Round 2
Donativo protegido
Dear Loved Ones,
It is with much disappointment that I let you know I am now facing off my second round in the ring against ovarian cancer. As I am well-read in this insidious disease, I am not surprised by this news as ovarian cancer has a high recurrence rate. It has taken a me and my doctors some time to figure this out between labs, scans and biopsies. My CA-125 has been well within the normal limits and remains so, the scans looked peculiar; as if the mass (which is aggressively attacking my liver) may be filled with fluid, my labs all look good and I had a long wait for biopsy and results. That said, I was taking it all in stride, suspecting the return of cancer, with good attitude not wishing to alarm anyone or answer questions I didn’t have answers for.
On December 20, I restarted chemo, this time with my oncologist choosing Doxil, which she explained would be harder for me than the previous Taxol. On the 21st, I woke up feeling normal. Loki, Bee and I went out and completed errands as we prepared to spend Yuletide with family and friends. When we returned home in the early afternoon, I crashed so hard I didn’t wake up until the next day. When I woke up on Sunday, I was so sick. I spend the day and night heaving. I continued to take the prescribed medications but all I could do was sleep. Frightened, the children called Kyli on Monday, who came straight away and after sitting with and watching over me several hours as I sweated repeatedly through my pajamas, sheets, and blankets, took me to the ER where I was admitted and kept for a week. Most fortunately, dear friends Shannon, Lily and Obee made sure Loki and Bee celebrated Yuletide, were loved and cared for and my babes still got to visit me everyday. Evidently, I had a rare and unprecedented reaction to the Doxil, being of the 1% who experiences flu-like symptoms. Yay, me! Body slam! Ugh.
Throughout my week in the hospital, I experienced many vivid visions, hallucinations and dreams. One of these happened on the 26th of December. Some say that only imagination makes real, I will attest this vision was realer than most of my waking states of the last couple months as I numbly accepted I was going to have to fight for my life even harder than before. Normally, I would have shared with you Dec 26 being the anniversary of Sweet Oskar’s death. Easier said than done in such a state. 2 years have now passed since that miraculous, mysterious, magical boy died peacefully in my arms. 2 years since we have had the Joy and Honor of experiencing his majesty. Did I ever tell you how, in the moments just before Death, as I felt his breath labor as I held him to my chest and rocked him to and fro, sensing it was time, I turned our little one-eyed wonder around so we could face one another and I swear on all things sacred to me, that perhaps for the first time, I saw the child’s compromised eyeball focus and hone in on my face and when that happened, his sweet self lit up brighter that the Yule log and he smiled the most incredible smile I had seen him ever share. You saw him…that smile was a killa. The point is, he saw me. I. Know. He. Saw. Me. Nothing and no one can or ever will convince me otherwise. He was probably mostly blind all those 4 years but in that instance, HE SAW ME. “Oh, my god. I love you Baby.” I cried as I watched the last breath leave the tiny, fragile body of Oskar Aleister Solomon, my hero, my Love. Which takes me back to the anniversary of that day. As I writhed around tethered to a hospital bed, in and out of weird consciousness, I dreamed Oskar was sitting on my lap as we were truckin though the Arizona desert. The night was beautiful, full stars, just a hint of dark blue still over the horizon. Up ahead in the distance were a lone lamp, some random tumbleweeds and cactus silhouettes and a rather plain sign, “GAS”. There were only two pumps and a small booth, also lit up and as we got closer, could see there was a purple clad figure, cooly slouched inside the little glass hut. Closer still, the person was playing a guitar. We pulled the white pick-up closest to the booth and Oskar became noticeably excited. In my dreams, he still looks and speaks (nananananana) the same but he can run and move and I can understand his language much better now. Oskar starts yellin, “Na na na!! Naaaaa!” and I can now see the person in the box is a man and that man is none other than the Late-Great Master himself, Jimi Hendrix. Turns out, Oskar and Jimi go way back. Again, this felt realer than life to me. And then, just for us on that lonely desert road, one we traveled together in life, for our private audience, Jimi honored us by playing Little Wing and don’t you know, I cried like a baby, not of sadness but of unconditional everlasting Agape Love. Oskar came to see me. He brought friends. I was not alone on that otherwise solemn day, my sweet boy was with me and the solid vision of that now sits strong with others from Oskar, Noah, my beloved father and ancestors.
"Little Wing"
Well, she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running wild
Butterflies and Zebras
And Moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind
When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles she gives to me free
It's alright, she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me
Anything
Fly on little wing
So yes, while I am not happy I must continue to fight cancer, I do so knowing I am being watched over by the most beautiful allies I could ever imagine. As I do so, I call up upon the strength of that little boy who made my days sweeter, if only for a blessed short while. As I work with my doctors and healers to fix all the horrendous pain my body, mind and spirit have suffered over the course of one insane lifetime, while balancing a dose of poison that won’t send me to the hospital for a week again, I ask once more for your help in the form of contributions, both financial, of time and energies. Mallori picked me up from the hospital and made sure I had what I needed in terms of medicines and groceries. I’ve been home for almost a week and am just now well enough to share these thoughts and requests of you. I am need of cannabis oil, supplements, help with necessities, and therapeudic treatments both traditional and radical, care for the children (local) and minor help around the house.
Much Love and Thanks with every wish for Happiness this coming year.
~Jodi & Family
It is with much disappointment that I let you know I am now facing off my second round in the ring against ovarian cancer. As I am well-read in this insidious disease, I am not surprised by this news as ovarian cancer has a high recurrence rate. It has taken a me and my doctors some time to figure this out between labs, scans and biopsies. My CA-125 has been well within the normal limits and remains so, the scans looked peculiar; as if the mass (which is aggressively attacking my liver) may be filled with fluid, my labs all look good and I had a long wait for biopsy and results. That said, I was taking it all in stride, suspecting the return of cancer, with good attitude not wishing to alarm anyone or answer questions I didn’t have answers for.
On December 20, I restarted chemo, this time with my oncologist choosing Doxil, which she explained would be harder for me than the previous Taxol. On the 21st, I woke up feeling normal. Loki, Bee and I went out and completed errands as we prepared to spend Yuletide with family and friends. When we returned home in the early afternoon, I crashed so hard I didn’t wake up until the next day. When I woke up on Sunday, I was so sick. I spend the day and night heaving. I continued to take the prescribed medications but all I could do was sleep. Frightened, the children called Kyli on Monday, who came straight away and after sitting with and watching over me several hours as I sweated repeatedly through my pajamas, sheets, and blankets, took me to the ER where I was admitted and kept for a week. Most fortunately, dear friends Shannon, Lily and Obee made sure Loki and Bee celebrated Yuletide, were loved and cared for and my babes still got to visit me everyday. Evidently, I had a rare and unprecedented reaction to the Doxil, being of the 1% who experiences flu-like symptoms. Yay, me! Body slam! Ugh.
Throughout my week in the hospital, I experienced many vivid visions, hallucinations and dreams. One of these happened on the 26th of December. Some say that only imagination makes real, I will attest this vision was realer than most of my waking states of the last couple months as I numbly accepted I was going to have to fight for my life even harder than before. Normally, I would have shared with you Dec 26 being the anniversary of Sweet Oskar’s death. Easier said than done in such a state. 2 years have now passed since that miraculous, mysterious, magical boy died peacefully in my arms. 2 years since we have had the Joy and Honor of experiencing his majesty. Did I ever tell you how, in the moments just before Death, as I felt his breath labor as I held him to my chest and rocked him to and fro, sensing it was time, I turned our little one-eyed wonder around so we could face one another and I swear on all things sacred to me, that perhaps for the first time, I saw the child’s compromised eyeball focus and hone in on my face and when that happened, his sweet self lit up brighter that the Yule log and he smiled the most incredible smile I had seen him ever share. You saw him…that smile was a killa. The point is, he saw me. I. Know. He. Saw. Me. Nothing and no one can or ever will convince me otherwise. He was probably mostly blind all those 4 years but in that instance, HE SAW ME. “Oh, my god. I love you Baby.” I cried as I watched the last breath leave the tiny, fragile body of Oskar Aleister Solomon, my hero, my Love. Which takes me back to the anniversary of that day. As I writhed around tethered to a hospital bed, in and out of weird consciousness, I dreamed Oskar was sitting on my lap as we were truckin though the Arizona desert. The night was beautiful, full stars, just a hint of dark blue still over the horizon. Up ahead in the distance were a lone lamp, some random tumbleweeds and cactus silhouettes and a rather plain sign, “GAS”. There were only two pumps and a small booth, also lit up and as we got closer, could see there was a purple clad figure, cooly slouched inside the little glass hut. Closer still, the person was playing a guitar. We pulled the white pick-up closest to the booth and Oskar became noticeably excited. In my dreams, he still looks and speaks (nananananana) the same but he can run and move and I can understand his language much better now. Oskar starts yellin, “Na na na!! Naaaaa!” and I can now see the person in the box is a man and that man is none other than the Late-Great Master himself, Jimi Hendrix. Turns out, Oskar and Jimi go way back. Again, this felt realer than life to me. And then, just for us on that lonely desert road, one we traveled together in life, for our private audience, Jimi honored us by playing Little Wing and don’t you know, I cried like a baby, not of sadness but of unconditional everlasting Agape Love. Oskar came to see me. He brought friends. I was not alone on that otherwise solemn day, my sweet boy was with me and the solid vision of that now sits strong with others from Oskar, Noah, my beloved father and ancestors.
"Little Wing"
Well, she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running wild
Butterflies and Zebras
And Moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind
When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles she gives to me free
It's alright, she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me
Anything
Fly on little wing
So yes, while I am not happy I must continue to fight cancer, I do so knowing I am being watched over by the most beautiful allies I could ever imagine. As I do so, I call up upon the strength of that little boy who made my days sweeter, if only for a blessed short while. As I work with my doctors and healers to fix all the horrendous pain my body, mind and spirit have suffered over the course of one insane lifetime, while balancing a dose of poison that won’t send me to the hospital for a week again, I ask once more for your help in the form of contributions, both financial, of time and energies. Mallori picked me up from the hospital and made sure I had what I needed in terms of medicines and groceries. I’ve been home for almost a week and am just now well enough to share these thoughts and requests of you. I am need of cannabis oil, supplements, help with necessities, and therapeudic treatments both traditional and radical, care for the children (local) and minor help around the house.
Much Love and Thanks with every wish for Happiness this coming year.
~Jodi & Family
Organizador
Jodi Sandoval
Organizador
Columbus, OH