Early breast cancer detection

Why have your breasts amputated because you might get breast cancer? No thank you.

Why have your breasts smashed to see if there is a tumor? Couldn't this spread a tumor if there is one? and Doesn't more radiation in the chest region raise the risk of developing cancer? Again, no thank you.

At a young age, I decided that by the time I was 40 (the recommended age in the US to start having annual mammograms) there would be a better way to check these things. And just in time, when I turned 40, I met Linda Bamber, who had just purchased a thermography system.

Using this system, the technician can--without touching you, much less smashing you--detect through infrared images whether or not there is any inflammation in your breasts. A camera takes an infrared "picture" which can be seen on a computer screen. It's kind of like looking at a radar image on the weather. The technician looks for a big difference between the two sides. If one side is showing hotter colors, there may be a problem. Cancer apparently grows in hotter places. In my case, Linda took one look at the images and said, "We've got to talk." There was a major difference, one side being very inflamed.

I chose not to report the findings to a doctor. (See my previous post titled "My Turning Point.") Linda, who is also an experienced nutrition counselor helped me find appropriate things that would nourish my body so that my body could fight off any possible cancer cells. I listened to only positive, uplifting music. I exercised like a crazy woman--walking 2 miles a day and doing the "Tibetan 5" also known as the "Fountain of Youth." I laid out in the sun, exposed, first for 5 minutes a day and building up to 15 minutes.

Within three weeks a new thermogram showed the "hot" side had cooled considerably and was almost as "cool" as the other side. Did I have cancer when the inflammation was first detected? I don't know. I did not go to a doctor and get diagnosed. Do I have cancer now? No. I'm sure I don't.

Would I go about it this way again? Maybe. Maybe not. You never know. Something even better might come up...

Please note: I am not a doctor or other health professional. This is my personal experience and is not intended to diagnose, treat or cure. If you have a concern about your health, please consult a health care person whom you trust.

Herb Fair

Today we visited the Herb Fair at Evening Shade Farms, Osceola, MO and had a grand time. There was a nice variety of vendors, including potters, a woodcarver, greenhouses, a blacksmith/artist who specializes in sculpture, a rug weaver, and jewelry. There was bluegrass music on the porch of the Soap House and a Jingle Dance demonstration by Chante Falcon, the princess of the upcoming PowWow in Columbia, MO. Everybody was friendly and there was something for the whole family. We came away with a book about organizing spaces, a little clam shell of beeswax moisturizer, and our brains and minds full of new information and ideas. I call that a successful day!

Romancing the nursing home

     Should people with Alzheimer's be holding hands and courting each other in the nursing home? When a spouse dies, we can more easily reconcile it for ourselves. But what if the spouse is alive and well while the other has dementia and is in a residential care facility? It isn't like they're being intentionally unfaithful. What, if anything, should the staff do about it? What can the staff do when the courting goes "too far," becoming socially "inappropriate," as it very well may. People with Alzheimer's and other dementias are often confused. It is no different when it comes to their romantic feelings. Can we lovingly distract them with something else as we would a young child?
     So far, in Inter-Active Music, it hasn't gone beyond hand-holding and looks of adoration. Thankfully, the music and activities keep the minds and the bodies busy. And often, the emotions seem busy too, as we sing and listen to songs from their past. Today, for instance, I learned all about one gentleman's time in California--surfing! With his mind on the waves, the beauty, and yes--even the taste of the sand--there was no time for this guy to romance the ladies around him today!

My Turning Point

            I used doctors and “western” medicine like some people use alcohol. It seemed like I was always running to the doctor. I had sore throats, earaches and stomach pains. If it wasn’t me, it was one of my kids. We religiously took whatever medicine was prescribed. Even though I was still being faithful to this regimen, however, I began to notice that sometimes the prescriptions caused more problems, particularly candida infections and then allergies and resistance to certain specific drugs.

            Then came the time I got poison ivy. I often get poison ivy, but this was THE time. My forearms quickly became scabbed and oozy from elbow to wrist. It started on a Friday when I helped clear brush from a vacant lot. By Monday it was evident that I was in trouble, so I did what I had always done—headed to the doctor to cut it off at the pass. I got a shot. By Wednesday, I was truly a mess. I had to wear long sleeves when I went out to keep it clean and to prevent it from oozing all over everything and everybody else. Then I was hot and sweaty which irritated my arms all the more. Back to the doctor. Another shot and a prescription I could fill if the shot didn’t get it this time.

            The second shot didn’t help, so I went to the pharmacy to fill the script for prednisone. In the back of my mind was a faint memory of the last time I’d taken this anti-inflammatory steroid. It was foggy, but I remembered that my (then) husband couldn’t stand being around me while I was on the stuff. But I itched, hurt and burned and was miserable so I started the packet. It’s one of those drugs you start on a certain dose and then you have to step down off of it. The whole packet took about a month, I believe. Again, I was in a fog. I didn’t feel like myself. It seemed very difficult to hang onto any thought long enough to finish it. Finally, it was over. I took the last pill. I didn’t itch that day, and only remnants remained of the scabs up and down my forearms.

            Then came my first day without the prednisone. I broke out all over again. Of course it was a weekend again and so I determined to set my jaw and make it through until I could go back to the doctor. But what was the use, I wondered. 

            Well, that weekend, one of my kids had something else going on with his skin. I got on the internet and started looking at pictures trying to figure out what was going on with him. I didn’t find whatever his issue was, but I did find pictures that looked exactly like my arms. The caption said, “Shingles.” Shingles?!?

            I ran downstairs and announced my findings to my husband (Jim Behl). “Let’s go get you some lysine,” he says. Lysine, by the way is sold over the counter in the supplement section. By the next day my symptoms were clearing, though the fog from the prednisone drifted over my head for months after I was off of it.

            This was a turning point for me when I realized that doctors don’t know everything and doing exactly what they say will not necessarily solve my problems. Sometimes it won’t even bring relief and sometimes it causes more problems. Since that day, I always look for natural alternatives first. We are saving a lot of money because those frequent doctor visits and prescriptions are in our past.

            Of course I have to say—Only a doctor can diagnose, cure and treat disease. This is not intended to replace the advice of a qualified physician.

            My new habit is to not request a diagnosis from anyone. But I frequently seek help from people with positive experiences in healthy diets, supplements, herbs, and essential oils.

Hand crusher absent

The physical strength of a person with Alzheimer's should never be underestimated. Last week after an hour long session of guitar and singing, a guy shook my hand to "thank" me for coming. That was on Wednesday. Sunday my hand was spasming, feeling like he was crushing it all over again. I have to say that though I missed his singing along this week, my hand was grateful for the respite in his absence.

Another gentleman gave a stirring speech about how he loved to hear the group sing and how he loves everybody in that group so much.

It is moving to see these people sit up in their chairs and their eyes sparkle and shine as they interact with each other, sing, exercise, and play musical games. Do I do this for me or for them?

Alzheimer's stinks, but we still have fun.

My Alzheimer's group has been singing Morning Has Broken with lyric sheets for the past several weeks. The song is "new" to the group, in that nobody remembered it when I first introduced it. After several weeks with it, they still think it is a pretty song, but nobody recognized it.

On the other hand, the group loves to play a ball game. Every week somebody else tells us what the rules are. Even when the person I call on to explain the rules has difficulty saying the rules, they almost always at least gesture how the game goes.

One gentleman said his upper teeth have been missing for several days now and his mouth is getting sore from trying to eat like that. I wonder why they don't adjust his diet until the teeth get fixed or replaced? They have been missing for over a week.

Huntley Brown has a fun jazz piano rendition of Old Time Religion that we use for "scarf exercise." The music itself suggests certain movements such as bouncing higher and lower and the best part is the end, with a chorus line sound to it. By the time it's all over, everybody is kicking their legs out besides bouncing the scarf. There are also lots of big smiles.

Musical reminiscing

Today during I-AM with a group of people with Alzheimer's Type Dementia, one gentleman reminisced about how his son had been in "everything" and had played the trumpet, guitar and banjo. Later he recalled how he too had played several instruments and helped his son learn. I already knew that he had been a square dancer, but over time, he is able to reveal more and more.

Show your papers

I've waited too long to write this and it is still eating me up every time I go through my hometown.

You see, one evening, my husband, Jim, was late getting home from work. And then he had to wait through a line of traffic downtown for a "safety" traffic stop. Keep in mind that our town has a grand total of 417 people as of the last census. So they want you to show proof of your insurance, is the thing. They want to know that you're legitimate. They tell us in the papers that it's to help stop people from driving under the influence. A week before this particular stop, I had seen in the paper that they'd held a similar stop in the county seat, where they caught 2 DUIs and a whole bunch of people on a variety of other minor offenses.

After Jim got home, we hurried through supper because I needed to get over to my mother's to pick up my son and I was going to be late. Jim says, "Take the backroads. Traffic stop in town." Good idea, I think. I'm driving toward town and sure enough I can see all kinds of emergency vehicles, including both police cars and a fire truck blocking the road at Main Street. I turn down a side road, and then another side road, zig-zagging my way across town toward my mother's. Would you believe they had one of those roads blocked off completely with no personnel manning it? So I get ready to turn around and guess what? I am being "stopped." I back into a driveway and wait for the officer to come to my window. I have only been stopped one other time in my life and it was pretty ridiculous, too. I am thinking, What now?

Officer says, "Do you know why I stopped you?" I am at a loss for words, so he tells me. "I stopped you for avoiding the blockade." I am wondering if that is, in fact, against the law? "Are you drinking?" he asks. That's a joke. I can't help but laugh as I answer, "Not hardly." The officer says, "Well, I'm going to have to call in your driver's license." I can hardly find the thing, because now I'm nervous. "Do you need my proof of insurance," I ask. He takes it, seemingly as an after-thought. Silly me--wasn't that what the whole safety check was about? Am I going to get a ticket for driving backroads to my mother's???!!! He says, "Where are you going?" I tell him. "Where does she (my mom) live?" I point in the general direction. "Do you always go this way?" I explain that sometimes I go this way. My friend's mother lives down here and I like to drive by once in a while and just check on her. He checks her name. "Yes," I say, "that's her."

I tell this detailed story because I wonder--what is happening to our country? When I was growing up, I heard about countries far away who were, unfortunately, not as free as "us." I was taught how they had to keep their papers with them everywhere they went and produce them on demand to prove that their business was legitimate. How sad I was for them. How thankful I am to be an American. But are we losing that freedom now? Did we go to sleep and dream it away? What a nightmare!

Are the law enforcement officers who are carrying out these policies really thinking about what they're doing and why? Are they making conscious choices? Is the benefit enough to make up for our loss of freedom? I hope they will stop and really reason through their duties.

Don't get me wrong. I want DUIs off the road too. I have the strong emotional reasons for wanting them off the road--one of my students got hit by one when she got off the school bus one day. But if that is really the point, I think it might be better to simply patrol more in the areas where the DUIs are most likely to occur. There is a 90 degree curve outside of town where a gravel road intersects with the state highway. It is known as "Dead Man's curve." I wrote a story in verse about somebody driving like a maniac through the area. The poem included the type of vehicle and the last 3 digits of the license plate. It was published in two local papers. Have I seen anybody patroling there? No. But I saw the same maniac coming through a 2nd time.

So the officers keep doing their "duty" and we, the people, show our papers and answer their questions so we can get on our way. Wake up, officers! Your duty is to "Serve and Protect," at least, that's what I thought it was. Wake up, people! Freedom is becoming obsolete. We really need an upgrade.

Well, we have really slipped on our Monday Matters project the last few weeks, as some other things have taken precedence. Not the least of which is my husband, Jim's, last ditch effort to raise money for a particular large piece of land where he wants to build a health/spirituality retreat. A lot of energy has gone into this project and time is running out. The land will be auctioned soon if we don't get the purchase price together.

Even though this has been mainly Jim's job, a lot of my energy and time has gone into it too--mostly in cheer leading and offering varied points of view, which may sometimes muddle things for him rather than making them clearer. But I've decided to step out of that cheer mode for a moment and say why I want the "Cherryville" place.

I can write anywhere. I can teach anywhere. I love being in nature--not anywhere, but most places in southern Missouri would suit me fine. But this place is unique. It's near the St. Francis "mountains" (really big hills). There are woods. In fact, it is bordered by national forest land. I live in the middle of the woods now; what makes the "Cherryville" place different is that there are also clearings where you can see the sky. And on those rolling hills, I feel like I'm part of the sky. There is a beautiful spring, where I want to play my flute. It feeds a pond which is stocked with trout, and I can just see my youngest son learning to fly fish right there.

The idea of the retreat is unique in that it is a vision that encompasses such a wide variety of treats for the soul that I know my older son would find something to do there that would interest him--maybe working in the organic gardens or growing herbs. Maybe cooking nutritious meals. Maybe landscaping or helping to create sacred spaces. Maybe he will become a natural healer. There is truly something for everyone. Except maybe not for somebody who prefers chaotic hustle and bustle.

I like that Jim's heart is set on sharing the place and its abundance with all kinds of people. I am thankful he wants to create a space for people to rest, relax and heal. And, on that note, I think I just stepped back onto the cheer squad.

Monday Matters

This week for Monday Matters, it was time to reduce the number of trees our mailbox is eating!!! In other words, reduce junk mail. How I love that idea. Several suggestions were made for doing this. However, I have to admit I have only managed to contact one junk mail contributor (Exede internet) to be removed from their list. It was a time consuming ordeal. Ironically, the first time I called them, our connection was lost and I had to call back. Both times involved lengthy waits on hold. However, the second time, I did manage to get the job done and they were friendly enough about.

One thing about this activity is that I have a new awareness of where our junk mail is coming from and who it is addressed to. And guess what? It isn't mine. At least the round of it this week was addressed to my husband, my son, and my step-son. But it comes from all over the place: Dish, DirectTV, the Marines, colleges. Oh, yes, and let's not forget one of them was even advertising razors.

Mondays Matter!
Last week our Monday Matters activity was to put together an emergency kit. The kids got a big kick out of opening the old one. It was like a time capsule. "What are these for?" asked Blake, as he pulled out a package of diaper pins. Well, let's see what the expiration date is on our "emergency food..." Hmmm. It expired when Blake was one year old. How telling! So this time, we'll be rotating the contents of the emergency kit every six months to keep it current. We kept the diaper pins anyway. They don't take much room, and you never know what you might want to hold together in an emergency situation!

This week, the Making Mondays Matter book suggested "Eat Healthfully." We generally try to do this anyway, particularly with two of us having had high blood sugar readings before. But we do slack on some things sometimes. So this week we have become more conscientious about food choices and combinations and added more fresh salads to the menu. As part of our homeschooling, each of the kids is responsible for two menus each week: planning, shopping, and preparing, on a budget. I am thankful for this opportunity to help them learn to make healthy choices.

Monday Matters

Today was our third week of working in the book "Making Mondays Matter." Each Monday of the year, the book suggests an activity for making the day matter. The first Monday, we looked at how we spend our time and how to avoid wasting time, so that we can use our time better. The second week, the book suggested turning off the TV. Since ours is not usually on anyway, we changed it to a Monday with no video or computer games, which then extended into a week of limited play times rather than endless hours. This week the suggestion was to sign up for Amber alert messages. My older son and I got signed up for this service, and it spawned a good discussion with my younger son about avoiding/eliminating at-risk behaviors.