The Waiting Game: Part Two. Radiotherapy Days 4 and 5 and The Aftermath

“We do state-of-the-art medicine. In other words, we find the biochemical, nutritional and environmental causes and cures rather than blindly drugging everything...there is no substitute for finding the underlying biochemical causes and cures. This is real medicine. This is where medicine should and would have been decades ago, if it had not been abducted by the pharmaceutical industry.”
― Sherry A. Rogers, Detoxify or Die

 
Day Four. The three of us blow into Mt. Vernon Cancer Centre with the cold north wind that sprung up late last night. Before we left home a fire was started and heaped with coal so we will return to a warm, cozy boat--essential for Les right now. We are bundled in our down jackets, sweaters and hats.
   The talk amongst those of us waiting today is about the sudden change in the weather. Les sips his six glasses of water warmed by hot water from home and soon enough the radiographer calls his name. 
   Kevin and I sit quietly and listen while two of the three other women discuss their treatments. A petite, rail thin woman with black frame glasses sits across from me. Her bald head is covered by a thick, dark scarf. 
   "I was lucky to get into hospital within four weeks for my surgery."
   "Me too," says her traveling companion garbed in wool slacks, a long, thick dark green sweater, her face framed by a warm knitted cap hiding her baldness.
   "How long was your chemotherapy?"
   "Oh it was six treatments--one a week for six weeks. My hair fell out right all at once after the third treatment. It just came out all in clumps and it was everywhere--all over the house--even found it floating in my food so I just had my head shaved." She stared off into space as though remembering what it felt like to have hair, glancing quickly over at me and then away. I felt suddenly awkward sitting there with sliver, shining locks advertising my good health and good fortune. 
   The petite woman piped up, "Yeah it was like that for me too. I woke up after the second chemotherapy treatment and me hair was lyin' in clumps on me pillow." She smiled at me as she talked, and adjusted her head scarf which was slipping over her naked pate, away from her face. "I was told by me doctor I only needed some radiotherapy as a follow up after the surgery."
   "I was told that too," says the green sweatered woman, "but then he said I was eligible for chemotherapy so I thought I might as well--you gotta' get your money 's worth."  
   "That's right," replied the slight, frail woman emphatically, nodding her head.
   A loaded look passed between me and Kevin. He quickly bent his head to read something on his phone and I closed my eyes in weary grief for this woman who thought she had put something over on the NHS by accepting chemotherapy when she may not have needed it but she was "eligible for it."
   Mount Vernon is a clinical trial site for new chemo drugs. Drug trials require two groups: one which receives the trial therapy and a control group which does not. It isn't ethical to withhold medicine from someone who may benefit from it, but convincing a patient they are "eligible" for a treatment certainly does provide a control group undergoing current chemo treatment by which those in the clinical trials for new chemo drugs may be measured. I am appalled by the direction in which my thoughts have travelled and overwhelmed by this conversation.
   Later in the car Kev tells me he had to bite his tongue and focus on his phone to keep from saying, "Lady you didn't get your money's worth out of them--they got their money's worth and then some out of you."
   I love my sweet, smart step-son Kevin who favors his lovely mother in looks and his dad in nature. Val also came to Mt. Vernon for cancer treatment; nevertheless she died ten weeks after diagnosis. Her final weeks and days were ruled by suffering caused not only by this despicable disease but also by palliative chemotherapy treatment. Kev needed to drive his dad to these appointments; he needed to be of some help for his dad because at sixteen he was too young to help his mum. I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude for his help and courage. 
   There are those who will say I am being overly depressive and pessimistic. I will say this: of all the people with cancer I've known in my life, I only know of one person in her 70's who experienced few side effects from treatment. Diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, Marilyn had double mastectomies and sailed through chemotherapy--the only side effects of which she was consciously aware were feeling quite spent and tired, and the loss of her straight, fine hair which grew back in slightly curly and much darker. Whether or not she has had any long term side effects I will never know since I sold my home and moved to Britain.
   I caution folks against comparing their cancer treatment experiences with someone else, if their cancer is not the same kind (there are over 2000 different genetic variations of this disease). Not all cancers behave the same way. Breast cells are entirely different in form and function from colon cells, which differ again from prostate or ovarian cells. Each reacts differently to the multitude (over fifty kinds) of chemo drugs and radioactive rays: light, heat and microwaves; Alpha, Beta and Gamma. There are also different diagnostic stages: SNM--Stage I, II, III, IV; Nodes involved--1+; Metastasis: how far and to which other organs has the cancer spread? These differential spreads underscore the wide range of therapeutic dosages involved in the treatment of cancer.
   In 2008 23,000 women in the United States were diagnosed with ovarian cancer including me; that same year 16,000 of us died. I opted for alternative treatments after exhaustive research into traditional chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. The treatment drug of choice is Cisplatin. It is basically a chemical cocktail containing liquid platinum which is pumped into one's veins.
   When mining platinum it is possible after a period of exposure to be overwhelmed by the following symptoms: neuropathy (permanent loss of feeling in hands, feet, fingers, toes), hearing loss, weakened heart muscle, epithelial cells sloughing off to leave one raw and exposed from the lining of one's mouth, down the esophagus. The entire stomach lining slides off, as do all the cells lining the small intestines, the large colon, and the rectum; loss of all fingernails and toenails with growth of green, furry fungus on nail beds and tongue; severe vomiting, diarrhea and dehydration, and ultimately death.
   These are the effects of heavy metal poisoning for which a specialist will do everything possible to save your life by cleansing it from your system. Unless of course you are diagnosed with ovarian cancer in which case a specialist will inject it into you and give you heavy metal poisoning in an effort to combat the enemy--a perfect example of winning the battle and losing the war. This treatment and outcome are a universe away from downing a daily dose of methotrexate chemo pills which make one feel tired, a bit nauseous and cause hair loss.
   When we met with the stoma nurse last week I explained to her that I had an anterior resection of my colon (same surgery Les will have to remove the tumor) for diverticulitis and a stoma was not necessary. Why was it a requirement for Les?
   I already knew the answer but the oncologist had evaded some of my questions, refusing to look me in the eye at times because I think he knew that I knew the answer and he didn't want to tell Les...evasion and the practice of partial disclosure are common in the cancer industry. Cancer surgeons and oncologists are actually taught these skills in medical school as a means of handling patients.
   Les deserved to understand the facts about his treatment in full. I will never forget my mother's shocked look as awareness dawned about exactly what had been burned away by radiation therapy. Not just the cancer then...she would never again taste anything she ate if she could actually swallow a mere morsel. Without salivary glands even a grain of rice is impossible. My heart bled and still bleeds when I remember how angry she was--betrayed by the doctor she counted on to help her to an "eighty percent chance of recovery"; he did not tell her what to expect and we did not know what questions to ask.
   The stoma nurse looked at me in wide eyed shock--she could not believe she would have to be the one to explain this to us.
   "A stoma is necessary for your your husband's colon to heal up after surgery because of the radiotherapy before hand..."
   "Because the radiation is going to cause damage to his colon isn't it?"
   "Yes. This is the reason why surgery must follow on to the radiotherapy as close as it does; to remove the damaged colon before he experiences too many side effects."
   I looked at Les to make sure her words registered. I did this because too often we've been told, "you won't actually feel anything. All you do is lay down on a table, the machine makes a pulsing sound, and when they are finished you get up and leave. You might feel a bit tired afterward or experience a touch of nausea." This makes radiotherapy sound like some magical fun ride experience hosted by smiling radiographers taking your ticket and ushering you aboard for the unexpected thrill of a lifetime.  
   Too often patients don't discover for themselves what actually happens to their body during treatment so they don't know what questions to ask and the oncologist ringmaster will not divulge anything more than they are pressed to tell.
   To understand exactly what occurs during radiotherapy think of a really hot, sunny day. Nearly everyone has experienced too much sun and the resultant sunburn that follows with red, blistered skin and searing pain. Now magnify that by a factor of 10. Sunshine is radioactive UV light rays.
   Since Mr. H refused to operate without prior cytotoxic or radiation treatment, I pushed for Les to choose the five day route instead of the five weeks of daily radiotherapy followed by three months of recuperation after which surgery could then be considered because I've read first hand on bowel and stomach cancer patient forums exactly what happens: seared, burned, damaged intestines and colon become deeply scarred and adhesions form. Basically the scar tissue sticks together and the coils of intestine become a rigid mass which causes excruciating pain and will not function properly. Too often patients end up having gut surgery repeatedly to slice apart the stuck intestines and colon, causing yet more scarring and further adhesions.
   I promise you most oncologists will never explain this--if patients were told what to expect they might run screaming from the room. Many patients on the forums for stomach and bowel cancer say if they had known what was in store for them they would not have had radiation treatments. They would have had their stomach, bowels, and/or colon removed and lived with a G tube for feeding or a stoma bag for life. Many go on to do just that after terrible suffering. This is what the stoma nurse understood only too well.
   Day five. The wind rocked NB Valerie as we slept into the pre-dawn hours. I am grateful Les had a good night--he slept well and didn't get up once; some nights he is up over twenty times. We bundle into our jeans, hoodies, sweaters, down jackets and meet Kevin at the bridge over the nearby lock. 
   We are quickly in and out of the treatment centre this morning. Soon we say our final goodbyes to the frail, small woman and her bald companion; The Grey Lady, The Gent, and all the others who crowd the walls waiting for their name to be called. Outside Kevin does what he has done every day this week: he seeks out someone in the car park who has just arrived and is suffering from shock at a cancer diagnosis and the £5 daily parking fee, and he offers them our parking ticket which has several hours on it yet. Always the recipient is surprised and asks, "Do I owe you for this? Do you want some money?"
   "Nope," replies our Kevin with a grin as he pays it forward...

The Aftermath of Radiotherapy Thus Far
   On the ride home Les is hit with a bout of nausea and his belly and bum are painful. Back on board the boat Les is cold despite sitting three feet from the wood stove roaring away. He stands up and leans against the wall near the bathroom, head in hands. Later his bladder began to tingle a bit with urination. The cumulative effect of five days of radiation therapy is beginning now just as the stoma nurse warned it would. 
   As the weekend has worn on Les' symptoms are accelerating in response to the cumulative effect of five days bombardment of gamma rays on his pelvis, bladder, colon, rectum, reproductive organs and all the other bits involved in this area. Friends call to ask how he is doing and in typical Brit stiff-upper-lip form he says, "Fine, fine--can't grumble."
   His irradiated colon is sloughing off its dead mucosa lining. His rectum feels as though it is turning itself inside out. Trips to the loo occur every thirty to forty minutes throughout the day and night. His gut bubbles in despair as millions of pre and pro biotic intestinal bacteria gasp their last.The tingling in his bladder is now a burning sensation; the need to void is ever more pronounced. Les is spent and exhausted. He only wants to find a comfortable position and sleep but there is no such a thing.
   Only time will tell if Les' side effects grow worse. We were warned these may be long term effects he will have to live with forever more. I am doing everything in my power as a healer to counteract the damage and ameliorate the effects now and in the future.

Gradual Disclosure and Overinflated Statistics 
   If you think I am being overly dramatic then ask yourself how many cancer "survivors" do you know who have had radiotherapy or chemotherapy and had a recurrence of cancer down the road--two, three, four, six years or a decade later? How many of those individuals believe they are just unlucky; fated to suffer from cancer, possibly to die from it eventually? I know nearly a dozen people facing a second bout of cancer as I write this...sadly I know of almost as many who lost their battles and died.
   All of them had approved and recommended therapy. If that is the case then the therapy didn't really work did it? I mean the reason traditional cancer therapy is so deadly poisonous is to aggressively combat the disease--to kill the cancer. If it had done the job then why would one experience a relapse? Unless the therapy itself actually caused the secondary cancers such as Leukemia and Hodgkin's Lymphoma. What kind of treatment causes the very disease it is supposed to eradicate??
   Finally, if Les' oncologist is acutely aware that diet "can prevent more (his emphasis) than 70% of all cancers..." why don't he and his colleagues educate their patients about this fundamental aspect of survival? Cancer physicians' refusal to educate their patients about the key importance of nutrition and how it just might be a front line tool to keep cancer from taking hold or recurring makes them a bit culpable for their patient's suffering in my opinion.
   Think about it... cancer takes many years to grow unchecked inside the human body in order to reach the size of a tumorous mass which threatens one's life. During that time we carry on per usual thinking we are healthy, not knowing what is growing inside.

Healthy People Have a Cancer Too
   Experts now know that "healthy" people have cancer circulating in their bloodstream approximately 6-8 times throughout their lives, but it is disposed of by their healthy immune systems before it can settle in and make itself at home. Proper nutrition is the essential key to a healthy immune system. It therefore follows logically in my mind that cancer--when caught early enough--can also be fought with proper nutrition, and specific supplements that reverse its growth, expose the tumor and cells to the immune system, and make the host environment too hostile for cancer to thrive and survive--without damaging the patient.
   In his book Living Proof Myeloma patient Dr. Micheal-Gearin Tosh Ph.D cautions cancer patients thusly, "be proof against a rush to treatment...there is a cancer mentality that exists amongst physicians just as it does among the public at large....cancer is currently the illness onto which more than any other we project our fears of suffering and death...cancer is a death sentence...and patients are rushed to treatment without adequate time to consider all the options." (Living Proof; p. 200) Sadly though patients are not offered all the options--only those that enrich the nuclear medicine trade and the Pharmaceutical companies who behave as though they alone have the definitive answer to successfully treating cancer.
   "Be proof against proof. Be proof against the concept of proof in the sense of being cautious if consultants bully you with it....Simon Carr (The Boys are Back in Town, p. 44) found that the manner of cancer doctors seems "to be designed to crush you into submission." We certainly experienced this first hand with Mr. H's arrogant rudeness in which we feel he basically blackmailed Les into agreeing to radiotherapy before surgery, suggesting he would refuse to remove the cancerous tumor otherwise as it would not be "in the patient's best interest" to do so!
   Gearin-Tosh continues: "I am not arguing that a rush to judgement is never vital. Hippocrates wrote 2500 years ago, 'Time is that in which there is opportunity, and opportunity is that in which there is not much time. Healing is a matter of time, but it is also a matter of opportunity.' There may an opportunity for treatment which must be taken at once. Miss it and the chance is gone. You are dead. 
   I am arguing however that if you are being "rushed to treatment" on the basis of statistical evidence, this evidence may fall short of what you normally understand to be proof." (p. 203)
   "Dr. Ulrich Abel (clinical researcher on epithelial cancer and statistics) observes that 'many patients are treated according to uniform study protocols rather than to individual plans suiting their symptoms and needs...many oncologists take it for granted that response to therapy prolongs survival, an opinion which is based on a fallacy and which is not supported by clinical studies...it should arouse concern that according to opinion polls, many oncologists would decline to accept cytotoxic therapy in their own case.'" (Living Proof, P. 204).
   "Why do those who are employed in the cancer industry as Les' surgeon calls it, routinely engage in the practice of deceit: evasive answers, non-disclosure of all side effects, gradual disclosure as treatment commences, using manipulated statistics to reassure patients regarding the efficacy of their treatment?
   John Diamond, in his heroic account of cancer, C: Because Cowards Get Cancer Too..., identifies the principle of gradual disclosure. "it was with radiotherapy I would first discover the principle of gradual disclosure which almost all doctors practice. The principle is simple and at a first glance, makes a certain sort of sense. In the case of complicated, possibly fatal and emotionally charged illness, never tell the patient more than he is likely to find out for himself, and only ever give the best case scenario. In fact: the radiotherapy didn't kill the primary (cancer) and led to eight hours of major surgery." (pp. 63-64)
   At its most basic, gradual disclosure amounts to lying to a patient. By the time they discover the truth--if they ever do--patients are usually so ill from the side effects of treatment they are too damned ill and exhausted to be outraged.
   While we were told 80% of patients have a chance of recovering from adeno-carcinoma of the soft palate which is what and where my mother's cancer expressed itself, the actual statistic for a woman age 70 was less than 30% recovery with treatment. The first figure is what one gets when patients of ALL ages are lumped together. The young survive traditional cytotoxic therapy better than the old; they also skew the statistics and oncologists know this.
   Mom heard the doctor utter the word "recovery" and assumed radiation treatments would make cancer go away--make her well again. She placed her implicit faith in the doctors and their nuclear cure. The oncologist knew there was no cure or recovery in site for my mother, yet he did not disavow us of the idea of recovery which was purposely planted in our minds. Gearin-Tosh's best friend and fellow researcher Carmen Wheatley finds the following statement by Dr. Daniel D. Van Hoff MD (Oncologist), "'...it has been well documented that physicians tend to overestimate the survival times of their patients by a factor of 3-4 times the actual survival of the patient. Oncology Today, p. 90'" (Living Proof; M. Gearin-Tosh, P. 89).

First Do No Harm
   What is the first rule of medicine? First do no harm. The oncologist shared with us that his wife had treatment for cancer at Mt. Vernon several years ago. Her experience was so painful she refuses to set foot on the premises ever again.
   I believe that some day, perhaps when my eight and two year old grandsons are very, very old grandfathers themselves, the world will look back on the current cancer treatment modalities the same way we look back at the 17th century gold standard physicians' treatment for syphilis with mercury: with utter horror and disbelief. George Bernard Shaw's play The Doctor's Dilemma starts with a lengthy preface: "The medical profession is a murderous absurdity...which practices the most revolting cruelties in the pursuit of knowledge."
   It is not only soldiers in the military who earn the red badge of courage. My heart goes out to anyone who has endured traditional cancer therapies. Some are more than survivors of cancer; they are also survivors of the treatment.

The Waiting Game: Part One

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait, and watch, and work; you don't give up." ~Anne Lamott, American novelist and progressive political activist, public speaker, and writing teacher. 

   It has been a very long week--one for which we have been forced to wait by the surgeon who "only does these surgeries once every three weeks," according to the stoma nurse. To which kind of surgery is she referring? anterior re-sections of the colon? Nope--that cannot be--since Mr. H's specialty is procto-colorectal surgery. Ahhh, I see now! The nurse means NHS surgeries. One every three weeks. The rest of the time he is busy lining his pockets with the money of private paying patients...which is doubtless why radiation therapy and our lives had to be put on hold, why we've been forced yet again to play the waiting game. So here I am at last, sitting in a patient waiting room at Mount Vernon Cancer Centre while Les is in another room behind VERY thick walls, receiving gamma ray radiation to his pelvis. It is day One. 
   The waiting room fills up--mostly with patients on their own, only one or two family members along for the ride on a bright October Monday morning. Step-son Kevin and I sit quietly listening to others talk around us, as they discuss their treatment days, times and overall length. More patients arrive from throughout Hertfordshire on the NHS bus. They greet one another, involuntary compatriots on the 2013 Cancer Tour.
   Les is only actually in the vaulted room for ten minutes before he throws open the waiting room door where he strikes a pose, grinning like a mad man in triumphant flamboyance, hands on hips like a super hero--all he needed was a billowing cape!
   "Well I've just returned from my ride on the space ship. Anyone else in here been a passenger on it? Did you see the little men in white suits?" Titters break out from the assembled and a level of tension washes out of the room. We say our shy goodbyes and leave. I love this man who makes me laugh at the best of times and even more at the worst of times. I love him so very, very much...

   Day two. This wing of Mt. Vernon hosts nine linear accelerators of various sizes with which to treat cancer with radiation. Each machine has its own pod and identical cramped, glass window-walled waiting rooms painted pale sage green. On the one solid wall there are framed photos of nature scenes. Ten chairs are jammed in along the edges with a small round occasional table half way along, littered with the requisite magazines. The lighting is early fluorescent.

  In LA 9 at 9:10 am there is just me and Kevin. Another woman was waiting for her husband whose appointment was at 9 am. He practically ran from the treatment lab, not waiting for his wife and not looking in the waiting room. Knocking impatiently on the glass door with his knuckles, he continued out to the hallway moving quickly for the front door. She jumped up and loped after her swiftly retreating spouse. 
   While Les is in getting set up for treatment, the waiting room for LA 9 begins to fill up. There is a forty something man in denim jeans and work shirt, with his tote bag in his lap. Patients are asked to bring a dressing gown and change into it to make the process as quick as possible--a virtual assembly line of cancer patients waiting in their bath robes. Some of us bring warm bottled water as patients must ingest six cups of water within twenty minutes prior to treatment. The water in the free dispenser is ice cold and after six cups most patients are so chilled they shiver uncontrollably--anathema when laying under the sites of the linear accelerator bombarding their fragile tissues with Gamma rays. Denim Man ignores everyone, burying his head in a book until called to change into his robe.
   The waiting room door swung open to admit an East Indian gentleman dressed in layers of charcoal grey casual wear, tote bag in hand. We made his acquaintance yesterday. 
   "Good morning madam, how are you today?" He asked me courteously in a soft voice tinged with a slight Asian accent. We chatted briefly. His radiation treatment began September 9th and continues every week day until October 29th. The Mount Vernon Cancer Centre treats 5000 patients annually; 150 patients receive chemotherapy each week at just this one hospital. There are four others in the country which treat cancer patients. The numbers add up and tick silently across a screen in my head...

  The glass door opens again and an older woman stravages in pushing a dark red zimmer frame (walker). Swaddled in a winter coat and scarf, sniffling as she enters, crumpled wads of tissue peek out between her gnarled fingers. Nodding to the East Indian Gent, she pushes forward and we all scoot back out of the way. Struggling out of her coat, she sits down next to me. Pushing thick, curled strands of long, grey hair away from her face, clutching a shapeless sweater tightly around her bosom, the Grey Lady as I will call her, tells us about her NHS bus trip from Luton, mentioning other cancer patients who also made the slog each day. The poor dear is miserable with a cold; tired from the radiotherapy and the early hour. 
   She is an inveterate talker. Noticing my accent, she asks, "Are you American?" When I smile and nod yes, our newest cohort shares the news that her son lives in Arizona. I ask if she'd ever been to visit. Her round, sallow skinned face breaks into a wistful smile. The Grey Lady regales us with details of a trip taken with her husband three years previously to Alaska's Inside Passage aboard a cruise ship. Her son and his wife traveled along as well to celebrate their anniversary.
   "We had a wonderful trip, we did. Of course we cannot go back, health insurance is too expensive by half. But we did get it then. We thought I had beat it--we thought I was well"...her voice trails off, her grin slides away. She glances down at the tissue balled up in her hand in surprise as though it might have suddenly appeared out of nowhere, like this second bout of cancer.
   "Did you see Jan?" she asks The Gent, referring to another cancer patient they've come to know on this tedious journey.
   "No, no I haven't seen her in a few days," his voice is soft with regret. When a long term traveling companion on the cancer tour fails to turn up of a morning, it could be attributed to much more than missing the coach.
   "Oh she was on the bus tha' mornin'. She looks bad she does."
He looks away from The Grey Lady, over at something on the wall, shaking his head. Settling her rumpled self further back into the chair, The Grey Lady pipes up emphatically, "She's a very nice person is Jan."
   "We are all nice people in here," said The Gent as he shakes his silver head and looks down at the floor. "No one wants to be here but what can you do? You reach a certain age and cancer comes for you. And then you find yourself here; there is nothing else for it is there?" He looks at me sadly and then stares at his immaculate dark gray canvas deck shoes.

http://www.winningprogressive.org/winning-progressive-for-the-cure

   I smile gently and glance out into the corridor where a woman with pale white skin and no hair walks slowly past, hunched over a tote bag tucked under her arm. Here I sit, a cancer survivor, mute to the misery in my midst, knowing there are other alternatives which do in fact work--although not for everyone. But then chemo and radiation don't work for everyone either, hence the overall static survival rate for all cancers of just 45%, unchanged since 1985 despite new therapies and better targeted machinery; despite Susan G. Komen and pink ribbon shoppers, cancer marathons and over $1.7 billion annually thrown at this awful disease.
   I do not utter a word, remembering my own experience with my mother who died from side effects of radiation treatment before the newly refueled cancer could overwhelm her once and for all. I too had my own personal visit to Hell's waiting room in Spokane, Washington: Northwest Cancer Patient Care.
   Dim lights and soft, restful colors cocooned a lobby filled with cancer patients in various stages waiting for treatment: those whose acquaintance with cancer was newly minted by an oncologist, shocked faces looking around in a daze as if to say, "How the hell did I end up here?" The convalescent whose hard, determined look indicated they were fighting for their life in multiple rounds, lips pursed against the inexorable treatments stretching endlessly into whatever future they still had; and the victims (another term for patient according to Miriam-Webster's Thesaurus) whose lives had been subsumed by chemotherapy, sitting lifelessly in wheel chairs with bags of chemo drugs attached to an IV pole, dripping relentlessly into a port in their chests, draining away the very life it was configured to save, their bald heads covered in bright scarves--their battle flags.
   I will never forget how it felt to enter this mute world where cancer stalked us all. When I stepped back outside after receiving a confirmed diagnosis of ovarian cancer on a scorchingly brilliant August afternoon, the blue sky and bustling city seemed utterly surreal--too full of life by comparison with the stygian silence from which I had escaped.
   I know the fragile hope patients pin on multi-billion dollar, patented poison cures, fighting the tide of terror cancer brings in its wake. I have been here before, waiting with a loved one at the door of the radioactive vault. I am a cancer survivor who keeps quiet and says nothing, feeling like a traitor to the weary travelers sharing this waiting room with me. 
   Day three. While The Gent, the Gray lady and I are chatting, another patient makes his unwilling way into the room, accompanied by his wife. They sit silently, well away from the rest of us. He is clearly in the later stages of cancer. Shrunken and bowed, clothes two sizes too big hanging lankly from his now skeletal frame. Silver framed glasses overwhelm his pale, expressionless face. Sparse, thin, dark hair reaches out in long wisps across his skull. He seems to cave in on himself as he sits down.
   Next to him perches his auburn haired wife, handbag in lap, gripped relentlessly by white knuckled fingers betraying the cost of her control, face void of any expression at all. Each sits staring at the floor in front of them, still as statues. Undoubtedly he is in for palliative treatment--palliative meaning given to relieve and prevent suffering for those whose illness is terminal. Ironic when one considers the kind of suffering a bag of chemo and ongoing radioactive therapy can deliver...
   Les notices a strange feeling in his belly and gut now as we settle in Kev's car for the ride home. He cannot quite pin down a description but it doesn't feel good. We were warned he could feel nausea and a burning sensation in his bladder which warrants drinking a minimum of 2 litres of water daily to replace all the liquid being cooked away by the radioactive Gamma rays. Les isn't sure yet if he's tired from the treatments or the bloody alarm waking us at 6 am after fitful sleep in which he rises at least twice to relieve himself.
  Back on the boat I settle us both into our daily routine: a bowl of cooked whole oats for Les' breakfast, complete with mashed banana, cinnamon, clove, a drizzle of agave syrup for sweetness, all to help mask the unpleasant taste of Modified Citrus Pectin which makes the blood vessel and lymph walls slippery so loose floating cancer cells cannot attach to possible new tumor sites. He washes it all down with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice in which a fourth teaspoon containing 1250 mgs.of vitamin C powder has been stirred. 
   From now on until 7 p.m. Les will drink a glass of fresh extracted carrot-apple juice every hour in which a half teaspoon of liquid potassium compound has been added. In between the juices he will down 20 pills which do various things to help him fight the cancer. I will write a separate post on this regimen later.
   He was given a tube of Aqueous cream by the radiographer, to rub over his abdomen as a means of combating the dryness and red burned spots on his flesh from the radiation. I read the label and discover it contains petroleum jelly and Sodium Lauryl Sulfate (SLS).
   Petroleum Jelly (think Vaseline) is a gel found floating on the surface of crude oil wells. Contamination from polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs), cancer-causing chemicals found in crude oil and its by-products, is possible with the its use.
   SLS is a known carcinogen in over 16,000 studies which point to its toxicity.  Used as a surfactant, detergent and emulsifier in literally thousands of products from toothpaste, shampoo, lotion, laundry and dish detergent, to shower gel, it is absorbed repeatedly throughout our lives by our skin--the most important and largest organ of the human body. How many hits does it take from the combination of all these products before cancer develops?
   Needless to say Les will not be using Aqueous creme on his irradiated bits. Instead we use the healing salve I made for him this spring out of Comfrey leaves tinctured in extra virgin, cold pressed olive oil, with Calendula, vitamin E, Lavendar and Rosemary essential oils. (To be continued Sunday in The Waiting Game: Part Two)

Finding Our Way Forward

“Education has failed in a very serious way to convey the most important lesson science can teach: skepticism.” ~ David Suzuki (Canadian environmentalist, broadcaster and scientist)

   The oncologist appointment went well. Dr. Jones is thoughtful, kind, calm, and really cares about his patients. He is really the first person other than the enterologist who gave us the initial diagnosis of cancer, who has treated us with any dignity, respect, compassion, and understanding.
   Dr. J seemed appalled by the way in which the surgeon Mr. H treated us at each step along the way and was quite surprised I have a transcript of what exactly was said and took place in the exam with the surgeon.
  NEVER allow the ones you love to go to any doctor's appointment alone. The accompanying person needs to be able to take detailed notes because we don't hear and cannot take in everything thrown at us. So I was able to provide a very clear picture of what has taken place to date. The oncologist will be calling the surgeon to discuss things, and we may be asking for a new surgeon.
   He laid out three treatments and said Les and I, in conjunction with him, would make the final determination of what--if any treatments--Les chose. The tumor is quite nasty. It has progressed to angiogenesis--establishing a blood supply to feed and spread to other parts of the body. The CT scan also found a small node on Les' left lung which the oncologist is sure is not cancer but caused by exposure to TB as a child. He says all Brits of Les' age have had exposure to TB and these lung nodes are frequently seen, however it will bear watching. So the treatment choices we were given are:

1. short course radiotherapy of five days (1 fraction of radiation exposure per day) with surgery to follow one week later to remove the tumor. Rob says this will not shrink the tumor but keeps it from spreading and in his experience it keeps the cancer from returning to the area. He used the analogy of a sunburn. If you stay outside all morning and get sunburned, you will feel the consequences far more if you wait to engage in activities the next day as opposed to that same afternoon. Following the radiotherapy with immediate surgery will remove a lot of the irradiated tissue before the side effects are felt in the extreme.

2. Long course chemo/radiation of five weeks with administration of chemo drug 5FU (flourouracil) and radiation treatments. Les would have to recover sufficiently from this treatment before surgery could occur some 3-5 months later. We made it clear this would not be an option we would ever consider. Dr. J was surprised at our choice and said patients usually deal with the pill form called Capecitibane just fine and that radiotherapy was the more difficult one to overcome.
   This is when I established my credentials as an academic researcher which made him take a second look at me and Les. When I mentioned my research on the MD Anderson cancer center website in conjunction with research on the NIH site (National Institute of Health U.S. medical library, and the Karolinska Institute in Sweden, the oncologist sat straight up and said, "Well it doesn't get any better than MD Anderson."
   This was my quiet way of establishing to Dr. J that the use of partial disclosure of treatment effects was not going to wash with me and Les, especially when I brought up the issue of second line cancers known to be a long term side effect of 5FU. The oncologist said to his knowledge this wasn't an issue in bowel cancers....and this is directly in opposition to what I have found in my research....so the doctor rubbed his face with his hands, leaned back and said, "There is a third way to go and it has been studied by oncologists at Karolinska. They stole it from the Russians..."

3. Is known as 5 by 5: five days of radiotherapy and five weeks of waiting for the tumor to shrink, followed by surgery.

   Les has chosen option 1. The long term side effects of any radiotherapy to the bowel are a frequent need to urinate, a small bit of anal leakage which may require wearing a pad in one's underwear, and impotence. We feel these are thing we can live with and I am hoping the administration of Essiac and following the Gerson regimen with some other supplements will ameliorate the worst short and long term effects of radiation exposure.
   What the oncologist did not tell Les--as it is not pertinent to his specific situation at this point--is that if the tumor was inoperable they would have still recommended option 2 but it would not cure this cancer. I think radiation drives cancer deeper into the body's cells and both chemo and radiation cause second line cancers down the road: breast, Leukemia and Hodgkins Lymphoma to name a few. I believe we can stop any cancer recurrence by adhering to a strictly vegetarian diet, getting daily exercise and taking certain supplements as prophylactics, including Essiac every three months for two weeks. 
   And while I am pleased Dr. J is a humane, kind individual who believes in the efficacy of his work in treating cancer patients, I am still not willing to trust him unequivocally. It would be one thing if there weren't adequate clinical studies and actual living cases of people like me who have used other treatments to a much better effect--driving cancer into permanent remission or healing from the disease, without the terrible side effects of traditional treatments. Gerson and Essiac are only two of these. There is also Dr. Charles Burzynski's work with antineoplastins.
   The crux of the issue is the fact that Gerson, Essiac and Burzynski's antineoplastins cannot be copyrighted by the pharmaceutical companies which drive everything to do with traditional cancer treatment. It is a huge money making "industry" as the surgeon Mr. H. rightly called it. When making money drives the treatment then the cure will not be found because a cure will put the pharmaceuticals, radiologists, chemotherapists and foundations like MacMillan Cancer Foundation and the American Cancer Society out of business.
   Macmillan is huge over here, with a slick company branding and charity status. They pay to place cancer nurses in British hospital oncology wards and in return they are given space in the hospitals for their brochures--created by them for handing out to patients. Looking very closely at their entire site provides an insight into how well engineered this charity is, to profit from this disease.
   The cancer nurse who spoke to us after the surgeon rudely and indifferently put us in our places while she stood on and watched didn't even bother to take us to a private office--she took us to the Macmillan cancer center waiting room in the hospital and sat us down in public--in front of two strangers--who happened to be MacMillan community cancer volunteers--to commence discussing very personal and private issues with me and Les.
   When Les told her we had done some research online she cut him off mid sentences saying, " You must be very careful about doing that. There is a lot of misinformation out there. I would recommend you stick with the Macmillan website." Of course, she as it turns out, is a Macmillan funded cancer nurse.
   A visit to their website was quite informative for me. Slick branding which means they msut have hired a top notch PR firm and attorneys to vet it all, spending millions to create it.
   I looked up the Board of Directors and found not surprisingly two members who have direct ties to the cancer pharmaceutical industry. One is the retired director of Novartis--the world's largest pharmaceutical company which rakes in billions in government funding from all over the world to "continue the fight for a cure..." as long as Novartis can patent it and make billions on it.
   Novartis and other drug companies actively fight Dr. Burzynski in courts around the world because he owns the patent on antineoplastin therapy which just sailed through clinical trials in Japan with excellent results and which the medical journal Lancet refused to publish, saying they didn't have room for the data at this time.
   Until the cancer industry and its adherents stop twisting the data and statistics to shore up their therapies, I will remain a healthy sceptic. An example is the fact that cytotoxic therapy as chemo and radiation are known in medical circles are absolutely deadly (which is why doctors jokingly refer to 5FU as 5 feet under) with not only long term side effects like additional cancers, but often these treatments so weaken the patient, he or she succumbs to death--from the treatment not the disease--but this is NEVER openly acknowledged by the industry or reflected in its statistics. These deaths are added into the general statistics for cancer deaths overall.
   There is also the artificial five year cure rate. If one is diagnosed with cancer, receives treatment and lives without a recurrence then one is considered cured! But wait...if there is a cure why are so many foundations overseeing dragon boat races for funding, runs for a cure....if there is a cure why are all these companies in line with their hands out for donations from you, me and the world's governments to "fund a cure?"
   The fact is frequently after traditional treatment cancer reoccurs but if it happens in year six, nine, or fifteen then it is not statistically related to the original incidence or the treatment modality--at all.
   Nearly 70% of all cancer could be prevented with diet: mostly vegetarian, organic, occasional meals of chicken but no red meat, very little dairy, no refined white sugar, wheat, breads or pastas, sugar in very low moderate amounts, eating mostly fresh, raw fruits and vegetables which is closer to what humans evolved with in nature. Combined with a minimum of 20-30 minutes of daily activity such as walking, swimming, biking, gardening, humans have a much better chance of surviving on this polluted planet without developing this dreaded disease.
  We hope we've found a middle ground--a way of combining traditional modalities with alternative therapies to provide what is known in the States as complimentary treatment for cancer. Les believes this is the best option for him and I am confident together we will find our way forward toward good health, remission, and getting on with our lives for many more years.