Join Julie's Journey to heal cancer
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We never think bad things are going to happen to us. Until they do.
In October 2017 I was diagnosed with a small, cancerous nodule on my right lung. Of course the news was a shock, like being dropped into a cauldron of numbness. Within a few days, however, the pain and anguish that we cannot help but associate with the word “cancer” kicked in. I cried a lot, and my thoughts were consumed with fears about pain, death, and the unknown.
The nodule was found because a year prior to that (in November 2016) I had contracted a flu virus, which I simply could not shake. After being diagnosed five times during that year with pneumonia, and receiving copious doses of antibiotics and steroids, I insisted on having a lung scan. One scan led to another, and one specialist to another, and the next thing I knew I was sitting in the waiting room of a cancer clinic to see an oncologist.
My oncologist’s treatment plan was to surgically remove part of the lung, followed by chemotherapy to kill off any lingering and unseen cancerous cells. I was, he said, a great candidate for “cure.” Not remission, but complete cure, since we had “caught it early.” Surgery was scheduled right away, but when the surgeon operated he discovered a few cancerous cells in my lymph nodes and closed me up. Instead, I was started on chemotherapy, and the surgery (lobectomy) would follow the chemo treatments.
Chemotherapy, that first infusion, literally almost killed me. Pounding headaches, nausea, raw esophagus and intestinal tract, unable to eat or sleep for five days; I truly felt my life force letting go, and yet, somehow I made it through that hell. After three months of chemo I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say that I was experiencing trauma, and having severe anxiety and stress responses. I remember my oncologist explaining that the goal with chemotherapy is to take the person to the brink of death, killing all the cancer cells—without actually killing the person, of course—and hoping that as the body rebuilds the good cells it will also destroy the cancerous cells. The trauma might have been worth it if my cancerous cells had been destroyed.
Three months after chemo I had the lobectomy. My doctors and clinicians were still optimistic for cure, and I felt optimistic too. Slowly I recovered from the assaults on my mind, heart, and body, and moved forward with making plans for my future. Family, friends, and my dear husband (and cat) provided a terrific support system, and I thought I had endured the worst of it.
In October of 2018, one year after the first diagnosis, I received more unexpected and unwanted news: Metastatic Cancer.
The cancer had “progressed” to my other lung, my bones—ribs, femur, sacrum, spine—and my lymph system. Lung cancer often spreads into the brain as well, so a brain scan was ordered, and sure enough, three tumors were sitting on my cerebellum.
For the brain tumors I received a high-tech, highly sophisticated Gamma Ray “surgery.” A frame (I call it a cage) is screwed into the skull to hold one perfectly still in the Gamma Knife machine, and then 192 precisely calculated Gamma rays converge on the tumor from all directions. The surgery is highly successful at killing the cancer cells and there is minimal damage to surrounding tissue—and I am so grateful for being a beneficiary of it. My three tumors took about 2.5 hours to zap, and I dozed through most of the surgery. The frame installation, however, was excruciatingly painful: four needles with numbing agents injected into the scalp are necessary in order for the frame to be tightened sufficiently.
Three months later I had a second gamma knife surgery for another brain tumor that had developed.
Following that, I had three months of Immunotherapy for the body tumors—an IV drug combination that interrupts the cancer cell/ immune cell signaling (the cancer cells have various methods of disguising themselves and proliferating), thus allowing the immune system to do its job. I continued to struggle with severe side effects— this time from the immunotherapy, including headaches, extreme fluid expulsion from both ends at the same time, dry eyes, and joint inflammation, and of course, fatigue. Always deep fatigue.
The new year ushered in consistent pain in my hip and sacrum. As the pain escalated, I opted to have targeted radiation on those spots, which usually helps to diminish the pain. For me, the pain increased starting on the second day of radiation. After two months, that pain finally decreased.
I began the roller coaster ride of trying pain meds to see what would work and still allow me to be functional—they all make me feel fatigue, dizzy, nauseous, constipated, and foggy. Currently I am taking opioids and Tylenol a dozen times a day, and never know from day to day how functional I will be.
Now some of other spinal bone cancer spots have flared up with pain. More radiation is scheduled.
In late April of this year I reach a birthday milestone: 60 years young! The most recent scans show that the cancer growth continues. There are no more viable Western treatment options for me at this time, only pain management.
My ask of you, dear ones, might be considered as a birthday present. It's urgent that I get some complementary and alternative treatments and support. I have six months to stop the growth of the cancer.
I know intuitively and practically what I need to do, and I need your help to do it. I have local practitioners I want to work with that aren’t covered by insurance. I have also researched some fine clinics that can provide complementary cancer treatments. But of course, they are an out-of-pocket expense as well. I'm finding myself increasingly unable to work right now, and I really need to be able to focus on what I need to do to heal.
I am optimistic that the cancer cell proliferation can be stopped, or at a minimum slowed down with the right combination of treatments. I am, of course, committed to doing everything possible for my healing. Like everyone, I love life and want to live as long and healthfully as I can, and continue to make my positive contributions to the world.
Thank you for contributing to my campaign and giving me the gift of pursuing complementary alternative therapies. Thank you for helping me continue my journey to healing.
Love love love
Julie
In October 2017 I was diagnosed with a small, cancerous nodule on my right lung. Of course the news was a shock, like being dropped into a cauldron of numbness. Within a few days, however, the pain and anguish that we cannot help but associate with the word “cancer” kicked in. I cried a lot, and my thoughts were consumed with fears about pain, death, and the unknown.
The nodule was found because a year prior to that (in November 2016) I had contracted a flu virus, which I simply could not shake. After being diagnosed five times during that year with pneumonia, and receiving copious doses of antibiotics and steroids, I insisted on having a lung scan. One scan led to another, and one specialist to another, and the next thing I knew I was sitting in the waiting room of a cancer clinic to see an oncologist.
My oncologist’s treatment plan was to surgically remove part of the lung, followed by chemotherapy to kill off any lingering and unseen cancerous cells. I was, he said, a great candidate for “cure.” Not remission, but complete cure, since we had “caught it early.” Surgery was scheduled right away, but when the surgeon operated he discovered a few cancerous cells in my lymph nodes and closed me up. Instead, I was started on chemotherapy, and the surgery (lobectomy) would follow the chemo treatments.
Chemotherapy, that first infusion, literally almost killed me. Pounding headaches, nausea, raw esophagus and intestinal tract, unable to eat or sleep for five days; I truly felt my life force letting go, and yet, somehow I made it through that hell. After three months of chemo I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say that I was experiencing trauma, and having severe anxiety and stress responses. I remember my oncologist explaining that the goal with chemotherapy is to take the person to the brink of death, killing all the cancer cells—without actually killing the person, of course—and hoping that as the body rebuilds the good cells it will also destroy the cancerous cells. The trauma might have been worth it if my cancerous cells had been destroyed.
Three months after chemo I had the lobectomy. My doctors and clinicians were still optimistic for cure, and I felt optimistic too. Slowly I recovered from the assaults on my mind, heart, and body, and moved forward with making plans for my future. Family, friends, and my dear husband (and cat) provided a terrific support system, and I thought I had endured the worst of it.
In October of 2018, one year after the first diagnosis, I received more unexpected and unwanted news: Metastatic Cancer.
The cancer had “progressed” to my other lung, my bones—ribs, femur, sacrum, spine—and my lymph system. Lung cancer often spreads into the brain as well, so a brain scan was ordered, and sure enough, three tumors were sitting on my cerebellum.
For the brain tumors I received a high-tech, highly sophisticated Gamma Ray “surgery.” A frame (I call it a cage) is screwed into the skull to hold one perfectly still in the Gamma Knife machine, and then 192 precisely calculated Gamma rays converge on the tumor from all directions. The surgery is highly successful at killing the cancer cells and there is minimal damage to surrounding tissue—and I am so grateful for being a beneficiary of it. My three tumors took about 2.5 hours to zap, and I dozed through most of the surgery. The frame installation, however, was excruciatingly painful: four needles with numbing agents injected into the scalp are necessary in order for the frame to be tightened sufficiently.
Three months later I had a second gamma knife surgery for another brain tumor that had developed.
Following that, I had three months of Immunotherapy for the body tumors—an IV drug combination that interrupts the cancer cell/ immune cell signaling (the cancer cells have various methods of disguising themselves and proliferating), thus allowing the immune system to do its job. I continued to struggle with severe side effects— this time from the immunotherapy, including headaches, extreme fluid expulsion from both ends at the same time, dry eyes, and joint inflammation, and of course, fatigue. Always deep fatigue.
The new year ushered in consistent pain in my hip and sacrum. As the pain escalated, I opted to have targeted radiation on those spots, which usually helps to diminish the pain. For me, the pain increased starting on the second day of radiation. After two months, that pain finally decreased.
I began the roller coaster ride of trying pain meds to see what would work and still allow me to be functional—they all make me feel fatigue, dizzy, nauseous, constipated, and foggy. Currently I am taking opioids and Tylenol a dozen times a day, and never know from day to day how functional I will be.
Now some of other spinal bone cancer spots have flared up with pain. More radiation is scheduled.
In late April of this year I reach a birthday milestone: 60 years young! The most recent scans show that the cancer growth continues. There are no more viable Western treatment options for me at this time, only pain management.
My ask of you, dear ones, might be considered as a birthday present. It's urgent that I get some complementary and alternative treatments and support. I have six months to stop the growth of the cancer.
I know intuitively and practically what I need to do, and I need your help to do it. I have local practitioners I want to work with that aren’t covered by insurance. I have also researched some fine clinics that can provide complementary cancer treatments. But of course, they are an out-of-pocket expense as well. I'm finding myself increasingly unable to work right now, and I really need to be able to focus on what I need to do to heal.
I am optimistic that the cancer cell proliferation can be stopped, or at a minimum slowed down with the right combination of treatments. I am, of course, committed to doing everything possible for my healing. Like everyone, I love life and want to live as long and healthfully as I can, and continue to make my positive contributions to the world.
Thank you for contributing to my campaign and giving me the gift of pursuing complementary alternative therapies. Thank you for helping me continue my journey to healing.
Love love love
Julie
Organizer
Julie Clayton
Organizer
Portland, OR