Not Good

Pss. 63:3 “Because thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee.”

When people ask me how I’m doing, like everyone else I say fine. They’re happy with that and offer me to ‘keep it up’! I’m not lying I just don’t want to get into the gist of what I feel is a failure. My husband, son, and mother-in-law don’t see it as a failure but I do. I feel like I’ve let myself an everyone else down. I come down pretty hard on myself.

I’m lying to myself more than anything. I want to be fine and believe I’m going to be fine but getting from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ is a whole different matter. I accepted the easier of the chemo routes meaning not the kind where they slice, dice, and radiate you, then place what they call a ‘port’ under my skin to fester. The port is the loading dock for the poison they’d administer. No, I took lethal injection instead.

It has been nothing but lethal since the first ninety-minute injection where the side effects were tearing me up from the inside. They lied and told me it would get better; the chills and hard pain should subside with each dose and after the third dose I see no change in side effects except them getting worse. Had Allison been more concerned with the patient than the kickbacks from the Femara she kept trying to push, maybe she would have known about the swelling.

The last visit I had was two weeks ago and Allison, whom I think is the doctor’s assistant came in and saw me instead of the Dr. himself. I guess he was too busy and bears the weight of the patient load. For some reason when they ask you how you’re doing, and you tell them, they spin your words. 

“I’m not good. I’m in a lot of pain from side effects,” I say.

“Oh, they get better with time. Some women don’t even know they’re getting chemo. So, why don’t you want Femara?” There it is, the sale of drugs.

“Well, I know I don’t like the side effects, but I’ll push on. Not with Femara though, something milder the doctor offered.” 

The argument. “Chemo has saved millions of lives, you know?”

“I’m not getting into this conversation, it upsets me.” She knows this, I’ve seen her before. She pressed on until I was in tears and she was (unapologetically) apologizing. She knew what she was doing. They push the fear and scare tactic buttons until you’re a hot mess. Needless to say, she didn’t check my heart, my swelling, or my pulse, all that are normal things to check for in a visit. She was too busy trying to sell her drug.

I was going to give this weeks Herceptin a try, so off I went for my thirty-minute poison pump, where they pump the ‘juice’ into my veins. Afterward, at home, I ate and thought all was right with the world, I was feeling good, then the pain came like a freight train barreling down the tracks. I’ll never eat again, is what I said over and over in tears, wrapped in a blanket, and now in bed at five in the afternoon. This was the norm when coming home from the chemo trips.

A couple more days followed suit and it hit me, that since my first treatment what was once a vital woman was now a shell, a crippled woman trying to make it through each day. I was waking sad, sore and depressed. I couldn’t do my exercises that for seven months I’d been doing. I was just wheeling through the house, using my walker too, but the cane… it became a hindrance and I haven’t used it in nine weeks, almost twelve weeks.

Now when people ask how I’m doing I say, “Not good.” I just can’t lie. When I said I was doing okay, I was! I was walking, exercising, cold or not I got out of the house, intermingled with human beings, I was good. WAS being the operative word. Say your not and poof, everyone disappears. They’ll be back when the word is ‘good’ again. Not good is negative (I know) and brings them down. I don’t blame them.

My mother-in-law emailed me last week and asked if she could come out for a visit, bring me some flowers (for the outside) and I said YES!! Need anything? FRESH RIPE tomatoes! Lol So I was getting a visitor besides my son! Wouldn’t you know, we had so much rain the roads are a muddy mess. It was warm that day and she wore shorts and I told her, this week you’ll be bringing the coats back out! We are all in amazement of this crazy weather. Surprising tornadoes in the city of Lincoln, rain, high winds, cold, chill, floods again, if not, washed out roads! Just a mess, just not a frozen solid ground mess.

Then last week the pain hit me hard. I was having adverse reactions and needed to call the doctors office and let them know. I wrote about the ‘normal side effects a few weeks ago, like sleep problems, nausea, muscle pain, abdominal pain, loss of appetite, tiredness and more, so many more. But there were also the bad side effects. I remembered the swelling but needed to look and see what else I had.

Serious Reactions:
bone pain,
increased coughing,
swelling of the hands/ankles/feet, MY ONE FOOT IS SWELLED LIKE A BALLOON
sudden unexplained weight gain,
unusual tiredness, I FEEL SLEEPING TWELVE AND FIFTEEN HOURS IS NOT NORMAL
severe headache,
tingling or numbness, MY LEFT-HAND GOES NUMB/ NECK TINGLY
mental/mood changes,  I THOUGHT IT WAS NORMAL MENOPAUSE CRUD
fast or pounding heartbeat, and  YES
easy bruising or bleeding.           YES (WHERE’D THAT COME FROM)

I  called and told the nurse Navigator I was experiencing adverse reactions. She said to rest and put my foot up and see if that helps. It did for a couple of nights but that was it. Only my left foot is swelled. And… and… “I’ll take care of the scrip for ya. Ok, bye.” This malpractice is in their court, not mine!

I’m giving up on Herceptin and to me feels like I failed. But wait I didn’t, the DRUGS did!

I know I didn’t, and everyone will tell me so. I go this week for what the docs office thinks is a Herceptin trip and to their surprise, they’re getting me and all my adverse reactions, FINALLY, but no more Herceptin, on to a new plan, Doc! I hope I make it that far, until Wednesday!

There’s more going on that I need to tell you, I’ll call extenuating circumstances! 

TO BE CONTINUED….

Pss. 119: 78 “Let the proud be ashamed; for they dealt perversely with me without a cause: but I will meditate in thy precepts.”

Pss. 119:17 “Deal bountifully with thy servant, that I may live, and keep thy word.”

God Bless!

Nursing Home Saga Continues

2 Samuel 7:22 (NIV) "How great you are, O Sovereign LORD! There is no one like you, and there is no God but you."

The Saga Continues

The first night at the Home didn’t go too bad but morning came and I was aroused by the lights on Ray’s side being swung into motion. Ray had to be up and dressed because she went for dialysis three days a week. It took a lot out of her physically. She’d be gone until noon at which time she’d arrive back at the Home to eat lunch. Some of the time she would eat in the room because apparently, her trip took too much out of her to be social. She was placed in her recliner and left to eat.

By five in the morning I was awake and most of the time I asked if I could be helped onto the commode. “Sure Joni, just give us a minute.” I was trying to memorize the voices that would be helping me, this day it was Laura. The minute usually took more than twenty to come back for me. I was hungry and wouldn’t eat until nine. A small cup of water sat on my table and I’d take small sips. If I asked for them to refill the cup I brought from the hospital, it would take every bit of thirty-five minutes for it to be returned like it did the day before on my arrival. I was hesitant. And no, I was not on any restrictions of food and water.

I wanted to turn my television on a couple of times but wouldn’t you know it, the previous aid sat the ‘gait belt’ on the stand right in front of the television beam needed for the remote to connect and it would not turn on. I would just sit there, looking around, alone in my thoughts. The curtains were still drawn in the mornings and I awaited the sunrise. My meds would arrive about eight o’clock to eight-thirty and I asked the nurse that day, Bird lady, if she could kindly help me to the commode, the other nurse at six o’clock had not returned. “Well let me get you your meds first.” This nurse was one of the sweet attentive nurses and also in charge of the other nurses, the Charge Nurse. With gloves on, she handed me all of my pills in one cup. My chemo pills were supposed to be taken at different times, like before I ate (which one of them was on time) but the other was supposed to be thirty-minutes AFTER I ate. I was still hungry, no food tray in sight, except the empty one from dinner the night before, and still waiting to urinate. She offered me three packs of crackers to hold me off and often offered me an Ensure drink. 

I wasn’t getting a good feel of the place even after one full day in the confines of the home. At around 9:45 I was scheduled for my radiation; that meant I had to get dressed. The physical therapists came in before eight (way before breakfast) to see what I could physically do. The one PT was very robotic. I would try to make her laugh and she would just deadpan stare at me as if to say, ‘really? I’m trying to work here!’ While the occupational therapist, Kay, was perky and friendly and loved to laugh with me. Our laughter I know could be heard echoing down the hall. When I cried, she listened, she’d hand me the box of kleenex, and it was very comforting having someone in my room to communicate with.

I couldn’t do much like get dressed, heck I hadn’t showered in twelve days and have only been sponge bathed a couple of times at the hospital. My hair was a mangled mess, and what make-up was still left on my eyes ran down my face and I was hesitant to even look in the mirror. I would go to the radiation treatment in my t-shirt and flannel, nothing else but a blanket to cover me because the days were starting to get chilly.

I could only pivot so far on my right foot with the aid of the gait belt so I didn’t fall. The cold radiation slab wanted to break my back but the nurses were very accommodating and brought pillows, a cushion with a sheet, and warmed sheets to cover me. They didn’t treat me like a toxic zombie. They treated me like a patient. They were impressed with my progress since the first round of radiation, where I was brought in on a gurney. They said I was nothing short of a miracle when I appeared in the wheelchair, stood and pivoted. They had seen the x-rays of my break and were surprised I was at the pivoting stage already. My determination to go home kept me pushing forward but never overdoing the exercises I needed to set me free.

After the session was over my husband and I usually rolled down and sat at the window with the beautiful fountain surrounded by a lush garden and benches. There were pumpkins decorating the garden for either fall or Halloween. I lost track of time. We would then wait for the bus driver to return to take us back to the home.

The weather was damp, dreary and chilly most days, at the hospital, I was wheeled by gurney to the CC. At the Home, the community Ryde (bus) bus driver would come to my room and pick me up, unless a nurse rolled me to the sitting room. I was then taken to the Cancer Center. The driver would then come back and pick me up to take me back to the home. Any time I was not alone was a cherished moment for me. Anxiety had built for the Nursing Home very quickly. I would kid with the bus driver and ask him if he wanted to break me out of this place. He’d laugh as we slowly approached the Home. He would take me back to my room if my husband wasn’t there, otherwise hubby would wheel me back to the cubbyhole of a corner in room twelve. Let me state now, the other rooms were EVENLY divided between tenants. With doors open, I could clearly see in each room I passed as envy filled my empty gut.

As I said, to lighten my time in the places I deemed a hellhole, only because it wasn’t home, I used laughter to muddle through. One time being transported on a gurney to the CC I was wheeled to the first floor, past a gift shop, past a Subway (what torture!) and then past a waiting room then out the door into the swift breeze and the only-for-me sunshine. The CC was right next door to the hospital, too close for ambulatory service. I told the guys wheeling me, as I was covered in a white sheet, looking like a dead body being transported, that I would put the sheet over my head, then when I get to the waiting room, I’d jump up, screaming. The one technician laughed so hard he almost stumbled, the other one just shook his head. These guys, as well as anyone who came in contact with me, were getting to know me and my infectious sense of humor. Laughter and optimism kept me ALIVE!

The days were passing by as slow as extra thick maple syrup could be poured from a bottle. Granted the days were full from five a.m until we turned our lights out at 8:30 as we slept until something in the night called us to awaken.

Pss. 130:5  “I wait for the LORD, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.”

The Story Continues...Miracles To ME!

Isaiah 26:9 (NIV) “My soul yearns for you in the night; in the morning my spirit longs for you. When your judgments come upon the earth, the people of the world learn righteousness.”

Miracles to ME

The staff that I had surrounding me during my hospital stay was quite amazing. My office oncologist paid me a quick visit when I first got to my room after the femur surgery. I would then be turned over to his colleague oncologist who works at the hospital, Dr. Biscuit. (I will not use real names!) 

Besides Dr. Slim, the surgeon who did my leg, one of my miracles was my oncologist who showed up at the right time in my journey. Remember the ER doctor gave me an oncologists name? It was Dr. Biscuit, I did not see him for my initial consultation. Dr. Bradley was the office oncologist who put me on oral chemo. Dr. Biscuit was all about IV chemo being the ONLY healer and I only met him AFTER I was in the hospital and already a patient with a protocol with Dr. Bradley. 

Dr. Biscuit and I never saw eye-to-eye in the beginning. His philosophy was one thing (slaughter/drugs/chemo), mine was the other (natural)! And you know who was whom, and you probably get a picture of who won. Dr. Biscuit is the one who WRONGLY put me on a stool softener, a steroid, something for indigestion, just a bunch of unnecessary drugs! After a bad night of stomach upset, (I won’t go into the gruesome details) I had a talk with the nurse about the DRUGS I was taking, she then put me in touch with Dr. Biscuit to straighten this pill mess out! 

I DID NOT need a stool softener! I drank tea in the morning, a NATURAL stool softener. He also had me drinking Ensure, another form of laxative! I told him NO, along with my pain meds, I wanted my vitamins A, B12, C, D3, and my oral chemo, that was it! It got changed very quickly I might add. Too many people just accept that the doctor knows what is best. A doctor DOES NOT know your body OR how it will respond. My body KNEW something was wrong with all the drugs and it let me know, too!

Then came Dr. Leeb, he was a radiologist. After a lengthy discussion with Dr. Biscuit, my husband, son and myself, Dr. Leeb would be the administrator of the radiation. NOT TO MY BREAST, to the spreading pain/cancer in my shoulder, and hopefully put a halt to what was spreading in my hip, the one that had surgery. The other hip, so he says, is too far gone, but we’ll start. Okay, all in agreement! Five days of dragging me across the bed to the gurney (in pain) to the x-ray table, then drag me to the radiation slab, then back to the gurney and back to my bed/room. This was hell in itself, but I endured. I’d also endure ten more days of radiation on my leg, from the nursing home.

My room number was 3203 by the way - my birthday - 3 23. Another top question was, ‘what is your pain level?’ On meds it was a four-five, on the dragging me all around days, the pain was at a 7-9. MY BOWELS ARE FINE!  Yeah, I was tired of that one but… little did I know, a reaction to the oral chemo I was taking, was vomiting, diarrhea, lack of appetite, and skin changes. Peeling ugly pink skin. NONE of which I had, and that PUZZLED the doctors. I was in the rare 30 percentile of ‘not affected’. Good to know two weeks into the DRUG intake.

After the doctor and I were on the same page, we got along better. He came in one day with his how are you doing, any changes banter, then he said something, yes, to ME a miracle was taking place. His exact words were, “After reviewing the x-rays and bloodwork, and upon physical inspection, it seems that the oral chemo is working. Whatever we’re doing is working.” My lymph nodes were shrinking, my tumor was shrinking, my x-rays were showing physical signs of my leg healing also. All was good. Little did they know that not for one moment was I attributing the Chemo drugs to being the reason I was healing. 

You see, all of that was happening BEFORE I started the Oral Chemo, but the OC I believe sped up the healing, along with my vitamins! I may be onto something. We had a discussion about my protocol and he had mentioned that the people in Europe reacted the same way to the Oral Chemo as my body was reacting. In America, 70% of people were having adverse reactions and THAT is why they were not recommended. I told him it all had to do with my diet and nutrition! His comment? “Are you going for a Nobel Prize here? A conference of doctors have already surmised it was the diet but we hit a dead end.” HA! I’m onto something friends! Believe it or not, I was having a positive effect on him also. His final words to me on his last visit was ‘Godspeed’! 

Another incident I had was with a wound care nurse. She was sent to change the dressing on my breast. As I had told you all in previous posts, that my breast leaked and therefore after bathing it with saltwater, I placed a non-stick gauze over it to protect my garments. Since entering the hospital I had not changed the gauze and I knew I was in the best place for it to be seen and taken care of. I told her it was ugly before she proceeded to take off the gauze. She said, “Oh my.” I was taken aback and asked, “Is it that bad?” She replied, “Not at all, it looks GOOD. What were you doing for it? I know you were taking excellent care of it, that’s for sure.” A deep sigh of relief washed over me. I told her about the saltwater bathings. She agreed that it looked well taken care of and that she had seen much worse case scenarios with breast cancer patients, so yes, to keep doing what I was doing. We’ll take the best care of it we can here, she said, and they did take the best care THEY could. 

Then there was the Palliative nurse, Jan. She was the nurse sent to be on my side and didn’t allow the doctors to bully me, but remember she works FOR the hospital. She was a semi-tall sweet woman with short bobbed blonde hair. Her voice was very soothing and relaxing and I felt comfortable telling her anything. She visited me daily, allowed me to cry on her shoulder, offered options to heal, and didn’t allow doctor Biscuit full reign of the floor.

One day I was sitting in the recliner (as opposed to being bedridden) and Jan upon seeing me, smiled, she was pleased with my progress since seeing me the day before lying in the bed. She said to me, “I have a little something for you,” she put out her hand and offered me a small book and went on to say, “This randomly fell onto my desk yesterday out of the blue as I was going through stuff on my shelf. I looked at it and thought 'who would benefit from this, Joni' that’s who.” It was a book of daily prayers and affirmations. I smiled, I cried and offered her a hug. Such a dismal reason to be in the hospital but God saw to it that Light was brought to my door on a daily basis! I tried to offer the book back before I left the hospital, thinking it was on loan but she said, “Oh no, you keep it, that book was meant for you when it fell on my desk!”

Then there was the visit from a clown. Yes you read it right, my mother-in-law and I were just sitting there chatting and my husband had gone home to shower and in the room walks a clown. “Would you like a visit from me and my friend?” She was holding a stuffed monkey. I had tears in my eyes and exclaimed, “YES! I need a visit to cheer me up, no offense, mom.” Daisybug the clown went on for twenty-five minutes of corny one-liner jokes to make my day. God really does know me and knew what I needed to cheer me up!

The list goes on and on of the miracles that happened those twenty days I was away, and this list is just some of the ten days I was in the hospital! I had wonderful physical therapists who visited daily and would leave me with exercises to do myself and I would leave them with laughter and smiles. That is what made me so strong in ten days to be released. I had attentive nurses and one day an intern stood for an hour detangling my long hair that had gotten itself knotted in just a couple of days.  I was being transformed from immobile to mobile, from bedpan to commode mode, from weary and teary to beautiful laughter and smiling. It was now time to be released. A single flower from my vases was handed to nurses, doctors, interns, physical therapists, home health aides, cafeteria workers who brought me food, and even the cleaning ladies! Anyone who helped me in any way, I gave to them a smile and a gratitude flower. My work here was now complete.

Psalm 95:1-2 "O come, let us sing unto the Lord: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms."

The Story Continues: Hospital Stay ~ Flowers Arrive

Pss. 96:6 "Honour and majesty are before him: strength and beauty are in his sanctuary."

The Story Continues...The Hospital Stay

The aftermath wasn’t so bad, in the beginning. I woke after the operation back in my room and my husband and son looking over me with pale faces. I could see the worry and stress dripping from their eyes. His mother was in the waiting room as I had requested because I just wanted my first loves to be what I saw when I woke.

Today I’m going to write a bit about my hospital stay. The second or third day (remember, I lost all sense of time) flowers started coming in. My son had told my niece about me being in the hospital and she being the sweetheart that she is, put a post on her/my (blood)family FB page. My two long-lost brothers sent flowers and balloons, my mother and sister sent flowers as well as two of my nieces. I do remember having to wait to tell my mother what happened to me because she kept ringing my phone incessant with worry, causing me undue stress in the process. Finally, my son had to call and tell her I was in the hospital. I only used my phone for hubby and son. I couldn’t move anyway so the phone was just a comfort artifact for a couple days. This post may seem choppy but I'm trying to get it all out there.

My husbands' mom gave me flowers in a beautiful deer coffee mug and the cutest softest dog ever! My niece posted a link to the gift shop at the hospital. My sister sent up from the gift shop a precious stuffed dog. And I received two angels too! And balloons, I received balloons attached to stuff, just what, I have no idea. I now have two stuffed dogs that I named Riley and Sassy! 

My husband, well he brought me a ton of stuff, a cross necklace, a single cross that in the center crystal stone when looked at in the sun, the serenity prayer is written! No kidding, it’s pretty awesome! A coffee mug that says ‘Good morning, Punkin’ with a small pumpkin in the cup. Halloween was nearing (I had no idea) and ‘punkin’ was one of his pet names for me. Over the ten days he had to bring tons of stuff from home and the store, so no I can’t list it all, but this man really came through for me, his broken woman and the confused man that he had become. He also brought the beautiful prayer quilt that my mother-in-law’s church had made for me and prayed over every stitch as it was being made. 

My son, he brought to me White Roses, in a vase. Not real ones he said because they die. He also gave me a Squirrel and a bluebird since I couldn’t sit and look at my birds and squirrels at the feeder at home. He also gave me a plaque, a wooden wall hanging that had two ‘wings’ (angel wings?) and the words ‘Believe you can’! He arranged everything so nicely at the window for me, and my husband draped the quilt over the back of the sofa.  All of the nurses (and docs) commented on the beauty of ‘love’ that I was receiving! 

My room was being filled with treasures and I was essentially just lying there staring at them, immobile, in pain and every shred of vanity and dignity tossed out the window. By the second or third day, I was getting more comfortable in the place. I’m not sure if it took that long for the drugs to wear off but the days seemed endless.

The bright room was a nice size all for myself and the usual monitoring machines. There was a studio style sofa in front of the window whose cushions unfolded into a bed for a family member if needing or wanting to stay. Steven stayed all ten days. He’d go home, take a shower, grab a bite to eat and bring essentials back to the hospital for me. He missed too many days of work for me and the poor fella was run as ragged as a war-torn handkerchief. His mind to me, looked like a jigsaw puzzle scattered on the floor as he tried finding all the pieces to go in the proper place as we went along on this journey. It was tough on all three of us. This wasn’t just a journey for Joni to learn and GROW.

For the next ten days, I was miss popular as were my bowel movements and my birthday! Those were the questions asked daily, the birthday one was asked with every nurse visiting the room. I was also known as little miss toxic. If a nurse helped me with the bedpan they had to gown up and double glove. If they handled my oral chemo pills they had to wear gloves. Funny how I was not told of the toxicity of these pills they handed me. I handled them like they were aspirin. My room was labeled outside with the skeleton and crossbones, listing me as a toxic commodity? 

With each nurse and or doctor that entered the room, I made them leave with a smile. In only ten days I had built relationships with the nurses, x-ray people, the radiation men and women, doctors, even the women who mopped the floor and emptied garbage pails. Not one person left my room without a smile on their face. 

The doctor who did my surgery, whom if you remember, held my heel for an hour before getting my leg to straighten out, it turned out he was from Colorado and would be returning home at the end of the week. He told me that he would be leaving Nebraska a different man than the one who came. He visited me daily and on the last day, handing him a rose, I told him to, “Always smile!” He stopped by before leaving for Colo. bidding me goodbye. He didn’t have to stop by but I’m assuming as a changed man, he wanted to. 

After bantering back and forth with the oncologist about the toxic port kind of chemo (who was the colleague onc. I missed at the office), we finally saw eye to eye when my tests, x-rays and my response to the oral poison was in my favor. Everything with the oral chemo was working. Tumor was shrinking, lymph nodes physically smaller than before. I was eating normal, bowels normal, skin normal, all in all I was a model patient. He had no argument seeing I surely didn’t look or act like a Stage 4 cancer patient! 

Talk of putting me in a nursing home/rehab came up at the end of my 'welcome' and I didn’t want to go but the insurance was not going to allow me much longer in the hospital. I don’t know why I couldn’t rehab in the hospital but then I guess the journey would have been pointless. When Portia came in and told me (as I’m eating my delicious lunch meal) that they found me a spot in the nursing home/rehab and I’d be transferred at three o’clock that day. My face drained of all blood. I suddenly wasn’t hungry. More tears puddled the sheets and filled the wastebasket with kleenex. Change. That week I think I could’ve built an ark to float away on all of those tears I shed. I closed my eyes and silently prayed. Portia was sitting right in front of me and my husband to my left. She gets a call, “Oh. Uh huh, Uh huh,” She looks at me and says, the room won’t be ready until tomorrow. Talk about prayers being answered! I kicked once again into the ‘accepting whatever God turns my way’ woman. 

With each doctor, nurse, Physical therapist, palliative nurse, or janitor that came through the door that day they received a carnation, daisy, or a rose to brighten their day and as a token of remembrance of me. While they expressed how sad they were to see me go, they smiled and thanked me for my kind gesture. Only one grumpy nurse (she was young too) turned down my gesture with “I have no place for a flower.” I knew she needed prayer the most.

Nurses have so much to contend with on a daily basis, that I wanted them to know that there is one person that appreciates all that they did for me. While my three vases thinned out of flowers, I sat in reflection of the ten days I was there. The room emptied for a few moments and I was alone in silent tears. I gazed out the window, a monarch butterfly passed by, all the way up on the third floor. Must’ve seen my flowers in the window. Thank you, Jesus, I whispered. At that moment a feather, a white feather, floated by. I knew I was being watched closely and guided by everything spiritual and Godsent! The only birds I had seen during my visit were two pigeons off on a roof two or three streets over.

I came into the hospital a pure nutrition-filled body enhanced by vitamins and a strict healthy protocol and I left a drug addict, having been on Morphine, using oxy something, Percocet, oral chemo drugs, a bone-strengthening drug shot into me once a month, and a lost healthy diet. Gone. A year and a half of health ~~~ lost to this. And we wonder why the nation has an opioid crisis? The doctors made it this way, not the people!

1 John 4:18 “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”

The story continues…

Paranoia II

Prov. 13:17 “A wicked messenger falleth into mischief: but a faithful ambassador is health.”

Paranoia II

Sometimes when I begin writing I veer off topic and go in a whole other direction. Like yesterdays post, I wanted to write about the paranoia that seeps into everything I’m doing. If someone comments on a post I’m trying to share I get defensive when they don’t agree with me and they go off in their own direction in what they believe. My apologies, but that just does not work for me.

What I’m trying to do here is unconventional on so many levels, I don’t expect people to rally behind me and say go for it but I also don’t expect them to jump down my throat and berate me with why I’m wrong. I will refrain from sharing on facebook the doctors and websites that I read from and follow because more times than not it’s pointed out that it is a fake news site, the doctor’s are wrong because the medical world does not agree with their unconventional ways, or that I’m just a crazy woman. Well, that one I can agree on.


I’ve just deleted hundreds of emails because most were trying to feed my paranoid state. Topics covered were thyroid, diabetes, heart disease and the list goes on. Topics also include why the water I shower with is toxic, why this one vegetable is not good if I’m fighting the C, or why chemtrails are making everyone sick. The emails feed my paranoia as does the toxic invaders.

Anyone who is following my journey on a daily basis knows what I am going through. I have some people who come in and comment off the cuff and think I’m fighting a simple illness like the flu and want to discuss the ramifications of NOT getting a flu shot. I’m sorry people, I do not believe in the flu shot, vaccines, or anything the medical community tosses out for human consumption. If you read me daily, you’ll understand and know why! The pharmaceutical corporations lead doctors; their pocketbooks are lined by an addicted nation that THEY contribute to daily.

When I point out that the medical community knows nothing about nutrition I’m met with a person's statistics on the reasoning why they are okay with doctors pushing drugs, or how there is one doctor in a big city that knows about nutrition. You see what I’m saying? That one doctor is not helping ME, or the ones I turn to and read on a regular basis. I guess me spewing where I get my information is not syncing with you or the Harvard medical community as a whole.

I’m basically alone in my journey and I’m okay with that. I’m living in a world of people addicted to drugs, legal and illegal drugs mind you. Those people are as defensive of their drugs as I am in fighting for what I believe in. I don’t agree with you that every pill you pop is necessary just as you don’t agree that cancer can be fought and won with NUTRITION! Again, I’m okay with what you believe in but please don’t try and sway me from what I believe in just for argument's sake.

In January when I got this diagnosis the medical community worked hard as nails to instill FEAR in me. I being the warrior and rebel that I am, gently asked for time and they put kid gloves on and knocked me out of the ballpark, dropping me like a hot potato because their income just went out the door with me. They quickly moved on to the next uninformed cancer patient. Did they ever call me to see how I’m doing? NO, they could care less. All they care about is their money! I have proof as they quickly sent me to a collection agency for bills unpaid. I sent money to them but they returned it because they want the FULL payment, not a mere portion at a time. THAT is the medical community that YOU bow down to!

While I am out here feeling great, eating well and am on the road to healing, they still have the hold of paranoia on me in trying to bully me into paying for tests that THEY forced me into! In my distress of being informed of a death sentence, they wheeled me into one test after another knowing full well that the tests could cause the spread of the disease. But if I tell anyone in the medical world of this, they scoff and shrug, they are right and I am wrong. I don’t have legitimate sources or twenty years of 'studies' to back me up.

While I have changed everything I cook, eat, drink and wear, I’m still met with people who disagree with my choice in this journey. I am still being hit with a barrage of information that essentially feeds my paranoia. I have to watch every bite of food going in my mouth and the way it’s cooked no microwave or Teflon cookware for me. I read every label, I buy organic when I can, and feel paranoid when I can’t and allow it to still pass through my mouth. To me, that is cheating! If it is not organic and intricately scrutinized, I feel I’m cheating myself.

No, I haven’t cheated on the sugar intake in nine months. I bend a little on the carbohydrates but only because the first six months of strictly fruits and vegetables has passed. I now allow lentils and some (organic) beans, gluten free, grain free bread and still allow only coconut milk and coconut oil. Only free-range chickens and eggs are allowed on occasion, definitely not a daily basis because of the methionine content. And I have found that the only processed food I can eat sparingly is organic soups and chili. That’s it, but I am eating and happy with every bite I might add. 

With Thanksgiving nearing, I’m thinking of a meal for me and one for the carnivores of the house. While the guys will eat the normal meal of turkey and mashed potatoes, I might try a zucchini medley for me. The aroma will wipe me off of my feet and I may find myself sulking as no biscuits and gravy for me unless I can find something organic I can sink my teeth into. But as with everything else, I’m over thinking and allowing a little paranoia to venture its way into my assertiveness.

I am so glad that from day one of my diagnosis I was led right to The Truth About Cancer and Chris Wark and every doctor they’re affiliated with. It was no coincidence, as I don’t believe in coincidence. It could have been me manifesting my wishes in beating this disease alternatively but I would rather believe that I was led there by my FAITH and trust in God!

I am a Christian soldier, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus, going on before! This fight is far from over. As with many other wars, this one can’t be won in a couple months or a year, this one will take years but I am up to the challenging battle. One day I’ll even be open to discussions where I can debate who is right and who is wrong but I’m not there yet. I’m coming up on my one year since diagnosis on January 25th, and two years since I felt the prominent lump in December. So you see, this battle is far from over and that is why continued prayer will carry me to victory.

3 John 1:2 “Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.”

May God bless the believers and non-believers alike!

Silent No More

Pss. 35:22 “This thou hast seen, O LORD: keep not silence: O Lord, be not far from me.”

Silent No More

As I scan the news feeds I see an awakening of people pointing fingers. Abuse has been going on for centuries if not the millennium. No one would like to admit it but even in the bible, there is rape and the mistreatment of women and men on a sexually promiscuous stage.

From my experience, when you come forward to tell of your story, you’re shot down. I think that is why the women you see today coming forward with sexual abuse cases are banding together because as one is shot down, forty and fifty might be heard.

We live in a world where if one person disagrees with another, the first thing they do is retaliate by belittling and silencing the other voice so that their voice is heard above all others.

I’ve never been the silent type as many will read, laugh and understand what I’m saying. I’ve been pretty vocal about my abuse as a child and I hope in years to come when people want to look into my window and actually learn who I am (of course after I pass because many could care less about my story as I live) they’ll dig through these pages and discover me and my voice.

If you ever wonder where I get my strength in fighting a disease like cancer that has killed millions of people, look at my history, read my story. I’ve been sexually assaulted, I’ve been ridiculed, bullied and battered and this disease is just another form of attack that I won’t be silenced, scared of and led quietly into the night away from.

Job 31:34 “Did I fear a great multitude, or did the contempt of families terrify me, that I kept silence, and went not out of the door.”

Just as everyone else who stands their ground for what they believe in will get shot down, I am no different. We live in a world of people who are led around by a nose ring. If it is in a book, it must be the truth. If a person has a diploma, their words have to be true, if the story is on the web, a ring of truth has to be in there, right, wrong! The people are not going to listen to me because I’m that still small, uneducated voice that is heard but not believed. I don’t dig enough into the scientific detail. I don’t listen to the mainstream; I listen to the voice in the back of the room trying to be heard and always being silenced.

This MUST READ link isn’t from a politically trusted news source, this story more than likely isn’t scientifically right, you should know what is right from left, I mean wrong, and to be honest, I don’t. I can’t tell a fake news story from a real one, I don’t trust anyone these days and sometimes that even means my friends. I just don’t trust very easily anymore.

I’ve always been shot down and put on the defensive and it puts me in the corner of the closet and I don’t want to be heard anymore, I just want to pull the door closed and go quietly into the night, abandoned and alone. But AFTER I pass, will everyone be intrigued with what I was saying all along? Will they then do their own homework and seek out the truth or will they close the book on this page in history?

Job 4:17 “Shall mortal man be more just than God? shall a man be more pure than his maker?”

Let me just say, as many of you already know, I don’t trust the medical community. Doctors have let me down from the time I was sixteen and the uncaring doctor documented the words “She shows no feeling toward the death of her child,” (yeah, that is on record!) to the doctor who said recently, “She is not committing.” Doctors are all about drugs and the pharmaceutical industry they support and how to dismiss the uneducated little people and force them into submitting to the drugs they offer; drugs that have more damaging side effects than any healing properties. They are legal drug dealers in my eyes and nothing more! THAT is what they are trained for and paid a mighty dollar for too. The medical community is a big pool of vapid swimmers trying to pull you into their diseased cesspool. It is documented fact, but I’ll send you to an unrespected news source over and over so you can read for yourself the FACTS.

I don’t care how loud you are in dismissing me, I won’t hear. I don’t give a hoot how many medical journals you try to point me to, to prove me wrong, I won’t care. A voice doesn’t dare sway me just like my voice won’t sway you. We’re on opposite ends of the spectrum. While the world is out there following along like cows to slaughter, I’m a voice silenced by ignorance. I’m okay with that because I am led by only One voice, One Master, One God. All of your documentation is babble to me the very towers of Babylon that stood because of people like you and fell because of your kind. I know, that’s a politically unacceptable term, but I know nothing of politics either except that it will lead the human population to their destruction.


From this repeated link: "Honestly, we're at a point where the horses are out of the barn after the gate has closed," said Dan Werb, an expert at the University of California, San Diego. "I'm not optimistic about the capacity of our classic approaches to rein this [the drug addiction DOCTORS CAUSED] in."

As for me, I get to choose who I bow down to and it isn’t false idols, false gods or religion. I get to decide where I will go when my time ends. Keep in mind this uneducated woman’s words, MY God is not a religion! Never has been and never will be, no matter how loud you get thumping out man-made texts. I will remain alone but never silenced.

Pss. 31:18 “Let the lying lips be put to silence; which speak grievous things proudly and contemptuously against the righteous.”

Working Through Stress

Lam 3:23 “They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.”

Working Through Stress

Wow, what a difference a week makes. I’ve been on a stress relieving kick for some time now and some things I didn’t even know were stress came to a head. Like a pus filled pimple, I felt it surfacing and last week it burst, stress sprayed all over the place and now this week I’m cleaning up the mess it left behind so I can move forward.

For starters, my son- Since last December when the business my son was working at closed down, my son began the hunt for a job. K-Mart was to be his first job and the only place that would give him a chance seeing that he had zero experience. He is a twenty-one-year-old young man with a complete mind of his own and with that mind he has the gamut of emotions that he’s carried through life from anxiety, depression, insomnia the whole kit and kaboodle. After numerous (I’d say hundreds) applications and no calls he broke down and applied at the place his step dad works. Not his first choice but he succumbed to defeat.
Last week, HyVee called him, he went in for an interview and got the job. They offered him part-time fifteen to twenty hours a week. He worked five hours last Wednesday and was scheduled for fifteen more hours starting this Wednesday-tomorrow! Don’t worry it wasn’t in the same department as my hubby and his hours would be nighttime, hubby’s hours are early morning. He’d take the job because he was desperate. 
The next day another job called him and he declined because he had this job. But then it happened, the job he really wanted called him, he jumped at the chance for an interview. They liked him, hired him; Saturday and Monday he was with them doing the technicalities of the hiring process. This job has forty hours a week and more money than the food store, and a medical package too in sixty days. Excitement overflowed but then there was the anxiety of having to quit the other job. This is his journey and I’ll go no further.
Needless to say, when a mother sees her child struggling, the stress is real. Unneeded stress during this time for me but it is very real. Like God does for us kids, He offers himself to us but He doesn’t come into our lives and do all the work for us. I had to watch my son wiggle and squirm as I stood by as the support he’d need but this was something that he and he alone would have to do as the new adult he's become. He’s moving forward in life and that in itself is a bundle of stress for the both of us.

Cannabis oil – Yes, I’m seeking avenues for this curative medicine. My niece has put me in contact with people who are covered by lawyers but money will be my hindrance. It’s okay though because I’m allowing the Lord, myself and my supplements to do their work before I reach out and make the CBD oil happen for me. I’m not at a desperate place yet and have no plans to be but it is good to know that the opportunity is out there waiting for me to tap into.

My GP doctor – Stress is surrounding me in wanting to make an appointment and not wanting to make an appointment. She is leaving in July and I was waiting for my hubby’s eye doctor appointment to be over before I made my GP appointment. I can’t have him missing work in an already short part-time schedule. He’s willing to miss work for me but I need him to get taken care of too. 

Hubby’s Eye Doctor – This was a check-up that he didn’t have last year because of circumstances ie: weather, a change in the doctor’s schedule (he went from coming to our area from Omaha on Thursday’s to coming on Monday’s). Finally, this appointment happened. He went on and on telling us how this success story was pure luck, one in a hundred he said where someone goes from being completely blind to seeing again. Hubby said, “If luck is what you want to call it.” I could see his mind in there thanking the Lord for this MIRACLE, not a stroke of luck.
Anyway, the doctor went on to say that he wouldn’t be coming to our area anymore and that he would be turning hubby over to a new doctor. A sad moment and tears welled in my eyes before the doctor stepped out saying his good-byes. Doctor’s  seem to emotionally disconnect from the patients but it wasn’t so easy for me, or my hubby. Hubby didn’t bawl his eyes out like me, my eyes would not stop leaking. This entire year has been an emotional roller-coaster and this was the icing on the cake so to speak, my emotions of the culmination of stress were released through drippings of tears (not sobs). I let it go.
I thought it had been four years but I miscounted. Hubby had been under this doctor’s care for six years. From cornea transplant to eye removal, to infections to healing this was a powerful relationship coming to an end in a swift blow. I made a swift dart to the front door after hugging the assistant who has also been there for us over these years. * poof * 

The washer – For a couple of years now our washing machine (a GE I might add) has been going on the fritz and two weeks ago it had its last spin. We’ve repaired the wounded soldier over the years but this time we checked into it and the repair would be more costly than a new one. The poor old gal was 14 years old. We laid her to rest and used a ‘for emergency’s only credit card’ to purchase another GE washer. The cheapest one they had but brand spanking new to me. The nearest laundry mat is over twenty miles away so that was never really an option. Just the cost of gas and the cost of using the place weekly would cost more than a new machine. 
The stress never ends….

The dentist -  Hubby has been suffering for MONTHS needing to see a dentist but I had my needed medical attention so he put his on hold. I’m putting my GP visit on hold until he gets this problem looked at so that’s where we are. The stress is coming and going in ripples on the shoreline. I’m strong, I’m alive and I’m THRIVING. I can’t say the same for his aunt who is more than likely on her last week of life, succumbing to this disease. THAT will NOT be me!!!! 

While some may laugh and scoff at my choice in moving FORWARD not succumbing to the slice, dice and poison method. I choose to THRIVE, BE ALIVE, BLOSSOM, and SHINE! Healing is in the palm of my hand! I work through this stress that bombards me daily, with God by my side.  

All praise and Glory to my God!  

“Life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it.”

 ~ Charles Swindoll

“Believe you can and you’re halfway there.” 

~ Theodore Roosevelt

Fear Tactics Used

Beauty in the dark. Concordia, Kansas

1 Sam. 22:23 “Abide thou with me, fear not: for he that seeketh my life seeketh thy life: but with me thou shalt be in safeguard.”

Fear Tactics Used

From day one, January 25 was riddled in fear tactics. Now I'd like the doctors to know what it felt like rushing me from one test to the other in tears, telling me I have a dreaded disease but, ‘we’ll be with you all the way,’ is all they offered and I haven’t seen one of them since the 25th of January.

Couldn’t the doctor have sent me straight for the biopsy? Why did I need a mammogram, CT scan, blood test AND a biopsy to confirm my diagnosis, all in one day? I’ll tell you why, to elicit fear. The BC doctor used fear the very first day by forcing me into a whirlwind of tests in my confused weakened state. I was told I had a dreaded disease then shuffled around like meat in a slaughterhouse.

That was their tactic from the get-go and it became obvious with the onc. #1 visit. She was full of the words you need to instill fear. Onc. #2 was an intimidating, overbearing older man and he knew what he was doing too. Instill fear in this little lady and she’ll be eating out of the palms of our hands like the fragile bird that she is. When onc. #2 called onc. #1 autistic, I knew something was wrong with these people’s minds. Name calling, really?

What they weren’t counting on was this fragile looking flower being one of the strongest people they more than likely will ever meet! The people they meet are scared and rightly so, they have been told all of their life that this illness will kill and maim them, so we’re going to poison your system and it will make you all better. Oh no wait, they don’t use the word poison. They use words like life or death. This will cure you. You’ll live. 

I still can’t figure that one out how poison cures. How can poisoning your body heal you? When you ask about the poison, they colorize the version. Like going from black and white to rainbows. When you question the poison and the damage it causes, they stumble to search for the right words to hook you. There’ll be no damage, your body will heal and repair from the toxins. Did you know that one spill of the juice, that is marked with skull and crossbones, can kill the administering person of the toxins? This is what they want to put in your veins, people!

When you suggest alternate routes they are adamant that this is a life and death situation and you need this poison! Even though later in life after you’re ‘healed’ you’ll be hit with Alzheimer’s, bronchitis, emphysema, you name it, a host of illnesses await you after the chemo route. You have no immune system to fight at this point. 

You know, I haven’t cried since I saw onc. #2. There is a pattern to my days of crying. The BC doctor visit, the onc. #1 visit, and the onc. #2 visit. Hmm, interesting. Why did they instill so much fear that I left in tears and WANTING to die? Don’t worry folks, I rebounded with a good nights sleep each time and woke rejuvenated in the hands of the Lord WANTING to live.

When I tell the doctors that I want to do this or that, they shrug it off and say no, no, no, you need US! You need chemotherapy and that is the only thing you need to get through this. I’ve read, witnessed, saw too much to take their word for it so thus I began my research. 

And here I am, feeling the best I’ve ever felt, twelve pounds lighter (unintentional, mind you) from healthier eating! I’m putting my mind at peace, my body is responding and there is a healing going on, on so many levels. I want to go back in a year, two years, five years and say to the doctors, here I am, still! 

Healing my mind, body, and soul, one step at a time. Now many who know me, knows I haven’t spoken to anyone in my family (besides my mother), since 2015 when my dad passed away. Not because of animosity, it's just that’s the way we are, we go our own way, and we’re fine with it. Well this weekend was my sisters’ birthday and I called her, kind of shocked her but it was like we had been speaking all these years. We still love each other and that's all that matters. 

I feel like I need to let them know I love them, whether they care for me or not, I care for them. The next step will be calling my brother and asking to do a Skype chat with my mother. That will really excite her to SEE me! She is not tech savvy and the tablet my brother bought her to use just sits in a wasteland.

Tomorrow marks seven weeks since the diagnosis. I’m still on my no sugar diet, and my target each day is zero carbs, but the most I get in an entire day is maybe five. I’ve allowed to my healing diet free-range vegetarian fed chickens eggs, two to be exact, for breakfast. The first two weeks were JUST veggies, and now I allow fruit and only the alkaline fruit that I NEED to beat this worm that has taken up residence in my body.

I am up to about fourteen supplements a day. As some may worry that these supplements might be toxic to my system, please understand, your prescribed drugs are more toxic than any God-given vitamin and herb and yes, four doctors are aware of what I’m using. You know what the doc’s say about the supplements I’m using? That I won’t need them if I go the healing-by-chemo-poison-my-system route because chemo heals everything! What they don’t add is what chemo KILLS! There are zero deaths from turmeric, vit. C, vit. D and such.

The supplements I use are not the mass manufactured at WalMart brand, I seek out the purest of vitamins and supplements and if you’re buying a supplement to aid in your healing, if it is mass produced you can pretty much be sure they have the toxic –oxides, colors, dyes and preservatives that are of no help to your healing of whatever it is you’re taking supplements for. Read the labels!!!

I think what I’ve unintentionally done is put the shoe on the other foot, so to speak. When I tell the doc’s I’m going it alone, they are gripped with fear because they know no other healing than what they’ve been taught scientifically. They don’t know the power of the Lord, the powerful healing that goes along with prayer, they cannot comprehend giving your life up for what they deem a fantasy man.

I live every day to wake up, breathe in the air, feel the warmth of the sunshine on my face and walk the path of healing. Do you honestly think that is what doctors and scientists do? Most people just wake to face another daunting day, to work, eat and sleep. They miss all of the powerful elements of beauty, prayer, spiritual and physical healing in between. They basically live to die, I LIVE to LIVE! Alleluia Amen! 

2 Peter 1:5-8 KJV “And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

I'm Alive!

Prov. 16:24 “Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.”

I’m Alive!

Every morning I wake I want to shout out the door, I’m Alive! I don’t do it for obvious reasons so I just take a moment before placing my feet on the floor and say, thank you Lord, for granting me another day.

It has been three weeks since my diagnosis and while the medical community thought my illness was theirs to control, I asserted my body and took control of something I lost on the day of diagnosis. Since I’m a victim of sexual abuse as a child I’m going to be quite blunt here, I felt as if I had been raped on the day of diagnosis as they whisked me from one test to the other amid tears.

I wasn’t prepared, to say the least, can one ever be? But I seriously thought I was just going in to have my breast exam. I had no idea I was going to need a mammogram, CT scan AND a biopsy all in a succession of tests. I felt violated, I lost control of my body and it felt demeaning. I stayed strong because I had to, I would not succumb again the preying vultures. 

The last I saw or heard from the Breast Cancer doctor was moments before I was wheeled off to my mammogram when she said, “We’ll be with you all the way.” That was three weeks ago. She was the doctor my General Practitioner sent me to, her ‘colleague’. 

A week after the BC doctor visit, in comes the Oncologist to pressure me and make me feel even less in control when she uttered the words chemotherapy. The last I’ve seen or heard from her was two weeks ago. Oh, her navigator person has been in contact putting a little pressure on me to decide even though I asked REPEATEDLY about alternative treatment. The oncologist informed the BC doctor that, “Joni is not committing.” 

So the BC doctor had a person at the desk (there were five receptionists when I went in for my initial visit) call me telling me I needed to make an appointment. Doc. wanted to talk to me. I said I would call back. Tuesday of this week after navigator lady called to put the pressure on me, I told her BC doctor wanted to see me and after I see her, I’d get back to her, the navigator lady. I called BC doctor to make an appointment and one of her five receptionist said she’d call me back. She needed to see how much time to put me in for with the doctor. It’s Friday, she never called back.

Tuesday at five, my phone rang and it went to voicemail before I had the chance to pick it up. It was my General Practitioner calling to see how I was and if there was anything she could do for me. She even left me her cell phone number. I cried. This is the FIRST doctor who actually took the time out of their day to PERSONALLY call me!

I didn’t call her but by Thursday she made another call. She’s persistent but I needed that at that point and time. I called the office, the Desk Lady said that the doctor would like to see me, for a follow-up visit, a wellness visit (my guess, anything to get me into the office to see if I’m okay.) I began to cry, “Can you ask her if she is going to abandon me?” 

Desk Lady didn’t understand, but I went on to tell her basically what I told you above, I felt abandoned by the medical community because I uttered the words Alternative Treatment. She sounded not surprised at all and said, “It is YOUR body! You need to do what YOU want.” I told her that was the first time in three weeks I’ve heard those words from ANY of the offices! We’ll get you in here Tuesday of next week, she offered.

I don’t know about you but Dr. appointments are usually hard to come by but this place actually has walk in visits. This doctor has to be as busy as any other doctor but there was an opening on Tuesday in a couple of different time slots convenient to ME.

My mind suddenly began to spin paranoia webs of background deceit brought on by no other than the dark one. “Was she acting on BC doctor’s orders to put pressure on me? Is this all about who makes the dollar off of my Breast Cancer?” I immediately thought of my dream the other night where the webs were sucked from my system tossed into the sea.  

I felt a relief wash over me, I was back in control and someone in the form of my General Practitioner was out there, waiting to see me and willing to listen. That’s all I want in this mess of confusion is for someone to listen to me. I don’t want her to say what I want to hear, I want to listen to her too and see what she has to say about all of this. 

Chris Wark of Chris Beat Cancer is just ONE of the thousands of testimonials against chemotherapy. He’s not a new age guru, he’s a colon cancer SURVIVOR! People will never hear these testimonials because cancer is a BILLION dollar industry that doesn’t WANT you to hear them. Listen, I am not treading lightly in my decision, trust me, having three members die in one year is weighing heavily on my decision. They chose THEIR path and I am choosing my path! I walk hand-in-hand with God my heavenly Father! We’ve got this. I'm ALIVE!

Isa. 6:10 “Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed.”

Why Write?

In today’s world, many people seek so many different things and I think this is why chaos ensues. Many of those people who cross my path (in the writing community) have had college degrees, good paying jobs, money out the gazoo, and yet here they are, coming to writing after retiring or just tiring of not being fulfilled in their dream.

They have always wanted to be a writer, felt the calling, have written since they were kids, but never really pursued a writing career. Then there are those people who like writing and dive into wanting to become a writer and try their little hearts out, studying, learning, blooming and growing, often times getting discouraged because they don’t see any results.

I write to inform, touch people,  raise awareness, or to offer something to this chaotic society. Writing isn’t all about fictional tales, horror stories, or tell-all non-fictional tales; writing is a form of release. I write to heal myself. After going to a ‘doctor’ who is really a Nurse Practitioner allowed to run a small office in a small town, I realized that sometimes we need healing that they can not offer. I was sent for x-rays, have gotten no results and it has been two weeks, not one call. Whereas I went to the dentist, got some relatively not great news, and when I got home, the dentist called to see if I was okay!

Amazing.

We live in a world where technology has made enormous advances, yet I am left in pain because the NP is not concerned with me and my health. This saddens me, but not enough to give up writing. I have to give up mentoring because at this point, I need to focus on me. I have many friends living with daily pain and now I am among the crowd who endures. No medical coverage, I too endure.

So why does one write? Why would I continue to write if I am going nowhere in my career choice? Because besides my Lord and Savior, my writing is my healer. It is my safety net, my blanket that keeps me warm on these bitter cold days. If I focus on a topic, I can belt out a good 1500 to 2500 words a day AND get my mundane chores around the house done. Although, in previous weeks, my mundane chores have taken a backseat, and just breathing is a welcome relief.

This year has been one of the strangest years I’ve lived. Miracles have taken place in my life, pain has surfaced, but also therein lies an utter joy and happiness and I find it in my writing. Whether a poem, a blog post, or encouraging another writer to be their best, the writing gift that I hold in me, is a blessing that I must share with others.

Why do I write? It is a God given talent, if I didn’t write, then my talent is empty and wasted.

Omaha on hold...

"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that
weep."Romans 12:15

***

My friends and followers have all been following the story of my beau’s blindness. As you may know, he was scheduled to go back to Omaha again today, but  he canceled the appointment yesterday.

Back in September, we were really excited to find out that the Lion’s Club was willing to pick up the tab. Lion lady told us that they would pay for the visits leading up to and follow-up visits. Excitement gathered as everyone couldn’t wait to hear the good news, that beau would see again!

That September visit didn’t go as planned. We got the news that one eye had shut down completely with no chance of seeing from again. The retina had begun to detach. The right eye, possibilities. The doctor didn’t look too optimistic to me as I sat across the room watching as he studied intently the two eyes. An ultrasound was needed. He said, “If we do the right eye, there’s about a fifty percent chance of success, which isn’t bad, but there are other factors, like this eczema, and your allergies.  I can’t guarantee the transplant will be 100% success or even 60%. Let’s get the ultrasound and I’ll know more.”

We both left the office in silence. My heart ached, and beau said nothing all the way home, except, “Lets eat.” We ate in silence. I could feel the cloud of disappointment lingering, and I had to drive and get us home. Tears kept filling my eyes, but we made it.
Silence.

A month passed and we had the appointment in October for the ultrasound. Hope clutched in our hands! We were in the office ten minutes after a four hour drive, only to turn right back around to go back home. We never saw the doctor, we just saw the lady who does the ultrasound.

Not much time passed and someone from the office called and said that they could operate on the right eye. With the success rate that the doctor had pointed out. Okay, now hope is back. One eye is better than none, even if it’s for one day of sight, this is a go! We were a little excited, but I still felt some form of apprehension on beau’s part. More tests need to be done.

A few days later lion lady called and said, “I hear you’re getting the operation, just let me know the day you go in so I can let my people know.” We hadn’t been given a date to ‘go in’, we were not even told anything to that affect. He was told, “More test are needed but there is potential.”

Mixed communication. Lion lady is saying one thing(we’ll pay it all) others are saying other things (they’ll pay for the op and that’s all) and all this info is rendering beau apprehensive to the point where he just doesn’t even care if he gets this operation. What started off as feeling right, now feels as if everything is going wrong. He's like a pressure cooker about to explode. Too much pressure and *KABOOM*.

Does he want to see again? YES! We all want him to see again. But it is not up to me or anyone else. He’s a grown man and can make his own decisions. I NEVER give my opinion, this is for HIM and him alone to decide. Does he want all this confusion? NO! So he has decided to take matters into his own hands! HE will choose a doctor, go and get their opinion, in April he will have medicare and if this is meant to be, he will have this done.

Is time of the essence? I don’t know what that means. It has been a year and a half, so what is five more months? Will his eye be any healthier in April? Well, there should be as much percentage of success in April as there is today. No one knows! Only the Man Upstairs.

This is a bag of mixed emotions I just wanted to toss out to those who have followed, prayed and stood by in support of us.
 
I Thank You!

It is important to distinguish between opinion and judgment. Opinions open us up, judgments close us down.

Doctor Conspiracy

Matt. 26:39 And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.
***

I’m wondering if there is some sort of Doctor conspiracy out there in the world. Why are doctor’s so unwilling to work with other doctors?

Take for example the doctor in Omaha, who is overseeing my beau’s eye condition. Now I know there is more than one facility in the state of Nebraska, that can do an ultrasound on the eye. Let’s see, there’s an eye clinic right here in Kearney that specializes in lasik surgery, cataract surgery and cornea transplants.

We’re using the Omaha doctor because the Lion lady directed us to this facility. Knowing we live 4 hours away, why would the doctor not send us to a closer facility to say, get an ultrasound? An eight hour round trip, a ten minute visit. It makes no sense to me.

Since I’m not paying for anything and I’ve given it all up to God, I’m not worried where the funds will appear from to pay for all of this. They will come.

The butterflies arrive at knowing all that we have to endure to get from point A to point B.
It is not just beau who is involved here. Adam and I have endured the seven years of doctor visits, infections, ups and downs, first hand. Then there is his family who are all eager for him to see, and his friends who would love for him to come out and play also. But again, getting from A to B is going to take time.

Our first visit was the over view, what can be done. The second visit was to get the ultrasound to look behind the cataract to see how healthy the eye is and if surgery is at all possible, now this third visit, more tests. To see if there are any infections? I dunno, I just get, “Need more tests.”

If there is an infection, that will entail more trips until it is healed and ready for a cornea transplant. Then to be put on the donor list, and wait. Waiting is the hardest part. Then the surgery, then the after care keeping the eye, infection free. I know a dermatologist and sinus specialist will come into play real soon. Roughly, in a years time, he might see again! 

The surgery CAN NOT be done while their is an ACTIVE SINUS INFECTION. You might ask why? Because the cornea transplant is a fragile delicate tissue. A SNEEZE can damage all the work that went into transferring the cornea to the recipient. An ITCH can scratch the cornea. So all this combined HAS TO BE taken into consideration.

Idealistically, a perfect skinned man walks in with no allergies, gets the transplant and can see again. Realistically, we know, all this could be for nothing, and a rapid succession of sneezes is not a good thing with a freshly implanted cornea.

But I do carry hope! I don’t sit in doubt here, I just walk with faith that the Good Lord knows what is best for him and no one else can really say what the plan is. I haven’t doubted for a minute that there is a plan in affect and we are not able to alter the plan even with fervent prayer. When Jesus prayed for God to spare him, in the Garden of Gethsemane, God had a plan in place, and had He said “Yes, okay,” to Jesus. His blood would never have been shed for our sins.

***
Matt. 36:45 Then cometh he to his disciples, and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest: behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.

Second opinion?

1 Kings18:21 And Elijah came unto all the people, and said, How long halt ye between two opinions? if the LORD be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him. And the people answered him not a word.
***

When I write a novel, is my work enough to go ahead and submit? I think when you finish a novel, as many many writer’s will do, they’ll get a second opinion. Stephen King and Dean Koontz both have trusted friends that they turn to when their manuscript is completed.

Sure they’ve re-read the work, edited it, revised a little, but then their gut instinct tells them to let someone with a different opinion read this. It is precious to a writer, their manuscript, and we are not just going to trust our opinion or a family members opinion, on something so precious; we’re going to go with that gut instinct and seek out a second opinion.

So why are writer’s so willing to let their precious art of words, fall into a strangers hand after meticulously finishing a novel? Because we know, we can not bear the burden alone. We know that through a second opinion we’ll get a clearer view of what needs to be changed or fixed.

How come when a medical emergency arises, we take a doctors word as gospel truth? Why are we so willing to put our trust in a man, we barely know, never checked his credentials, his success rate or his ability to perform a major surgery?

I’ve been given ten fingers, so if the doc messes up on surgery on one of them, I have nine more, no big loss. Same goes for my toes. But when we’re talking spinal surgery? I want to know my doctor is up for the chore of performing. Same with my eyes, my liver, my heart. These are tender parts of our anatomy that warrant a second opinion from another doctor.

I know many insurance plans welcome a second opinion from another doctor. If the person was diagnosed, received the wrong info, isn’t really in need of a surgery, then that would save the company a lot of money in the long run. But when you can’t afford medical insurance, you take what you can get.

Take for example my beaus eye surgery. We didn’t have the luxury of choosing a well-known respected doctor, we had to take Lion Lady’s direction, and go to a doctor in Omaha, where the Lions fund the clinic. We get bad news that the left eye is unsalvageable, we get good news that there is a fifty percent chance that the right eye is good enough to have eye surgery, but with further testing. We get the testing, and we need even further testing to make sure the eye can be saved.

Everyone can be heard rejoicing at this news, but really nothing is definite, until we get further testing! Lion lady already called and asked when the surgery was scheduled? Scheduled? Jumping the gun lion lady, WE NEED MORE TEST!

Beau's doctor in Dallas had numerous awards and medical degrees all displayed on her wall. From Boston College to different places across the globe, her training as well as her ability, was visually present for all her patients to see, and for reassurance.

A second opinion can save a lot of heartache of botched surgeries, misdiagnosis, and it can save a writer a lot of uncertainty.

“A bird can not take flight with just one wing.” Joni

Odds in our favor

Matt. 19: 26 Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

***

Well, when beau received the diagnosis of 50% odds on the success of seeing again, I thought hmm...50 is better than 49, right?

Lets take a look at some supposed facts on 50% taken from statistical analysis:

*Odds of double-dip recession: Yes-25 percent. No, 50 percent ...

When yield spreads are factored in, the odds of a double-dip recession fall to 25 percent, according to a new study. When they're not included, the probability jumps up to 50 percent. --San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank

*Relationships improve your odds of survival by 50 percent ...

In the journal PLoS Medicine, BYU professors Julianne Holt-Lunstad and Timothy Smith report that social connections -- friends, family, neighbors or colleagues -- improve our odds of survival by 50 percent.

*Fifty Percent of American Marriages End in Divorce-Fiction!

Truth or fiction.com sums it up: The bottom line is that marriage is still what it's always been: a commitment between two people who choose to remain faithful to each other. And they don't need to feel doomed because of scary statistics — least of all ones that are urban myths.

authors note: Is fifty per cent a scary statistic?

*Odds Are the San Francisco Giants Will Get What They Need Without Trades

They don't need to trade starting pitcher Jonathan Sanchez (who still has a 75 percent chance of being a productive big-league winner) to get outfielder Corey Hart (who'd come with 50-50 odds that his offensive numbers would diminish in the move.

*Study gives 50-50 odds Lake Mead will dry up by 2021 -

The report unveiled Tuesday by the University of California-San Diego's Scripps Institution of Oceanography places Lake Mead's chances of running dry by 2021 at 50 percent, better than your odds of winning at any casino.
According to Scripps researchers, there is also a 50 percent chance that reservoir levels will fall low enough to shut down power generation at Hoover Dam by 2017, and a 10 percent chance the lake could be dry by 2014.

So what’s in all this percentage talk?

A percent is a ratio of a number to 100.

The probability of an outcome for a particular event is a number telling us how likely a particular outcome is to occur. This number is the ratio of the number of ways the outcome may occur to the number of total possible outcomes for the event.

With this in mind, there is a fifty percent probability that my beau will see again. Like a coin toss, you can win or lose. But are we not of the optimistic nature? I say that God is 100% of probable existence. If I said he was only fifty percent, that to me, is not very good odds of eternal life.

In my mind, with God, all things are possible and the probability of odds are nil with Him. If I think in odds, they are not in beaus favor with all the surrounding influences that go into making this surgery a success (eczema, sinus infections, allergies, asthma, meticulous searching of the perfect cornea, a well equipped doctor/surgeon). I won’t put my faith and trust in a doctor!

WITH GOD ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE!!! Now the odds are in OUR favor! :)

Psalms 16:9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope.
Pss. 71:14 But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.