An Open Letter

If you are reading this we probably have something in common - cancer.

I think the picture representing stormy weather is appropriate because it is sort of the place we find ourselves when we are dealing with cancer or some other storm.

I am a cancer patient. The hospitals and oncologist offices are filled with us. The obituaries list "after a valiant fight with cancer". It seems that almost everyone knows somebody with cancer. I think we need to be taught about survival techniques. I have some ideas to share although I don't know a lot about the disease. Sometimes, though, I think I know something about surviving it. Then, on the other hand, perhaps, I'm just lucky.

I had colon cancer with metastasis to both lobes of the liver. The operating surgeon told me that statistically I had six months to two years to live; he told the family I had four to six months, closer to four. The oncologist told me that I was going to die; I was not a candidate for surgery; I was not a candidate for transplant; they could keep me alive for a short while with chemotherapy but I was still going to die. A second opinion gave me only four months to live. Those predications were made between December, 1996 and February, 1997.

Later, one of the family told me, "Maybe three weeks." I haven’t confirmed that was ever said.

Much has happened between then and now.

I believe in surgery, pharmaceuticals and developing our own strategies for survival.

I suggest that we don't necessarily have to be a statistic because some of that is up to us. I believe the medical folks treat us for the disease but they don't teach us how to survive. We must learn some of that for ourselves.

I still visit the oncologist. I still have scans. I am still a cancer patient.

I hope this website will give the visitors hope and ideas. I believe we do have a right to live.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Bob Vandegrift

My Home Is In

THE HOUSE OF CANCER

(The Case for the Three Legged Stool

as described by Dr. Herbert Benson)

1996-2010

By

ROBERT L. VANDEGRIFT

I am Bob Vandegrift

I am a cancer patient

And I have something I want to say.

A preface is supposed to be first but in this case I am writing a pre-preface. In the pre-preface I can tell you that you will see duplications of thoughts because words were written at different times for, perhaps, different audiences but with common themes. This ends the pre-preface.

The preface is sort of a postscript now but it returns to the beginning for me. I lived the story that began fourteen years ago. I began writing it for me as a part of my own therapy but it was only a short time before I began copying it to share it with others when friends, or friends of friends, asked me what I was doing because it seemed to be working.

This is my story.

PREFACE

I am a cancer patient. The hospitals and oncologist offices are filled with us. The obituaries list “after a valiant fight with cancer”. It seems that almost everyone knows somebody with cancer. I think we need to be taught about survival techniques. I have some ideas to share although I don’t know a lot about the disease. Sometimes, though, I think I know something about surviving it. Then, on the other hand, perhaps, I’m just lucky.

The doctors didn’t expect me to live beyond the summer of 1997. When they predicted I was going to die, and that only chemotherapy could extend my life a short while, I thought about what I might do. I didn’t want to die. I thought very early about alternatives because medical doctors told me that I have only a short time to live.

I didn’t know how many people look to alternative medicine as an option until, sometime later, I read that Dr. David Eisenberg of the Harvard Medical School estimated that Americans made 425 million visits to alternative medical providers in 1990, exceeding the 338 million visits made to all U. S. primary-care physicians during the same period. That was a surprising statistic to me. Those are 1990 figures. They must be much higher now.

Diet was first presented to me by my son even before I left the hospital. Soon, I learned about Hospital Santa Monica. They sent a video, literature and called several times. Some of the family thought I should go there. I wasn’t convinced. Probably more by accident than by design, I located a medical team which I could believe in and I began developing some of my own strategies. I used surgery, pharmaceuticals and I began my attack one step at a time. I think some of my ideas have produced miraculous results. Pictures, history of the lesions and tracings became the basis of imaging and visualization.

I suggest that we don’t necessarily have to be a statistic because some of that is up to us. I believe the medical folks treat us for the disease but they don’t teach us how to survive. We must learn that for ourselves.

Each day, I say,

“Thank you for today,

Thank you for yesterday,

Thank you for the anticipation of tomorrow”.

A friend from many years ago sent the following.

THE MAGIC WORD

(Attributed to R. L. Kottmeyer)

The magic word will give you the power to arrange events, employ the law of averages to insure your success, put anybody or any resource at your service, get you the counsel of leaders, help you avoid many disagreeable things in life, get others to do what you want them to do, and get you almost anything you want.

The Bible says it’s true!

Doctors use it. Lawyers use it. Leaders use it. Sales people use it. Educators use it. Anyone who’s success depends on getting or using information uses it. The word isn’t magic all by itself, but the use of it produces such magical results it seems like magic.

The word is ... ASK!

Ask and you shall receive – we have all been trained to say yes.

Ask for the order. Ask for the answer.

Ask and maybe the person will marry you.

Asking through testing is the basis of all science.

Ask the expert and get the best advice or information

Ask for a discount or a better deal. Ask for the job you want.

Ask strangers soft questions and start conversations.

Ask important people for their advice, counsel, and get to know them.

THE VERY ACT OF ASKING WILL GUARANTEE THAT, IF YOU KEEP AFTER IT, YOU WILL BE SUCCESSFUL!

INTRODUCTION

My home is in The House of Cancer. My lease was for six months to two years or, perhaps, for four to three months or, perhaps, for about three weeks. I heard it all. “He has four to six months. Probably closer to four.” Most would not agree with my sentence structure but I found my prognosis went backward rather than forward. It was an oral opinion by at least three doctors and was not binding on me. Doctors cannot tell us when we will die and if they do we should change doctors.

I was sixty-eight years old and admitted to the hospital in December, 1996 with abdominal pain and nausea and a history of diverticular disease. I had been treated a few times for diverticulitis over several years but on December 20^th, during surgery, Dr. Jan Freeman found colon cancer, a mass which was baseball in size at the splenic flexure with metastasis to the liver. Dr. Freeman operated. A result of the operation was a colostomy. It may be true that I can live with a colostomy but it has been difficult. It is not only noisy and embarrassing but I find it sometimes to be a balloon that can rupture at all the wrong times and in all the wrong places and there is no hole deep enough to hide in.

As to whether I ever had diverticular disease, it is questionable because the radiologist’s report from the University Hospital indicated there was no evidence of ever having had diverticulitis. I believe my internist failed to give the proper diagnosis and I was not as persistent as I should have been based upon my symptoms. We normally take each day in stride as long as our bodies seem to be functioning. I don’t know how long I’ve had cancer but I believe it’s been for quite a while.

Dr. Freeman apparently told me sometime after surgery that I had cancer but I don’t remember it. Everyone tells me that I knew about it and talked freely. Any time there was pain I would push a button and I didn’t feel anything any longer. I suspect I pushed the button too many times and the disease faded from my mind.

I realized my situation had to be serious when our children and grandchildren came to visit, especially when family came from Texas and North Carolina. Our daughter, Jana, called from Texas and she told me that when I answered the phone I said that I could not talk with her because I was dead and the phone went silent in her ear.

I didn’t hear any celebration but the New Year started with a bang, anyway! The first thing I remember on January 1, 1997 was when Dr. Freeman came into my room. He appeared uneasy and fidgety. He paced the floor and he finally said, “Do you know what the problem is with your liver?” I answered, “No”. I hadn’t remembered being told that I had cancer but, without knowing why, I asked him how much time I had. He said, “Six months to two years.” The fact that I asked the question would suggest that I knew the answer.

Since then, I have decided that doctors are taught in medical school to tell patients, “Six months to two years.” That way, they don’t forget the answer. I must admit, this is tongue in cheek but so many patients hear “six months to two years.”

I remember a day back in the sixties. I drove into the service station where I normally traded. Glen came out to pump gas and I asked him how things were going. I could tell that he was stressed. He said, “Oh, Van, I just got back from the doctor. I have cancer and he said that I have just six months to live.” Glen was only in his thirties. He had a wife and young children. He died just about to the day the doctors told him he would die.

I didn’t deal with the revelation of my eminent demise very well. He told me he would have Dr. Regina Klein, an oncologist, come by and see me, that she was very good and I would like her. I told him I would not see her while I was in the hospital – it would have to be later.

I knew I wasn’t thinking too clearly and I wanted my wife, son and daughter-in-law, a non-practicing nurse, to be with me when I met with Dr. Klein. Not only that, I was not emotionally prepared to meet with an oncologist yet. I thought that’s the end of the road. When it’s time to see an oncologist, it seemed to me, the cards have been shuffled and the game is almost over because the hand you have been dealt is a loser’s hand. Later, I found in my reading that patients really are not prepared to make decisions they have to make that soon after surgery.

I was in a state of panic and Dr. Freeman quickly left the room. I believe he stepped out to the nurse’s station where he enlisted the aid of two nurses to come to his rescue. They were in my room within seconds. The first words I heard from Nurse One was, “Mr. Vandegrift, are you afraid of death?” My response was, “No, I don’t think so but I’m not ready to die.”

The fact is, I was afraid. Maybe I wasn’t afraid for what I would find on the other side as much as I was afraid for what I would be leaving behind but there was fear none the less. It may not be death, it may be the timing of death that bothers me. I imagine that even in twenty years the timing may still bother me depending upon other health factors. I am not interested in eternity right now. Eternity will be there later. It’s nothing that is going to go away.

We don’t seriously think about our own mortality until a doctor (the expert) tells us we don’t have very much time left. We don’t seriously think about it even when we are shown the mortality tables by an insurance salesman. We don’t think about it applying to us when we attend the funeral for a friend who is younger than we are. I am interested in living and seeing what great things there will be in the upcoming century. Life is the greatest of all gifts and I intend to fight to preserve it.

They wanted me to take walks down the corridor and eat in the dining room with the old folks. I refused. What they were talking about was trivial. I couldn’t believe they were trying to divert my attention from what they had just told me. I had just been told that my life was coming to an end and they were asking me to exercise and eat. At that time, I truly believed that if I remained in that hospital and listened to them, I would surely die. I felt that they were preparing me to die and I wanted some one to tell me I had a chance to live. Nobody said anything that I wanted to hear. I decided that a lot of doctors haven’t been taught that there is hope as long as there is life.

Sometimes doctors don’t pay any attention to the patient. I had told Dr. Freeman that I didn’t want Dr. Klein to come while I was in the hospital but she came anyway and I sent her away. I told her that I would make an office appointment with her.

I made that appointment after I was discharged from the hospital. The visit lasted only a few minutes. Perhaps, she remembered that I wouldn’t see her earlier when she came to my hospital room because her comments were short and to the point and, from my perception, without feeling. She said, “You have colon cancer with metastasis to the liver and you are going to die. You are not a candidate for surgery and you are not a candidate for transplant. We can give you chemotherapy and keep you alive a littler longer, but you are still going to die.”

My understanding was that if cancer had originated in the liver and there was no cancer anyplace else in my body, then, perhaps, I might have been a candidate for transplant. The fact that cancer traveled from the colon to the liver might mean that cancer had traveled to other places in my body, too. Scans have not indicated cancer to be any place else.

I told her that Dr. Freeman said that statistically I had six months to two years to live. She told me that is correct. I asked her what my death would be like if I took chemotherapy and she told me. I asked her what my death would be like if I did not take it and she told me. I didn’t see very much difference in the two choices. I would die in either case.

I suspect the reason many patients elect not to take chemotherapy is because they have been told they are going to die -- period. Why should we take chemotherapy if it doesn’t change the outcome? I told her that the doctors said how much I would like her, and that she probably was a very nice lady but she had nothing I wanted and so we excused ourselves and exited to, frankly, a scary future not knowing what I would do.

On my follow-up visit to Dr. Freeman, for the purpose of removing staples from the colostomy, I told him about an experience in the hospital. One day, I opened my eyes and I saw Dr. Nelson, my internist, sitting near the bed. I’m not sure if he was really there or if it was imagination in my mind’s eye but he said, “I just wanted you to know that when you were my patient you didn’t have this thing.” I closed my eyes and when I re-opened them he was gone. Dr. Freeman smiled without saying a word.

When we get cancer, all sorts of advice come to us by well meaning people who know how to cure cancer or by people who know somebody who knows how. Maybe they are not all well meaning because some may have a financial interest in the cancer patient but, I believe, most of them are interested in seeing us live. There are vitamins and supplements and herbs. There are alternative treatments and alternative hospitals that claim great success. It was difficult to make decisions at that time. In fact, it was overwhelming but I believed that if I had a doctor who didn’t give me any hope, I should find another doctor. That made sense to me so I started looking for someone else.

I am fortunate that I have a cousin, Gene, who is a surgeon. Our talks had to be long distance because he lives in the State of Washington. I sent him copies of the hospital reports. I told him what was happening the best I could. He felt that, perhaps, cryosurgery – the freezing of tumors – was my only hope.

I suppose he felt that way, not that he was an expert on cryosurgery, but he had read optimistic reports about it and, based upon the results I had sent him about my condition, I assume he thought that I might not make it any other way. This was the first dangling of hope for me.

Gene said that the University Hospital had just acquired the equipment for cryosurgery and that one of the doctors had received training on the equipment but had not yet performed any operations.

My initial reaction was that I didn’t want to be first. I wasn’t aware of many hospitals providing this service. We learned it was being done in San Diego and, possibly, Houston. We saw an ad in the local paper about a Los Angeles hospital searching for candidates for cryosurgery.

Our son and daughter-in-law said, “Let’s take a vacation in San Diego and go to the hospital and talk with them directly.” We did that. We didn’t see a doctor, only a coordinator. What we saw first hand was Tijuana. The end result was that nothing worked out, only the dickering on Tijuana streets.

Dr. Freeman suggested I get a second opinion from Dr. Belnap. He also told me there may be someone someplace who could do something. That was the closest comment he ever made which could be construed as hopeful.

It had been over three months since the operation. I was pursuing cryosurgery options but getting nowhere. I made an appointment with Dr. Belnap for a second opinion. He said, “There is four times as much cancer in your liver since the last scan. Get your affairs in order because you have about four months to live.” He told me how lucky I was to have had such a fine surgeon operate on me. He added that he had just played golf with Dr. Freeman that morning. What he had actually given me was a second first opinion.

I told Dr. Belnap I was looking at cryosurgey, perhaps, at the University Hospital. He told me that cryosurgery was quackery and insisted the University Hospital did not have the equipment, anyway. He didn’t say, “I think it’s quackery.” He said, matter of factly, that it was quackery. There was no room for judgment. He gave me no hope for living, that chemotherapy was my only option to extend my life a short while. He was telling me to “Get on with getting your affairs in order because you aren’t going to make it.”

I believe doctors have the responsibility to not say and do things that are detrimental to their patients. They need to understand that as long as we are alive, we should exercise hope.

Though I had been told that I had six months to two years, one of our daughters-in-law told me sometime later that Dr. Freeman confided to the family that I had four to six months, closer to four. He told another that I had about three weeks. These are reported statements to me by my family and I did not confirm them with the doctor. At any rate, in all cases, my family believed my situation was hopeless.

I am certain that many patients have died about the time their doctor predicted. The doctor is the expert. It may be the doctor’s prediction is not necessarily accurate but, rather, the patient followed the doctor’s prescription for death. I believe the prognosis given to the patient places such a burden on many patients they elect to die. They are unable to overcome it. I didn’t need any doctor who said I would die.

To make my point about how things can impact our thinking, I want to return in time to April, 1996, about eight months before my surgery, to Good Friday.

It was twenty minutes before four in the afternoon and the traffic was mounting when my car stalled in the middle lane of the interstate. Vehicles careened around me on both sides trying to avoid an accident. They screamed to a stop behind me. It was the type of situation which would result in a chain of accidents.

I believed it was impossible to get off the interstate alive. I got out of the car, figuring “I would take it like a man.” All sorts of vehicles were swishing around me and I remember thinking, “Please, not this way!” It was a prayer. It didn’t begin with, “Dear God”, but it was a prayer, none the less. All of a sudden, an 18-wheeler, or what ever it was, stopped and blocked traffic. I was safe and a courageous young man who got out of his car behind me to help, he too, was safe and we pushed the car out of the way of traffic.

Several times during 1996, I remember thinking that when it is my time, that I hoped to have some notice. I often thought about that incident on Good Friday, “Please, not this way!” I wanted time so that I could tell people what they have meant to me, to write a family history, and put affairs in order. I thought of these flashes almost as half prayers. Now, I had cancer and I wondered if, perhaps, several half prayers had added up to a whole one.

In November, just a month before, I paid off my funeral plan and in December, the day before I went into the hospital, I wrote our Christmas Letter. In it, I cited two gifts for the year. One of these gifts was for the genes passed on by mom and dad. Dad was ninety-five at the time and mom was ninety and so we ought to be able to expect a long life.

Three doctors had given me their prognosis. All short term. My funeral plan was newly paid. There on the interstate, I had asked for time. Was I now being given only a few months to complete all I had to do? I had done nothing about anything since I walked away from all those vehicles swirling around me on Good Friday.

I struggled with what the doctors had told me and unresolved commitments confounded me. Was I being punished for not following through with petitions? Eight months of time, combined with three threats of death, overwhelmed me. I could not disassociate these happenings from the doctor’s prognosis.

The mental part of this was very difficult and, I believe, it was contributed to by doctors who are matter of fact and told me that a patient cannot survive a far reaching metastasis to the liver. The tumors were many and one sat on the major blood supply. The doctors may have been accurate according to what they saw on the scans and what they had been taught but it made it very difficult for me to find anything to hope for.

Sometimes, even still, I am haunted by that original prognosis given by those first doctors and I kick that sucker right out of my mind just as quickly as possible. Sometimes, it takes longer than I would like.

My fortunes were beginning to turn, for over the next three weeks, I began to locate a medical team who I had faith in and could believe in unconditionally. More than three years later, I was still in the forest, not out of the woods yet, but the tumors had reduced about ninety eight (98%) percent, according to the way I figured. I didn’t leave it up to the medical people to decide how much the tumors had reduced.

I have had interesting times in my life. However, this has probably been the most significant period. I try to be positive all of the time. It doesn’t always work. There were times during the first eighteen months when I could not control my feelings as I thought I should. It was like an attack that would sneak up on me, and my eyes would tear up and I would cry quietly on the inside so that nobody could either see me or hear me but with a shout within, “Why me! Why me?”

I don’t know what I have done to have had as much success as I have. I know I am blest and very, very lucky. There were a number of things, some conventional and others unconventional, and I attributed the success, at that pont, to all of them: God, prayers, doctors – their skill and medical expertise – a clinical study, the support of family and friends, my faith and will. Each one of these affect the mind and the mind can affect our illness in either a positive or negative way.

There is a cast of four from “The Wizard of Oz” who could find themselves in this story. First is Dorothy. In her dream, she wanted to leave Kansas and see other places. She found the Kingdom of Oz and eventually sought the Wizard who lived there. During her journey, she learned what the most important things in life were. Home, Aunt ‘Em and Uncle Henry, and her dog “Toto”.

Her friends, along the way, were the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Lion. The Scarecrow had no brains but he mustered the ideas necessary to locate the Wizard. The Tin Man had no heart but he taught the others what true heart is -- serving. The Lion may have been cowardly but, in the end, became courageous. It requires the messages and the transformations of Dorothy, the dreamer and adventurer, the ideas of the Scarecrow, the heart of the Tin Man and the courage of the Lion, and the loyalty to each other, to overcome the Wicked Witch. It is easy to lose focus on the goal.

At some point, early on, I decided that I needed a guardian angel. There was no question about who my angel should be. I want to share a love story because my angel is the central figure in it. About the turn of the century two men loved the same young lady. Some of the family had said that if ever there was an angel on earth, it was Julia. One of the men was a young German immigrant who may have never spoken to her about his love but she knew, all the same. There was gossip about it. The other young man was dashing and handsome and won her heart and they were married on Christmas Day in 1900.

But, that isn’t the end of the story. It isn’t even the important part. It’s really just the beginning. Julia had children and she died very young. Her husband went on, remarried, thus providing a mother for their children and continued on with living. The young immigrant became very prosperous but he never married. He cared for the grave of his sweetheart until he died many years later. He was buried in the Sandhills of Nebraska along side of her. His family knew nothing of her, only that he had loved her. If her family, after a life time, believed she was as close to an angel as they had ever known, and the young man cared for her after she was gone for his entire life, she must have indeed been some one very special.

The lady was my grandmother and I knew I wanted her to be my guardian angel. Her face covered the monitor of my computer as wall paper. I saw her face each time I turned on the computer and I was reminded of the role I asked her to play.

I wanted to share my ideas in the hope that what I had done may encourage others to take control of their destiny and be creative to find a way to survive because life is a gift.

Much of what I did was based upon instinct. I did it because I thought it was what I ought to do. When I first learned that I had cancer, there were three things I initially did: pray; read, and consider diet -- what should I eat and drink? I searched for Internet information. As time went on, reading about cancer and worrying about diet became less important.

I didn’t do all that I probably should have done. It had not all been as timely, on my part, as it should have been. I wasted time which may have been both risky and foolish. I suspect it was. Of course, I don’t know how things would have come out had I done things differently.

I decided, early on, that I would not become pre-occupied with fighting cancer but I would do something toward it each day. I had too many things to accomplish to devote all my time to fighting the battle. I believed I needed to fight smart.

I set goals, both short and long range, with the idea that I would see them through. For all my good intentions, it had not been possible to set the thoughts of my cancer aside. It was with me each day and each night. It may not have dominated my thoughts but it was always there.

I believe we have to balance the fight. Like a game of cards, we have to play the hand we’re dealt. I don’t know how much room there is for playing the wrong card in this game but, I believe, there is some room. I think it’s important to take part, along with the experts, in the fight that is threatening our life. The game must condition our mind to believe and have faith because we will surely fail if we do not have faith.

From the book, “Getting Well Again”, the authors talk about setting goals. “On receiving a cancer diagnosis, there is a tendency to begin living tentatively and conditionally. Frequently, people withdraw from relationships or refuse to make commitments. Not only does this establish the negative expectancy of death rather than recovery, this tentativeness can also significantly diminish the quality of life. The will to live is certainly strengthened, even when life is threatened, if people ensure themselves of meaning and pleasure.” I added relationships rather than withdraw from them.

I tried to live like I was going to live and not live like I was going to die. I dreamed and set goals. I wanted grand goals. Not just mediocre ones. The first year, 1997, I set three goals. I accomplished two of them. One was to remodel our home and another was to invest in a speculative venture. I accomplished those two goals. I went to the bank and borrowed $50,000. I spent $40,000 on the home and $25,000 on investing. (I had to draw on some business money to finish the house). The third goal was to develop a computer game to fight cancer. I wasn’t able to accomplish that one. However, I believe fighting the images on my computer gave me a kick start. There were many subtle benefits from it.

It was important not to quit setting goals just because I had a good year. I had to believe it was important to continue.

In 1998, again I set three goals for 1999. I wanted to buy a Cadillac, publish my story about cancer and call it a book, and be cancer-free by the end of the year. I need Cadillac dreams – not Compact dreams. I bought the Cadillac although it’s not a new one.

I took the manuscript to the copy shop and made copies, as needed, and mailed them to cancer patients, usually at the request of family or friends. The third goal was within sight but I missed it by a couple of percentage points. They were magnificent goals and dreams.

I also set small goals. During 1999, I began collecting Vandegrift memorabilia. I found there was a Vandegrift Distillery in Pennsylvania and I was able to buy some unused labels. I had never imagined it was possible but the Internet made it a reality. I looked for ideas that would make life interesting.

What I shared with others was is in no particular order. New ideas came along all the time and I tried to implement them as long as they made sense.

THE TWO P’S, PLUS

The two P’s: Panic and prayer. They came in that order. The doctor said that statistically I had six months to two years to live. I felt panic.

When we face our own mortality our faith is tested. There was a lot of panic and prayer by the time I was told to get my affairs in order because I had only about four months to live by that time.

As far as I was concerned death was my enemy. I told a pastor friend that I didn’t know what to think about death. He said that grace will set in when we get close to it. He may be right but until grace does set in I will consider death to be my enemy.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.” As I think about friends who have died, those younger than me, more important than me, and as I read the obituaries, it was quickly seen that we all walk through the valley at a different pace. I’m in no hurry. I want to putter along and take as long as possible as I was busy with other things. I wanted to stroll. I didn’t want to run.

During the 1950's, I read that more knowledge had been gained during this century than, perhaps, all recorded history. I could not have envisioned the changes since then. We may believe the changes haven’t necessarily all been what’s best for us but we are not the judge or jury. We are only observers and participants in life. I want to see what happens in the future and how we solve problems, both politically and personally. I want to see our grandchildren grow and see what great things some of them might do. I wasn’t talking about greatness as far as how much money they make. Rather, I was thinking of greatness in terms of goodness and human qualities. I wanted time to be proud.

Panic and prayer. Why me? I read a column written by Tom Ehrich who is an Episcopal priest in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. His column was about a woman who lost her son to cancer. Why did he die when others live? Where was God? What happened to her prayers?”

He continued, “I believe God allows death. I believe it causes him as much pain as it causes us. To me, that is the central mystery of creation: a God who suffers, a God who loves us and yet does not control our lives, a God who weeps with us. Where was God when your son was dying? I believe God was weeping.”

He went on to say, “I believe that God is beyond our control. I believe God has chosen to let creation exist beyond his control. I don’t believe God sits in the heavenly realm deciding who is going to die today. We attribute control to God, because we find freedom to be frightening. I believe God nudges and comforts, but the underlying chaos is always with us.”

There have been times in my life when it seemed that there was no reasonable explanation for surviving, that perhaps we do have an appointed time. This is one of the great mysteries of life. The fact is, we don’t know if we have an appointed time and, therefore, there is ample reason why we should assume the role of warrior.

How do we get pessimistic ideas out of our mind and truly believe that we can live and give ourselves a chance when we have been told there is little or no chance. I believed then as now that it is necessary to believe that it’s not our time and that we haven’t been predestined to depart this life in four or six months and, further, we have something to say about it.

I believe prayer is the natural order of behavior when we face pain or difficulty, even for the un-churched or for the person who doesn’t normally pray. Ehrich said, “We pray to God because we have no other choice.” I prayed. My family and friends prayed in my behalf. I was placed on prayer lists at a number of churches in a number of states. There were people who had never heard my name before but they lifted up prayers for me.

As time went on, I very seldom prayed for myself. I had not thought about it before but I came to believe intercessory prayers are the most significant and so because others prayed for me, I prayed for others. Sometimes, when I found myself preparing for a new scan, I sort of bent the rules and made it a little personal. I had my own prayer list and still do today. They don’t all have cancer but they are all facing tough times. I think this notion is sound because we find ourselves thinking about others rather than ourselves.

Prayer comes in many forms. My maternal grandfather was born a Quaker, as were his ancestors on both sides. I want to say something about prayer as the Quakers believe, as I was told by one of that faith. He said, “Their equivalent to praying for someone is expressed as “holding them in the light”. The act of thinking good thoughts about someone, or an act as simple as picking out a card for someone who is ill, putting it in an envelope, addressing it, sticking a stamp on it, and placing it in the mail is an act of “holding a person in the light”.

An article was published by Beth Baker, a Washington-based free-lance writer, entitled, “The Mind-Body Connection” and was subtitled “Putting the ‘Faith Factor’ to Work”. The subject of her article was Dr. Herbert Benson. Others have written about him, too. This author says that he reached conclusions about the importance of faith after years of research and teaching at Harvard Medical School and Harvard’s Mind/Body Institute which he founded in 1989. He believes human beings are “wired for God”, that the very act of believing – no matter what our religion or philosophy – can help keep us well. Bernie Siegel also suggests there is a celestial connection between man and God.

I have always been ecumenical and inclusive in my Christian conviction and I believed he was saying something very close to my thinking, that when we were created – the Creator created in the creation an ethereal web of communication which is sensitive to not only our thoughts and prayers, but also, receptive to thoughts and prayers of others. I believe the very act of knowing that others are praying for us is a very mighty force, indeed.

Dr. Benson’s early research showed there is a link between the mind and healing. He “likes to describe the ideal health-care model as a three legged stool, made up of pharmaceuticals, surgery and self-care. And part of self-care includes beliefs and the relaxation response, an anti-stress technique.” He found, in one of his studies, that those who said they were more spiritual reported fewer medical symptoms.

I think the connection between our mind, spirit and will and getting well has been proven. I know I will have to die sometime but I wanted to fight a good fight and enhance my chances of complete recovery.

In “Fighting Cancer”, I read that the M. D. Anderson Hospital in Houston, Texas, which is one of the foremost scientific research and treatment centers in the country specializing in cancer, indicated there were approximately three hundred beds in their hospital with six full-time clergymen. Faith plays a critical role in healing. There have been trial studies which indicated that those who were prayed for had faster and easier recovery with fewer side effects. The evidence is there and I am grateful for all those who have prayed for me. I believe it made a difference for me. One of the reasons may be that I couldn’t let all those people down, and therefore, I was more likely to use my mind and spirit to assist in the healing process.

After prayer, came the issue of forgiveness. In my mind, the two cannot be separated. Who had I offended and needed to ask for forgiveness? And who had offended me? I thought it necessary to be at peace if I were to be successful in my struggle against cancer. I didn’t want to fight the battle, month after month, and have a phantom lurking around.

One of my first thoughts was what had I done to cause the cancer. There are several reasons I have read about that may cause it and they all affect the immune system. The reasons, for the most part, would have been impossible for me to control.

If I would have had the opportunity to evaluate the genetics of prospective parents, while still in my pre-existence, and consider a possible disposition toward cancer, would that have helped? I don’t think so. My father has now passed on. He died at ninety seven years of age. My mother is ninety three. However, we know genetics does play a role in cancer.

What about Utah? During World War II, atomic testing clouded the atmosphere, drifted over areas and settled upon people. It caused cancer in many people. I don’t know that it played any role at all in my case.

I had illnesses when I was young. Did some of these illnesses weaken my immune system? I have had traumas, life crises and stress. Should I have been more self controlled and laid back? Should I have avoided difficult issues? Was it poor diet?

I believed stress may have played a part in my cancer even before I heard there was research about it. Sleep deprivation may have played a role. The inability to get a good night’s sleep on a sustained basis may weaken the immune system and I have had trouble sleeping for a long time.

What caused my cancer? I don’t know and it’s really not important now.

The book, “Healed of Cancer” is about Dodie Osteen’s struggle with cancer. On Thursday, December 10, 1981, the doctor told her husband, “Pastor, your wife has metastatic cancer of the liver. With or without chemotherapy, she has only a few weeks to live. We can treat her, but it will only slightly prolong her life.”

“John couldn’t believe it. He said, ‘Doctor, I am going to take my wife home. We are going to pray and seek God, and then we will decide what to do. We believe in miracles, and we believe in the Miracle Worker.’”

The book tells of how she dealt with her cancer. She opens her book with Psalm 30:2,3 : “O Lord ... I pleaded with you, and you gave me my health again. You brought me back from the brink of the grave, from death itself, and here I am alive!”

She outlines forty healing scriptures she used to win her battle over cancer. Dr. D. L. Moore, M. D., stated, “I reviewed all of Dodie’s reports, and I must tell you that knowing all the doctors and having seen all the tests and X-rays has made a tremendous impact on me. It is one thing to read about miracles, but another to watch one happen.”

The prognosis that Dodie Osteen received in 1981 is almost identical to the one I received from Dr. Klein in early, 1997. It is apparent that medical science did not play a role in her recovery because she took none. Her medicine was prayer and faith. The result was a miracle.

I don’t have experiences with miracles coming to fruition in an instant but I believe they can happen regardless of any grim prognosis. I suppose I’m inclined to believe miracles may take time to accomplish. I don’t think they are normally overnight affairs. I thought that if it took me another year to beat the cancer, even that would be a miracle. I thought if I could use prayer, mind and spirit, and a little stubbornness, in conjunction with medical science to eliminate the cancer, whenever that would be – it would be a miracle because the doctors said it couldn’t be done.

In the Bloch book, the author said that Norman Cousins found that watching funny movies had an excellent effect on him and further that several hospitals have put in a “laughing room” where tapes of funny movies are continuously shown for the benefit of cancer patients. I’m not a great outside laugher. I’m more inclined to chuckle on the inside. I bought “Cabin Fever” which consists of nine videos of “The Little Rascals”. We also joined the local chapter of Laurel and Hardy. Then and now, I have a few extra laughs.

Early on, almost from the beginning, I used music on a daily basis. I listened to Burl Ives as he sang gospel music. Every night after I went to bed I listened to his music for thirty minutes. I found a certain peace about it. There were studies about music playing a part in aiding the immune system. They are probably not talking about gospel music but the most important thing to do is remove stress wherever it is and I found gospel music did that. Listening to music lasted for five or six months.

There is a minister who had an impact on my thinking long before my cancer. Early on Sunday mornings, I watched Robert Schuller of the Crystal Cathedral. His message: Positive Thinking! Possibility Thinking! Power Thinking! His guests are sometimes just as important as his sermons. Sometimes, even more so. They are normally people who have succeeded in some extraordinary goal as a result of positive and possibility thinking, their faith being a common thread. I remember one person who had brain cancer and was given a very short time to live. He survived. He attributed his recovery to medical science and God. Whatever the reason, it was the gift of life.

I don’t recall seeing anybody on Schuller’s program who relied only on God to overcome diversity. Three words. I would call it an admixture of God, Doctors, and Patient.

Dr. Schuller begins each service with, “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Rejoicing in the day is an affirmation of wanting to live. If we soak in the words that we appreciate life often enough, then perhaps, it becomes a nutrient for our desire to live.

FIRST HOPE

I received a follow-up phone call from Gene who said he had received a call from a doctor at University Hospital. The call was to discourage me from seeing Dr. Benjamin Kim, the surgeon who had been trained in cryosurgery. Their message was very clear. He told Gene that he would not send a cousin of his to see Dr. Kim, and that he was disliked and the hospital would like to get rid of him but he had tenure. However, I made the appointment with Dr. Kim, anyway. He saw me the next day. I took the scans from the hospital where I had the surgery in order for him to review them.

When we arrived at the hospital we met Jayne Leigh, Dr. Kim’s nurse. We visited for a few minutes because he was still with a patient. I told Jane that my understanding was that some of the doctors at the hospital didn’t like him. From her expression, I think it took her a little by surprise. She said, “Well, that’s probably true but his patients do.”

That was a very good answer because, I think, doctors often belong to the “good old boy” network and they normally don’t have much criticism for their fellow doctors. They aren’t like car salesmen who criticize the competition and have a better deal than the dealer down the street. I believe if we have something seriously wrong with us, such as cancer, we should be very careful about who we select as our physician and we should have recommendations from other patients and, perhaps, those need to be taken with a grain of salt. It may require some divine intercession, or a lot of luck, to find the best doctor.

I didn’t ask for further recommendations because I believed very quickly that Jayne was right. Within twenty-four hours, I was convinced I had located the best doctor for me. Dr. Kim was Harvard trained and believed in surgery, pharmaceuticals and alternatives.

Dr. Kim spent about an hour with us and was the most uplifting of any of the doctors we had seen. The prognosis did not look good but he wanted to keep the scans and study them. I’m sure other doctors did not spend the time reading and considering the options that he did.

The following evening, about twenty-four hours later, Dr. Kim called and said he had reviewed the scan with others and he thought there might be something that could be done. He proposed further surgery. He told me it might be risky but I told him, “Let’s do it! Just don’t kill me on the table.” He assured me he had no intention of doing that and I understood the risk had more to do with whether the operation would be successful.

He considered an operation which involved both conventional and cryosurgery. It would be necessary to have further scans to be certain that the cancer could not be seen anyplace else.

I would like to quote two paragraphs from the book, Fighting Cancer, A step-by-step guide to helping yourself fight cancer”.

“Cancer is a unique disease. There are five factors that make it different from any other known illness. First, cancer cells grow geometrically without limitation. That means 2 becomes 4, then 8, 16, 32, 64, etc. If they grew 1, then 2, 3, 4, 5, we probably would never have heard of it. Because of this geometric growth, we must treat it promptly and properly or it can soon grow to a point where it may be untreatable. If we break our arm and it is not set properly, we can have it reset again whenever we want. It is not irreversible and terminal.

To further illustrate the way cancer grows, picture algae covering a lake. This algae doubles in area each day until, after one month’s time, it completely covers the lake. When should it be noticed? When it covers one half the lake? That is the day before the end of the month. When it only covers one fourth of the lake? That is two days before the end of the month. If you caught yours three or four or five days before the end of the month, you must feel very grateful.

The question in my mind was, “Had I waited too long?”

During one appointment, I talked with Dr. Kim about a book I had received from the American Cancer Society. In it was a chart which showed the steps from the beginning stages of cancer until the point of death. I think there were thirteen steps. I told Dr. Kim that it appears I am on the eleventh or twelfth step. He paused for a few seconds. Then he said, “You are probably right but throw that book away! You don’t have to be a statistic. Some of that is up to you.”

That was the most important demand he made of me. Nobody had told me before that I didn’t necessarily have to be a statistic. They just said, “Statistically ...“ I walked out of the office that day somewhat in charge of my own destiny because it changed the way I thought.

I had heard “statistic” before but others had said it and it came out in the context of hopelessness regardless of what they meant. His words gave me hope. He was telling me that I didn’t have to die. There is a great deal of difference. He had demanded that I not pay attention to those statistics.

I believed him. This was a turning point for me. Though his words were not the same, I saw in him some of the same ideas that I heard from Bernie Siegel, as I listened to his tape, “Peace, Love, and Healing”.

Dr. Siegel opened his tape with a change from his title – to “Love, Joy and Optimism”. He said that exceptional patients have stories to tell and lessons to teach. After I thought about Dr. Siegel’s statement, I felt Dr. Kim was open to learning from a patient. I didn’t presume that I had anything to teach him but I found him to be open and thoughtful.

The scan did not reveal any cancer cells other than in the liver – which meant that Dr. Kim could proceed with the operation. As soon as he was able to put his team together, which included bringing in a specialist from Los Angeles, he called me and told me we were ready to proceed and I checked into the hospital.

As it turned out, cryosurgery was not an option and Dr. Kim resected about twenty percent of the tumors. None of the other surgeons suggested such a possibility. I don’t know what I would have done if it were not for Dr. Kim because he gave me both hope and time to fight the battle.

I learned there is a great difference from one doctor to another. I found Dr. Kim akin to the authors I had read or listened to on tape. I was lucky! So many aren’t. When our life is at stake, we must search for the doctor who says, “I’ve studied your situation. I have consulted with other doctors and we believe there is something we can do.”

I don’t know how much was divine intervention and how much was just plain good luck because I would not have located Benjamin Kim all by myself. Great doctors may be listed in the Yellow Pages but the real problem is knowing who is going to be great.

THE SECOND MEMBER

The operation was over and I lay in the bed, probably not the most coherent from medication. John Conlee enters the picture. I remembered my last hospital stint, and I decided when a person is terminal, the prognosis fatal, they send a social worker to see you.

A social worker has a difficult mission because it is sort of ongoing as they try to prepare you for dying but maintaining the best quality of life possible. John asked me what I knew about alternatives such as meditation and visualization.

I had tried some meditation but it wasn't an easy thing. It was difficult to slow my mind down and concentrate on nothing but the running brook in the forest. John recorded a meditation tape for me. He didn’t make a copy of a commercial recording. It was his protocol.

I had also read about visualization. It was in a book by Rev. Norman Vincent Peale that explained it simply. I would say that it is planning how you are going to accomplish a goal. Conceive and plan. Put a plan in motion and see it through, not only in your mind's eye but also through hard work. That is visualization. I had experience with that. I just had never thought about it in that way. In later years, I would say, “Develop an agenda.”

John asked me my thoughts about the subject and I probably spent the next several minutes rambling on about visualization suggesting that it needs to be brought forward to the computer age and made into a computer game. I probably didn't know what I was talking about. It may have been the medication speaking.

John didn't say, "I don't think that will work. We need to follow the old ideas about meditation and visualization. They have been tested and proven." Instead, he listened to the entire bit and he said it was a great idea -- the best he ever heard.

He appeared excited about it and I knew he was the second member of my team. It was important for me to associate myself with medical positivists. (I’m not sure there is such a word). I believed that I would be able to count on him to help me in a recovery process.

Shortly after John left, Dr. Kim came into my room. I told him about my conversation with John. As he thought for a few moments, he pawed the ceiling with his eyes thinking about what I had said. He, too, affirmed it was a good idea and suggested it may provide communications between doctor and patient. He said he would like to work with me on the project. His comments somewhat surprised me. It was reaffirmation of my belief that he was different.

Dr. Kim and John Conlee were both optimistic individuals and I was convinced it was critical for a cancer patient to have all the positive feed back possible. Much of what I accomplished would not have been possible without them.

John provided me with help in obtaining scan information, tracings, articles, etc. Our visits were not only been beneficial and uplifting but educational as well.

We have some choices when we decide who our doctor will be. Sometimes, we may not make the best choice. The same applies to our surgeon. Then, it begins to get a little murky and we begin to lose the opportunity to make choices. The surgeon often recommends the oncologist and, in our frame of mind, we don’t question him. His recommendation is almost written in stone though he may not intend it to be.

Everybody needs to be sustained by others in addition to the support we have at home. John became an advocate for me. He helped me achieve goals I could not have achieved otherwise. In almost all cases, the Medical Social Worker in a hospital has a very short term relationship with their patients. They enter the picture, do their job, and they are gone. I asked John how many patients he has that he has maintained on an ongoing relationship. His answer was, “Two”. A Medical Social Worker can be very, very beneficial.

We lay in a hospital bed after surgery. The prognosis is grim. A social worker is assigned to visit us. There may be twenty social workers in the hospital. At this point, there needs to be a lot of luck because social workers are not all the same as doctors are not all the same. The right social worker can assist us in our journey, not just try to improve the quality of our life. John Conlee helped save my life.

THE ONCOLOGIST

Dr. Kim said he would have an oncologist come by to see me. My first experience with an oncologist was not something I was very impressed with. An oncologist was not someone I looked forward to seeing. It seemed to me an oncologist is the last doctor you see before you die. I expressed to Dr. Kim, “If you are going to send me an oncologist I want the best one in the hospital.”

Dr. Saundra Buys came into the room and introduced herself. She probably had a number of patients to see because she appeared to be in a hurry and it was evident she would not be staying long. She was all business. Not much like me because, when things are bad, I want to talk. I don't necessarily want to talk about the bad things but, at least, talk. I don't think she was interested in small talk and I don't think I was ready for heavy stuff.

Dr. Buys recommended participating in a study. I was not ready to make a decision about something of that nature quite yet. I had been working on instinct up until that time and I wasn’t ready for any study. She told me to consider it and she would return later.

It took about two or three weeks before I made my decision. I told Dr. Kim that I would make an appointment with Dr. Buys and begin the

Capecitabine Study

study. He told me that when I had seen her earlier I had not given her a chance to speak, which is probably true. I told him, "It was my life and I needed to talk and she said she was busy and didn't have much time." He was certainly reprimanding me. I'm not a good patient. The hospital records, representing my first surgery, reported I was "difficult", and that is fine because I later learned that difficult patients are often those who survive.

When I saw Dr. Buys, I passed on my conversation with Dr. Kim. She was clearly upset that he had said anything to me and expressed the feeling of betrayal. I felt that I had not gotten off to a good start. I told her that she shouldn't be upset. I had asked Dr. Kim for the best oncologist in the hospital and he had sent her to me. At least, when it came to the study, she didn’t turn me down.

The purpose of the research was to determine the difference between a Phase III Study comparing an investigational drug, which I will refer to hereafter as “ID”, with 5FU/LV as first-line chemotherapy in patients with advanced and/or metastatic colorectal carcinoma.” It was to involve about 604 patients nationwide with approximately ten patients to be enrolled at University Hospital. Half were to receive ID and half to receive the standard treatment, 5-FU/LV.

I assumed that I would receive the ID when I agreed to participate. Fifty percent odds were better than what I had heard about my odds of survival, which I believed to be zero to two percent. I had faith. The idea of not receiving ID never entered my mind.

Dixie Grimstad, the coordinator, was responsible for contacting the laboratory and the computer went to work. It was, perhaps, forty five minutes later when she returned. There was no question in my mind what the results were. Another day, another hour, I may have not received ID. I was lucky.

I began treatment on April 8, 1997. I noticed tiredness within two days and it has continued off and on ever since. I began a diary beginning with treatment and I maintain it daily for anything of consequence.

I did not get sick. I did not lose my hair. Sometimes, I would get desperately tired but that was no different than other patients. There were other side effects but I could live with them.

In addition to ID, there was continued prayer, the listening of gospel music before going to sleep, support of friends, some meditation, being concerned about diet but not following advice of others too much, walking, and visualization. In my thinking, visualization was critical!

My first scan was May 16th, 1997. I waited in a small, windowless waiting room, like most of them seem to be, for Dr. Buys. She reviewed the film before coming to see me. She sat down beside me and beamed, “It’s nothing short of remarkable!” She also added that she had not seen as much reduction in cancer during her entire practice.

How much credit should go to each one of the various approaches? Dr. Buys said, "We don't know. Just consider it all of the above." I believe my visualization program did more to reinforce my mind, and allow me to reverse feelings from depressed to hopeful than any other thing. I could be depressed one minute and optimistic very soon.

That day, as we stood in the hall amongst doctors, nurses and patients, I gave Dr. Buys a hug. She was startled. I told her I had read a book and it said, "Hug your doctor". I consider this is significant because I am not just seeing my oncologist any longer. I am seeing a friend.

My team was complete: The Creator, the surgeon, the oncologist, the clinical trial, the medical social worker, a coordinator, and an angel who has been gone from this earth for nearly a century, family and friends as they held me in the light.

WHERE HAVE ALL OUR FRIENDS GONE?

I was seventy-one years old when I first wrote my thoughts about cancer. People have darted in and out of my life for most of the time. Some faces I remember. Some names I remember. Today, I wouldn't be able to put some names with the proper face. It's been too long.

Memories fade. They're embellished. I see the silly grin of a friend come to mind and now he has passed on. I don't see him any longer, only in my thoughts. It's not possible to tell him any more what he meant to me.

There were military friends. There were good buddies in the service but they went their way and I went mine. Where are they now? Where have all our friends gone? Some left this life. Others still live. They darted in and then they were gone.

As I stood on that busy interstate on Good Friday, I pleaded, "Please, not this way!" I needed time, for one thing, to tell people what they had meant to me ‑‑ perhaps, how they had changed my life. Perhaps, how they may have helped me chase a dream.

People are difficult to locate if we return in time after some thirty or forty or fifty years but, I felt, if they had meant something to me at one time, if they had influenced my life in any way, it was important to tell them. It would be part of my getting well strategy. I expected that speaking with those of times past would make my day.

I couldn't afford to waste time and so I began with those who I knew where they were presently living. I picked up a phone book. I called. I told them that I had cancer and that it was important to me that they know they had been significant in my life.

These calls to old friends were not for the purpose of talking about cancer. Very little of this subject was discussed. The idea was to tell them they had made a difference in my life. I tried to seek out old friends on a regular basis. Every call was a surprise. Every experience -- unique.

The outreach from friends is powerful, whether verbal, letters, cards or e‑mail. I never was too good at minding my own business and the son of one of our old friends came to see me during those first days, when the prognosis was bleak and I wasn’t favored with much longevity. He told me that if it hadn’t been for me his parents would have been divorced. Another called and told me that when he was going through a divorce, I had buoyed him up when he was so low. Friends telling me what I meant to them also lifted me up.

I am no more than a twig in a forest. People of prominence do not know me. Yet, I received two letters from Senator Edward M. Kennedy encouraging me. (A friend had apparently given him my name) He was one of the most important politicians in the United States and he took the time to personally write me. This was not only a surprise but it made me feel good. It’s part of the prayer idea of holding a person in the light.

I reached out to friends and they also reached out to me. Good thoughts and affection from others is mighty fine medicine.

As I thought about cancer, I had been handed a challenge that was well worth the fight.

DIET

Though my successes had been unbelievable, I may have failed in some areas in this cancer struggle. Diet was the most confusing. After my initial surgery, my son, Dorian, began studying what diet would be the most helpful. Actually, he was searching for a diet that would cure the disease.

By the time I came home from the hospital, he had studied Macrobiotics and was learning to cook some of their recipes which are based on grains, vegetables, beans, sea vegetables, etc. I spoke with one cancer patient who claimed her liver cancer had been under control for about ten years by staying on that diet, and I don’t doubt her, but I didn’t like it and I gave it up. The problem may have been the cooking but the fact was that I was distressed just thinking about my next meal. It’s like when I was young, trying to sell insurance and I didn’t want to go to bed because I couldn’t stand the thought of having to get up the next day and look for prospective buyers.

During the first three or four months, I took a lot of vitamins and supplements. My next scan revealed my tumors had grown four times the previous scan. I read some articles which indicated that some vitamins increase the growth of tumors. After studying the issue, I decided not to take any more vitamins. It seemed to me that when we become a cancer patient, one of our first thoughts is diet, vitamins and supplements, etc, and I wondered if cancer deaths are increased as a result of feeding the tumors.

As I thought about that, and as time went on, I sort of concluded I didn’t want to have my blood too healthy. I thought, the healthier the blood, the more the cancer cells could feast. I also thought there has to be a difference between a prevention diet and a cure diet. I will have to look at my diet relative to prevention after the cancer is gone. I talked with a spokesman at one of the major vitamin and supplement manufacturers. He said all the companies were involved with prevention and had done very little research regarding people who were undergoing chemotherapy.

The American Institute for Cancer Research publishes a newsletter on Diet, Nutrition and Cancer that makes recommendations about what we should eat. I usually try to use good judgment about the food. I have not been fanatic about it.

Consequently, I have tried to eat healthy but not too healthy. I hadn’t eaten much red meat for a couple of years before I learned of my cancer. I have somewhat leaned toward a vegetarian diet. Though it’s not the usual, I have been known to have a peanut butter sandwich or crackers and milk for breakfast. I sometimes sneak ice cream -- not the diet kind but the Baskin Robbins kind. I watch the blood tests to see that everything is within reason. I don’t expect everything to be normal with what I am going through. I have sort of a faith diet.

It was important that I not lose weight because that would be synonymous with failure. I ate to gain weight and I have gained more than forty pounds.

For a short while, I drank Essiac tea. It’s history goes back to 1922 when a nurse in Canada began giving it to terminal cancer patients. It has been in use ever since. I like tea and Essiac tasted fine. However, it has to be made up in advance and I was too lazy to do that.

I think it is interesting to note that after beginning my medication I did not have the flu, stomach sickness, etc., for about thirty months until the family brought it home to me. I had colds which resulted in a runny nose. I had bad headaches from time to time. My hands and feet were tender from dryness. I got extremely tired. Some of the tiredness may have been caused from poor diet, some from the medication and some from poor sleep. None of them can take all the credit. I think cancer patients, sometimes, just get dead tired and can hardly move. At a time like that, I would sit in front of the television and fall asleep. I still fall asleep sometimes when I ….

Lots of times, I was unsteady on my feet. I wondered if people thought I may be intoxicated. I thought it was probably the effects of Capecitabine. I also reached for words and that was frustrating.

Perhaps, if I had been more conscientious about diet and supplements my tumors would have been gone sooner than they were. I just don’t know. The idea of not feeding the tumors made sense to me. The diet I was most faithful to was faith, mind and spirit.

DENIAL

Ask strangers soft questions and start conversations.

I took the position that I would not deny the existence of my cancer nor my colostomy. Bernie Siegel said that if someone asks us how we are that we should not say we’re alright if we are not. We should not deny our cancer. He also said, “Share your needs. Reach out for help and express yourself.”

Today when someone asks how I am, I reply, “I’m perpendicular and that’s not bad.”

Ask strangers soft questions and start conversations. I would talk to people who I didn’t know. I told them I had cancer and I didn’t tell them because I wanted sympathy. I wanted them to know that if they got cancer, or a family member or friend got cancer, that when it comes to how to treat it, get second or third or fourth opinions, if necessary. Find the best hospital and the best doctor. We must surround our self with people of hope. I would tell some of them what I have done and I offered to share my thoughts with them. It is important for us to take charge and be a part of making decisions. I told doctors and others that I would speak to anyone who would like to talk about possibilities.

We were in Iowa and there was a recreational vehicle with Utah plates. I asked them where they lived and it turned out it was about twenty five miles from our home. He was sitting on the picnic table smoking a cigarette and his wife was standing near him. I suspect he may have been in his mid thirties. It turned out we had a common acquaintance. Small world. I visited a couple of moments and then I said, "I have cancer. They said I would die last year. I don’t know why I have it. My cancer is in my liver and unless you quit smoking you may develop it in your lungs. Either one can kill us." I may have offended him but he didn’t let on if I did. His wife said, “What a coincidence because not two minutes earlier I had been thinking that we must quit smoking.” She stepped forward, shook my hand and told me this may be the incentive they need. As I thought about this incident, perhaps, I thought I ought to have been embarrassed for what I had said.

I heard Art Linkletter say his best interviews are with children under six years of age and people over sixty-five because children say the first thing that comes into their mind and those over sixty-five don’t care what they say.

A long time ago, my father-in-law said an old man can say anything he wants. I say, an old man with cancer has an obligation to say what he believes might help others.

STROKING A DREAM

“Every individual forms his own estimate of himself and that basic estimate goes far toward determining what he becomes. You can do no more than you believe you can. You can be no more than you believe you are. Belief stimulates power within yourself. Have faith in faith. Don’t be afraid to trust in faith.”

Norman Vincent Peale

If you think you are beaten you are;

If you think you dare not, you don’t;

If you want to win but think you can’t

It’s almost a cinch you won’t.

If you think you’ll lose you’re lost;

For out in the world we find

Success begins with a fellow’s will;

It’s all in the state of mind.

Life’s battles don’t always go

To the stronger and faster man,

But sooner or later the man who wins

Is the man who thinks he can.

Copied

In late 1958 and early 1959, I dreamed about organizing a private military theater that would primarily provide inexpensive movies to members of the National Guard, Reserves and Active Duty. I could see, in my mind, a theater with all the seats filled.

I went about doing the leg work. I had no theater experience and so I called on experts about equipment, installation, what types of film we would be able to rent, what costs would be, etc. Not only did they give me advice, some actually helped me. There was a passion about it all. The magic word – ASK!

I decided we could probably open for nine ($9.00) dollars per year for 104 shows. The cost would give an entire family the privilege of attending as many, or as few, movies as they wanted at no additional cost. We would have 577 seats, and because it would be so inexpensive, and we would have good movies repeating twice a night. I envisioned 1,000 people coming through the doors. They would buy popcorn, support the concessions and that would support the theater.

We scheduled the first movie for the evening of May 9, 1959. I shall never forget it because it was a total failure. I stood before those first-comers and said, “I’m sorry. We have no sound. Please give me another chance.” The seats were not filled that night, thank goodness. They were mostly faithful friends and co-workers who supported my efforts.

I kept stroking my dream and everything worked the following scheduled night. The dream didn’t all come together at one time. I appreciated everyone who walked through the doors on those movie nights. They were my guests and they swelled my ego. Eventually, there were more than the imagined 1,000 people attending during a single night, filling the theater to capacity, just as I had seen them in my mind sometime earlier.

I dreamed about publishing a trade newspaper and it was successful although it was short lived. I dreamed about producing a radio show. I had never done anything like it before. I asked for help. Ask and you shall receive -- we have all been trained to say yes. The programs were on between fifty and one hundred stations. First, I visualized -- I made the effort -- and then made it happen.

I began planning how to achieve a dream, seeing it in my mind, and chasing it to fruition. That is visualization. I practiced visualization as part of my cancer battle. I saw my liver and the lesions on the computer, and paper, sufficient times that I could also see it in my mind.

Norman Vincent Peale is an excellent place to learn about visualization. From his book, “Powerful Imaging” he wrote the following:

“There is a powerful and mysterious force in human nature that is capable of bringing about dramatic improvement in our lives. It is a kind of mental engineering that works best when supported by a strong religious faith. It’s not difficult to practice; anyone can do it. Recently it has caught the attention of doctors, psychologists, and thinkers everywhere, and a new word has been coined to describe it. That word is imaging, derived from imagination.

Imaging, the forming of mental pictures or images, is based on the principle that there is a deep tendency in human nature to ultimately become precisely like that which we imagine or image ourselves as being. An image formed and held tenaciously in the conscious mind will pass presently, by a process of mental osmosis, into the unconscious, the individual will strongly tend to have it, for then it has you. So powerful is the imaging effect on thought and performance that a long-held visualization of an objective or goal can become determinative. Imaging is positive thinking carried one step further. In imaging, one does not merely think about a hoped-for goal; one “sees” or visualizes it with tremendous intensity, reinforced by prayer.

Imaging is a kind of laser beam of the imagination, a shaft of mental energy in which the desired goal or outcome is pictured so vividly by the conscious mind that the unconscious mind accepts it and is activated by it. This releases powerful internal forces that can bring about astonishing changes in the life of the person who is doing the imaging.”

I believed visualization may be easy for one person and difficult for another. I felt that if I could combine sight and facts with goals it would go a long way toward effective visualization for me. I could see my liver and my tumors in my mind. Sometimes, the sight of it came to me involuntarily and I might use a finger to erase the tumor from my mind just as my autistic grandson might be inclined to do. I could see my liver and the tumors when I spoke with someone about my cancer. If I got “down” I could imagine and visualize and it buoyed me up.

ILLUSTRATION OF LIVER

Imaging and Visualization

Part 1

I obtained film copies of my scans and transferred them to my computer through the use of the Photoshop program.

The slides were then transferred to my computer. There are many things I could do once they were on the computer. It was easy to imagine that it was a computer game and I could erase the tumors from my liver with the mouse.

Sometimes, I would print a copy of the liver and tumors on paper and work to erase them. Sometimes, I used a razor blade to scratch the tumor from the surface of the paper taking care to not dig a hole through the paper.

The following two pictures represent four slices of the liver as filmed on February 25 and November 7, 1997. These formed the basis of my computer game.

Lakeview Hospital, February 25, 1997

University Hospital, November 7, 1997

Part 2

The second part of the process dealt with tracings. The radiologist measured the largest lesion across two ways. They may specify there is no change from one scan to the next, when, in reality, there was a change. I was able to look at tracings all through the liver and see that some had actually reduced. I was able to turn a radiologist report from “No Change” to “Progress”.

I had a better picture of how much cancer was actually in my liver by using tracings.

Tracing, April 3, 1997

Tracing, November 7, 1997

Part 3

In April of 1997, the total mass for the lesions was about 7,028 millimeters. In November, 1998, nineteen months later, it was about 780 millimeters. In other words, the total mass had reduced about eighty-nine percent during this period of time. The total mass of the tumors had reduced more than ninety percent. This information was based upon the tracings.

Total Lesions

Date	Total Mass	Change from Last Report	Total Change
Feb 25, 1997	4893
Apr 3, 1997	7028
May 16, 1997	3048	Down 56.6%	Down 56.6%
Jun 27, 1997	2157	Down 29.2%	Down 69.3%
Aug 15, 1997	1625	Down 24.7%	Down 76.9%
Sep 26, 1997	1528	Down 6.0%	Down 78.3%
Nov 7, 1997	1377	Down 9.9%	Down 80.4%
Jan 2, 1998	1377	Down 0.0%	Down 80.4%
Apr 2, 1998	1377	Down 0.0%	Down 80.4%
Aug 11, 1998	1300	Down 5.6%	Down 81.5%
Nov 13, 1998	780	Down 40 %	Down 88.9%
Feb 12, 1999	591	Down 24.2%	Down 91.6%

TRACING HISTORY

The Tracings were made as each scan was filmed.

Date	Slices	Lesions	Total Lesions	Value	Change (Down)
4/3/97	11	9	16	788
5/16/97	12	9	14	280	64.5%
6/27/97	10	8	13	238	69.8%
8/15/97	11	7	12	218	72.3%
9/26/97	11	7	10	94	88.1%
11/7/97	14	7	8	75	90.5%
1/2/98	22	9	10	71	91.0%
4/2/98	21	7	9	77	90.3%
8/11/98	21	7	7	55	93.0%
11/13/98	20	5	6	37	95.3%
2/12/99	20	4	4	17	97.8%
11/9/99	12	1	1	11	98.9%

SOME THOUGHTS

The Clinical trial was designed to determine the difference between the trial pharmaceutical and the standard treatment, 5-FU/LV. It was good to me. Is this medication totally responsible for the reduction in my cancer? I don’t know but I don’t think so.

The preliminary results of the study indicated there were 1,210 patients world wide with 535 patients from the United States. The medication was divided equally -- 269 received the standard treatment, 5FU/LV. Of those who received the trial medication, sixty percent were male and seventy-seven percent were liver and lung patients.

The medication was taken orally and there were fewer side effects noted. The only increase in side effects were what they called the hand-foot syndrome. My hands and feet were dried, cracked, swelled some and uncomfortable. Two percent of the patients, in other words, about twenty-five, withdrew from the study due to this problem. I looked at my hands and feet as a badge of determination.

The preliminary result revealed there was no difference in time of progression and survival for the patients. There was no difference between the trial medication and standard treatment. The two were equivalent with each other. The time of survival for those in the study was 12.5 months. I began the study on April 8^th, 1997. If I had fit the norm, I would not have survived beyond May, 1998. Not only have I outlived the original prognosis given by three doctors, and exceeded the average patient in the study but my tumors were diminished by more than ninety (90%) percent, perhaps, as much as ninety-eight (98%) percent depending on what set of numbers are used.

Did the medication work differently in me than other patients? I was unable to prove it one way or the other but I believed it was more likely my use of three fronts in my attack: surgery (actually, double surgery), the clinical trial, and the implementation of my own program and passion. It’s like the three legged stool Dr. Benson spoke about. I was one of those legs.

It was an accident to some degree, or stubbornness, that I did not listen to the first doctor, or the second doctor, or the third doctor. I listened to my instincts. If I had begun treatment as advised by the first oncologist I would not be here today. I believe that. I suspect many studies probably want to start with a patient who has no previous medication. I studied my options before I committed to any treatment even though doctors would say I took too long. I think it is very important to use the Magic Word again and again. Ask!

What I have tried to do is suggest life is worth fighting for. There is a preponderance of evidence which supports the fact that the Mind-Body Connection is real. I could not quit because I was dealt a bad hand. Those first doctors said I couldn’t beat it. It took some time for me to begin to fight back because I didn’t know where to begin.

According to Deepak Chopra, there is a cooperation between the mind and body at the cellular level. He says the cells in our body are in a continual state of change, even with every breath. We replace ninety (90%) percent of our cells each year. My objective was to replace the cancer cells. I was told cancer cells are weaker than healthy cells.

It was not easy. I told the doctor that if I make it through this cancer I will probably be a better person for it. If I don’t, I’ll be damn mad. The doctors said I couldn’t live with a metastasis from the colon to the liver with the major tumor sitting on the blood supply where it feeds. However, they couldn’t tell me when I will die. I wouldn’t listen to them. The challenge to prove them wrong remained ahead of me. Even though I was about ninety-eight percent finished with the race, I knew I could still stumble and if I did, I knew I must get up.

I sometimes called others when I learned they had cancer. I sent my story to them hoping there would be something in it for them but somewhat anxious because I didn’t want to mislead them about diet, or not taking vitamins, etc. I used the Magic Word whenever I was able. I asked others to use it.

I couldn’t get rid of the cancer all by myself. I had an exceptional team helping me. First, perhaps, there must be a reaching out. After the good fortune of locating Dr. Kim, the rest of the team fell into place as the need arose.

I was always grateful. And blest. And very, very lucky. There were many who I credited for my success. Which of my ideas helped supplement the medicine? I don’t know but, perhaps, each idea added to the mix helped a little and a lot of “littles” help a lot. I am certain there were other things that came along and I added them to the mix.

John Conlee examined three adult males who were in varying stages of remission of cancer. I was one of the participants. There were common threads of both thought and action between the three of us. The following three paragraphs were extracted from John’s study.

“One of the strongest similarities across all three patients was the overarching goal to beat the cancer. Goals were expressed to be ‘cancer free’, ‘get the tumor out of my head’, and to ‘kick the hell out of my disease’.

On the surface, the greatest dissimilarity across the three cancer survivors appeared to be the evidence used to assess goal-attainment. Objective medical evidence was used by one, whereas internal feeling states were used by the other two. It is possible that the individual who relied upon objective evidence also relied on kinesthetic feelings using a V-K strategy. However, the two who relied solely on their feelings appeared to give primacy to those alone, even when objective medical evidence was yielding unfavorable results.

All three cancer survivors emphasized the importance of both asking for help and adopting a willingness to receive that help. They all put faith in God, as well as the physicians who were treating them. They prayed for others who were sick, and gratefully received the prayers from many who did not know them through prayer lists. None of these individuals were idled very long by their disease and stayed as active as possible throughout much of their treatment. All three emphasized the use of belief and practiced faith, through both prayer and belief in treatment. They believed in their ability to survive and appeared genuinely optimistic about their survival. The three were not equally religious or spiritual prior to cancer onset. One patient re-kindled religious beliefs left dormant since high school. He healed a conflict with his father who had requested that his son ask Jesus for help, and it was at that point that he started to accept prayers from others.”

I want to include some words which were placed on my desk one day. I don’t know who left them for me. There have been many poems that would be appropriate but none may better fit the situation.

THE RACE

by D. H. Groberg

Quit! Give Up! You’re Beaten!

They shout at me and plead

There’s just too much against you now

This time you can’t succeed.

But as I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,

My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene,

For just the thought of that short race,

Rejuvenates my being.

A children’s race, young boys, young men now, I remember well,

Excitement, sure! But also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race,

Or, tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side each cheering for his son.

The whistle blew, and off they went, young hearts and hopes afire.

To win, to be the hero there was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,

Was running near the lead and thought: “My dad will be so proud!”

But as they speeded down the field across a shallow dip,

The first little boy, who thought to win, lost his step, and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace

And ‘mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face.

So, down he fell, and with him hope – he couldn’t win it now –

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell, his dad stood up, and showed his anxious face,

Which to the boy so clearly said: “Get up and win the race.”

He quickly rose, no damage done – behind a bit, that’s all –

And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself – to catch up and to win –

His mind went faster than his legs; he slipped and fell again!

He wished, then he had quit before with only one disgrace.

“I’m hopeless as a runner now; I shouldn’t try to race.”

But, in the laughing crowd he searched, and found his father’s face

That steady look that said again, “Get up and win the race.”

So, up he jumped to try again – ten yards behind the last –

“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exceeding everything he had gained back eight or ten,

But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay there silently – a tear dropped from his eye –

“There is no sense in running more; three strikes, I’m out,

why try?”

The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away

So far behind; so error prone, a loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought, “I’ll live with my disgrace.”

But, then he thought about his dad, who, soon, he’d have to face.

“Get up!” an echo sounded low. “Get up, and take your place.

You were not meant for failure here, get up, and win the race.”

“With borrowed will get up,” it said, “You haven’t lost all.”

For winning is no more than this: to rise each time you fall.

So up he rose to run once more, and with a new commitment

He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now – the most he’d ever been.

Still, he gave it all he had, and ran as though to win.

Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he’d rose again.

Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner, as he crossed the line first place,

Head high, and proud, and happy. No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster crossed the finish line last place,

The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he won the race to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad, he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”

“To me, you won!” his father said.

“You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,

The memory of that little boy helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race,

With ups and downs and all,

All you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.

Quit! Give Up! You’re beaten!

They still shout in my face,

But another voice within me says,

“Get up and win the race.”

THE MARGIE LEVINE STORY

A Medical Miracle

I was first introduced to Margie by my friend, Rita, whose brother was a mesothelioma cancer patient. She found Margie’s story on the Internet and sent it to me.

In 1989, Margie Levine, a health education teacher and social worker was given six months to live! At age 43, she was diagnosed with pleural mesothelioma caused from asbestos exposure. Three major medical centers confirmed her grim prognosis.

Margie was considered a medical miracle. Her case was studied at the Harvard Medical School and presented to doctors around the world. She was invited to be a guest speaker to 150 doctors in Boston along with the Nobel prize winner in cancer medicine.

We shared our ideas and the course we each took in our battle with cancer. She was determined to be free of cancer. At that point in time, I had only about two percent of the tumor remaining. We shared our common prognoses and strategies. They are:

We were both given no hope by the doctors.

The prognosis by our doctors resulted in both of us believing it was necessary to begin to prepare to die. We went about it differently.

We had feelings about being overwhelmed.

We were unprepared about how to begin to fight to survive.

The will to survive resulted in devising personal techniques as a supplement to medical protocol. This was done with full knowledge of the doctors.

We each lost a parent during the struggle -- she lost her mother and I lost my father.

We each called medical centers, cancer centers, friends, clergy and considered alternative options.

Neither of us stopped with second or third opinions.

We recognized that even in the best hospitals it is easy for errors to occur and we both opted for teaching hospitals near home.

We created our own visualization program.

We actively participated in the decision making process.

We used meditation but with different emphasis.

We accepted the gifts of prayers from others.

We emphasized spirituality and talking with others.

We both kept a diary but different in nature.

We believed it important to have a caring person attend doctor appointments with us during early days.

We both used a personal relaxation tape.

We believed in a higher power.

We used music as part of the healing process.

We reached out to family and friends.

We, in time, did not dwell on ourselves as our focus turned to other people.

We believed that giving to others is part of self healing.

We believed it was necessary to deflect and eliminate stress.

We listened to our inner voice and instincts.

We accepted what was offered from others.

We walked for exercise.

We read books of affirmations, inspirational thoughts and poetry.

We recognized forgiveness as a part of the healing process.

We used funny videos for humor.

Thoughts were positive, with resolve and perseverance.

There was a need to encourage other cancer patients. We had the idea that with success we must “give back”. We felt it was necessary to speak with other cancer patients to give them hope.

It seemed to me that the course that Margie Levine took, and her amazing results, affirms or validated some of my ideas -- that we can do something rather than give up.

Marjorie would pass away but inspired many.
THE FUTURE

I looked at my future in 1999 and I wondered …

Why have I survived while others have not? Tom Ehrich said he didn’t believe God sits in the heavenly realm deciding who is going to die today. Why I live is a mystery I do not understand. I cannot explain it. I only know that I am grateful. Sometime, during each day, I say, “Thank you for today, thank you for yesterday, and thank you for the anticipation of tomorrow.”

I was not convinced there is a purpose for what befalls us. It is part of life. I rather believe our character and the impact we have on others – good or bad – is shaped by how we deal with what befalls us – good or bad. The fact remains, I don’t know. I just have faith.

I placed a display ad in our local newspaper about my success fighting cancer and that I would like to meet with anyone who may be interested. I visited Dr. Freeman, the original surgeon, a couple of days before my advertised meeting. I had not seen him since my surgery which was about twenty-nine months earlier. He told me that in his entire practice of twenty-five years he had not seen anyone live as I had.

My doctors are my friends. I called Dr. Buys one day and she asked what she could do for me. I told her that I didn’t call for anything except to tell her she was a great lady. I called Dr. Kim to say again, “Thank you”. They, on a sustaining basis, as have many others, held me in the light. I must hold them in high esteem. I can do no less than honor them.

We all need heroes whether or not we have cancer. My heroes were my cousin, Gene, who led me to a surgeon that gave me a second chance and taught me that I didn’t necessarily have to be a statistic. My hero was my oncologist. Imagine, if you will, how difficult it must be to be an oncologist. I understand the odds of their patient surviving a far reaching metastasis to the liver is almost zero. I wonder if they begin their days reading the obituaries.

My hero was an unusual social worker who didn’t spend much time increasing my quality of life while I was waiting to die, though that was probably his original intent, but rather he spent his time helping me in ways he could not have conceived. My heroes were a coordinator and a researcher and a trial study even though it didn’t prove any more effective for many others than conventional treatment. The study was my hero, none the less. It was a hero for me because I believed in it but I supplemented my belief in it with the third leg. My heroes were my family and my friends. My heroes were all those who had good thoughts and “held me in the light” and I am thankful to each one.

They are still my heroes.

In this cancer journey of mine, I asked the soft questions and started conversations because, if I was speaking with another cancer patient, we could share ideas and actions which would help each other. I believed there was more than one way to win the race. There are different routes to the same destination. I’m not certain of all of my paths because there were many distractions.

I believed we must set goals, have faith in faith, have hope and believe in miracles and also believe that part of the miracle may rest in our own palm. We must also have love – love of God or the Divine, love of self and love for others. It should be the natural thing to do.

We are not taught how to survive cancer and that is a tragedy. They don’t teach us how to survive at the doctor’s office or at the hospital. They help us survive but they don’t normally teach us how to do it. They also don’t teach us how to survive at church or home or school. We must believe that death is our enemy if our goal is to live. We must believe that life is truly the greatest of all gifts and that it is a gift which should be treasured with the same intensity as we anticipate eternity.

Some say that it all ends with death. We cannot control what happens in the hereafter. I believe that if we believe there is life after death it affects, in a positive way, how we live our life each day. It is having faith in faith and can become part of the healing process.

They say in funeral lines, “Don’t be sad. He went to a better place.” People tend to say, “When the Lord calls, we should be happy because it is a far better place we are going!” If life is truly a Gift from the Creator, we should honor it and fight to sustain it. The time will come when a different decision may be made but the tragedy is that many agree to not get up and finish the race.

I was asked to make a list about what I had done because I was surviving while others were not. I expect to continue to revise and revisit my thoughts because it forces me to look at the outstanding words of Norman Vincent Peale and the others. When I was sort of down, I would read some of the pages and review the scans and tracings for encouragement. It never failed.

It may be that one of the most important things that I have learned was to learn that writing is therapeutic.

I believed that we must accept new ideas. More doctors were accepting some form of complementary medicine. Dr. Benson said the third leg in the process of healing is self care. We must take part in our own healing. I listened to the advice and counsel of the experts but, in the end, there were decisions which I had to make.

I felt … It requires more of me than just being positive if I want to live. I must be aggressively positive. It requires action with affirmative and optimistic thinking. Some of the action that I took was with the pictures of the tumors and tracings of the liver. I continued to keep them before me and was aggressive in my actions as I thought about them.

Cancer changes us. Earlier, I said that for me it has been a tearful disease. The tears were not necessarily often and certainly not in the open for people to see but they were not far away. I wondered if they would linger after the cancer is gone. It was also a spiritual journey and like the cast from the Wizard of Oz, I wanted to give to others.

During my lifetime, I have changed vocations and avocations several times. If vocation is represented by amount of thought and time spent, my new job is to tell others to not give up.

I cannot predict the future. I had the idea that I wanted to develop a computer game for cancer patients and, as a result, I invested $35,000 of borrowed money into a venture I thought would yield $100,000. I felt I needed that amount for programmers, artists, etc. Things didn’t work out and the money went south. However, I don’t look back because it was part of a magnificent dream that helped me along the road.

In 1999, I didn’t know what the tomorrows would bring. I thought that I would assume the role of the Tin Man and reach out to others with cancer. I thought I would continue to believe that death is my enemy. I believed that wherever I happen to be as I travel through life -- that is my home -- it is where I live. I am not troubled that my home is in the house of cancer.

I set my sights far ahead but I knew I must walk them one day at a time. I will remember that This Is The Day The Lord Has Made. I will remember Good Friday and The Magic Word. I will remember The Gift of Life.

The wind beneath my wings comes from on High.

POSTSCRIPT

Dear Reader,

If you are a cancer patient, we are traveling the same journey. One of my strategies has been to write my thoughts and actions, basically for two reasons. The first reason is a selfish one. I want to live. It has been part of my own self prescribed therapy.

I don’t know when the second reason began to develop. It sort of evolved from a firm conviction that imaging and visualization really works and that the idea of seeing my cancer on a continuing basis, both from scans and tracings, made imaging easier. I had never read that before.

What will follow are a lot of “I believes”. They are my ideas only.

I believe the will to live which lingers within me was intuitive. On December 30^th, 1996, I asked my son to pick up my check book and I would sign a check for a new computer. This was at a time when my family said I knew I had cancer. Even though I must have been overwhelmed about cancer, I wanted a new computer.

I began to believe the doctors when they told me that what has been happening to me was a miracle. I also believed that if it could happen to me, it could happen to others because we were all created the same way. We might be wired a little differently, that’s all.

Everything I wrote about has been important in my recovery, I think. It is for this reason there were four tables offered for your consideration.

Table 1, Lesion History. I believe we should know what our cancer looks like and how it evolves. Therefore, I keep both pictures and tracings because they tell a different story. The table is to maintain a record of the lesions.

Table 2, Prayer List. I don’t pray for God’s will to be done regarding the outcome of cancer because I assume it was His intent that we all live a full life. Therefore, I pray for complete recovery -- for life over death. I believe we should pray for others and that when we know others are praying for us, we ought to acknowledge it and thank them for it. They have honored us.

Table 3, Goals. I believe we need grand goals. I called mine Cadillac goals and not Compact goals. They should be both short and long term.

Table 4, “Where Have All My Friends Gone?” I believe we should reach out to old friends and thank them for having been a part of our life.

I know full well that many who are sharing this journey with me may not agree with anything I have suggested and some who may be inclined to agree may not follow through with any of my suggestions. We each must fight in our own way.

At some point in time, I had brain-washed myself believing that I knew some of what I was talking about, due to my progress, and it became important to share my ideas with others. I admit that I might be completely off base but what if I’m not? What if, just -- what if -- some of these strategies truly work?

I want to introduce you to Julie. Her aunt came to me about September 20^th and told me Julie had been operated on about three months earlier at University Hospital. Her liver was about eighty percent consumed with cancer. They closed her up, told her there was nothing they could do and sent her home.

I can just imagine that Julie didn’t know what to do. She must have been completely overwhelmed. Julie was thirty-four and I was sixty-eight and I was overwhelmed. Julie went home -- out to Skull Valley -- and I don’t know what she did about living but she didn’t see another doctor for three months, just before she came to my attention, and the cancer had spread.

I thought about Julie every day, prayed and “held her in the light”. Julie was born in 1964 and died October 28, 1999. She was thirty-four and pretty but most of all she was a wife and the mother of two small children. I think of her because she was so very young and it seems to me that she fell through the cracks. Hospitals and doctors sometimes make mistakes and things go wrong.

As soon as we learn of our cancer we must begin to save ourselves regardless of what the doctors told us. They are not always right. We must not give up hope.

I needed some computer equipment and went into a store where I have traded in the past. During my visit with the owner, I reminded him that it had been more than three years since I told him of my cancer and the short term prognosis. After a moment or two, he burst out laughing. It was sort of an uncontrollable soft laugh. As he gained his composure, he said his uncle had cancer and the doctors had given him six months. (There’s that six months again.) His uncle told the doctor that he’d better figure out a way to keep him alive longer than that because, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t pay him.

His laughing had pretty much subsided and I asked him how long it had been since that happened. His answer, “Four years and he’s still going strong!” The words may not be exact but they are close.

They say we need a good support base when we have cancer. I believe support is very important but where the support comes from is most critical and, in my opinion, it is not the place normally defined by doctors of cancer or cancer wellness houses or other cancer patients although it is addressed by all. It is not the support which comes from family or friends even though they are important.

The support most needed, I believe, comes from a well deep within us and that may be the crux of the problem. How do we change our personality to become tenacious and stubborn, or even defiant, if what we are is a congenial person who believes that whatever happens to us will be God’s will, or we have faith that the medical folks will do what they can and there is nothing else to do except follow orders.

Can we change the way we are wired?

I am often frustrated because I have sent the rough draft of this book to others with cancer and, for some who I have had some contact. I believe they relied too much on faith alone and too much on doctors alone without adding a plan of their own to the mix. I am not discounting the Faith Factor because I have suggested the importance of faith and spirit throughout.

I wonder though, if some of the agreeable people could modify their personality just a bit – find a support from within, accept that death is not acceptable – could more win the fight? I wonder.

I hope those fellow cancer patients who read this will find it worthwhile and inspire them with ideas which may provide hope for them. We should not agree to die.

Remember, the Magic Word is “Ask”. When you ask for a miracle for yourself, ask for one for another.

COMMENTS

Benjamin Kim, M.D., FACS, Utah Cancer Institute, LLC

Just finished reading your working copy -- it’s both provocative and inspiring. You are not alone -- maybe talking to some other patients will broaden and confirm your hunches.

Saundra S. Buys, M.D., Hematology and Medical Oncology, University of Utah Medical Center

It’s very powerful and will be an asset for many people. Thanks for letting me be a part of this miracle.

Richard A. Bloch, Bloch Cancer Institute, Kansas City, MO

Thank you for your manuscript, My Home is in The House of Cancer. I took it home last night and went over it and believe it can be most helpful to cancer patients. I particularly liked your first page, The Magic Word. I am placing your book in our library so cancer patients may have reference to it.

Susan Schulman, Project Coordinator, Huntsman Cancer Institute

I formally noted the existence of the Vandegrift hypothesis yesterday.

John Conlee, Ph.D., L.C.S.W.

When I first met Bob, he had been diagnosed with colon and liver cancer and was given a short time to live. This grim prognosis only seemed to fuel Bob’s spirit and inspire unshakable determination and commitment to beat the odds. I was just starting to use imagery with cancer patients when Bob devised a novel approach to visualization. Our collaboration comprised only one aspect of Bob’s compelling journey. His book provides a down-to-earth account of how one man did beat the odds.

Jan Freeman, MD, FACS

Hope you are still doing well -- it was great to read your story. I’m always happy to be wrong in these cases -- wish I could be wrong more often.

Margie Levine may be the longest survivor of pleural mesothelioma in the world. She is cancer free and heads up the Boston Institute of Noetic Science, an international education and research organization studying mind body health.

So much of what you did and how you feel remind me of what I did. We have so much in common. There is a part of healing that definitely comes from believing in your own wishes and strengths. It is going with your inner voice.

Bernie S. Siegel, M. D., Author of “How to Live Between Office Visits” and “Peace, Love & Healing”.

It’s too bad we have to learn the hard way -- but you surely have and are filled with wisdom. You are the talented athlete -- who with coaching does get up and win the race. I am less concerned about the accuracy of your words than the truth of your message.

Marcella L. Keck, Attorney and Cancer Patient

I wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed your book. I have been reading many things, including Bernie Siegel’s “Love, Medicine, and Miracles” and Rachel Remen’s “Kitchen Table Wisdom”. I had begun my spiritual journey some time ago, but felt that I wanted to go the next step further. So much in your book was affirming to me -- seeing in print conclusions I had reached and feelings I had. I read it over the holidays. It was a perfect gift for me.

Earlier this fall, a friend who is a recovering alcoholic told me that I would be bombarded with advice about healing as she had been bombarded with advice about sobriety. She, too, gave advice: Take what feels right and leave what doesn’t. Your book does the same thing. It affirms each person’s choice of path, but stresses the importance of a path. It seems to me that your diagnosis encouraged you to rally to life.

I was invited to give a talk at the Intermountain Health Care Cancer Conference in Sandy, Utah on September 29,l 2005. The audience consisted of oncologists, nurses, medical social workers, cancer patients and survivors.

There were about two hundred in attendance.

And so -- this is what I told them:

choose to live

I have six thoughts as an overview.

Cancer is scary … especially when they tell us it is terminal.

We should not make an immediate decision about treatment.

We need a mentor and develop a plan to supplement medical treatment.

We must find a way to jump start our belief system … and hope system ... when ever the dip stick is low.

We must believe we are entitled … and choose to live.

Some of whether or not we live is up to us.

In December, 1996, during surgery, it was found that I had Stage IV colon cancer … with metastasis to both lobes of the liver. When I began my journey with cancer … cure was not in the mind of the first three doctor: the surgeon … the oncologist … and another highly respected surgeon who gave a second opinion. Actually, not one of five doctors expected me to survive.

They would eventually say that my recovery stood out as a medical mystery. They said, “There are always going to be a few patients that respond exceptionally well, for reasons that we don’t understand”.

I like to believe this is a day bent toward the proposition that our heroes are divinely inspired. If our doctors are not our heroes we must find those who are.

I believe we need a team who are our medical heroes including a surgeon, oncologist, nurses and mentor.

Our relationship with our doctors is significant. They are the experts and, too often, they give us no hope. They also, too often, give the family … no hope … and it is contagious.

This is not to suggest there aren’t great doctors who mentor their patients but they are too few and far between.

A doctor … when he gives a terminal prognosis … has no idea about what a patient may have been going through … or thinking about … and how their words and behavior may adversely affect the outcome for the patient.

I was once asked to write an article for a magazine about surviving cancer. One of their requirements was that the word “dying” or “death” could not be used. I said … I couldn’t do it. I had to use those words because those are the words we hear.

We can’t allow the first prognosis to rob us of hope.

In 1942, Winston Churchill was invited to speak at a commencement in England. He repeated three words. Eleven letters. “Nev-ah, nev-ah, nev-ah, nev-ah give up.”

Ben Stein said, “The first step to getting the thing you want out of life is this: Decide what you want.”

Senator Claude Pepper said, “You don’t fall off a bicycle unless you stop pedaling”.

You don’t lose the race unless you don’t get up when you stumble.

I was told that statistically I had six months to two years to live. My family was told I had four to six months … closer to four.

No sooner had the doctor hurried out of the room but a nurse and social worker came in. The social worker said, “Mr. Vandegrift, are you afraid of death?”

I was sent to … an oncologist … and she affirmed that I was going to die. She said that I cold only survive for a short while … with chemotherapy … but I was still going to die.

I was sent for a second opinion and I was told to get my affairs in order because I had only four months to live.

Because of this history, I sometimes wonder, “Why me?” Not why did I get cancer but why am I still perpendicular.

I want to tell you what I did … and talk about strategies and possibilities that I have shared with others.

I focused on hospitals: M. D. Anderson in Houston, a hospital in San Diego and the University of Utah.

I sent a copy of my records to my cousin who is a surgeon. After he studied them, he thought the only chance I had was cryosurgery and he told me he would see if he could locate a surgeon for me. He discovered one at the University of Utah hospital.

When Dr. Benjamin Kim operated … cryosurgery was not an option and they were unable to complete successful surgery.

My decision at the time of the first surgery was that I would not see the oncologist in the hospital. We are asked to see them when we are the most fragile and vulnerable. However, after the second surgery, Dr. Saundra Buys came to see me. She asked me to take part in a clinical trial. It took me about three weeks before I said I would do it.

When we are in the hospital, and the prognosis is bleak, they often send a medical social worker to see us. They sent John Conlee to my room. He became my mentor. All medical social workers are not mentors. We need a mentor and many cancer patients don’t have one.

It was my first visit after the second surgery when Dlr. Kim asked me how I had been. I carried a small book with me which was published by the American Cancer Society. One page portrayed a chart outlining the steps from the beginning of cancer to the end. I told him that … I was on the last … or next to last … step.

One of the most important things I ever learned …. was what I took from his response … because it changed my life and affected how I would deal with cancer. He said: “You may be on the eleventh or twelfth step … but throw that book away. Some of whether or not you survive … is up to you!”

I thought he was telling me that I need to devise a plan to succeed.

I participated in a world-wide clinical trial. There were about 1,210 patients on the study. The drug was known as Capecitabine. After the trial period it became known as Xeloda.

Had I made an immediate decision about treatment … I could not have participated in the clinical trial.

I used visualization. I placed copies of my CT-scans on my computer. I would erase the lesions from the liver each day … several times a day … until I could see them in my mind’s eye … even when doing other thing and not thinking about cancer. I knew what my liver … and tumors … looked like.

I also placed photographs of my liver … with tumors … in a big frame and hung them on my wall in my office so I could look at them … think about them … and wish them gone.

We traced the outline of the liver and tumors with pencil onto paper. I measured the lesions of each slice, and I assigned a value to each one … and totaled them … so I knew their change. I had more confidence in knowing all slices of the liver than any written report by the radiologist.

I also printed the images on paper … and used a razor blade to scrape the tumors off my liver.

Children use flash cards to learn. I made a deck of flash cards.

I turned my terminal cancer into a very serious game.

One of the researchers at the hospital asked me if I would make a list of the things I was doing because I was surviving and others were not. I wrote about my strategy and then there were requests from friends with cancer who wanted to know what I was doing, and so, I began making copies. I finally had Kinko’s print it as a soft cover book.

Writing was part of my therapy. It doesn’t cost a single penny. I tell every one when they are planning their agenda … to write … and re-write … and re-write again.

Do you remember the song, “Sixteen Tons”? “Saint Peter, don’t call … ‘cause I can’t go … I owe my soul to the Company Store”. I went to the bank and borrowed $50,000. I didn’t tell them that I had been given a very short time to live.

In the book, “The Hidden Messages in Water”, there is reference to a doctor who treats his cancer patients with mountain climbing because giving people a reason to live boosts their spirits and their immune system.

I believe our immune system can be positively or negatively impacted by our emotional environment.

One of our sons was going through a particularly difficult family crisis. He told me it was hopeless. I told him he should have a colonoscopy. They removed fifteen inches of his colon.

I decided early on when it comes to a positive attitude, the word “positive” is over spoken and under worked. “Positive” must be an action word … not a description … and that is how it is normally used. I received a colostomy during that operation in 1996 – certainly, a gift I did not want.

As much as I detest it … I know I won’t need diapers … at some time in the future. If I think about my colostomy in this way … that describes an attitude as an adjective.

Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy … because sometimes there is something mean about a colostomy

There is a difference between attitude and investment. I adjusted my attitude about a colostomy and it became a positive attitude. Our strategy needs to include investments … in addition to a positive attitude.

I set goals, long and short term … like the loan from the bank. I figured that I needed a Cadillac dream … not a compact dream … and so I bought a beautiful 1993 pearl Cadillac STS … with the Northstar engine.

I lost $35,000 in a ponzy scheme because I wanted to raise money to develop a cancer fighting computer game. Of course, I didn’t know it was a ponzy scheme and I lost the money.

I think we all wonder why we get some dread disease. “Why me? How had I gotten it?” Well, I had it … and there is sort of denial for a while but that finally passes. No matter how I got it … for whatever the reason … I forgave myself. The need for forgiveness … and to ask for forgiveness where some may be due …. was important.

When it came to prayer, I made a decision not to pray for myself. I prayed for others because I knew others were praying for me.

I wanted my grandmother, Julia, to be my guardian angel. She has been gone from this earth for nearly a century and I have heard many stories about her angelic qualities. I covered the monitor of my computer with her face as wall paper so that I could be reminded of the role I was asking her to play.

I also stuck an angel pin on my wallet so each time I pull it from my pocket … and it snags or hangs up a bit … and it always does … more than a bit … I am reminded that I have a guardian angel at work.

I believe we must listen to our inner voice.

I watched comedy because that is a prescription by some of the experts … and I listened to gospel music when I went to bed … that was my own prescription.

I took vitamins and supplements for a vey short time because I found my tumors growing and I read that some vitamins cause tumor growth.

I am near vegetarian.

I called old friends … some as far back as before 1940. I decided that if they were important to me at one time … I wanted to tell them.

One of them sent some words attributed to an advertising man. The idea of it is to use the “magic” word. The word isn’t magic all by itself but the use of it produces such magical results it seems like magic. The word is ASK.

When I was in the hospital, I asked questions and spoke my mind more than they liked. When I asked for my records … I found they had written that I was a difficult patient … but, that’s okay … maybe, the difficult patients are the ones who survive.

After achieving some success … I reached out to people with cancer … some who I knew and those who I was told about … or read about … because I wanted to give them hope … and I knew a lot of them were in short supply.

It seems go me the person who has been given no hope … probably has no hope.

I advertised with posters and on radio and the newspapers for cancer patients to get together and talk about strategies. I was a patient … not an expert … but, I believed I had something to offer.

I used to subscribe to the Investor’s Business Daily and they listed ten traits that turn dreams into reality. The traits have to do with how we think, deciding on dreams and goals … planning … taking action.

If there is to be profit, there must be investment.

Remember the words from the “Man of La Mancha”? To dream the impossible dream … to fight the unbeatable foe … to bear with unbearable sorrow … to run where the brave dare not go.

To dream and to bear sorrows and brave the fight … these are investments.

There are many unanswered questions about surviving cancer.

I want to share some of my philosophies.

I believe if life is the greatest of all gifts … we should do everything to keep it.

As I see it, we should choose to live and this isn’t necessarily easy for a lot of people.

I believe cancer may have significant spiritual roots.

I believe most of us believe we are fairly spiritual … but if we are … why are we so messed up?

I believe, if our spiritual health did not play a role before cancer, it very well may when our doctor tells us that we are going to die.

We cannot separate love from gratitude. We can’t have one without the other. I believe we should be thankful for life. Each day I say, “Thank you for today, thank you for yesterday, and thank you for the anticipation of tomorrow.” I believe in yesterday, today and many tomorrows.

I know I am blest … blest because at age 68, Stage IV colon cancer made a profound change in my life.

Death is my enemy and I see nothing the matter with this idea even though a number of people have told me it is wrong. I know that at some time in the future, grace will set in and death will be my enemy no longer.

Dr. Dean Ornish speaks on the healing power of love. Let me quote “I am not aware of any other factor in medicine … not diet … not smoking … not exercise … not stress … not genetics … not drugs … not surgery .. that has a greater impact on illness, and premature death from all causes.”

He argues that love and intimacy are a root of what makes us sick and what makes us well … what causes sadness and what brings happiness ... what makes us suffer and what makes us heal.

He says the real epidemic in our culture is what he calls emotional and spiritual heart disease … the profound sense of loneliness, isolation, alienation and depression that are so prevalent.

And, with that, I think of our son and fifteen inches of lost colon.

When we are given a grim prognosis … we need to keep looking. It was the fourth doctor when I found one who would do something.

I met Mikki. Her home was Pocatello and she said she was living the good life in Florida when she was diagnosed with incurable brain cancer. She could not find one solitary doctor or hospital that would help- her.

She and her husband sold everything they had … and scoured the country looking for help-. Finally, in North Carolina … on their 19^th stop … a doctor at the hospital agreed to see her. The surgery was prolonged and difficult but when I saw her last, she said … she’s in love with life.

The lesson is simple though the answer may be elusive … don’t quit looking! We should not quit with the first two or three terminal predictions.

I have suggested to a number of patients to get additional opinions. No cancer patient should be married to their oncologist.

Dave lives in West Valley City. His oncologist told him they had done all they could do. Dave asked for a copy of his medical records in order to get another opinion. His oncologist asked, “Why? Why would you do that?” Why not?

Our emotions are fragile and we don’t stay emotionally up all the time … sometimes, there is a let down. We can’t help it. Perhaps, it’s the side effects of chemotherapy or just the awareness of our situation. Visualization on the computer … the scans and the tracings … and the proof to me that I was making progress … lifted me up and gave me hope. Hope is a necessity.

Some cancer patients don’t talk about what they are going through … or the future. I remember speaking with a young lady in Florida whose mother was shutting her … and her siblings … out. She didn’t want to talk to them about it.

I didn’t know them. I had spoken with one of the daughters and the mother on the phone a couple of times. I called the mother and relayed that her children … and these were adult children … really needed to be able to talk with her and she was not letting that happen.

I called the mother later on. The family had rented a house in Charleston for a week … and they talked … and she said it was a great visit.

I wonder how doctors would feel if they knew what some of their patients say.

Natalia from Montreal sent me an email. The doctors gave her 58-year old mother six months to live. She said, “The doctors do not cooperate with us to cure her but do everything to discourage us and put us down.”

If I had three wishes: Doctors would not steal hope from their patients. Every cancer patient would have a mentor … one who would help with hope and strategies. Max DePree, a mentor in both the corporate and non-profit world, said he once heard a wonderful description of the work of a mentor: A bird doesn’t sing because it has a message. It sings because it has a song.

Finally … the third wish … for patients to not give up. There probably is a time when the medical folks legitimately say, “We can’t do anything more” but that is still not the time for the patient to give up.

I believe if I succeeded … others can, too.

I’ve shared my thoughts with many people. There have been thousands of visits on my web page.

I have appreciated some very welcome comments.

Dr. Lauren Langford of the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston wrote and said: “Most everybody will have a chronic disease and we all need your approach.”

I received a letter some time ago from Dr. James S. Gordon who is president of the Center for Mind-Body Medicine. He said, “I really appreciate the courage, common sense, and beauty of the work that you’ve been doing and the generosity with which you share it.”

Those letters mean a great deal to me but not nearly as much as some I receive from patients.

A letter I received from Marsanne in Shreveport read: “It was great talking with you today. Your remarkable story is a gift, not only to you and your family, but also to the thousands of others, like us, who find hope in a place where there was NONE. Thanks for taking time to talk to Mom.”

And, from Anne in Maryland: “ … You were the first person to offer us hope and it has taken a strong hold! I am really beginning to understand what you meant when you said the doctors teach us about the disease but we must teach ourselves how to survive! … because of you we have not wasted a moment in despair.”

Her husband … after reading my thoughts … leased a new Lexus on a three year plan.

Some way … we must find a jump start. Kathleen, in Minnesota … had lung cancer for quite some time … during those days, she was bedridden … oxygen full time … too weak to get out of bed by herself. The day came when they all thought she might not survive the day. She accepted the inevitable.

But, something happened that day. The word spread that she was close to the end … and one who called her was her lawyer. She had been a best selling author of history romance. She told me that her lawyer was an “unbeliever” and that she had witnessed to him … and as they talked the thought crossed her mind … that if she lived … perhaps, he would believe. She felt a tiny singe of hope.

The next day, she received a phone call from her daughter-in-law’s sister who said she dreamt that Kathy lived and she took that as affirmation that she would be healed.

The tumors shrunk to more than half their original size and have not changed in more than a year.

Imagine … this thought … that if she lived … an unbeliever might believe. It was a dream of affirmation.

Not very scientific, is it?

These were jump starts. We can’t under estimate them … or the power of the mind and the spirit and the soul.

We are entitled to live but we must make some investments in addition to medical treatment … and be blest … and be lucky.

These past years have been an adventure. Not the usual kind of adventure, to be sure, but one none the less.

We don’t know where the hand that guides us … will take us. I’m nearly 82. I intend to keep telling people what I have been telling them: Choose to live. Listen to your inner voice. Create a strategy. Don’t give up. Find a reason to live. We are entitled to win.

I would not have survived had I become a patient of the first oncologist I was referred to.

Nor would I have survived if I had depended entirely on pharmaceuticals … and the results of the clinical trial support that opinion.

I attribute my well being to a long list.

This truly is a day of celebration.

I heard a story from the pulpit about a person who served seven years in prison. He was just a fair golfer before he went to prison but while he was there he visualized himself playing golf and swinging the club properly. He practiced often, maybe daily. After he served his time he played a game of golf and he had greatly improved his game. Had it all come from his mind? Was it the power of visualization?

a great secret

I like cowboy poetry. Let me share a piece by S. Omar Barker … and tie it in with some of my thoughts about cancer.

purt near

They called him purt near Perkins, for unless the bugger lied.
He'd purt near been a preacher and he'd purt near roped a bear,
He'd met up with Comanchees once, and purt near lost his hair.
He’d purt near done most everything that he had ever tried.

He'd purt near wed an heiress who had money by the keg.
He'd purt near had the measles and he'd