I guess you could say I'm a skeptic. It seems to be my natural propensity to look at things carefully. I want to know the "why", the "wherefore", the "how come".
And so when I read about "cancer cures" on the internet I'm a bit skeptical.
I've read about the Budwig diet, anti-oxidants, the use of special Essiac tea. The internet is full of claims for cures.
In addition there are books, books, books by cancer survivors (some of whom have since succumbed). Some of those books are written by Hollywood glams who claim to be an expert on cancer and surviving same. I seldom go to Hollywood for words of wisdom about anything...so those books are already deleted from my "to read" list.
It annoys me no end that advocates of so-called natural cures have never submitted their "cure" to clinical trials. Or, if they claim to have done so, the number of participants is a handful. Maybe twenty people. Anyone who has done statistical studies knows that you have to have a large enough number of participants so that one aberrant result does not mess up the percentages...so that you can duplicate the test and find the same results in a second population.
It annoys me no end that these advocates receive income from their espousal of the "cure". Book sales. Vitamin sales.
It annoys me to read their multiple testimonials from people who survived cancer. They survived for awhile. I don't know how long they lived after writing their fine testimonial. I don't really know if they lived any longer than if they had never used the supplements/cures/remedies.
It annoys me that they never give you statistics...such as..."we have had 50,000 people follow our methods and 49,999 have survived cancer a full five years beyond the life span of the 50,000 who were treated only by chemo." I never see the numbers.
No...they sell "hype". Only they spell it "hope".
The hype spreads like wild fire. And here is how it spreads. Someone on chemo also takes a supplement. They feel well. So instead of attributing that to being one of the fortunate ones helped by the chemo, they swear that it is the tea or the cottage cheese or the flax oil or the...you name it.
You see, I would be saying the same if I had been adding one of these regimens to my chemo. For you see, I "feel" exceptionally well. I'm in my 60s and I feel "well" in spite of doing chemo on a weekly basis. I feel good physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. And if I had been using one of these protocols along with the chemo, I would be giving all the credit to the "remedy". It would be a false conclusion for I am (currently) doing well WITHOUT the supplements.
On the other hand...if you have investigated carefully and have run this past your oncologist first, go for it. If Essiac tea is your thing, great! If eating cottage cheese and flax oil gives you a feeling of hope, go for it. Hope is not a bad thing. Just try to read beyond the hype.
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Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Encouragement in the Moment
A quick-shop sixty miles from home is not exactly the place where you might expect to have a mini-confab with other cancer patients. But there I was...and there they were.
I was at the register, paying for a couple bottles of juice and a handful of snacks. The clerk asked if I had "membership savings" or some such thing. I smiled and said, "No. But does that mean I get no special considerations?"
For the life of me, I can't imagine why I blurted out my next words. They were unplanned and certainly not serious, for I was laughing when I said them. I had tugged my scarf a bit higher on my bald forehead and said, "What about cancer? Does that count?" In terms of special consideration, that is. And, then, I thought to myself, "Wow, that was a silly thing to say!"
The clerk, a young woman about 35 years old, looked me straight in the eye and replied, "I had cancer. Three times!"
And then, the woman behind me added this, "My daughter had leukemia when she was nine months old!"
We looked at each other in amazement. The clerk was in remission. The daughter was well. I reassured them that my hair-destroying chemo was treating me kindly.
As she gave me my change, the clerk grasped my hand tightly, sharing her heartfelt "Be well!". The three of us looked at each other one last time as we parted.
I left, thinking, "Wow!"
.
I was at the register, paying for a couple bottles of juice and a handful of snacks. The clerk asked if I had "membership savings" or some such thing. I smiled and said, "No. But does that mean I get no special considerations?"
For the life of me, I can't imagine why I blurted out my next words. They were unplanned and certainly not serious, for I was laughing when I said them. I had tugged my scarf a bit higher on my bald forehead and said, "What about cancer? Does that count?" In terms of special consideration, that is. And, then, I thought to myself, "Wow, that was a silly thing to say!"
The clerk, a young woman about 35 years old, looked me straight in the eye and replied, "I had cancer. Three times!"
And then, the woman behind me added this, "My daughter had leukemia when she was nine months old!"
We looked at each other in amazement. The clerk was in remission. The daughter was well. I reassured them that my hair-destroying chemo was treating me kindly.
As she gave me my change, the clerk grasped my hand tightly, sharing her heartfelt "Be well!". The three of us looked at each other one last time as we parted.
I left, thinking, "Wow!"
.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Littlest One Wants Cheerios This Morning!
There are times in life that we might call an "Era". Times that are long in years, in sorrows, in difficulties. Times that turn into an "Era".
This week, our family has ended an Era and begun a new one.
You see, there were six of us kids. Four boys. Two girls. I grew up in the middle of four boys, in the middle of Iowa farm land, in the middle of my father's life. He was 46 when I was born. Mom, thankfully, was much younger!
My dad worked hard for us. He wasn't a genius in the ways of "today" and he would never have held down a white collar job. No, my dad was a man of the earth. Born in a log cabin (yep, he was and I am, that old!) on a homestead in Midland County, Michigan. His twin sister died within a month. Dad was the scrawny twin but he lived.
On a homestead you worked the earth. And survived. Dad told us stories of fishing when the fish were plentiful and of his grandfather (my great-grandfather, fresh here from Germany) following honey bees to troves of honey. He worked. He worked hard. When they moved to Nebraska it meant more work. By the sweat of the brow.
My parents had two sons born in Nebraska. Then they moved in the midst of winter to a new place in Iowa. There were four more moves when farm ventures proved not enough to take care of his family. But he stilled worked. And still by the sweat of the brow. And even though we were poor (we kids didn't realize that!) he kept a roof over our heads and food on a sometimes skimpy table.
But what I began to write about this morning is what happened later.
My oldest brother graduated from high school and attended a business school in Minnesota so that he could get a job and begin his own adult life. My brother met his wife there. And they married. And they moved to Michigan where their children were born. Their family grew to seven children. And then life fell apart. My brother spent a year fighting lymphoma before dying as a relatively young man. His widow was heart-broken. His children as well.
I won't go into the "how" of it but we lost contact with my nieces and nephews. They, in turn, were too young to know how to contact us in Iowa. They lost us. And we lost them.
Over the years we wondered where they were. And since we could not find them, we hoped one of them would find us. The story is too long.
Suffice it to say that this week my oldest brother's oldest son walked the farm ground where his father grew up. His children are seeing where their grandfather was raised. They're seeing old photographs and hearing old family stories and meeting their grandmother (great-grandmother), aunt, uncles, cousins.
That era of being lost from each other is over. We're in contact with five of the seven. This week my mother is seeing her grandson and her great-grandchildren for the first time. It is a tearful and a joyful week for all of us.
And now I need to get up out of this chair for we are going to drive to Nebraska to view the farms where my mother and my father each grew up. We will look out over the hills where they spent their childhoods. It will be a good day.
In the kitchen I hear the littlest one. He's saying, "I want Cheerios!". Gotta go!
.
This week, our family has ended an Era and begun a new one.
You see, there were six of us kids. Four boys. Two girls. I grew up in the middle of four boys, in the middle of Iowa farm land, in the middle of my father's life. He was 46 when I was born. Mom, thankfully, was much younger!
My dad worked hard for us. He wasn't a genius in the ways of "today" and he would never have held down a white collar job. No, my dad was a man of the earth. Born in a log cabin (yep, he was and I am, that old!) on a homestead in Midland County, Michigan. His twin sister died within a month. Dad was the scrawny twin but he lived.
On a homestead you worked the earth. And survived. Dad told us stories of fishing when the fish were plentiful and of his grandfather (my great-grandfather, fresh here from Germany) following honey bees to troves of honey. He worked. He worked hard. When they moved to Nebraska it meant more work. By the sweat of the brow.
My parents had two sons born in Nebraska. Then they moved in the midst of winter to a new place in Iowa. There were four more moves when farm ventures proved not enough to take care of his family. But he stilled worked. And still by the sweat of the brow. And even though we were poor (we kids didn't realize that!) he kept a roof over our heads and food on a sometimes skimpy table.
But what I began to write about this morning is what happened later.
My oldest brother graduated from high school and attended a business school in Minnesota so that he could get a job and begin his own adult life. My brother met his wife there. And they married. And they moved to Michigan where their children were born. Their family grew to seven children. And then life fell apart. My brother spent a year fighting lymphoma before dying as a relatively young man. His widow was heart-broken. His children as well.
I won't go into the "how" of it but we lost contact with my nieces and nephews. They, in turn, were too young to know how to contact us in Iowa. They lost us. And we lost them.
Over the years we wondered where they were. And since we could not find them, we hoped one of them would find us. The story is too long.
Suffice it to say that this week my oldest brother's oldest son walked the farm ground where his father grew up. His children are seeing where their grandfather was raised. They're seeing old photographs and hearing old family stories and meeting their grandmother (great-grandmother), aunt, uncles, cousins.
That era of being lost from each other is over. We're in contact with five of the seven. This week my mother is seeing her grandson and her great-grandchildren for the first time. It is a tearful and a joyful week for all of us.
And now I need to get up out of this chair for we are going to drive to Nebraska to view the farms where my mother and my father each grew up. We will look out over the hills where they spent their childhoods. It will be a good day.
In the kitchen I hear the littlest one. He's saying, "I want Cheerios!". Gotta go!
.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
One Last Touch --- A Very Old One!
You might like to read my version of This Old House. That's where I salvaged these glass handles (four of them) from the kitchen. With my brother's strong help. The bolts were rusted. Just click here.The handles were covered with old paint so I soaked them in ammonia and simply wiped them clean. Must have been latex paint as I'm not certain that would work on oil based paint. But I'm no expert, so if you wanna try that, go ahead.
Found some fittings at the hardware store and installed these on the four cupboard doors behind the tub. I love that these are "originals" from "Our Old House" and not modern, new ones from the store.
Nobody else knows but me (and you) but it pleases me to know. I'll have good memories every time I open these doors.
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Friday, April 16, 2010
Google Earth and 1944 German POWs in Iowa
There's a treasure trove in that building. At least, there used to be when I worked there.
For thirty-three years I worked as a secretary at the local Soil and Water Conservation District. My job was paperwork. I was the expert on paperwork in our office. I knew the manuals, the guidelines, the correspondence. I created files. I purged files. The files were my territory.
Housed in the office were several sets of aerial photos of the county. We had complete county coverage for the years 1936, 1940, 1949, 1954, 1960, 1966, 1973, 1980, 1985. It's been awhile, so I may be off a year or so on one or another.
Some years the photos were smaller in terms of miles to the inch. These smaller sets were stored in drawers or boxes. Others were larger, eight inches to the mile, and were housed on shelves in a small storage room. In our work with farmers we used photos nearly every hour of every day.
The 1936 photos had soil survey information inked thereon. They provided valuable soil information to farmer and technician alike and one could look at a field and know that corn would do well on this area but the soil over in that corner would be full of clay, too wet in the spring, too dry and cracked in dry season. Knowing your ground is valuable to a farmer. We gave him that knowledge.
The 1940 set gave stereoptic coverage. The photos were taken with two cameras on the plane, placed just the right distance apart that two side-by-side photos were just slightly different. One could place the two photos on the desk, overlapping them just right and with a special stereoptic glass, view them in 3-D. It was fascinating to look down on housetops and trees and hills and ditches. Leafless trees of a winter in 1940 still cast their shadows. One could even guess what time of day the photo was taken by orienting north/side and by analyzing the shadow. One could say those maps were the "google earth" of that time!
One day a lady came into our office and asked to see the 1949 aerial photos. Her father, who had been the town doctor during the 1940s-1960s, had been the "camp doctor" at a German prisoner of war camp west of the small town of Onawa, out by the Missouri River. As a young girl she used to ride with her father when he drove out to provide medical care to the men.
I helped her find the location on the maps and she pointed out to me the buildings where German POWs lived prior to the end of World War II.
I wish I had asked more questions. According to this article, the men were working on stabilizing the banks of the Missouri River. The camp, as a branch camp of the one at Algona, Iowa, probably housed fewer than 100 men at any one time, and most times, fewer even than that.
The buildings of the camp are now long gone. But their presence is still on the maps.
I hope the Soil and Water Conservation District never lets go of those aerial maps.
And I wonder what kind of aircraft flew that 1936 flight!
Disclaimer: This photo is not the actual aerial of the camp mentioned herein.
.
For thirty-three years I worked as a secretary at the local Soil and Water Conservation District. My job was paperwork. I was the expert on paperwork in our office. I knew the manuals, the guidelines, the correspondence. I created files. I purged files. The files were my territory.
Housed in the office were several sets of aerial photos of the county. We had complete county coverage for the years 1936, 1940, 1949, 1954, 1960, 1966, 1973, 1980, 1985. It's been awhile, so I may be off a year or so on one or another.
Some years the photos were smaller in terms of miles to the inch. These smaller sets were stored in drawers or boxes. Others were larger, eight inches to the mile, and were housed on shelves in a small storage room. In our work with farmers we used photos nearly every hour of every day.
The 1936 photos had soil survey information inked thereon. They provided valuable soil information to farmer and technician alike and one could look at a field and know that corn would do well on this area but the soil over in that corner would be full of clay, too wet in the spring, too dry and cracked in dry season. Knowing your ground is valuable to a farmer. We gave him that knowledge.
The 1940 set gave stereoptic coverage. The photos were taken with two cameras on the plane, placed just the right distance apart that two side-by-side photos were just slightly different. One could place the two photos on the desk, overlapping them just right and with a special stereoptic glass, view them in 3-D. It was fascinating to look down on housetops and trees and hills and ditches. Leafless trees of a winter in 1940 still cast their shadows. One could even guess what time of day the photo was taken by orienting north/side and by analyzing the shadow. One could say those maps were the "google earth" of that time!
One day a lady came into our office and asked to see the 1949 aerial photos. Her father, who had been the town doctor during the 1940s-1960s, had been the "camp doctor" at a German prisoner of war camp west of the small town of Onawa, out by the Missouri River. As a young girl she used to ride with her father when he drove out to provide medical care to the men.
I helped her find the location on the maps and she pointed out to me the buildings where German POWs lived prior to the end of World War II.
I wish I had asked more questions. According to this article, the men were working on stabilizing the banks of the Missouri River. The camp, as a branch camp of the one at Algona, Iowa, probably housed fewer than 100 men at any one time, and most times, fewer even than that.
The buildings of the camp are now long gone. But their presence is still on the maps.
I hope the Soil and Water Conservation District never lets go of those aerial maps.
And I wonder what kind of aircraft flew that 1936 flight!
Disclaimer: This photo is not the actual aerial of the camp mentioned herein.
.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I Dare You to Say that Ten Times - Real Fast!
Eyjafjallajokull, pronounced ay-yah-FYAH'-plah-yer-kuh-duhl. (Ooops, another website says to pronounce it AY-uh-full-ay-ho-kul.) Take your choice. I dare you to say that real fast ten times.
That's the name of the glacier in Iceland beneath which a volcanic eruption is currently spewing a plume of ash up to 7 miles into the atmosphere. You can read more here.
A huge cloud of ash has spread over northern Europe, halting all air traffic, leaving thousands stranded. Aircraft do not do well flying through clouds of volcanic debris. It's just not safe. And so people are stranded.
Funny how this ol' "earth" keeps us on our toes. We go along, thinking life is routine, that we are in charge of our daily affairs. And then some volcano erupts, spewing darkness, destruction and disruption into our lives. And all the while we thought we were in control of life's events.
It is true that there are some things in life that we control. For the most part our decision to get a job, pay the bills, create a home can be carried out by due diligence and perseverance. In my early working life I worked in a plant that manufactured electrical components for the space industry. Then a move back to Iowa took me to a job as a check-out clerk at the local grocery store. Then a friend encouraged (badgered) me into applying for a job that I worked for the next 33 years...a job that provided good benefits and good retirement. But at the time I didn't think of the retirement...I just wanted a good pay check. But not everyone is fortunate enough to find a good job, no matter how diligent. Look at those areas of the world where poverty abounds. Life is uncertain.
As for the volcano? This earth is groaning. Volcanoes. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Tornadoes. Hurricanes. Hail. Floods.
The earth we live on is not a constant planet. Things happen. Volcanoes erupt. Life is not easy. Even to those who seem to have it all. The young, the beautiful, the blooming. No, life is not easy. And it is good to recognize early in life that without the provisions that God provides (divine providence), we would have nothing. Not an ounce of clear air to breathe. Not a single stalk of wheat to eat. Not an acre of ground over which to sweat as we beat back the weeds of life.
The words that God spoke to Adam, spoken as due penalty to his sin of disobedience, were to him and to all his descendants. That's us. We're in this with Adam.
By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return." Genesis 3:17-19
And in context of the world we live upon we see our dilemna more fully spoken by Paul to the Romans.
For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. Romans 8:22. All of creation deals with chaos and catastrophy. And we live in the midst of it.
Thankfully, someday...Some Day...the destruction will be done. And all things will be made new.
Rev. 21:4-5 ..He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.".And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new " And He said, "Write, for these words are faithful and true."
In the meantime we live here and now. Take care of the matters of today. Take care of your loved ones. Be kind to one another. Recognize that God is the one in control; and not you.
.
That's the name of the glacier in Iceland beneath which a volcanic eruption is currently spewing a plume of ash up to 7 miles into the atmosphere. You can read more here.
A huge cloud of ash has spread over northern Europe, halting all air traffic, leaving thousands stranded. Aircraft do not do well flying through clouds of volcanic debris. It's just not safe. And so people are stranded.
Funny how this ol' "earth" keeps us on our toes. We go along, thinking life is routine, that we are in charge of our daily affairs. And then some volcano erupts, spewing darkness, destruction and disruption into our lives. And all the while we thought we were in control of life's events.
It is true that there are some things in life that we control. For the most part our decision to get a job, pay the bills, create a home can be carried out by due diligence and perseverance. In my early working life I worked in a plant that manufactured electrical components for the space industry. Then a move back to Iowa took me to a job as a check-out clerk at the local grocery store. Then a friend encouraged (badgered) me into applying for a job that I worked for the next 33 years...a job that provided good benefits and good retirement. But at the time I didn't think of the retirement...I just wanted a good pay check. But not everyone is fortunate enough to find a good job, no matter how diligent. Look at those areas of the world where poverty abounds. Life is uncertain.
As for the volcano? This earth is groaning. Volcanoes. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Tornadoes. Hurricanes. Hail. Floods.
The earth we live on is not a constant planet. Things happen. Volcanoes erupt. Life is not easy. Even to those who seem to have it all. The young, the beautiful, the blooming. No, life is not easy. And it is good to recognize early in life that without the provisions that God provides (divine providence), we would have nothing. Not an ounce of clear air to breathe. Not a single stalk of wheat to eat. Not an acre of ground over which to sweat as we beat back the weeds of life.
The words that God spoke to Adam, spoken as due penalty to his sin of disobedience, were to him and to all his descendants. That's us. We're in this with Adam.
By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return." Genesis 3:17-19
And in context of the world we live upon we see our dilemna more fully spoken by Paul to the Romans.
For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. Romans 8:22. All of creation deals with chaos and catastrophy. And we live in the midst of it.
Thankfully, someday...Some Day...the destruction will be done. And all things will be made new.
Rev. 21:4-5 ..He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.".And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new " And He said, "Write, for these words are faithful and true."
In the meantime we live here and now. Take care of the matters of today. Take care of your loved ones. Be kind to one another. Recognize that God is the one in control; and not you.
.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
It Pays to Be Cautious Out There. Real Cautious!
There are six of us in the room. The waiting room. We're each there to see the eye doctor. Except me. I'm the designated driver.
I'm not conducive to conversation this day...last Friday I had the heavy dosage of chemo (three drug combo) and my body feels tired and heavy. I'm motating okay. I'm just a bit quiet. And a tad grumpy.
The room is tiny...only 10 or 12 chairs and a tiny shelf holding magazines. A small room makes for conversation.
The older couple across the room (older than I by perhaps two decades) are conversationalists. They have already mentioned that the hubby has been getting shots in his eyes for macular degeneration. He's been doing that for some time. His driver's license is up for renewal soon. He hopes he will be able to pass the vision test.
Wifey reassures us with, "Bob is really an excellent driver." And then she adds this bit of information about herself..."I'm the sign reader. I see them good."
Bob feels he needs to fill in the blanks. He adds, "I don't want to take my eyes off the road." While she reads the signs, that is.
They like to drive to San Antonio each year. I checked it on mapquest. That's 982 miles due south of here.
If you're on the road between Iowa and Texas it's probably a good idea to be cautious on the highway. Real cautious. Just sayin'.
P.S. Today's word is "motate"! Can you believe "motate" is not in the dictionary? I've been using this word from way back. I can't believe it's not in Webster's! I found the definition in an online "unword" dictionary. Go figure. Then motate on down the highway.
I'm not conducive to conversation this day...last Friday I had the heavy dosage of chemo (three drug combo) and my body feels tired and heavy. I'm motating okay. I'm just a bit quiet. And a tad grumpy.
The room is tiny...only 10 or 12 chairs and a tiny shelf holding magazines. A small room makes for conversation.
The older couple across the room (older than I by perhaps two decades) are conversationalists. They have already mentioned that the hubby has been getting shots in his eyes for macular degeneration. He's been doing that for some time. His driver's license is up for renewal soon. He hopes he will be able to pass the vision test.
Wifey reassures us with, "Bob is really an excellent driver." And then she adds this bit of information about herself..."I'm the sign reader. I see them good."
Bob feels he needs to fill in the blanks. He adds, "I don't want to take my eyes off the road." While she reads the signs, that is.
They like to drive to San Antonio each year. I checked it on mapquest. That's 982 miles due south of here.
If you're on the road between Iowa and Texas it's probably a good idea to be cautious on the highway. Real cautious. Just sayin'.
P.S. Today's word is "motate"! Can you believe "motate" is not in the dictionary? I've been using this word from way back. I can't believe it's not in Webster's! I found the definition in an online "unword" dictionary. Go figure. Then motate on down the highway.
- (mō'tāt)
1. (v.) To leave.
Origins: From Latin movEre, to move, and -atus, to act upon; possibly related to the use of a motorized vehicle.
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