Giddyup. Life is now!

Six years before I was born, my father David Luboff co-produced a Hollywood B-movie called Buffalo Bill in Tomahawk Territory. I have a copy of it as a VHS. When the credits roll, I cry. I miss my Dad something fierce.

This morning I was again struck by the disconnect between the cowboy at far left holding a gun to my Dad while smiling for the camera. (And go ahead, have fun with the costume-i-ness of it all.... it was Hollywood then!). Something's not on - the gun, the intention or the smile. We know what it is, but do I always know what's off? No. Not always.

During Holy Week I fasted from all emails and Facebook chatter. At the beginning of the week, I had suddenly felt imprisoned by every little red plop! that landed in my Inbox. My friends disappeared. My love for them had evaporated. There was simply..... all this EMAIL with no precious soul of substance at the other end of it all. And so I crafted an Auto-Reply that said, I'm not responding. And if you need to reach me, please phone.

No one did. But I did. The land of oh, I don't have the time! became reignited as intimacy caressing. I needed a break from emails and I took it. Doesn't mean they're bad. But enough already. Enough.

I also got to see my knee-jerk in action and make a conscious decision about it. I felt liberated for those six days.

I'm wrestling with thoughts and fears about the numbers again - my blood counts. After CLAIMING a complete healing IN JESUS' NAME, after eating one of the purest diets I have in decades, after.... you know, the whole health thing, really ramping it up, I wanted those numbers to RISE. Go! Giddyup! Reflect the Glory of God!

A recent blood draw showed the lowest white blood count I've ever had. I was crushed emotionally. And very, very angry.

White blood cells fight infection. Their lack doesn't leave one exhausted such as say with the red counts. And those reds, for which one can see I fail to thank God, are almost at normal levels. They seem to respond well to diet, exercise and nutritional supplementation. But whoa, the whites, my chemo-embittered, bone marrow-compromised whites. I've even talked to them, patting my legs. C'mon, kids. We can do it. Get your little asses UP there! And in came the numbers: .9. Zero-point-nine.

I wailed in the office of one of my practitioners who is actually more of a 2nd Spiritual Director to me, "How can I feel so good and HAVE THIS COUNT???" And one of the many aspects of her responses included the word "supernatural." I won't unpack everything here, but my idea of a miracle (the white counts being NORMAL and HEALTHY) and perhaps another way of seeing a miracle (shitty counts but otherwise abundant well-being) are having a meltdown at the Not Quite OK Corral. Hey God! I want it MY WAY! I want to be healed the way I WANT IT! And today, the numbers don't reflect that.

So I've been wrestling and not writing here. I remain neither "praise God, all is fabulous!" nor "oh no, it's wretched." I feel unnerved and vulnerable to share this here, but my fingers are tapping and my willingness is almost present. Regardless of what this means, I awoke this morning as I have many others. The moody clouds are overhead, which I love so much. I'll see my childhood pal Stacey later on. I'll worship the Lord tomorrow. And I'll continue to suffer with many CLOSE friends who are struggling with serious health ills.

I ain't smilin' with a fake gun pointed at my gut and I ain't dead yet, either. I'm poised at praising God. If His love is indeed unconditional, He'll love me bratty.

I think I need Him to.

Psalm 90, re-visioned

When I stayed most recently with my dear friends Tony & Ali in Scotland, I would walk slowly through the wood behind their bothies, breathing in the air and putting my arms out to the trees and God in nature, saying, "Please come into me and revive my tired bone marrow..... transplant your God-holiness into me now!" I didn't do this every day but I did it more than once. This past week of psycho-shakeup finds me actively visualizing yet again the revivification of my insides, that dried marrow that I now ask in Jesus' name to come alive, like in the Valley of the Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37. I'm seeing a plump and revived marrow pumping out vigorous white cells and neutrophils, leaping into my bloodstream and getting ready to show all that God is even more powerful than my considerable array of herbs and potions.

I would walk this trail in Morayshire and pray.

Acceptance is a very high state. And the Serenity Prayer gives me options: God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. On a seemingly smaller scale I did that this morning during Morning Prayer.

I don't remember which psalm I was reading, but it was the one appointed for today. And I read it dutifully. It was dire, dour, lackluster.... I had an attitude and I didn't like it. "But it's the appointed Reading!" I thought.

And then I thought, "I will read some other psalm NOW." I grabbed a glorious book that was gifted to me during the St. David's Women's Retreat back in October, in Sewanee, Tennessee..... and found this lovely reweaving of Psalm 90 by Nan C. Merrill. I will share it with you now.

Eternal and Immortal One, You have been

our refuge in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth,

before You had formed the earth and

the world, from

everlasting to everlasting,

You are the Alpha and the Omega.

When our days on Earth are ended,

You welcome us home to your Heart,

to the City of Light,

where time is eternal

and days are not numbered.

You gather those who love You as

friends returning from a long

journey,

giving rest to their souls.

You anoint them with the balm of

understanding,

healing wounds of the past.

For our days on Earth are a mystery,

a searching for You,

a yearning for the great Mystery

to make itself known.

The years pass and soon the

Harvest is at hand,

a time to reap the fruit of

one's life.

Who has lived with integrity?

Who will reflect the Light

Who can bear the radiant beams

of Love?

Who have reverenced the Counselor,

and opened their hearts to the

Spirit of Truth?

Teach us, O Beloved, to honor each day

that we may have a heart

of wisdom.

Awaken us, O Holy One! Too long

have we been asleep!

Have mercy on your people!

Help us to wait in Silence listening

for your gentle Voice;

Strengthen us with courage to

face the fears within.

O, that we might be converted in

our hearts

and walk together in peace and

harmony!

Let your Love be known to the nations,

your glory to our children's

children.

Let the grace and gentleness of the

Holy Spirit be upon us,

guiding our feet upon paths

of Love Consciousness

Increase the Light within us -

O Beloved, heart our prayer!

Amen.

and on this side....

It's hard for me sometimes to find the right photo. I choose one to focus on the post's topic and I want it to be Just Right. Seeking and choosing this one took a bit more effort as that which I hope to share is still unfolding for me. So klutzy attempts at perky cuteness will clatter to the floor.

It's Lent and I can be a bit dour, even though this fermenting shift attends to things ultimately joyous.

The question on my plate is one I struggle with: At what point in time will I stand up and accept that I AM HEALED by Christ's mercy?

An old and ostensibly current dividing line in the cancer dance is the 5-year mark. In many cancers, one can graduate from an edgy "remission" into a full-fledged CURE! in 5 years. {And who decided THIS?} I have no idea who came up with that number or why, but it has also been pointed out that if someone dies 5 years and 2 days after the initial cancer diagnosis, then they did not die from the cancer. (Camera close up to eyes rolling). And when you think of it, five years is a pretty solid chunk of time to spend living a life whistling in the dark and HOPING that The Thing doesn't rear its ugly head once again.

So amidst my 94% organic raw vegan cuisine, daily prayers, fresh air, juicing, green smoothies, exotic herbal supplements.... on and on and ON, and it's quite a list!.... is the need to address my consciousness, my faith and what the squirrel cage between my ears is doing on any given day.

There are times when this is hard.

At what point do I believe that Christ can and would heal me? And to the extent that my mouth and my solar plexus part company in a pathetically slipshod manner, how may I step across that divide and say, "Yes, Lord, I receive this whole healing from You NOW!"

Look. I am going to die someday. My will is seriously entangled in "when." I don't want it to be soon and I don't want it to be from leukemia. Writing books and doing aerobics in my eighties are part of my living fantasies. And with everything in my being devoted to prayer (mine AND yours!), to trusting GOD, to doing the work of rebuilding myself as best I can....I acknowledge that that hour is out of my hands. So how do I not cross but bridge the divide of saying, "I receive my complete healing now in Jesus' name!" and "Thy Will, o Lord, be done."

This is what is on my plate today and I cannot always make sense of it.

I limped through a very unpleasant illness for much of February.... without pneumonia, sepsis or a visit to the E.R. I emerged and I am well! My white counts and neutrophils however remain extremely low, the kind where their numbers light up in red on some lab reports. They've been too low since I was sprung from my last hospitalization on January 2nd, 2009 but lately they've dribbled even lower. I need my bone marrow to fatten up, be filled with the Holy Spirit and begin cranking out those little workers in some SERIOUSLY NORMAL numbers..... NOW. Now the good news is that, after prayer and perhaps two of those pricey IV Immune infusions, my platelets are UP! My red counts are nearing the bottom of the normal range, which is really worth shouting about in gratitude. But the whites need to MOVE IT upwards if the healing I claim is to be manifest.

My weakness in conviction became apparent when one of my holistic practitioners said, "I think it would be a good idea for you to get a bone marrow biopsy." In that one comment on Monday at midday, my psychic world went into a complete tailspin. You see, that is the ONE test that will tell me without fail whether or not the cancer has returned. Yes, the CBCs give signs, but that needle-in-the-butt bone for which no local painkiller will keep away the pain is IT. And this test can only be performed by an oncologist. The land of allopathic medicine suddenly came into my view once again.

It's one thing to feel GREAT. I do! I love my Lord and I love my team of holistic healing professionals!

It's another to say, "Let's know for sure. Now." Dan Dunphy needs to know whether he's treating low white blood cell counts or actual active leukemia.

Between the Daylight Savings Time "hangover" and feeling as though I was sideswiped with a nail-studded 2X4, it's been a rough 48 hours.

It is humbling what fear can do to me.

I have written before that until I can accept the eventuality of death, my living is a charade. And if I spend my psychic energy living in worrisome fears, many swept under the carpet, I have chained myself and cursed a projection of a jail keeper. I will neither live in denial, however.... in Whom do I put my trust?

It's Lent, and it's been a bit gritty the past few days. "Yes, God!" to the vibrant paradigm shift of claiming my COMPLETE HEALING has been knocked around not a small amount.

As it is, I've put in a message with my former oncologist, "Dr. K." Scheduling is supposed to phone me up and make an appointment for the coming few weeks. There is no rush. However, my inner work is set out for me. I do not wish to shuffle towards this procedure with bowed head, afraid. Each of the past seven I've had since November '07 have been choked with that restrictive vibration. I want to move past my old fear-based pattern and instead step into this in solid expectation that the biopsy/aspiration will show NO active leukemia. No legion of myeloblasts doing the backstroke between slamming down shooters at the Dead End Saloon. I want my white counts DOUBLED by then.... and then doubled again! Trust me, they have that far to go and that is what I want them to do by the Grace of God.

I have a fantastic life today. I will not let my struggles deny me of my gratitude. And to those of you who pray for me - more, please.... for my complete healing, my courage, my reliance on God. Thank you and bless you!

23 years ago today....

.... I awoke from yet another night of obliterating my consciousness with booze. I think it was cheap wine, if my confession be unadulteratedly self-humiliating. And I scrawled in my morning journal that I wanted it to be the first day of a very long sobriety, each day one more step away from drowning my life in alcoholism. By an amazing Grace of a most Gracious God, it has been so. Foolishness and deception have been my companions more often than I want anyone to know, but by God's holy Grace, I've remained sober and been a part of an anonymous group that has been a core of my spiritual walk. Aside from Steps for living, the joys of this fellowship fill my heart with joy. And when they don't, I am reminded of the worn aphorism that if you like everyone {in this Fellowship}, then you're not going to enough meetings.

The photo is from a Roman Catholic study in Forres, Scotland, where a mid-day meeting gathered for years. It was the summer of 2006. Having an icon of the Blessed Mother and her Precious Son above the meeting slogans is vital for me. My salvation and hope breathe in both the world of recovery and my worship of God in Christ.

February was rough. A mere 28 days long, I spent 3 weeks of it unwell with what I can only guess was some manner of influenza. I took no antibiotics but poured holistic remedies down my gullet and twice into my veins! (Legally). The 2nd run with the IV "Immune Drip" barely produced a cough. Go Diane's immune system! Now that the cobwebs are clearing from my consciousness, I can think of rebuilding my physical strength again with long nature walks, jogging and learning some bouncy-wouncy routines on my new Urban Rebounder.

It's Lent. I'm healing. I'm sober. And I'm very very grateful.

sometimes the going gets rough

Sometimes when things seem dark, the best one can do is to pray and hang on.

The day after my last post, when my worst complaint was "spaciness" after spending SO much money to get better NOW now NOW!, I went down for the count. A short nap at mid-day, normally unheard of for me, found me in bed in my clothes all afternoon. When I awoke my temperature was 102º. It was Friday and just past 5 pm.

I left messages with both Nurse Judy at Preventive Medical Center of Marin AND with Dan Dunphy at the San Francisco Preventive Medical Group. Some prevention - I was feeling horrible! And it was the weekend witching hour where most conventional medical practices make sure you encounter a generic voicemail that says, "We are closed for the weekend. If this is a medical emergency, please hang up and dial 9-1-1 now." This was not something I wanted to do.

So I began to say Evening Prayer, and fell into a tar pit of mixed emotions reading Psalm 92, with such lines as, "For you have made me glad by your acts, O LORD; and I shout for joy because of the works of your hands." I read that in fear, even resentment. Just earlier in the day I'd made a perfunctory slog through a dreadfully oppressive Psalm 88: "O LORD, my God, my Savior, by day and night I cry to you. Let my prayer enter into your presence; incline your ear to my lamentation. For I am full of trouble; my life is at the brink of the grave." I'd read that when I was still feeling hopeful. "I should have switched the Daily Offices," I moaned to myself. I felt ill, confused, abandoned.

And then the phone rang.

Judy was the first to call me after hours. She then phoned in a prescription for Erythromycin at a local drug store, saying, "I don't like you having a fever with your white blood counts." I told her I'd left a message with Dan and she said, "So did I, but I don't know if he'll call back."

He did. And he said, "When my German or Swiss patients would experience the symptoms you're describing to me after a treatment, they'd phone me up and thank me!" I was waiting to hear something sensible in the next sentence. "Have you heard of the Herxheimer Effect? You had an infection when you came into my office; you got an oxidative therapy which kills off bacteria and virus... it has stimulated your immune system. I think you're having a die-off reaction. And I would agree with Judy that if the fever continues after tomorrow, go on something for respiratory infection. That could be a sign of pneumonia. We have to observe closely and stay in communication here."

I live alone and felt completely looked after.... by God and by these kind healing practitioners who both gave me their cell phone numbers for the weekend.

By Saturday morning the fever had broken. The general illness symptoms remain but they are slowly exiting my body as I pile on extra ImmPower, Vitamin D3 and beta-carotene amidst my normal handfuls of supplements. I've even made a few Green Smoothies for the first time ever! Go chlorophyll!

When I had oncologists hovering over me, I would be told in no uncertain terms how dangerous it would be for me to catch a cold or flu. Vague but treacherous risks of everything from pneumonia to sepsis were trotted out. Dangers need to be acknowledged but living in such a fear-based mindset has its own deleterious effects. I have an antibiotic waiting for me at the drug store and people who will return my calls with real options.

I also have a God who listens even when I'm moaning, hurting and feeling lost.

I drove to the early service at St. Paul's yesterday to take Communion. I needed my holy medicine of Christ's Presence in the wafer and the cup. It's not only the herbs that sustain me.

Jesus and Rorschach in the same candle

I'll address this image momentarily, but my first question is: What costs $726.50 and involves a 2-hour drive, 5-hour visit including a one-hour 'lunch' break, two needle punctures (oww-oww), continued wisdom unveiling and an IV solution involving but not limited to 80 grams of Vitamin C? Answer: My first consult with a new healing practitioner.

A note for the needle phobic, which is what I am normally: For a $195.00 IV infusion of something called "Immune Drip," I left feeling.... what? Guess. Even a $100 massage is a quick trip to ahhhhh-land. How'd I feel? Spaced. Where's that credit card of mine? (Parenthetical aside to non-12 Step friends - this is classic alcoholic thinking, e.g. I bellied up to the bar, where are my ya-ya's?). When Dan Dunphy, the rather amazing practitioner over at the San Francisco Preventive Medical Group, asked how I felt afterwards and I responded with that exact word (spaced), he quipped, "Yep. That's normal." I spent less than that on an exquisite lymph drainage massage and oxygen sauna in a Sedona, Arizona spa and felt oooo-la-lah. But hey. The cold/flu is sticking, my white blood count has dropped lately and I will do what I feel is necessary and helpful to move past this current illness and the big ole hangin' underlying one that breathes fire on my battered but healing immune system.

What about the other people I've been working with since arriving back here in Northern California? Well, stepping away from conventional "slash, poison & burn" protocols doesn't necessarily allow me to have one-stop shopping. I would rather put my quarter in the cosmic gumball machine and get the one magic nummy that'll have me up 'n fixed in short order. I don't always get to skip along the shortest line between two spots. And.... no one's been ditched. However when Dr. Haas' office got a copy of my Feb. 5th CBC, the 1.5 WBC of a month prior has slipped to 1.2 and I got a phone call. It was nurse Judy. I assured her that while I was concerned, my lackadaisical response to "the numbers" in general wasn't denial - it just meant that I was used to dealing with them at these levels. "I think you should call Dan Dunphy...." she said. I commented about my work with the Pine Street Clinic and she said, "One doesn't replace the other. You can do both." So off I went, still hacking away from the cold/flu that arrived a week ago.

I have had IV vitamins before. Notes for the wary: Get GOOD phlebotomists. The gent here was stellar. And I would far rather sit in an Infusion Clinic where folks are chatting amiably while they get their high-dose Vitamin C's et al than in one with the rat poison Round-Up on the lunch menu.

Chemo DID do a good job for me in October and December of 2008: It killed those cancer cells. The problem is that those docs wanted to continue nailing me with that, and my inner wisdom said, "There's something wrong with this picture." Great! I'm in Remission! Thank you! "But we want to KEEP you in remission and this is how we do it...."

No thanks.

So I got my IV cocktail today and trotted off with one more take-home supplement plus information on another to consider. The Marrow Plus (Ji Zue Teng) by Health Concerns addresses what it sounds like - my suppressed bone marrow. Even though I DO praise my neutrophils out loud for working SO hard, I'll happily accept help today that doesn't annihilate them in the process. The other tonic is called Pro-Boost and "...benefits the immune system by increasing white blood cell counts {and} increasing T-cell and B-cell levels which are critical in helping your immune system respond quickly and aggressively in the battle against infection and disease...." When you consider that the only avenue I had in the hospital for boosting my chemo-depleted white counts was a daily $800 shot called Neupogen, which DID boost the whites and then stopped doing that the minute you removed its artificial jabs, I think I can pop for a $45 box of Pro-Boost.

We looked at my teeth, which are a minefield of mercury. This healing work is not for the faint of heart or bank account! We spoke of ways to detoxify the body, which I'm currently researching even from the healthier base of a vegan diet that is highly raw and organic. We spoke of life traumas. We spoke of humor and light-heartedness. It was a good visit. I have a great team and a deep desire to make so much money from now on that my mild blanches for handing over a credit card become mere chortles.

I'll extend my vulnerability a bit by closing in sharing about the candle. I meditate and pray in my Chapel Office, which has been created as such only in the past week. Once during Centering Prayer I became annoyed (as I do, alas) to see a smudge by Jesus' head. Thinking that once my quiet time was over, I would get rid of that darn smudge, by gum!, I then looked more closely and saw - again, this is my filter - a silhouette figure of a young girl. For anyone born in the 1950's, having silhouettes of kids was common. And with Rorschach and perhaps even The Holy Spirit smirking, I saw little Diane close to Jesus.... before I even knew His Name. My childhood was difficult at times, and in my adult healing work, mostly of a psychotherapeutic ilk, I have attempted to reclaim and re-calm little Diane. However this is the first time I pondered that I wasn't abandoned by Christ then, no matter how difficult things were. (Life on earth is hard, face it). He knew I was there and He waited, never all that far away. And so did I. That took another chink out of my dualistic thinking.

It's amazing what $2.99 at Walgreens can give you, if you look closely enough. Imagination can be a gift.

Miracle Mindedness

I revisited the photos of our Mind Maps from early last summer in Scotland. I wanted to write about this.... this MIRACLE.

I'm here sitting at my new desk (you'd love it) in my lovely new home in Novato, California, the rain dripping outside as the day meanders towards evening. When Tony, Ali, Ruthie and I sat down in the living room at Fisherman's Bothies and prayerfully created a series of Mind Maps late last June, welcoming a "Miracle" was Ali's idea (go Ali!). Clear and bright enclosed in a heart is "Vibrant Health and Complete Healing."

It was so remote a concept when we uncovered its possibility. I felt as though I was split at least in two, with a part of my mind saying, "Well (ahem) of COURSE a miracle is possible, and I love Jesus and He loves me and.... well, heck fire, why not?" And another part was still bruised from blood draws and bone marrow biopsies, with British oncologists crowding around me (I met with three while there!) and for the most part making sure I understood that I was either "a bad girl" for "not completing my course of treatment" or "a ticking bomb." These were not cheery messages, although in the presence of my treasured friends there, I was held amidst the worries. I would've been challenged to have hand-picked more embracing support. I love you guys!!

As I wrote awhile back, the Mind Map session opened up my options when the possibility of pursuing conventional cancer treatment in Scotland clattered to a halt. You may or may not remember that when I left the Bay Area in April of last year, I didn't really know what would happen next after landing in the bonnie Highlands with Tony & Ali & Co. Returning to California - and to the Bay Area! - would've made me shake my head.

I am now back and happier than I have been in years.

So what's a miracle for me today? Having caught my 1st cold of the winter and sipping hot herbal teas with honey without lunging at the nearest thermometer while shuddering in fear. Miracles plural for me dance in the blessed ordinariness of my life now, from not stressing too much about rebuilding my business with investing to realizing that if I sound like a froggy at choir practice tonight, at least I will have shown up for a hug-free attempt at perfecting our anthem for Sunday. A miracle smiles amidst my gratitude when I kanoodle about making organic vegan and frequently raw cuisine in a real kitchen - you know, one I can move around in! Not a shack in Berkeley where I felt the walls closing in on more levels than one, but in a darling 1940's house that I am slowly kitting out thanks to prayerful shopping. (Craigslist and consignment are two of my favorite words).

I wrote "Self healing [and] natural cures" at the top of that Miracle page. It was a mere hope at the time. I had just begun gingerly adding in grapeseed extract and aloe vera by day to my nightly Essiac Tea while reading Ty Bollinger's Cancer - Step Outside the Box. You should see the fistfuls of healing supplements I take now! My leaning INTO holistic healing modalities and stepping away from the "slash, poison and burn" mentality of most conventional cancer protocols were only just beginning. I didn't awaken one morning and say, "Fie on oncologists! To hell with you and your archaic methods of slowly killing your patients!" I don't believe a single oncologist or hematologist I worked with had a malevolent bone (!) in their being. Their underlying nice wasn't healing me, however.

"Let food be thy medicine, and medicine be thy food" wrote Hippocrates over 2500 years ago! And you know, he wasn't talking about Big Mac's, Twinkies or even some massively sugared Frappucino num-num.

I've shared with friends that if the allopathic world had been able to give me a guarantee, I might've been more of a mind to continue along with their guidelines. They can't. My prognosis is wretched even getting a bone marrow transplant, and that doesn't address quality of life. I was freed by their inability to say, "We WILL cure you!" I am freed as I turn to my One Lord and Savior, who promises me life eternal no matter how long I have on earth.

Let's get real - I'm not going to schlepp around in this body forever. But early 50's did seem a bit premature. Do I want to live vibrantly, happily, healthfully and in service for another say 30-40 years? Yeah! Will God have abandoned me if I don't? I think not. I not only have today, I am ENJOYING today. This is not a manic high or some delusional whistling in the dark. Without focusing too ardently on the possibility, everything could shift in the twinkling of an eye. My opportunity today is not to cringe from that but to walk lightly between the two worlds, fully present plus desiring more as well as fully present while accepting death before I have decided it's my "time."

"Surrender and Acceptance," I wrote while we all sat together in their living room. That is a part of my Miracle along with honest gratitude, feeling God's Grace, savoring another breath and continued natural healing.

Sometimes I feel as though I have crossed over from another realm.

Where I am today is a wonderful place.