Looking for Hope

In Lieu of Flowers

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Thu, 21 May 2009 20:36:00 +0000

In her last days Morningstar was exceptionally well served by our local Hospice and I am certain that Morningstar would approve of any donations made to this organization. Their local address is:

Whatcom Hospice Foundation
800 E. Chestnut, Suite 1-C
Bellingham, WA 98225
(360) 733-1231
fax (360) 527-9318

Bob

Goodbye

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Tue, 19 May 2009 17:37:00 +0000

It is with great sadness that I tell you that Morningstar died early the morning of Thursday 14 May. She died in her sleep at home in her own bed, just as she had wished. She faced death as she had lived her life, full-on, no excuses, always seeking the next adventure. Both of her sons were here the day before she died to say goodbye to her. A great light has gone out of my life.

Right now it is too hard for me to write many words for her, maybe later. My sister Tracy wrote to me with the following thoughts which I trust she will not mind my sharing with you.

"Dear Bob,

I've done a lot of reflecting on Morningstar's intelligence, creativity, adventurous personality and many talents these past 24 hours and continue to be amazed. Her photographs, journals, stitch work, book and articles are a wonderful legacy. She enriched all our lives and encouraged us to think about our world and how we can improve it. She had an eye for the natural beauty surrounding us each and every day. She certainly did not take life for granted and she particularly appreciated every day this past year. I think her happiest years were those spent with you, and I suspect you felt the same about your time with her. It is a tremendous loss for all who knew her."

Tulip Festival

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 18:59:00 +0000

For years I have heard about the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival, and yet have never attended the event which occurs April 1 to 30th, depending upon Mother Nature. This year the Festival has been extended to May 3, due to the late tulip bloom. Often as we have zipped by the fields when traveling north or south, we have caught a glimpse of the dazzling yellow, red, pinks, and purples, but that cannot prepare you for what it is really like during the tulip tour. There are of course tour busses, miles and miles of bumper to bumper vehicles stop and going along arrow straight roads, flaggers wearing orange vests, full parking lots, intersection signs pointing both directions for the tour… okay, which way should we go this time?

It is an absolute madhouse. But on a beautiful warm day in April, there are no impatient horn honkers, only smiles everywhere. There are families of all nationalities framing shots with their cameras. Picnics spread on the ground. (A few photos taken by Bob and Morningstar give a little of the flavor.)

CANADIAN MAPLE

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 16:00:00 +0000

Yesterday I crossed the border into Canada for the first time in a year. We were asked, “What is your destination and purpose?” Bob smiled, “Tim Horton’s for the best coffee an donuts around.” The young female customs official laughed. “How long do you plan to stay?” “About an hour.” And so we did, returning with a box of one dozen donuts to declare as we drove past the American Customs.

It was a small thing that brightened the day. Tim Horton’s in Abbotsford has always been our touchstone… first place we stop after crossing the border going north, and the last place we stop as we head south to the U.S. We have rolled up the rim on many a contest cup, sometimes winning a free cup of coffee or a donut. The big winners always eluded us. Abbotsford is growing by leaps and bounds, becoming a city really, but between there and Bellingham, we can still enjoy old barns, newly furrowed fields, orchards, farmhouses, goats grazing in green meadows, and raspberry canes leafing outs.

... P. L. Morningstar

Grey Ghost of the North

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 20:47:00 +0000

This photo is of a Canadian Lynx (Lynx canadensis) taken by our good friend Richard Glover just a few days ago. The lynx is ordinarily an elusive, solitary cat that lives in the boreal forest and hunts by stealth in the early morning and at dusk. This one however has been a regular daytime visitor to the Kitwanga, British Columbia area and seems unbothered by human activity according to Richard. They are ordinarily secretive, elusive and avoid human contact and have been called the “grey ghost of the north.” The Canada lynx has also been called one of the most beautiful animals of the boreal forest, the world's northernmost forest. Unfortunately it has seen its habitat shrinking as global warming causes the forest to retreat ever northward. Logging has also damaged much of its habitat. Evidently their status as an endangered species is currently under review in the U.S., but their listing is being opposed by the forestry industry.

... Bob

BEARTREK

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 00:55:00 +0000

Bellingham ecologist makes bear documentary to save wild places

Bellingham ecologist Chris Morgan is taking his BMW motorcycle on a journey to four continents in search of the world's endangered bears - an epic adventure being made into a feature-length documentary called "Beartrek."

In 2006, we made a decision to move to northern British Columbia. Much of it had to do with the political conditions in the United States. But we were also very much interested in the recent development of the Great Bear Rainforest in British Columbia by the Canadian government and a number of environmental groups. It was a way to give protection to a large area of habitat for wild animals including the white spirit bears called Kermodi. We also wanted to live off the grid. The first cabin we looked at was a complete wreck. No way was it going to work. But… as we walked up the faint trace of a road to the cabin, there was a rustling to our left. There was still snow on the ground and a lot of dry winter brush. A small black bear sat on the bank above the road. I don’t think he was really awake yet, just sort of dozing in the sun. But we were excited. This was our first wild bear, and of course we did everything we were not supposed to do. I grabbed my camera and moved closer to it… we were supposed to quietly back away. It was probably confused by my inappropriate behavior, and just waddled away.

We fell in love with the second cabin we found on the backroad of the Skeena River. One Hundred twenty three acres of wilderness, and mountain views everywhere. Now our lives were filled with not only bears, but grey wolves, cougars, moose, lynx, and grizzly bears. Not to mention a beaver pond next to the log cabin. That first summer we watched the black bears climb the big crab apple tree in the meadow, inching out to the very thin branches to nab ripe apples. They were like ballet dancers in their efforts, but once in a while they fell out of the tree too… with quite a surprised look on their faces.

On a spring morning in 2007, we watched as a grizzly mom and her cub started down our driveway. They didn’t come far and by the time I got my telephoto camera out, they were already leaving, but I love the way their rounded rumps seemed to match. One big, one small.

On our drives into Kitwanga and Terrace, Bob always watched the sides of the roads for bear, except in winter when they were hibernating. We kept count for a long time, at one time reaching twenty-two sightings in one week. So we will be following Beartrek as it makes it way around the world and look forward to the documentary.

… P. L. Morningstar (photos by Morningstar)

Hell of a Day

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 16:07:00 +0000

Late yesterday morning I sat on the bathroom floor and wept. The cats encircled me, their eyes showing concern. Bob stood above the three of us, for the moment at a loss about what to do next. These were not little tears dribbling down cheeks. These were deep down, shaking, gut wrenching wails. I was as close to an emotional breakdown as I ever want to be. “Please just let me sit here quietly for a moment,” was all I could hear myself say between my loud sobs and all the questions that rained upon my ears.

We had just returned from the Northwest Lab where they did a blood draw from me. My much-anticipated “improvement” still had not come and Dr. Hall wanted more information. Since the radiation treatments had begun, there has been a steady drop in my energy level. I even hesitate to use the word because while it gives others something to talk about and to ask me about, it is a meaningless word to me. Bob has to lift me off the couch; he has to lift me off he toilet seat. The walker helps me get off the bed by myself and back and forth in the Loft. Nothing but Bob’s lifting gets me up the two sets of stairs to the upper floor. And that is where it all fell apart yesterday. No more needs to be said about the incident. I already know all the cheery, optimistic “we’ll be turning the corner soon” news. THIS is what happened yesterday… perhaps it will help others who are undergoing what I am. And last week I wrote I wrote this piece in my Journal:

PLEASE don’t ask me how I feel.
However well intended, your words and mine
Have lost all comparable meaning
Fatigue, loss of energy, and weakness are the operating words
They are the words by which you
Search for solutions. “What can we do help with this?”
I am beyond caring if you understand what I am saying. I am beyond trying
To explain the strange state in which I find myself. I am finished
With the effort to self-evaluate. “Tell me how you feel.”
I have no more words. I have only feelings and they are my own.

P. L. Morningstar

Poetry for the Heart

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 19:58:00 +0000

Other people have a purpose;

I alone don't know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.
... Lao-tzu

(Photo by P. L. Morningstar)

For My Sisters

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 21:31:00 +0000

These are the days of Mega Churches and I am hopelessly lost in old memories of other times. I do not apologize, for I think those times (including the trivialities of coloring Easter eggs) still have meaning and value in my life… even as I have respectfully left behind organized religion long ago. Small congregations still abound, supportive communities of fellowship. Happy Easter.

I give these memories to my sisters, knowing they probably have their own versions:

Mother boiled eggs for my sisters and me. They were usually eggs from our Grandmother’s hens. Then we would sit around the table with varying bowls of vinegar and dye, and transfers of flowers and birds and bunnies.Sometimes we would dip an egg half in a blue dye, the other half in yellow and watch as the colors blended into a vibrant green, and we would write our name on the egg with crayon. Baskets were filled with green shredded paper grass, eggs, chocolate bunnies and yellow marshmallow chicks.

New dresses. Yellow for me, blue for Nancy and white for Annie. Funny little grown up hats. Most of the girls in Sunday School Class had a new dress, lace trimmed anklets, and Mary Janes. We looked like a tulle flower garden, awkward as growing girls can be, standing in front of the small congregation, singing our Easter song as the sunlight pierced the blue and green stained glass windows with Jesus on the cross.

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful: the Lord God made them all.

... P. L. Morningstar

A Ride in the Country

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 14:55:00 +0000

Bob’s birthday was last Saturday, and to celebrate we took a drive in the country. We wanted to find the little farm where they have the “Squeaker” cheese curds. The day was full of spring as we bounced along two-lane back roads. I was sipping an iced mocha and nibbling on a lemon ginger cranberry scone… my lap was full of crumbs.

An old farm truck sat in a driveway. Wooden bed. Two people sitting in sunshine. Legs dangling over the back end. Talking, and laughing.

Dirt or gravel farm lanes trickled off the pavement. A hand printed sign and arrow, “Fresh Honey.”

Freshly plowed fields, neat and tidy.

Wetland pond. Canada Geese strutting, necks held high, while the dabblers preferred bottoms up. Birds flew from the grasses, bits of twig, and nesting material clutched in their beak.

Three unsheared brown wooly sheep.

It was the view of the bare berry canes that I most remember… the canes neatly coiled, then folded into the next… forming a continuous spiraling pattern across the fields. I didn’t have my camera with me, but that is the photo I want. Bare raspberry canes, waiting for warmth to touch the leaf nodes, to unlock the growth that will provide rich berries for the small green boxes that line the tables at Farmer’s Markets. That will fill breakfast bowls, and line shelves with jams and jellies. That will help farmers feed their families with the profit. A sustainable connections.

We didn’t find the “squeaker” cheese curds, but it didn’t really matter. There is always another day.

... PLM

Not so long ago...

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 01:53:00 +0000

It is April again, and I cannot help but to think back to last April 11, as we returned to our cabin in the woods of northern B.C. There was still snow on the ground, and ice in the creeks, but the bird migration was returning to the north. I wrote “Two pair of Steller’s Jays spent the morning flying from the crab apple to the tangled branches of bare hawthorn trees and back again, their dark crest and iridescent blue feathers bright in the sunlight. They are the provincial bird of British Columbia. And we spotted a Red-breasted Sapsucker after days of hearing it hammering alone in the birch forest. The Sapsucker belongs to the woodpecker family and in the photo you can see the tidy, parallel lines of ‘wells’ it has drilled in the bark of the tree. The wells fill with sap, which attracts insects – so they eat both the sweet sap and the insects. Hummingbirds often associate with Sapsuckers and sip sap at the wells too. But we have not seen the hummers yet. Other birds hopping and singing around the cabin today are: Mountain Chickadee, Varied Thrush, Dark-eyed Junco, and of course the proverbial symbol of spring, Robins. The Dark-eyed Juncos are in competition with two red squirrels over the seed, nuts, and fruit we’ve placed on the stump outside our front door."

April 17, 2008 “Yesterday I wrote about signs of spring. Today it is snowing and we were treated to a very special sighting… a Canada lynx, a rarely seen animal that preys almost exclusively on snowshoe hares. Bob quickly dashed off e-mails to friends and family…”

(Photo: Nature Canada) Pawprints in the Snow

"Just a few minutes ago we saw a Canada Lynx. I was having lunch and was looking out the front windows when I saw movement out toward the bench under the Black Hawthorns near the road. At first I thought it was a coyote - but as it moved it was clearly a cat of some sort. I called Morningstar to the window and we both got out our binoculars. Bobbed tail, black tip - also black tips on the ears - long legs. We had at least five minutes to look as it moved around the bench and went to the edge of the meadow and peered into the east woods. It then backtracked past the bench and headed behind the sheds and disappeared toward the woods on the west side of the meadow. Wonderful experience! It is called the gray ghost of the North."

On Earth Day, April 22, 2008, I wrote, “This morning we spotted a beautiful thick-furred coyote walking down our driveway. He was in no hurry… just out for a leisurely stroll, and maybe a little vole or deer mouse if one happened to be handy. Eventually he turned off the dirt track, crossed under the crab apple tree and slipped into the woods.”

I tell you of these things because this has NEVER been a CANCER BLOG. It is about LIVING and living with whatever situation we happen to find ourselves in. We miss our off the grid lifestyle… the simplicity and quiet, the abundance of wild creatures. But we are here now in Bellingham, and the Farmer’s Market starts this weekend. That is something very special to look forward to.

… PLM (Sapsucker and coyote photos by Morningstar)

How can anyone resist this sunbeam?

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 18:13:00 +0000

My dear friend Melanie sends me such colorful descriptions of her and Lee’s experiences in Mexico… along with wonderful photos. This little boy, smiling and dressed as a golden sunbeam would brighten anyone’s day. Melanie describes what will be coming for the Easter celebrations.

“Saturday begins the busiest time of the year here - "Santa Semana", the 10 days of the Easter celebration. No gringo tourists. The larger cities empty out and hit the beach towns. We just sit back and watch. As with all religious holidays here, Catholicism is mixed with native traditions, with the newest addition of the "The virgin of Guadalupe" which has replaced the "Virgin Mary" in the churches and also on the walls of homes. In the Saint Patrick's Day parade all the costumes were - surprise - RED! Many were decorated with embroidered images of the virgin of Guadalupe.”

... PLM

Rest and Heal, Rest and Heal

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 15:35:00 +0000

That seems to be my mantra right now… rest and heal, rest and heal. All the signs are good. My last blood test showed everything within normal range, my red blood cells are going great… don’t change a thing you are doing the nurse says. As far as feeling better? That gets pushed further away. A week after treatments are completed (next Tuesday) you should start feeling improvement, I am told. Patience. So I rest and heal, rest and heal.

Yesterday we bought a boxed DVD set of old Peter Falk Columbo TV programs… the first series. They are wonderful psychological brain twisters and Columbo always gets the culprit, no matter how clever they are. Good watching. And I never watched the Anne of Green Gables (Prince Edward Island) series, so that is a good change of pace. And no matter that I am now here in the USA receiving excellent healthcare, Canada is always where I have most felt free.

Thank you all for your e-mails, comments, caring and support. It helps, especially now when I just want to feel like a human being again. Rest and heal. Rest and heal. Patience.

... PLM

Listening to the Silence

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 16:44:00 +0000

I cannot say that all thoughts that come to me now are entirely rational. I read, do online crossword puzzles, e-mail… just to keep my brain active. But there is another part of the brain that is working too, sending me images and mysterious messages. Over a year ago, I saw images of death in the form of black birds falling dead from the sky. And a dark specter beat and flung itself at my closed door. At the time, I saw no danger to myself… only a foreboding about what was happening to the natural world.

We went to the woods to learn, to be taught by the wild and all who live there. If you sit quietly and listen, you will gain wisdom; the wisdom to see all that is and can be. But of all the special places in my heart, it is the time I spent on Middle Rendezous Island, overlooking Calm Channel, that come closest to that absolute acceptance of me in what I consider the “real world.” I have written of these hermitages before, in pieces called “Silent Ground.” It takes on more meaning now. The last image I had was of a young mother who had just lost her baby girl. She wanted me to use “Silent Ground” as a memorial for her daughter. I will.

Make of this what you will. But I feel I must write about my connection to the natural world for those future generations who will never have the opportunity to experience it as I have, standing in the middle of a salmon bed, watching a wild wolf cross the meadow, listening to the pure calls of a varied thrush at either end of the day, hearing the soft breath of the tide as it washes into and out of Dearheart Cove.

…PLM

SPRING

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 17:01:00 +0000

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. ~Hal Borland

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. ~Anne Bradstreet

Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems. ~Rainer Maria Rilke

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. ~Nadine Stair

... PLM

No Yam Enchiladas on St. Patrick's Day

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 02:16:00 +0000

The good news is that I am doing better than I feel. The bad news is that I feel wiped out, and that probably will not improve for about two weeks. But what can you say about a doctor that prescribes going to the Boundary Bay Brewery for lunch and ordering a yam enchilada? This is a doctor who knows there is more to surviving cancer than prescribing radiation treatments or chemotherapy. There is that fragile component called the will to live. The suggestion to have lunch may seem like a small thing. I assure you that it was not. I am at a very low point in my energy reserves. Everything takes such great effort. Today I needed more than my radiation treatment and I got it.

My doctor watched as I entered the Cancer Center, noticed how much slower I walked than last week; but he also noted that I was looking at birds building a nest in the porch rafters. “Obviously, there are still some things that call to your attention.” Yes, and two squirrels running across the parking lot. Something bright to break up a day that looked so dreary. That he could know that that was important… was important to me. I am grateful to have found this positive and enthusiastic doctor. It is that little extra that I need right now… plus a prescription for yam enchiladas with lots of sauce. But they will have to wait for later. We arrived at Boundary Bay Brewery on St. Patrick’s Day with a special St. Patrick Day’ menu, which didn’t include enchiladas. I wonder why?

... PLM

Courage and Compassion

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 15:34:00 +0000

Yesterday when I looked at the online Bellingham Herald, I found two items of immediate interest. One, the story of a 56-year old school librarian who is dealing with bone cancer, and the other is a story about a group of women called the Threshold Choir . I think you will find both interesting and inspiring.

Today I reach the half-way point (five of ten) with my brain radiation. It will be the fourth round for the lung tumor with ten yet to go. Another pebble goes into the countdown bowl.

PLM

The Waiting Room

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:27:00 +0000

There were sounds of laughter coming from the hallway. Someone holding a little girl’s hand, “How big you have grown.” Activity. Talk of a wedding. Meanwhile I could hear the sound of wheezing coming from the man who sat across from me in the patient’s lobby. Probably in his sixties, he wore plaid pants and a baseball cap squarely on his head. He seemed agitated, anxious, and I wanted to say something but there was no eye contact. Occasionally he looked to the jigsaw puzzle on the table next to him, touched a piece or two. He coughed, clearing his throat. I wondered if he had lung cancer like me, sitting in a room waiting to lie on a table for magical zaps that come out of a machine with the hope that we can stay alive a little longer. It’s not easy to let go. We cling to life with all the tenacity of a pit bull, while life really continues down the hallway, with laughter and little girls growing bigger.

... PLM

Counting Down

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 16:23:00 +0000

In the patient’s lobby there is a brass bowl filled with glass pebbles and beach glass, mostly in shades of green and blue. There are small empty drawstring bags arranged around the bowl and a sign inviting the patient to take a bag, fill it with the number of pebbles that equal their radiation treatments. Each time they come for a treatment, they take out a pebble and return it to the bowl. This way you can see the progress you are making and a successful completion is in sight. I choose a bag and place thirteen pebbles inside.

My treatments are concurrent. Approximately ten minutes for the brain, ten minutes for the lung each day, five days a week for three weeks. Two down, thirteen to go. I was told yesterday that not everyone sees the blue flashes. Aren’t I lucky?

... PLM

Serf Liberation Day

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 02:13:00 +0000

Over twenty years ago I stood on the roof of the Jokhang Temple in Lhasa, speaking privately with a young Buddhist monk. At the time, few foreigners were being allowed into Tibet, and the Chinese routinely suppressed all information concerning their activities in Tibet. In the monk’s own words, “Many monks leave Tibet now because it is not so good for us here.” He spoke sadly of the October 1987 demonstrations, where Chinese soldiers had arrested a classmate of his along with other monks as they took refuge in the Jokhang Temple, locking them selves in. The Chinese forced their way in, breaking the locked doors and dragged the monks away. No one knew where they had been taken or if they were still alive. These events happened frequently, including a demonstration during the time I was there on May 17, 1988. A small group of Buddhist nuns and monks were protesting the arrests and secret imprisonment of other monks, holding signs, “Free Tibet,” and walking around the Barkhor with the pilgrims. Soldiers appeared and began pushing the nuns and hitting them with the butt of their rifles. When this happened bystanders tried to come to the aid of the nuns by throwing stones at the soldiers who then began firing rubber bullets, injuring two monks. They also fired a tear gas grenade. They took the nuns and monks away and arrested any foreign visitors with cameras, confiscating their film.

When we left Tibet, we carried a secret communiqué with us to send to Dharmasala from Katmandu. It was a report on the unrest in the Kham region of eastern Tibet and the recent arrests of eighty people… continued unrest and discontent in Lhasa… the May 17 demonstration, which resulted in twelve arrests, one man shot dead, and two in the hospital. There was great concern over the “Restoration Team” being sent from Bejing to restore the Potala. They think they are really archeologists who are poking holes in the walls of the unrestored rooms, trying to find treasures or documents secreted away in the walls. The letter concluded, “Do something about this.”

Fifty years ago the Dalai Lama fled into exile in India as Chinese troops attacked. The anniversary of that event has the caused the Chinese authorities “to impose an unofficial state of martial law on the vast highlands where ethnic Tibetans live, with thousands of troops occupying areas they fear could erupt in renewed rioting on a momentous anniversary next week. And Beijing is determined to keep foreigners from seeing the mass deployment.” Meanwhile Chinese authorities have proclaimed a new holiday, SERF LIBERATION DAY for March 28. “Communist Party mouthpiece the People's Daily carried an editorial on Tuesday extolling Tibet's development in the last 50 years and slamming what it called the misery of the old feudal society, in which people fought dogs for food and illiteracy was widespread. Nobody hopes to go backwards in history, and only a few slave owners dwell on the life that once was. Tibet's happiness today is the happiness of the people, not that of the slave owners.”

The truth is far different. As the Dalai Lama said on Tuesday, "Today, the religion, culture, language and identity, which successive generations of Tibetans have considered more precious than their lives, are nearing extinction. In short, the Tibetan people are regarded like criminals deserving to be put to death." This is a tragedy that should never have been allowed to happen.

The people of Tibet deserve to be free. Will you stand by and allow the sun to set on these people?

... Text and Photos by P. L. Morningstar

Blue Flashes

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 16:09:00 +0000

“Breath normally, hold as still as you can, and try to relax.” Try doing this lying on a hard table with a plastic support bar under your knees, holding a cloth “dog bone” in your hands… and with a closely molded mesh face mask fastened down to keep your head immobilized and all the targeted spots carefully marked with a magic marker. “We have audio and video going, so if you have any difficulty after we leave the room, just wave your hands around and we’ll see you.” It’s not really as bad as it sounds. A warmed blanket covered me, and a towel was folded under my lumbar area for my comfort. My eyes were closed and when the technicians left the room to do their thing, I was alone in an unfamiliar world of bright blue flashes, and accompanying sounds of the Tomography device. In the background I could hear an AM/FM radio playing. I started counting the blue flashes… two to the left, three to the right, larger and longer one forward. Then I realized these were the targeted zaps to each of my ten brain tumors. “Good to go.” Someone comes into the room, adds a few more marks to the mask, readjustments. Leaves. Then “Set Two.” Or something like that. Another blue flash. The next thing I know, the mask is being removed, I’m putting on my jacket, and the little wool Nepalese cap that everybody seems to like. “See you tomorrow,” I am told. It was only twenty minutes and I relaxed by paying attention to the details.

Today will begin the back-to-back brain and lung radiation treatments. The bottom line here is that they can get the brain mets, but the lung tumor is still growing. We have gone through the first line and second line chemos, and while they worked for a while to prevent growth from occurring, they have ceased to be affective. Now we’re getting down to the Hail Mary Pass approach. The radiation will not cure my lung cancer. It will only knock it back enough to give me more time to try third line treatments or clinical trials. It is palliative; to alleviate symptoms so that what time I have left will be comfortable. I hesitate to use the term “quality of life,” because that can mean different things to different people. Especially to me.

... P. L. Morningstar

Every cloud has a silver lining

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 16:41:00 +0000

People sometimes say that every cloud has a silver lining to comfort somebody who's having problems. They mean that it is always possible to get something positive out of a situation, no matter how unpleasant, difficult or even painful it might seem. (UsingEnglish.Com)

Yesterday I met with the people I will be seeing almost daily over the next three weeks. A mask was made to fit over my face for exact positioning during the brain radiotherapy. Today will be my first outpatient treatment and will take approximately twenty minutes. But the real news is that there is a new plan of treatment for me. Kind of like the “Big Bang.” My medical oncologist and radiation oncologist spent almost two hours Monday night going over the status of my disease and discussing what the best line of approach would be at this time. Stop the chemo, both infusion and oral – they’re not being affective. Go for the lung tumor with radiation. The cancer is contained in the lung and the brain… so that is where the plan of attack will be. Go get it! Ten treatments for the brain, and fourteen for the lung. Radiating near the esophagus is the short-term sensitive area and it will most likely be very painful to swallow for a few weeks. But given that I have had no weight loss over these months of cancer treatment, I am in good shape there. I complain that I weigh more than I want to, and they tell me that it is to my advantage, and a good sign of my overall health.

So I see all of this as a silver lining. My best chance. The doctors are realistically optimistic and so am I. It is ironic though, that just when I got my new Port implanted, my infusions are discontinued.

... P. L. Morningstar

The Options

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 15:42:00 +0000

If you do nothing, you have one month. If you only take steroids to reduce the brain swelling and inflammation, you have two months. If you undergo whole brain radiation treatment, you have six months to a year, or longer, depending upon the status of the lung tumor. Straight to the point. I like that. It puts it all into perspective.

Only that morning I had written this: “There is an added urgency to my days. That book unread on my bookshelf needs to be opened. It isn’t something I can read “someday.” The stories I wanted to write need to be written now, the photos organized and labeled, last reflections made. I may yet become one of the 1 to 2% who survives Stage IV lung cancer, but at the moment it does not look promising. My worry is that I may continue to live, but without the capacity to do the things that make my life worth living. What if I cannot write a poem, capture beauty in a photograph, become lost in reflective thought, have a stimulating conversation with Bob, or complete a crossword puzzle? My worry is that I will lose myself before the cancer takes me. That is what brain metastasis and its treatment can do, and it scares me.”

If you do nothing, you have one month. If you only take steroids to reduce the brain swelling and inflammation, you have two months. If you undergo whole brain radiation treatment, you have six months to a year, or longer, depending upon the status of the lung tumor.

There will be short-term memory loss. I write at night… in my head… will it still be there in the morning? It is 5 am. I cannot sleep. So I am writing this all down now. The creative process happens in the here and now, in the moment, spontaneous, inspired, serendipitous. Can that happen with short-term memory impairement? My eyesight might be affected, either through increased cataract formation or blindness. (At least the cataracts can be surgically removed.) Art, photography, travel, seeing the world through the lens of a camera or my own eyes opened wide in a sense of wonderment. Will I lose that too?

If you do nothing, you have one month. If you only take steroids to reduce the brain swelling and inflammation, you have two months. If you undergo whole brain radiation treatment, you have six months to a year or longer. Is there a choice?

The amazing thing to me is that given the bad news about finding ten brain mets, and the dire prognosis if treatment isn’t begun immediately, I left the Cancer Center feeling hopeful. The radiation oncologist gave that to me. It felt like he was on my side, my advocate, and that I could trust his choice of treatment for me. Knowledge and information gathering is essential when dealing with a disease like this, and we have done that, but sometimes it just comes down to trusting gut instincts. But it’s not always easy to know if extending life is worth the risk of losing self. My hope is that I can have both.

... P. L. Morningstar

Follow-Up

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 02:39:00 +0000

Today we met with the radiation oncologist. He gave us more detail on Morningstar's condition and outlined a treatment plan. We were able to ask a variety of questions and had what seemed like a very good and straightforward discussion of alternatives and likely outcomes. On reviewing the MRI it turns out that Morningstar has at least ten metastatic tumors and is not really eligible for either of the stereotactic radiosurgical techniques currently in use. He suggested instead that she get a variation of whole brain radiotherapy. Of the possible alternatives available, this appeared to be the best. It is also possible that treatment with the Gamma Knife can then be used on any recalcitrant tumors in follow-up. Tomorrow she goes back for a simulated run and measurements. She will start treatment on Wednesday.

We went to this meeting feeling apprehensive. We left the meeting feeling hopeful and confident in his plan and in the genuiness of his concern. There are very real risks and there are definite concerns about the likely side effects of the whole brain radiation approach, but given the alternatives we are going to take those risks and learn to deal with the side effects.

... Bob Weimer

Yesterday's News

bobweimer2@gmail.com (Looking for Hope) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 20:33:00 +0000

Yesterday afternoon Morningstar had a CT scan of her lung and an MRI brain scan. Barely a half-hour away from the Imaging Center, we received a phone call from her oncologist. He told us that brain metastases had been identified on the MRI. He had already called in a prescription for a steroid that would help reduce the brain swelling (we think is causing Morningstar’s dizziness and loss of balance), and wanted us to make an appointment with a radiation oncologist. Before we had a chance to do that, Mary, who works at the Cancer Center, called to say that she had made an appointment for Morningstar to see a radiation oncologist for consultation on Monday. Tuesday Morningstar will have measurements taken for radiation treatments. Suddenly it feels like we have a team, with everyone working to get the best treatment in place as quickly as possible. Morningstar has already started the steroid medication, and we are looking forward to Monday and the next steps.

A small note of good news: The initial report on the lung tumor is that it appears to be stable… no new growth.

... Bob Weimer