Heidi's Healing Journey

David had major disadvantages. He was young, small, and untrained and he was going up against Goliath. Goliath was a massive warrior who single-handedly inspired fear in an entire army. But David didn't see things that way. He saw only the advantages. His size made him scrappy in a fight. His lack of training led him to fight in unconventional ways. His faith in God had the uncanny strength of youth. David won the battle. Not because he ignored or trained away his disadvantages, but because he used those very things as advantages.

Last year my hubby and I read a book titled "David and Goliath", which has helped hone a positive perspective on my cancer battle (thank you Roger). The book looks at real life stories of people who succeed, not because they overcome disadvantages, but because they turn their disadvantages into advantages. A modern day example of this is the finding that a significant number of successful entrepreneurs share an unusual trait -- dyslexia. This "disability" often causes kids to rely more on their people skills, intuition and creative problem solving to succeed in school; where the "normal" kid tends to succeed by quietly following the standard course. Thus the dyslexic kid grows up honing the perfect skills for entrepreneurship.

This got me thinking about the "disadvantages" I might think I have in my cancer fight. By changing the lenses, can I view cancer differently? Can those disadvantages actually be seen as advantages? My opinion is YES! But the challenge is not just to try on a different pair of glasses for a moment, but to get so used to that new perspective that I really see the world differntly. Not just to do an intellectual exercise, but to really perceive that I am in fact advantaged.



Here are some of the things I truly believe (and a few places I still have hiccups).



Disadvantage: You're so young.

Advantage: I'm am young! I am healthy and strong. My young body still has good healing power. I have had a comparatively mild experience on both my chemos because my body rebounds well and because I strive to take good care of myself.


Disadvantage: You haven't yet lived a full life. That must crush your spirit.

Advantage: I have more of a fighting spirit because I'm not ready to be done with life yet! Who would you bet on to beat cancer? The 80-something year old whose life feels complete, or the 30-something year old who has so much to live for?


Disadvantage: Your children are so little.

Advantage: Anybody fighting cancer should be so lucky as to have little children around them consistently!

I honestly can't stress enough how very grateful I am that I am fighting cancer while my children are little. They provide me with so much joy. Sometimes I merely look at them and get a giddy feeling that they are part of my life. They make me laugh every single day, sometimes so much I get a belly-ache. They hug me and kiss me and cuddle with me and tell me they love me every single day. Their little voices pray for me everyday. Yes, we have disciplinary moments every day too, occasionally ugly ones. But what these kids offer me far far far outweighs the stress they put on me.

My biggest challenge in fighting cancer is not usually the physical pain, it is the emotional roller coaster - it's staying happy and hopeful. My children are so carefree and happy that it is contagious! Of all the medicine I take for cancer, they are the best.


Disadvantage: It must be harder for you because you have little kids to take care of when you don't feel well.

Advantage: Most moms could tell you that a second pregnancy is often easier than the first because you are distracted by taking care of the first child. It's true for chemo treatments as well. I can't wallow in bed all day; I have kids to take care of. A great tool for coping with feeling yucky is to forget I feel yucky by focusing on my 3 little responsibilities I love.


Disadvantage: It must be hard for you and your kids because you don't have the energy to do all the things a super mom would like to do for them.

Advantage: My children have blossomed in amazing ways because I haven't been able to be the helicopter mom my pre-cancer self tried to be. They have to fend for themselves during my rest times and have had lots of time with friends and in the care of other adults who love them. Because of this, they are remarkably independent, capable, confident, and friendly. (And they never complain about the extra time with the electronic babysitter (TV)).


Disadvantage: It is sadder for you because you may not live to know your children as adults.

Advantage: I truly do long for this. But I also recognize that every single one of us loses our children every single day. They keep growing up! The cuddly baby turns into an independent toddler, who melts into the exploring elementary-schooler, who gives way into the abstract thinking teenager, who morphs into a college student, a newlywed, a parent. Every night we say goodbye to the child we love and rediscover them the next day. (Ok, this is easier to see on a yearly basis, but it is happening moment to moment). At what point will I ever be satisfied with "finally" knowing them? Never. To love them is to be thrilled with the on going discovery, not any point of arrival.

Cancer has woken me up to a better practice of appreciating my children now - and it is practice. I have to remind myself to take time to connect with them and get to know them. And I have to remind myself to notice the moments I'm having - to notice the joy I'm feeling as I'm connecting with them and fan that joy; to notice the compassion I'm feeling when they are sick or sad and remember how glad I am to be the one to console and counsel with them; to even notice when I'm upset with them so I can discipline calmly instead of explosively. This is a subtle, but rewarding mind-shift; like adding icing to the cake. It makes the sweet moments sweeter and finds some sweetness in the challenging moments too.

Cancer has driven me to discover the now more than I ever have before. In this way, cancer is helping me receive more of my children's lives rather than lose it (so long as I don't give up my days to worrying).


Disadvantage: You have to wrestle with heavy thoughts. That must be overwhelming.

Advantage: If my blog is any indication... I kind of get a kick out of wrestling with heavy thoughts, always have. Through cancer, I have had a chance to pursue concepts that couldn't be understood any other way than by experience. It's easy to hate the struggle, but when I look inside, I have to admit that a part of me loves the learning. Not saying that I want the cancer to stick around, but I really can see something good mixed in with the difficult.

This blog post is dedicated to Cathy, who 20 years ago taught me lessons on life as a YW, and this weekend taught me lessons on death, as cancer is a few weeks away from claiming her life. Cancer comrade!


"Are you afraid to die?" 

That was the question posed to me 3 years ago after my initial cancer diagnosis. At the time, I replied with a hesitant, "no...", reasoning that death would either be the grand resurrection laid out in Mormon theology, or it would be a ceasing to exist in which case I wouldn't be around to ruminate on my fears anyway.

At the time, my feeling about my future death was like a scene from the 1997 movie Contact. In that movie, scientists discover exciting plans for building an alien vessel meant to transport a single passenger, hoping the vessel will be the means of first contact. The scientists reason that the aliens didn't anticipate the fragile human body, so they bolt in a chair with restraints to protect the traveler, Jodie Foster. As the vessel begins the warm-up procedure, Jodie's chair shakes vigorously, causing mounting fear of this unpredictable experience she's about to undergo. She clenches her fists, squeezes her eyes shut, and almost hyper-ventilating mumbles over and over into the headset (partially to the scientists who can still pull the plug and partially to herself), "I'm OK to go. I'm OK to go."

Jodie Foster in Contact. Strapped to the violently shaking chair, her face registers fear and pain.

Yeah, that's how I felt. I knew I couldn't stop death. I knew a lot of people, including myself, believed in a glorious after-life. But when it came right down to it, I felt like clenching my fists, closing my eyes and hyper-ventilating!

Death is so unknown. And there is so much to be afraid of. Will it hurt? Will I cease to exist? Will my children remember me? Will my spouse neglect my memory? Will my spouse and children love another wife/mother more than me? How will our money be taken care of? Will there really be a next life? Will I be happy there? When will I die? What age? What circumstance? Will I die satisfied with my life?

Death, like Jodie's journey, is coming for all of us one way or another. And we long to console ourselves on these harrowing questions. So, like Jodie's chair, we build restraints into our conception of death. We think if we can just "figure it out" then we won't be afraid when it comes. So we ask God to tell us when we'll die - and mentally strap ourselves to an age to stop living. Or we argue with others about exactly what heaven and God are like - and put a cage around God and this magnificent universe. Or we tell our spouse and children how much they will be hurting us if they ever love another spouse or parent - and buckle our own hearts down tightly. Or we spend our lives trying to "earn" God's favor by our perfect thoughts, words and actions - and lock our mortal existence into the fear that we are never "enough".

In the most unpredictable situation of our entire lives, we comfort ourselves with control.

And after we've strapped ourselves in nice and tight, what happens, when something like cancer shows up and throws off our game plan? It's not unusual (pointing to myself) to get angry at God, at our own bodies, and at those around us with obnoxiously good health. It's not unusual to get depressed about the lives we think we were "supposed" to have. But none of us want to leave this life angry and sad. We want to go peaceful, content, even happy. How?


"How do you do it?"

That's the question I asked Cathy on Friday. "You told me you're not sad." And it was obviously true. Although she had discomfort, she emanated peace and acceptance. "I may be in your same situation someday, waiting for death." I said. "So please, tell me, how do you not be sad?"

Without missing a beat she told me what she knew to be true. "You let go."

Jodie Foster floating peacefully after freeing herself from her restraints.

Our attempts to control death through predictions and restrictions are, like Jodie's chair, ultimately useless. The fear and pain we feel about death are, in fact, caused by our self-inflicted restraints. The challenge, then is to learn to let go of the need for control. How? By opening your mind and your heart. Trust that whenever and however death comes, it's going to come and it's going to go and it just may be (especially when we let go) a wonderful experience in it's own way. Trust that whatever God and the universe are, it's going to be fascinating to discover! Trust that there is enough love to go around for yourself and everyone. Trust that the things we say and do are always "enough" (for ourselves and for God's love) and that at any point, there is nothing more that has to be said or done.

When we let go of what we think is supposed to happen and instead embrace what is actually happening, that is when the peace comes. And from that state of peace one can actually appreciate the beauty of the event called "death".

Cathy described some of that beauty to me. She told me first about how her husband had become the most amazing and tender caretaker and how their love for each other had deepened because of it. Similarly, as her children stepped into the role of parent and she of child, it created a special new loving bond between them. She also saw her passing as a gift to those around her as they changed and matured through this experience. I mentioned how wonderful it will be on the other side to experience the unconditional love reported by so many people who have had near-death-experiences. And she described how she is already feeling that as family and friends come to visit, share, and say good-bye and without inhibition, look her deep in the eyes and express their love. What wonderful beauty she has discovered!


As I continue to wrestle with my own mortality, trying to find peace and joy in the midst of the possibility of cancer's claim on my life, I have been drawing closer and closer to this concept of letting go. Right now, I feel like I'm sitting in my control chair, noticing the serenity of the floating necklace (the gentle, loving passing away of my mom, 3 grandparents, and Cathy in the past 3 years). I've been able to "get out of the control chair" for brief moments, even in the midst of a (previously) non-receding cancer and sometimes terrible physical pain and have found peace and joy in those moments. Not because I got some promise that I'll be cured, but because I was able to see the beauty of my life as it is now - joys that exist inspite of and in many cases because of cancer. But I admit, I'm still learning. I still feel pain and fear and I make an effort to practice my serenity everyday. Little by little I'm learning to let go.

I had scans this week, after 2 months (3 rounds) of chemo. The doc reports that the smallest liver spots are gone, and the rest are shrinking. It's a bit early to tell any difference in the bones. But it's working! So I'll continue chemo for another 2-3 months and then check again. My chemo is an oral pill called Xeloda. A "round" of chemo means I take the pills daily for 2 weeks, then get a week off to recover. Ideally, my body will respond beautifully to this chemo and completely eliminate all cancer in my body.

Possible challenges to that plan:

• the cancer stops responding to the chemo
• the side-effects of the chemo become to much and I have to stop. 

The main side-effects are:

• hand-foot syndrome: my palms and bottoms of my feet get really red and tender. It feels like a sunburn or numerous blisters on the inside of my skin. During the 2nd week of chemo it gets hard to walk or do things with my hands like opening bottles or chopping food or washing dishes. And it gets hard to sleep because of skin irritation. But it resets during my chemo off-week.
  Positive-side of this: my loving husband does all the dishes and my amazing sister does all the cooking and I've taken up swimming as exercise much to the delight of my children who sometimes accompany me.
• upset stomach: it reminds me of pregnancy where nothing looks good to eat, but if I don't eat regularly I get miserably nauseous.
  Positive-side of this: The "bad news" of cancer in the liver caused me to open my diet up a little bit to include some new foods, like granola cereal, turkey sandwiches, and a monthly treat (pizza!, ice cream!), which have given the last few months some rediscovered fun food wise.

So far so good. And my back pain has been steadily improving too, which has been wonderful!! I'm still working hard on the mind game of cancer. Hoo-ee, that's a doosey. Hopefully I'll get around to posting about that sometime.

If you want to throw some positive vibes in my direction, pray for the chemo to keep working and for me to manage the physical and mental stress of cancer and chemo. I was recently blessed by my stake (and especially my wonderful ward) including me in a stake-wide fast. Whatever other blessings come from that, at the very least, I received a big "hug" from Heavenly Father telling me that I am remembered and loved!!

Ok, here's the update. Last month I was feeling awful. I had back pain so bad I could hardly walk or even shift position in bed. My subsequent scans showed that my cancer increased throughout my bones, collapsed two vertebrae and spread to my liver. I have started a new chemo pill and am doing a procedure in a few hours (Wed 5/13) to address the collapsed bones.

How do I feel? A mixture of dread and relief. The dread is obvious, and I cried a lot. But the relief was unexpected. It came because I was trying so hard to control the cancer on my own that I was becoming obsessive about my eating and I was so angry about my failing body that I was hardly breathing. Well, my body failed. Kind of. A liver diagnosis, in that moment, felt like a death sentence. And strangely a part of me felt like, "Oh good, I don't have to try anymore". It's helped me to let go of the control.

However, I also have a renewed desire to live. I realize that I've been living the past nearly 3 years for the disease. When not pursuing some treatment or other, my mind is usually trying to "solve the problem".  So at the moment I'm trying to figure out how to balance this desire for life with this new realization to not be obsessed about living (or maintaining the status quo). In other words, I'm striving to live life with joy in the now and dismiss the fear of the future. And I tell you, one of the best training grounds for that skill is in the middle of the cancer fire-fight.

The good news is that after 3 weeks of chemo I already feel lots better. I can walk again and do basic chores. And a tumor in my armpit that has been slowly growing since initial diagnosis, throughout all previous treatments, has started shrinking for the first time.

Now if you read this, could you do me a favor? Sometime in the next 3 months, would you send me a message or two either reminding me that I am awesome and cancer can and will be beat, or send something to make me laugh. Those little upliftments mean so so much (see Drops of Love). Thanks everyone. On we go.

"A large European study found that those who consumed the largest amount of alliums had a 55-80% risk reduction of most major cancers."

Want to learn more? Check out these slides and notes from a recent presentation I gave on this topic...
(If you only have 3 minutes, skip to the 3 slides in the middle about "G-BOMBS")

Featured article:
Dr. Fuhrman's article on G-BOMBS.

Other links included in this presentation:
American Cancer Society statistics.

My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1998 and treated with surgery chemo and radiation. The cancer returned in 2001; she had a mastectomy. It returned again in 2005 this time in her liver. She died in 2012 at age 61. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2012, 1 month after my mom died. At diagnosis it was already in my bones. I was treated with chemo and currently am on anti-estrogen therapy. My prognosis? I have HOPE! Partly because of quotes like the one shown here. My hope is bordering on confidence that I will raise my kids, and I have hope (with fingers crossed) that I’ll be traveling the world with my husband in my old age. I really really love my family and my life and I’m fighting HARD to keep them! So what about you? How do you feel about getting cancer? If you’re like I was 3 years ago, you probably think “Either it’s coming, or it’s not and…”

View full statistics page.
Look at the stats: 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed with cancer, and 1 in 3 women. That's huge! Do you have cancer in your family? Have you lost someone you care about to cancer? Today I want you to know...

There is something you can do about it!









Rewind 4 years ago. I had just had baby #3, had put on 65 “survival” pounds in 9 short months, and was ready to get healthy again. I knew how to do that!









Link to Immunity Solution video.






Now we have to get into the less pleasant part of this topic. The foods to avoid.

1. Smoothies. Green smoothies are all the rage these days. And I’m totally onboard with it. If you hate vegetables, this is probably the easiest way to convert, because you can make your veggies sweet. My sister, who for years claimed that she was “allergic” to vegetables, has made a big leap on the health-food track by switching to a green smoothie for her breakfast. Her recipe includes 4 cups of spinach and is sweetened with a banana. It makes a very filling 20oz drink and is only 200 calories.
   Here are the G-BOMBS you should include in every smoothie: Greens like spinach, kale, or even broccoli; Berries; and flax Seeds. You really don’t need to add sugar, agave or even honey. Instead use nutrient-rich bananas, dates, or strawberries. If you look at grams of sugar/calorie a T of agave or honey is about the same as ½ banana, 3 large dates, 15 strawberries, or 2T of OJ, plus you get the fiber that significantly slows the sugar absorption. So we got our Greens, Berries and Seeds. Green smoothie recipe.
2. Salad. I love a big salad for lunch because it is so filling.
   Here are the G-BOMBS you should include in every salad: Greens, obviously, and I love adding cabbage for a cruciferous bonus. Raw red onions are very mild and perfect for salads. And I’ve recently discovered that hummus is an amazing salad dressing because it includes calcium-rich beans and sesame seeds and is sugar-free. And if you want to avoid extra calories you can make it at home without oil. So we got our Greens, Beans, Onions, and Seeds. You could also make a sweet salad with berries and a pineapple dressing. Salad and hummus recipes.
3. Soup. Mmmm. A hearty soup is so satisfying on the stomach. This is an area I’m trying to improve on. Because of my vegan restrictions, I erroneously assumed I had to make up my recipes, which often turned out bland. But it turns out there are so many delicious recipes out there! So if you know of an amazing vegan - or easily veganized - recipe, please send it my way!
   Here are the G-BOMBS you should include in every soup: Onions and/or garlic are easy because they are seasonings in most recipes, if beans aren’t in the recipe you can easily substitute some or all of the meat for beans, and soup is the perfect time to get your mushrooms since cooking them helps to release their cancer-fighting chemical. So we got our Beans, Onions and Mushrooms. Rockin' Moroccan Stew recipe. (be sure to add a handful of mushrooms to this!)

1. To make a really good smoothie, you really need a high-powered blender like Blendtec. (If you have a cheaper blender, you should leave out the flax seeds because they will be gritty and avoid frozen strawberries because they can ruin low-grade motors). This is the most expensive tool - the best deal is to get the deal from Costco.com that comes with 2-jars. The cost is $400. But just think, after 4 months of daily use, it’s costing you less than a $3 Jamba Juice per smoothie! (After 2 years, I'm down to about a quarter per blend).
   
   Schedule wise: One Saturday a month I go to Costco and clean them out of spinach, kale and berries (I get flax seeds from Smiths). I have been asked multiple times if I own a restaurant! Then I spend about 2-3 hours at home bagging my smoothies into quart-sized bags. Then every morning for a month I just grab my frozen bag, throw it in the blender with water, and voila!
   
2. To make salads quickly, you need a food-processor with a slicer. I have a Bosch, which is expensive, but I think you can get decent ones for under $50.
   
   I buy salad ingredients weekly, because they don’t stay fresh and crisp much beyond that. On Sundays I spend about an hour washing and zipping my veggies through the food processor, then I throw them in large tupperwares with a few large handfuls of Spring Mix greens. I take extra time to make home-made hummus for my dressing (which I keep separate and add when I eat the salad).
   
3. To make soups easy, you need to get a large stockpot.These are only about $30.
   
   Three Saturdays a month I make a giant batch of soup - 4x or 6x the recipe. (Be sure to test the recipe on a single batch first! I learned that the hard way!) I put the stockpot in the fridge and we just warm up what we need each night. Usually I make enough to also freeze two or three meals worth. On the off-week, when I’m making smoothies, we either use the frozen soups or get some good organic canned soups.

Now that you are armed with this wonderful cancer-fighting knowledge, please don’t let knowledge go to waste. You don’t have to do everything all at once! Even with really strong motivation, it took me a good 6 months to get into my groove. So start small. Look at this list of ideas and pick a challenge that interests you and start there. Some ideas are listed.

Today I want to thank each of you who has taken the time to take notice of my cancer-fighting and healing journey. Shortly after posting on a bout of discouragement to cyberspace (over 6 months ago!), I experienced something that has happened multiple times along this journey; and it's high time I wrote about it; and thank everyone for it! I have been thinking about this post for over two years, but haven't tackled it, fearing I could not do the topic justice. But today I feel like it is a good time for sharing this, so I'll just give it a shot.

What kind of service matters?

It was the last week of August when my mother was passing away. Only a handful of people were able to be present in her final days to offer love and hugs. My dad, two sisters, and I were the ones who kept constant vigil for five days while her body slowly released the spirit within. We figured this day would come; my mom battled cancer for 14 years. In my premonitions of the event, I had anticipated it to be excruciatingly sad, even unbearable. But the actual experience surprised me.

During that week, we wanted to let my mom's family and friends know what was happening so they could call or email their last goodbyes. My sisters and I also sent out emails and facebook posts to our own circles of friends. I was floored by the volume of responses that poured in. Whether they came from my mom's friends, my sisters', or my own; whether it was a page long or a sentence; each loving reply acted as a soothing drop on wounded hearts. As so many soothing drops added together, I soon found myself feeling a strange sensation. Although I was heartbroken, and shed many tears, I was not drowned by the sorrow. Mixed with the sadness, I also felt light, a sort of buoyancy, as though I was being lifted up and carried. I was not the only one who felt it either. My dad compared the feeling to jumping off the stage at a rock concert and surfing across the throngs of upheld hands. That powerful lift of love exalted that devastating experience into one that was simultaneously exhilarating.

I don't know how to explain the mechanism that causes a chemical reaction to begin when the saturation point is reached, but I do know that when I am infused with enough kindness and love, even my deepest sorrows are placated. That infusion may have been possible from a single individual, but it was, I think, even more powerful as a cumulative effect. Since then I have thought, "I want to be part of this feeling much more often. I want to be someone who contributes drops of love everyday."

This experience answered a question I'd had for many years since serving as a Relief Society President in my BYU ward. During that calling, I cared very deeply for the women I was serving and I tried as best as I knew how to get to know them and serve them and love them. But at the end of the year I felt like I had changed no one. All of the same problems still existed: depression, boyfriend issues, low self-esteem, weak testimony, etc. Despite all my effort and love, I hadn't helped anybody! Sadly, I came away from that year rather disenfranchised with the calling and struggled when asked to serve in similar callings after. I thought, "What was the point of caring if my caring made no difference? And if my caring did matter, actually fixing someone required way too much exertion."

But after this experience with my mother's death, I finally realized the real point of service. It's not my responsibility to "fix" or to "save" anyone. No one could (or even should) have saved me from my grief. I have learned too much in working through this potent experience, that removing me from the grief would have been destructive, not helpful. Instead the many loving words and acts along the way have given me support to rise above the grief and to grow from it.

Sometimes in serving, we have the opportunity to do the heavy lifting, but usually our service does not need to be that big or that hard. Overdoing it can be fruitless and exhausting. Rather, when we feel that frenzied urge to rescue another (especially when we recognize how little we can control), we are wise to remember that there is only one Savior who can truly save anyone. We would be much happier if we let go of our panic grip on other people's lives and trust Him to do His job, "in His own way and in His own time."

However, that doesn't mean we don't do anything. It just means we don't have to approach service as an all or nothing thing. Instead we should approach service as a very simple thing... a single drop (that smile, phone call, or text). If we refuse to give our single drop because it doesn't make "enough difference", we lose the opportunity to make any difference at all. And while our single drop may seem too insignificant to bother giving, when it combines with a dozen or a hundred other drops from other people, one drop may be the catalyst to make someone's cup of love overflow.

One month after this very personal lesson on the cumulative effect of simple service, I heard this talk...

"Over its short lifetime of just a few weeks to four months, a single honeybee’s contribution of honey to its hive is a mere one-twelfth of one teaspoon.

Though seemingly insignificant when compared to the total, each bee’s one-twelfth of a teaspoon of honey is vital to the life of the hive. The bees depend on each other. Work that would be overwhelming for a few bees to do becomes lighter because all of the bees faithfully do their part.

Imagine what good we can do in the world if we all join together, united as followers of Christ, anxiously and busily responding to the needs of others and serving those around us."

Be Anxiously Engaged
By Elder M. Russell Ballard
Oct, 2012

Bonus idea: We need to give each other more feedback. Thank people for their drop. If someone's effort made a difference, express it. By giving this feedback we help people gain confidence in their caring. Plus we give a drop of love back, which is doubly cool.

Just got back from CTCA last night. The CT and bone scans show "no indication of new sites". In other words, I am still stable. My blood counts, which I so excitedly reported on last visit, went back up 5 points. However, my doctor sees this as still being stable. So technically this is great news! And I'm relieved and happy.

Yet, I'm also rather discouraged. I just want it to go away!! Yes, I'm soooo glad that it's stable, and I'm soooo glad I have a form of cancer with one of the longer longevities, and I realize that none of us really know when our "time is up". But I can't help wanting the pressure off and I can't help wanting a fresh chance at making it to old age. (I promise to eat healthy for the next 60 years if I can just have my life back!)

I've been hoping that with enough determination and hard work and luck, I'd eventually beat this cancer. And that after 2 years of battling, with super healthy eating and lots of holistic efforts, that I'd start seeing evidence of the cancer receding. But there is no evidence. Oh, sure, maybe all my efforts are keeping the 'stability'. But which ones? Do I keep them all up? Do I try more? Can I go back to eating pizza?! Do I fight harder? Do I relax? Do I accept my fate and just enjoy my last few years?

This cancer fight has me feeling lost.