As for me, I’ve had a recent visit from “Miss Kitty,”  who is a scientist-turned-activist for alternative health. She came laden with organic veggies, supplements and other gifts, and most importantly: knowledge. We sorted through my cabinets and supply of herbs and nutra-ceuticals, dumping out old items I no longer need and tightening my daily plan in a much more manageable way. This has already helped simplify my self-appointed cancer therapies.

She also brought a tire, which was ‘donated’ by a couple of her friends so that I could get back on the road. Can’t tell you what a relief that was! And the local tire place in Clearlake set me back up for a mere $15.00.

You’ll be glad to know my swamp cooler was repaired soon after my last post on here, so I am no longer suffering through those three-figure temperature days. Hallelujah! And the deer netting seems to be keeping the local four-legged diners at bay. I still need to mount posts so that it doesn’t look so haphazard – another project I hope to attend to in the near future.

My energy returns in either little bursts or fiery waves that can last a couple days. During the latest wave, somehow I managed to get my book, Everyone’s a Guru out on Kindle! I have to thank David Burch for inspiring that, and giving me some good advice.

Print version coming in August!

AND right now, until July 22nd, you and any Kindle users you know can get it for FREE. I’m delighted to be able to offer this book for 90 days of free reading to the Kindle Lending Library, and so far, more than 200 people have procured it!  You can find it by visiting this link:

Even more exciting is the print version should be out sometime between August first and the middle of the month. It’s taken a year to get to this again, due to the various challenges. But I’m very much looking forward to feedback, thoughtful reviews and hopefully a good number of sales so that I begin to regain my financial independence.

Tonight my daughter is opening the Hartford Jazz Festival. My powerhouse granddaughter will be singing “My Romance” and her mother will lead her quintet through original compositions of jazz and Latin jazz or salsa. It’s a big deal and I’m very proud and excited for them.

Thank you for all you are doing to better our world, and for the ongoing help,  support  and encouragement you have extended my way.

Eternally grateful,

Deb

Visiting Brassfield as “Svetlana” – photo taken by KC

She just came by with a pot of tulips and a bunch of seed packets (bless her!), which hopefully I’ll muster the energy to get in the ground. Growing things has always brought me great pleasure. And I’m being as patient as possible, as I’m not able to do all I’d like to be doing in the yard at this time. I mean the big landscape plans I imagined when I moved in. Right now, I have to be content with staring at blooms.

I’m on a two-week break from chemotherapy. It’s not like when the chemo stops you suddenly feel “normal” again. Far from it. I’m on this break because at my last appointment I totally lost it, the grief showed itelf, my body feels too broken, and I told my doc what I felt was involved with the metaphysics of all this dis-ease. He suggested therapy – good idea, actually. I’m all for it. And am still waiting for the various folks involved in setting that up to get their act together so I can begin.

I lost a few other things that day, too, including a crystal that fell out of one of my favorite necklaces and half of one of my front teeth.

So, since there’s not too much more I can do about any of those things, I keep returning to where I spend a lot of time these days… the garden of my heart. Which is where I tend to nurture the blossoms that are all my relationships. . .

But you want to know one of the hardest side-effects of having cancer? I’m not just talking chemo here. I mean being sick in general with a life-threatening disease. People vanish. The lovely “flowers” that may once have been part of the garden of my heart are drying up and disappearing, one by one. And I can’t say I blame them. It’s just an observation.

Yes, cancer is hard. A lot of people can’t handle being around someone who has it, even though cancer is not contagious. Or they don’t have a clue what to say – even tho’ “hello” is a nice start. Or maybe who you are now isn’t the same as their fantasy of the once-powerful and attractive you. Or they are too afraid to see what’s really happening in someone’s life and they don’t want their own life contaminated.
Or they feel helpless and embarrassed by your “condition.” Or maybe their dance card is full.

So the texting, emails, phone calls and sharing on social sites slows way down. Mail stops. You are forgotten. And believe me, when you live alone, you notice.

Of course everyone has their own life to tend to, growing their own garden – whether a creative venture, new relationships, that job they’re lucky to have or even those rows of vegetables. (Preferably organic with no Roundup or GMOs for miles and miles.)

So I have learned to have no expectations while simply plucking out any “weeds” that might stab me, cause a rash, or choke out the flowers I know will endure.

Then there are the few, the very few, who continue to reach out no matter if you have the energy to respond. The love goes out unconditionally. . . steadily and purely.

Like those few, rare roses who know full well that you are likely resting or incapacitated, but they leave a phone message to say something loving or funny or just to let you know you’re in their thoughts. Or they send beautiful music videos or post something to your Facebook page, just to lift your spirits and share the love.

And I bless them all for it. Because every tiny seed (whether a $5.00 bill in a card, some 80s group singing a love song, or those photos of goofy cats) contributes to a bouquet that I hold onto each day with a ribbon of hope. I carry this bouquet with me every moment of the day. And I want you to know that you are among the flowers I hold dearest. You are among the rare perennials that I cherish. Yes, I know this whole thing is cliche, but love in any form is beyond that. And at the moment I have just enough energy to put this together to remind you that even though you may not realize it, every teeny tiny as well as every major thing you have done matters hugely.

For example, the simple act of following this blog lets me know you care. And I thank you. I know it’s not easy to read about someone’s life getting turned upside down. I know it’s not easy to stomach some of the heartache and challenges experienced by someone dealing with cancer.

But there you are. Right there. Taking time out to sit with me a moment. Wow. How beautiful is that!

Thank you for your prayers, for your love, for letting others know, and for every word or gesture that softens each day a little.

I wish I could give each of you a real bouquet filled with bright colors and delicious scents. I wish it would last your entire lifetime. So, close your eyes and hold out your hands. Then imagine it so… and take your pic …

I love you.

But the happiness doesn’t show up as a layer of clothing might, or anything of an outer nature. It’s subtle, an internal cloak that prevents me from losing my mind on days such as these. And though it’s less easy for anyone else to witness, it’s present and thankfully, I can feel it between the growlings of a taxed digestive system and the squeaking of bones as I shuffle around, trying to pretend I’m just fine.

I’m not really sad about anything in particular. It’s more like I’m holding a big glass bowl that’s overflowing with compassion for a world askew, a world that seems to have lost track of love.

I am sad not to be holding my children at this time, or laughing with friends, dancing on a moonlit beach somewhere, or tilling in a garden. But other things that brought on sadness today included learning of the dead and missing sailors from a San Francisco-based yacht race; reading a sister cancer patient’s list of cancer “embarrassments” (all of which I relate to); and realizing my utter sense of helplessness … I just can’t DO anything to help the homeless, the hurting, the poor, the hungry. Not even the animals or this overly abused planet of ours. So, sure, I shift my thinking, invoke peace and love, and try to let things be.

Today was the Greek Easter celebration. I didn’t go to the nearest Orthodox church to participate in services. I didn’t go anywhere, rather stayed home, dull, ineffective and utterly exhausted. Napping helped some. But fatigue isn’t always resolved by sleep. The fatigue prevented any form of my own body’s resurrection, with the exception of one early moment.

Fred, the rooster who knows I’m good for a handout of seed, showed up covered again in that oily muck some of you heard about months ago. We now know who is doing this to him. But seeing him covered and shaking and hurting and unable to really eat or move about easily, well, I was pretty distraught. Unable to rescue him or help him in any way, due to today’s total lack of energy, I only cried and sent up a few prayers for his well being as he slowly hobbled off behind the house.

Poor Fred

Then I noticed the iris. A group of irises stands just below my small front porch, and I have so looked forward to seeing the blooms, especially after such a long winter of challenges and discontent. Irises are among my favorite flowers, especially the deep (almost black) purple ones that smell much like grapes. Vikki and I had been watching this iris since the first bud appeared, guessing it would be a shade of purple. And it is – but much lighter, almost violet. Still, no matter the color, it is beautiful and my spirit felt briefly revived upon seeing the flower opening.

First Iris

Looking back on the week, it began with Vikki treating me to an afternoon at Harbin Hot Springs, where we soaked and steamed awhile, purging anything that needed to go. I later walked the labyrinth and we got a nutritious snack at the cafe before we left the beautiful grounds. These are the kinds of things MediCal doesn’t deem worthy of covering for healing, right? So we weren’t able to enjoy the other available therapies. No matter … I can still hear the song of the stream that runs all along the road from Harbin back down the mountain to near Middletown.

Vikki and I were both glad to see Dr. Schram on Thursday. He spoke of his pleasant vacation to parts south of the border. I know he must surely have needed it — contending with death and dying, protocols, plans, and hopes for good endings 24/7 must wear on anyone caring for cancer patients. I’ve been assured my chosen oncologist will be present during my 3 remaining treatments. I just pray I can get through them, because right this moment, I don’t have the courage to walk back into that place.

Yesterday, I had the Vitamin C IV therapy, so some part of me knows that my physical self will be restored and I’ll be somewhat functional again soon enough. Dr. Henderson has really become an important part of my care. Leaving him, Vikki and I headed off the main road home, but only to double-check an area we were told we might find those elusive Lake County Diamonds (mentioned in her earlier blog post.)

Well, we actually found some! Before the sun moved further west behind the hills, it lit up a palm full of crystals for each of us, strewn along the ruts of a back road. Mostly tiny little chips that resemble broken glass, but I did find one decent sized, maybe an inch long, that has a rainbow and a hint of amethyst coloring. My energy was already waning by the time we went diamond hunting, so we weren’t out there for very long. Home well before dark, she dropped me at my cottage, where nothing at all subsequently occurred.

Diamond Hunters - Me with Angel Vikki

I’ve written this as a means to let the sadness about all loss and suffering move on through. As a way to shift from the trapped thoughts to those more open to resuming joy and a life of sparkling purpose. As some means to resurrecting my true self, even if I only get to see Her out of the corner of my eye… on a good day.

I know she’s gotta be in there somewhere. Was it really that long ago we lost touch?

Let it flow!

A major need over the winter months has been heat. This reached a peak point around the time Aisha and Betsy visited, when night temperatures were in the teens and 20s, and both the kerosene and firewood ran completely out. Small space heaters helped … resulting in a high electric bill. Deciding how to expense any income that comes in during a given week isn’t easy. Far too often the choices made when facing financial challenges leaves not-always-enough to go round till the next time. Though other things called for attention, consensus had it that we had to save for heat so the house would not be freezing (literally) in the wee hours of the morning, and so Deb’s weary chemo-chilled body does not suffer further.

Bundled up on a 60 degree day, Deb enjoys a moment by the lake. (pic by Betsy)

So, a lot of health-related things were necessarily scratched from the needs list, and we ordered kerosene. (Minimum is $256 for them to show up … this equates to 50 gallons and can last about two months, if you are very judicious, and alternate at least half the time with wood.) So, Deb braved the cold Monday night, knowing the following day would be very different. Little did we know at the time how different!

Deb was in a festive mood, animated and in high spirits when I picked her up for the trip to Calistoga Tuesday, for the Vitamin C IV with Dr. Henderson. We set off without any drama and headed down into the lovely Napa Valley. At every turn we were delighted by the scenery, all of the area is in a beginning surge of Spring! Pale and deep pinks, white flowers abound on the trees in the orchards painting the landscape. Tiny buds on the oak trees and golden poppies bloom along the roads. It’s hard not to be happy and peaceful looking around as we drive.

Daffodils on a Calistoga sidestreet. (pic by Deb)

Signs at the bakery. (pic by Vikki)

After lunch I took Deb by an old property I’d seen several years ago that intrigued me. It was the original Calistoga hospital/sanitarium that had gone into ruin and remained that way for many, many years. An eyesore from the street, but so filled with mystery and old decay you couldn’t take your eyes off it. From the broken out window in the attic you could see the roof and sky in patches, feel someone or something watching you. Creepy! The local mail carrier told us to check with the museum in town for the complete story.

At Dr. Henderson’s office, Deb settled into her IV therapy and I kept her company quietly in the room. I took a picture of her as this golden liquid flowed into her. You could almost see the glow coming off of her as it flowed through, illuminating her. She was bright and clear, full of energy afterward and flyin’ high on life! We headed back into town for a card for Layla (happy birthday!) and then back to our country home.

Deb said it "felt like being filled with golden light." (pic by Vikki)

We get out and he takes a moment or two to ask Deb how she is and how her treatment is coming along. She tells him of the ‘good’ days and ‘bad’ days. We ask if we should just back up my car so he can put in some logs. He says he’s going to follow us home and deliver the wood.

What?!

We were going to load what we could in the car to tide her over until more could be bought. No, he tells us, I’m delivering this wood and not taking no for an answer. Well you could see the sparkle in his eye and knew this was not an argument you were going to win. He followed us the 50 miles home to Deb’s place and with his dump truck dropped half a cord of wood at her doorstep. He would not take a dime for the wood or the delivery – a heart gift.

A gift of warmth. (pic by Vikki)

Deb was overwhelmed with his generosity! She has such love surrounding her that it’s hard to not be amazed! He took a photo with her and off he went, shouting, “Love ya!” as he drove away. We thereafter declared him Angel Charles!

Deb and Angel Charles. (pic by Vikki)

Fred, the rooster, was not too sure of this new obstruction in the yard and was eying it as to where he could get on top and proclaim his presence to the neighborhood!

Wednesday (as you probably know by now) is chemo day, and our ride is longer to St. Helena, but filled with even more beautiful greens and bright flowers along the way. Deb is dressed in purples and greens, dang near bursting at the seams with energy and hopefulness.

One of many curves on the road to the center. (pic by Vikki)

Our wait is short to go in and get started, but stalls as one of the nurses has trouble getting a vein or should I say keeping one? She had it on the first try and pulled a tube or two off, but the needle slipped out … in what is known as a fumble, or stick #1. Deb smiles and is encouraging to the nurse to try again, then it’s stick #2. No good she missed. Try stick #3. No that didn’t work either, Deb smiles still but you can see that she sure would like this part to be done and over with!

One more try but after an unsuccessful stick #4, she gives up and goes looking for another nurse. The new nurse arrives, stick #5 is a success and Deb is finally wired into the IV dosing monitor.

From here it’s a waiting game, four bags total in the IV, the final being the chemo drug which takes an hour to drip by itself. I watch it drip, drip, drip into the tube and with everyone, I wish it Godspeed and healing to do its job and be gone from her body.

Deb enjoyed a brief harp accompaniment to her vein-puncture event and a light hand massage shortly after the start of the drip. The bright and cheerful woman I came in with is very different now. Not quite so bright now, and quiet as opposed to cheerful. She looks cold and weary.

It's not easy... (pic by Vikki)

Dr. Henderson arrives to offer her acupuncture while finishing up her drip. This helps in many ways to combat the side effects of the chemo and help her body relax, as well as supports her system not only with the cancer healing efforts, but in detoxing and recovering from smoking cessation efforts.

At last it’s time to go home and we are happy to see it’s still daylight outside, if not the verge of twilight. Climbing over the hills to Pope Valley we catch a view of the almost full moon heading into the sky – it takes our breath away. So pretty is it, in fact, we stop to take a picture and Deb calls Layla to let her know how it went. When we get to Deb’s, we are grateful for the HEAT.

Moon in Pope Valley (pic by Vikki)

I had a dental appointment on Thursday for a follow up on a root canal. What ensued I’ll spare you, but it left me in bad pain for the next 24 hours and pretty much rendered me useless to Deb. Not that it mattered as she had a list of things to do and I’ll be danged if she didn’t run circles around herself Thursday. So much energy, she stacked wood, planted some newly acquired flowering plants, and did a full grocery shop, among other things. But Saturday and Sunday she was down, completely knocked back with the fatigue and some minor side effects. She asks for her solitude and I give it knowing that she would call if she needed me. We check in via phone and text. She sleeps and I heal; we’ll reconvene on Monday to get her to her shall we say, Cancer Make over? It’s a program called “Look Good, Feel Better” with tying scarves and makeup and girly things. Soon she will get to the shop in Napa for the wig try-on. I hope she gets a colorful one, hmmm …Deb as a blonde? redhead? what do ya think?

Trying on new looks ... that she didn't like.

Next week for Chemo #6 and so far so good according to Dr. Schram. Even though he tried to sneak another week or two in before the CT scan he had initially promised would be done after #6. But the scan will be done because, well, Deb says so! Once we get the results from that, we can see officially what shrinkage has been occurring on the tumor under the arm, beyond what we can see with our eyes. Then Deb will re-evaluate and reconsider her options.

There are times when she is very fragile. It is so hard to endure this physical process that takes a toll on her mental and emotional health. She hates the fatigue days when she can do nothing, the laundry piles up, the dishes wait in the sink, the boxes in the office still need to be unpacked, the desk assembled, and general house keeping.

Deb takes a moment with a young buck. (pic by Betsy)

The worry and stress of financial issues does the worst to her spirit and does not lend to her healing. She is a very proud woman when it comes to asking for help, and is so grateful when she does receive anything, you cry along with her in gratitude. We are of course applying to a couple of cancer charity programs that offer some help, but none that cover needs completely, or for very long. The process of paperwork is endless, requiring faxing, mailing, calling and following up. Nothing happens immediately, so nothing gets paid right away and it won’t stay current either.

So let me be the one to ask you to remember that what she just started getting from SSI does not cover her necessities, and with the rent behind again as that gets sorted out, maybe you could share the link to our blog to reach out for further donations. We appreciate those of you already doing that, but it needs to be fairly consistent and get out to more people. Periodic reminders could help, especially since this may continue for up to 18 weeks!

Our fundraising effort or talk of it a couple months back seems to have hit a wall and stalled. We are open to ideas and any help you can spare. Please spread the word. Maybe someone out there isn’t experiencing the financial difficulties so many of us are, and while our hearts go out to ALL those in a similar situation, Deb truly needs your continued help and support so she can continue doing the right things to fight for her life!

Fred says THANK YOU for helping take care of his human. (pic by Betsy)

Meanwhile, thank you for all the wonderful thoughts and prayers offered in her name.
She blesses you every day, too.

Vikki~

and ps – if you are uncertain what to say in an email note or post, please contact me as I have a template I’ll send you to adapt, created by MaryJane which brought in immediate results!

As many of you reading this know, Deb found a lump in her left breast almost 8 years ago now, which turned out to be cancer. Thanks to abundant loving support of friends and family, reliance on many holistic healing methodologies, and surgery (a lumpectomy), Deb recovered vibrant health.

Over the seven years that followed, Deb not only “survived” cancer, but she thrived!

She found success as a writing coach ; published the short story e-book Hemingway’s Bed ; completed her first book “Everyone’s a Guru” (coming soon); wrote and published innumerable articles for Ecology Global Network , eHow, and many other websites; contributed a chapter to the book Gathering Round the Fire: Insights on Fear” ; worked in and on several indie film productions; and continued to shine her bright, vibrant light throughout the world . . .

As Fiona “Firewolfe” Morgan, her Pirate persona . . .

As proud Yaya (grandma) to her daughter Layla’s daughter Aisha . . .

and as a loving, generous friend and confidant to many.

RIGHT NOW, Deb really needs our help!

In addition to prayers, thoughts, good wishes and encouragement — all of which help tremendously and are greatly appreciated — Deb needs material/financial support so that she can consistently eat healthy organic foods, take high quality holistic supplements and herbs to boost her immune system and eliminate the cancer, have adequate money for gas to get to and from appointments with her doctors, pay for her health care, and to help cover her basic living expenses since 100% of her time, energy, and attention right now are focused on and dedicated to healing.

Deb was diagnosed this time just shortly after having moved in to her new residence in Northern California to write a 2nd book. And this time, the situation is much more serious than before, with a type of cancer that seems to be more aggressive.

As everyone knows, health care of any kind — whether Western/allopathic or alternative — is extremely expensive.

**********************

IF YOU CAN HELP, please send whatever you are able via PayPal using the button link  (contributions go to helpingdeb@gmail.com ) 

No amount is too small!

OR

If you’d like to send a check, supportive card (humor most welcome!) or care package, please mail it to:

Debra J. Rigas
PO Box 1811
Clearlake Oaks, CA 95423

Emails may be sent to: helpingdeb @ gmail.com

**********************

We will periodically post updates on Deb’s treatment and healing progress here.

In advance, thank you for being part of Deb’s Healing Support Team. May Deb swiftly recover full vibrant health, so she can live long and continue to bless all of us with her wonderful presence for many years to come!

We encourage you to share this blog link with anyone you know who might want to help someone who is working to overcome cancer. http://helpingdeb.wordpress.com/