These two days are being reconstructed after the fact. Each day was a 2 gram day, but I discovered that sitting down and actually writing out what was happening was more difficult than I had planned on. It was HOT all weekend, and I am done with sweating if I do not have to. Spent both days around the house, cleaned out the front yard some and picked lots of plums to make jelly. Marina's nettles are a wonder, although they make me very restless. I spend lots of minutes each day trying to figure out just what it is that I want to do next...given no money to go anywhere, too much heat to gallivant about outside, and limited patience for sedentary projects (and who would EVER have thought that this was possible for me!). I have lots of things I want to do...plans to accomplish, but I cannot stay focused on any one thing long enough to actually finish it. GAH!!!! This is driving me right up the unwashed walls! I can't blame it all on the nettles, as I had the same issues beforehand. The nettles just exacerbate it.
I met with a surgeon last week. Apparently I have stage one ductal invasive carcinoma, estrogen positive. Lots of new terms and concepts wrapped up in that phrase, and I am just beginning to grok what all that means. The bottom line is simple, however. I will not agree to any treatments that involve surgery, chemo, or radiation. We agreed that with that basic premise in mind, there was no point in scheduling an excisional biopsy. Should a clean margin not be obtained, additional procedures would be needed - and the first needle biopsy caused more than enough damage to show me that that would be a nightmare. Besides, it won't be needed. As I informed the surgeon, I fully expect to be cured by the hemp oil without any need for any additional medical intervention. They can monitor, track and perform tests with my full cooperation. But their service ends there. He seemed rather less interested in my case once that was understood...he muttered something about wanting a chest xray and blood work - but that was not scheduled before I left the office. There was another mutter about a letter they will send me, so maybe that is where the additional testing will be explained. Strange way to run health care, by the US Mail, but nothing that I don't expect from the medical industry.
I think he was a bit put off by my statement that Oregon is a death with dignity state, and if the hemp oil was not successful, that would be my choice. I said it, I meant it. Not that this means that I am suicidal, just the opposite. I can make that statement in the full assurance that I will not ever need to follow through. The hemp oil will never let me down. It hasn't yet...a statement I cannot make about ANY aspect of my 'traditional medical care' up to this point. What kind of sadist makes an 8 year old kid stick their feet into a pool of water, then electrify the water to kill off plantar warts? The same kind that developed those "xray your kids' feet to make sure the shoes fit" machines
Maybe the same kind of medical industry that takes that same kid at age 8 or 9 and decides that strapping her feet into a medieval torture device will somehow make her a better person, walk straighter, have a better love life and get that white picket fence that was the ideal of all families in the early 60's. Each night, before bed, I strapped on one of these contraptions:
Try putting that contraption on a 9 year old. 9 year olds move in bed. Every time you turn over, one foot is being hauled aloft by the brace (which weighs a couple of pounds with big kid Oxford shoes bolted on), which makes lying down real work. And potty trips?
Do not remove this brace under penalty of death...or worse. So went the mandate, and I obeyed.
Hence, in the middle of the night, I would have to slide down off the bed, onto hands and knees. Keeping my feet elevated behind me, I caterpillared my way down the hall, into the bathroom, then levered myself upright on the side of the bathtub. That foot brace has two whacking great bolts on the bottom, which keep the shoes properly aligned. Those bolts also will scratch, scrape and tear any material with a relative hardness just short of diamond...so they cannot touch the floor at any point in any maneuver. Using the tub, I could stand up on the toe of one shoe, grab the sink to twirl around, and, by leaning forward as far as I could, I managed back myself on the goal. Repeat in reverse to return to bed. And we will not even mention my mother's despair over the multiple sheets that were rendered into rags by the restless turnings and twistings of an uncomfortable sleeper. Those bolts were NASTY!
Present day again - and no wonder that I have some of the foot issues that I do. I have been an active participant in footal abuse since early childhood, it seems, and now it is time to pay the piper. In addition to the medical industry's systematic attacks on my feet, I also was a barefoot hippie, even at age 4. I have always hated shoes and socks. Maybe because people with size EEE feet should simply buy shoes, take them home, throw out the shoes and just wear the boxes? They would almost certainly fit better...despite the evidence of that xray machine up there. That's what my dad always told me, anyway.
Besides running barefoot 24/7 (and yes, that means going out for the mail and paper in the snow, barefoot), I was (am) a very klutzy person. If there is one hole, or one tiny mogul in an entire acre of land, I will fall into, or over, it. Guaranteed. Years of drum corps and marching band means hundreds of holes to fall into - and I think I found every one of them. At least once. Some holes had the distinction of having me drop in more than once. One particularly pernicious bastard on the high school football field welcomed me in three times! If anyone can tell me how one person manages to fall into the same hole three times in four years...it's been one of those life mysteries for a long time now.
I also had an abnormal nevus removed last week. Not a bad procedure at all. The doctor was efficient, personable, and the entire experience was nothing I will dread if needed in the future. And that, coming from me, is high praise indeed. Now I only have to deal with the small incision and stitches. Hemp oil on that as well. Of course, this means I am waiting, AGAIN, for test results. I am not concerned in this case, however. I put hemp oil on that mole for 3 months and it never changed. It's a mole. It's only a mole. If it had been a real emergency, you would have been directed to tune in, turn on and drop out. Or some such PSA mash-up.
I discovered the county library system - again. What a blessing! I was able to get books, music, movies, craft patterns, everything the bored cancer patient needs to get through a long hot day. And the library here in Jackson County is begging for funds. Gee... if there was only a revenue source that was local, effective and efficient, sustainable, green friendly, and had the added benefit of bringing health and healing to people... Gee... if only...
But, as we all know -if wishes were horses...
we'd have lots of shit to clean up.
Make today the best day yet. Love to those that read this far, and to those that did not.