. Watching myself in retrospect travel through these steps grants a different type of insight into the works I read as part of my philosophy studies. I think this experience has wisened me in a way I needed more than I ever understood. This tumor has given me an experience I needed to become who I was meant to become, to actualize the potential I was granted. I have been an atheist since I was incredibly small, but I feel as though in this experience I have come in touch with a sense of a greater interconnected power, and a will to push forward in a direction. Before I went to Bishop's, for most of my high school time and even a while before that I had a clear resolution of what I needed to do. I thought, I knew, I needed to experience what it meant to be a warrior. I wanted to go to RMC, to learn the discipline, the strength, the willpower and resolve it took to deal with the terrors one must face. I knew there was wisdom in that experience that is necessary for me to become who I wanted to become. I had confidence in my strength of will, my resolve, my leadership potential, that core of myself which was born into me, blessed by the genes and history of my family and the favourable touch of luck. I knew at the darkest tests, I could hold to the ethics and principles that were precious to the working of our military. I had dreamed as a teen, one of my favourite fantasies was fighting to the death or sacrificing my life to save the lives of many. I ran through countless such scenarios in my head. When I lose my temper the worst it is not in self defense, but in defense of those around me. I am a man whose greatest drive comes from the experience of a team that is bound in blood, and relies upon each other to the absolute core, and has the will and resolve to do everything needed to accomplish it. However, what I watched happen in the world grew up shattered my dream of doing that. When we went to Afghanistan amidst the controvery and questions, and as our role there developed, and I began to see the force of the military-industrial complex that reigns so greatly upon our world, I felt it had become something I could no longer let myself be a part of. I reflected deeply on what I considered in life before that point, and I felt lost. I had no purpose or goal anymore, no understanding of what I was meant to be, and that was what sent me first around the world to australia, alone at 18 exploring and experiencing, and then into the philosophy degree at bishop's. I wanted to find a new meaning, a new purpose to life. In the time when I did not connect with such a purpose I began to destroy myself. I did not recognize it at the time, but I sought pleasure and release in a short term fashion that was blind and purposeless. Between drugs, meaningless and not that great sex, fighting, eating badly, drinking in drastic excess, smoking, and just failing to care for and maintain the potential of the body I was granted. Somehow thanks to the strength I was given rather than the strength I earned I made it through that experience with only a few scars and a tumor. Many times in those years I deserved to die for what I did. I took risks too great, I broke ethics too firm, and lost myself deeply... It is only now that I rediscovered myself, and it is this very morning that I realized how. Not to discount the acts of warriors and the value of such experience, I can not say I have been tested on the field, but this experience has granted for me a lot of what I needed to learn from war. I have faced death and looked it in the eye, not for a brief moment in a flash, but as a dark cloud lurking over my life for years. I have confronted disability, through epilepsy, as well as the lurking fear going into surgery of paralysis, and the constant lurking shadow on the edge of the road ahead of the tumor or radiation therapy destroying my speech center, and bringing me back to what it was like in the few days post surgery when I was completely unable to speak... The demon which began to lurk heavier over me than that distant lurking cloud, which truly shook my soul to its deepest and caused me to lose sight of myself more than anything else. I almost lost to that one. I was ready to give up on myself. I know if I'd been brought to disabled by these seizures, rendered unable to live the kind of independent, productive, decisive life I feel so called towards, I would have died not long after. My soul would have given up, and the strength which has carried me through all this would have gone out like an untended fire. That carried a far heavier weight on me than the fear of death. What I've really come to understand through this time is that fuck the hell out of it everybody dies some time. There are risks for everyone every day that people never recognize. Death is something we can't ever really understand, we don't know what the fuck is going to happen when we die, probably nothing, maybe something fancy, but we might as well leave it until we get there. I would far rather die with a purpose than slowly degrade and lose myself through destruction from the inside. I think this tumour may have scared me even more than war would have. I don't know though. I remember the conversations I had with the two british marines in Bali, and the look in their eyes as they recounted their stories, and the respect that attained from me in a way I can't truly explain... I don't ever want to discount the level of courage that can be forged from the fires of war. But for me, in particular, the confrontation of slow inevitable inner destruction held a terror that I'd never imagined before. I have looked it in the eye long enough though. It looks different now. I will beat it, or I will die trying, but if I'm going to die trying I'm going to be givin er fuckin nuts until the last minut. Fuck giving up, ever. I can defeat medical statistics, I can defeat fucking anything, and if I fail then it will at least have a PURPOSE. I can set an example. I can show how to really face death, illness, destruction. WITH YOUR CHIN UP AND YOUR FINGER IN THE FUCKIN AIR AT IT! GET OUT THERE AND DO WHAT YOU WANT, FIND WHAT YOU WANT, BE WHO YOU WANT TO BE! THAT LIES WITHIN YOU, SO BRING IT OUT.
Or at least watch me. I'm going to burn brightly from here, to a level I never have before. Enjoy it while it lasts. I think the first step in rediscovering this courage could be just sharing this inner dialogue with the world. I will follow it briefly with a little rational discourse I feel necessary to avoid misinterpretations of me.
While I know I'm an exceptional person, smarter, stronger, braver, than almost everyone I see, I also understand I'm not. This all is how the world looks from inside me, how I find the best part of myself, where I dig to find the strength I need to confront these things. I think that in their own way, maybe vastly different from me, everyone has an inner strength that has great value, a potential that can be actualized if you can learn to recognize it and care for it and bring it about into reality. This is my way. I need this way. If you don't want to deal with a bull-headed, loud, bearded, hard working country guy who loves the ocean, finds fishing to be perhaps the most fun thing in existence, but is also addicted to the hard work of the forest, the ranges of the mountains, the feeling of exploring and experiencing new places, and doing so slightly stubbornly independently, then you might not enjoy me too much. I am what I am, and instead of trying to change and compromise it I'm going to make the most I can of it. I am good at what I'm good at, and shitty as hell at some stuff I'm not. But I intend to work harder, stay stronger, and prove myself more than you. See what you can do about it.
1. Physical status: blood test/bp 100%. weight loss significant but no concern due to external factors. last check ~210, likely still cutting. Appetite definitely down but confident still meeting nutrient needs just lowered caloric volume by focusing on nutrient density. Consider shrinking of size appropriate to future goals, reduce wear+tear, no need for physical contact style strength. Maintain ability to run saw/quad but improve endurance. Intensive work on posture/flexibility/solving old soft tissue problems. Surprised with success of independent effort. Finding research/experience combined with getting stoned and intensively focusing on body-mind connection can yield very impressive results, especially when aided by pre-release from massage. Contrast showers a must. Sense of cleansing body of bad deposits. Feel most comfortable keeping very warm temperature to mild sweat and drinking lots of water. Noticed recently armpits in particular sweat more than before while other areas sweat less. Interesting change of bodily phenomenon. Seems to be an external representation of many underlying changed brought about. Work in solving problems with back/neck/shoulders/hips/NECK has seemed to bring about substantial changes in even the feel of my body. Very interested in maintaining focus. Not certain about interrelation between marijuana, chemotherapy, and any other chemical intake. Notice that most deep insight and body connection does in fact occur when at high levels of THC intake, uncertain if direct physical consequence or pure psychosomatic effect via change of state of mind, however whichever is the cause the effect is defined.
2. Mental status: interesting. Far, far more positive than ever prior since having been diagnosed with tumor. Discovering new kind of confidence in self-ability... rediscovering the value of arrogane. Health statistics have compounded enough for me to give me a true feeling of being "superior", able to face challenges and conquer things that would leave most in their dust. I feel as though I've always known that about myself but I've held myself back from admitting it. Allowing myself to embrace the arrogance of superiority has given me a different perspective upon the world and my opportunity within it. I feel far more able to overcome such great challenges and find success. The new perspective afforded has granted far more ideas and insight into future potential, and I have gone from a lost cripple, stumbling in the shadows, to a strong but injured man stepping back upon the forefront. I know far more clearly what I value, what I need, and where my goals are. I will no longer bend to the will of others constantly, but instead I will drive my own path forward. That does not mean I am too good to need help. In discovering this strength alongside it I have rediscovered my vulnerability. Letting myself open to the highs has also opened the lows. I have relearned to communicate with those who I trust and depend upon that which I need and want. I have let go of the feeling of being too strong to need help, and in doing so I have not found weakness but further strength. Watching myself in retrospect travel through these steps grants a different type of insight into the works I read as part of my philosophy studies. I think this experience has wisened me in a way I needed more than I ever understood. This tumor has given me an experience I needed to become who I was meant to become, to actualize the potential I was granted. I have been an atheist since I was incredibly small, but I feel as though in this experience I have come in touch with a sense of a greater interconnected power, and a will to push forward in a direction. Before I went to Bishop's, for most of my high school time and even a while before that I had a clear resolution of what I needed to do. I thought, I knew, I needed to experience what it meant to be a warrior. I wanted to go to RMC, to learn the discipline, the strength, the willpower and resolve it took to deal with the terrors one must face. I knew there was wisdom in that experience that is necessary for me to become who I wanted to become. I had confidence in my strength of will, my resolve, my leadership potential, that core of myself which was born into me, blessed by the genes and history of my family and the favourable touch of luck. I knew at the darkest tests, I could hold to the ethics and principles that were precious to the working of our military. I had dreamed as a teen, one of my favourite fantasies was fighting to the death or sacrificing my life to save the lives of many. I ran through countless such scenarios in my head. When I lose my temper the worst it is not in self defense, but in defense of those around me. I am a man whose greatest drive comes from the experience of a team that is bound in blood, and relies upon each other to the absolute core, and has the will and resolve to do everything needed to accomplish it. However, what I watched happen in the world grew up shattered my dream of doing that. When we went to Afghanistan amidst the controvery and questions, and as our role there developed, and I began to see the force of the military-industrial complex that reigns so greatly upon our world, I felt it had become something I could no longer let myself be a part of. I reflected deeply on what I considered in life before that point, and I felt lost. I had no purpose or goal anymore, no understanding of what I was meant to be, and that was what sent me first around the world to australia, alone at 18 exploring and experiencing, and then into the philosophy degree at bishop's. I wanted to find a new meaning, a new purpose to life. In the time when I did not connect with such a purpose I began to destroy myself. I did not recognize it at the time, but I sought pleasure and release in a short term fashion that was blind and purposeless. Between drugs, meaningless and not that great sex, fighting, eating badly, drinking in drastic excess, smoking, and just failing to care for and maintain the potential of the body I was granted. Somehow thanks to the strength I was given rather than the strength I earned I made it through that experience with only a few scars and a tumor. Many times in those years I deserved to die for what I did. I took risks too great, I broke ethics too firm, and lost myself deeply... It is only now that I rediscovered myself, and it is this very morning that I realized how. Not to discount the acts of warriors and the value of such experience, I can not say I have been tested on the field, but this experience has granted for me a lot of what I needed to learn from war. I have faced death and looked it in the eye, not for a brief moment in a flash, but as a dark cloud lurking over my life for years. I have confronted disability, through epilepsy, as well as the lurking fear going into surgery of paralysis, and the constant lurking shadow on the edge of the road ahead of the tumor or radiation therapy destroying my speech center, and bringing me back to what it was like in the few days post surgery when I was completely unable to speak... The demon which began to lurk heavier over me than that distant lurking cloud, which truly shook my soul to its deepest and caused me to lose sight of myself more than anything else. I almost lost to that one. I was ready to give up on myself. I know if I'd been brought to disabled by these seizures, rendered unable to live the kind of independent, productive, decisive life I feel so called towards, I would have died not long after. My soul would have given up, and the strength which has carried me through all this would have gone out like an untended fire. That carried a far heavier weight on me than the fear of death. What I've really come to understand through this time is that fuck the hell out of it everybody dies some time. There are risks for everyone every day that people never recognize. Death is something we can't ever really understand, we don't know what the fuck is going to happen when we die, probably nothing, maybe something fancy, but we might as well leave it until we get there. I would far rather die with a purpose than slowly degrade and lose myself through destruction from the inside. I think this tumour may have scared me even more than war would have. I don't know though. I remember the conversations I had with the two british marines in Bali, and the look in their eyes as they recounted their stories, and the respect that attained from me in a way I can't truly explain... I don't ever want to discount the level of courage that can be forged from the fires of war. But for me, in particular, the confrontation of slow inevitable inner destruction held a terror that I'd never imagined before. I have looked it in the eye long enough though. It looks different now. I will beat it, or I will die trying, but if I'm going to die trying I'm going to be givin er fuckin nuts until the last minut. Fuck giving up, ever. I can defeat medical statistics, I can defeat fucking anything, and if I fail then it will at least have a PURPOSE. I can set an example. I can show how to really face death, illness, destruction. WITH YOUR CHIN UP AND YOUR FINGER IN THE FUCKIN AIR AT IT! GET OUT THERE AND DO WHAT YOU WANT, FIND WHAT YOU WANT, BE WHO YOU WANT TO BE! THAT LIES WITHIN YOU, SO BRING IT OUT.
Or at least watch me. I'm going to burn brightly from here, to a level I never have before. Enjoy it while it lasts. I think the first step in rediscovering this courage could be just sharing this inner dialogue with the world. I will follow it briefly with a little rational discourse I feel necessary to avoid misinterpretations of me.
While I know I'm an exceptional person, smarter, stronger, braver, than almost everyone I see, I also understand I'm not. This all is how the world looks from inside me, how I find the best part of myself, where I dig to find the strength I need to confront these things. I think that in their own way, maybe vastly different from me, everyone has an inner strength that has great value, a potential that can be actualized if you can learn to recognize it and care for it and bring it about into reality. This is my way. I need this way. If you don't want to deal with a bull-headed, loud, bearded, hard working country guy who loves the ocean, finds fishing to be perhaps the most fun thing in existence, but is also addicted to the hard work of the forest, the ranges of the mountains, the feeling of exploring and experiencing new places, and doing so slightly stubbornly independently, then you might not enjoy me too much. I am what I am, and instead of trying to change and compromise it I'm going to make the most I can of it. I am good at what I'm good at, and shitty as hell at some stuff I'm not. But I intend to work harder, stay stronger, and prove myself more than you. See what you can do about it.
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