Am I the only one who had a Magic 8-Ball whose only answer was “Future unclear, Try again later?”
At least that’s the only one I recall , which is precisely the answer the universe is shouting at me these days.
Since my last post I have received my latest blood tests which show that after a month on the lower dosage of this drug Ibrance my numbers are still creeping up. And I’m doing just what I said I’d do. Next month I’ll go back to the higher dosage and endure the painful side effects while I await information on a new clinical drug trial for immunotherapy – a drug that teaches your own immune system to recognize and kill the cancer cells.
I have a plan, I’ve activated it, I should be fine, right? So why does it feel like I’m standing on the corner of No Answers and What If?
My mother, the greatest catastrophe thinker of all time (really, she missed her calling. She should have gone into disaster preparedness. ) puts a name to what I haven’t been able to.
“What if this cell is drug resistant?” she said. “What if nothing kills it?”
And the knot in my stomach tightens.
I have lunch with a friend whom I learn has a great depth of spiritual knowledge. She believes we’re here to fix something we missed the last go around. She suggests that I’m going through this so that I can tell the story. That through it, others will find their own strength and hope. And the knot releases a while.
This morning I run into my pharmacist while walking my dogs (Yes, Frenchtown is a bit like Mayberry that way.) I ask him about ketosis strips as I contemplate pursuing a Ketosis Diet that calls for fasting intermingled with high protiens, high fats, minimal carbs. The theory goes that all cells consume glucose – including cancer cells. When there’s no glucose, cancer cells can make their own for a while, then rely on glutamine. But healthy cells can survive on ketones – produced by this diet – while cancer cells whither and die of starvation. Yes, it’s a drastic change. And I know this all sounds a bit crazy. Crazy is where you go when you run out of plausible answers.
It’s usually about this time that I start a rant, er, I mean conversation with God, who usually does all the listening while I talk. But this time he sends me a message to help me untie the knot:
“I built you to weather this storm,” he says.

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