I often think I need to have something new to say to justify writing a blog. Maybe the fact that I am still thriving when I am “supposed to be” dead is news enough.
The big event in the past month is that my first husband, father of my son, died suddenly of a heart attack. He was on a camping trip in Utah, doing what he loved. It felt like a miracle that Brian (my son) and I were having lunch together in Berkeley (Brian lives in Cincinnati) when he got the text from his father’s partner that his father was having a heart attack in a hotel in Utah. I am so grateful that Brian and I got to share the experience of getting that news.
Brian was house sitting for friends in the Berkeley hills. After we got the news at lunch, we went for a walk in the Berkeley hills, to a vista spot that we know his father enjoyed when he went to UC Berkeley many years ago. For anyone who has experienced the death of a loved one, you know it feels surreal in the beginning. It’s hard to believe he is gone. He was a unique and special man and we remained close friends, even though our divorce was in 1978. If you read my memoir, you know that he stayed with me for 3 months in 2019 while recovering from open heart surgery. I’m grateful for that precious time we had together.
One unexpected side effect of his death is that it has increased my desire to stay alive longer. As I watch Brian handle the many tasks necessary after a parent’s death, I don’t want him to have to do the same for me in the near future. Give him a break. I’m glad I’m still here to walk with him on this journey.
I continue on the protocol of alternating taking Estradiol and Arimidex. During the two months I take Estradiol, my cancer marker (CA27.29) numbers go down. They just went down by another 2,000 this week. In June I will switch to Arimidex for two months. Historically my numbers have gone up during the two months on Arimidex. But we need the contrast to continue to put the cancer into confusion and chaos. I know this protocol won’t “work” forever, but I am grateful it is working now.
I had a wonderful trip to Kauai, in spite of having a menstrual period while I was there. It’s been more than 30 years since that has happened. Apparently the Estradiol is making my body think it is young again. If I had a man in my life, I wonder if I could get pregnant.
Next month I am going to Camp Indralaya on Orcas Island for a week. It’s a week of training for Therapeutic Touch practitioners and I will be a healing partner for them to practice on. It’s a beautiful setting with loving energy and healing vibes. This will be my 6th time attending this camp and I know it will provide major stimulation of the parasympathetic nervous system, where healing happens.
My goal is to write in this blog every 2 months, even if there is nothing new to report. I hope you will be inspired by knowing what can happen after your doctor gives you an expiration date (mine was January 5, 2024). I love to read your comments.
Jan! You never have nothing to say – anything you share is interesting to me. I always learn something new. I am so sorry for your loss, and will be holding you and your son with caring thoughts. Glad that your current protocol is working for now – your travels sound wonderful – minus the period. Oh my gosh, what a surprise. And, yes, I am inspired by you!
Thoroughly enjoyed hearing what is happening in your life. Sorry for your recent loss. Hope you keep the blog going
Hi, Jan. I just read this blog message and want to say that I doubt you could get pregnant despite the menstruation episode. There are two parts to menstruation: the build up of blood in the lining of the uterus to support and feed an egg, and the release of an egg from an ovary. I rather doubt that you have any eggs left. I think this was just the first part. I’m no expert, but that’s my guess.
Still an annoyance, I would think.
Ah Jan, your life flows on regardless of anyone’s ideas about it. I wonder how any one, most especially so-called professionals have the nerve. Having said that, . . . . . . . the doctor you invited to speak several times to your conferences (she had Crones disease) comes vividly to mind somewhere in the mid-1990s, who unabashedly called credentialed people out for presuming to know the great arch of our stories. I can fully imagine it will be you who decides. How deeply meaningful that you were with your son when the news came. A synchronicity like so many others in your life. And the walk you two took with its view as your creative partner in birth and Brian’s dad was taking flight.
I love your resolve to live longer for his sake. Dads can be important to boys in different ways than to girls. And maybe that is what you observed . . . the stepping up, and in, Brian has done. I am sad for the loss of the world you shared, and the strong bond you held together. I have recently come upon this line from a poem by my friend Zarod which I nest in when I need it: “Imagine my dying as birth.”
(It is so odd I am having at least my end of this conversation on a public platform. And without inhibition.) I am thrilled you have drawn to you all the resources you have including the trip ahead to the island receiving all that magic of touch.
Thank you for letting us peer into your world as you do. It/you feel warm and close.
Love, Dee
Dear Jan,
I burst out laughing as I read your -I hope- ironic comment “if I had a man in my life, I wonder if I could get pregnant.” Good one, Jan! ♥️ I hope when my time to die comes nigh, (and the word nigh has already died but being in the upper realm of age, i resuscitate it) I can still laugh. Laughter is beautiful. Thank you, Jan, for this and for all of the beauty, laughter, information and drumming(!!!) that you have brought us, and with which you have both shaken the rafters of and enhanced medical cancer treatment. Sending love
I always enjoy hearing from you. Keep those blogs coming!!!
Need to buy your book and read the story Jan, holding you in the light.
My husband of nearly 30 years died 2 1/2 weeks ago after many years of increasingly severe illnesses, including multiple myeloma and dementia. I, like your son, am now caught up in the myriad of tasks one has to attend to while I go through the phase of disbelief and grief. It doesn’t seem fair to have to do these linear tasks when I am in such a non linear space of not quite believing he’s gone or knowing who I am becoming as a single woman, not a caregiver. Living one’s life knowing each breath could be your last while savoring the present moment can perhaps extend one’s life or at least increase joy and one’s sense of humor. I’m also 10 years into my life as a double lung transplant recipient and my sense of humor has definitely increased.
As my husband went through his dying process, I was reminded of my son who, at age 4, tried to figure out death and finally said, “Oh, I get it. Dying is just like being born backwards!” Indeed it is and it is just as unpredictable despite having a plan.
Best wishes to you, Jan. And I’m sorry you lost your special friend and your son lost his father. Continue to thrive!
I love reading your words. Of course, I am sorry for your loss and for Brain’s loss, but I am grateful that you model for all of us how to embrace the journey and make it the best we can make it. Thank you.
Jan, your stories are always interesting and keep the circle of connection strong. Please write anything…anytime! Sending love to you and Brian.
Always inspired to receive your thoughts, words, insights and simple grounding. I’m so grateful to have shared much in this friendship of a lifetime. I loved your memoir, and dive into each blog post or memo as I know there’s simple wisdom and thoughtful words being imparted. This one today restored hope in my own journey as I’ve felt collapsed, crushed, defeated yet still grateful to be who I am and go through all that’s choosing me in these introspective, deeply grateful times. Bless You Jan!
Oh, my Heavens, I love the above described wisdom of the 4 year old who observed that death is like birth, but backwards. Jan, I love just knowing you are still here, still living and loving and still learning and experiencing. It was breast cancer that led me to one of your extraordinary weekend events here in Sacramento, an absolute highlight for me. I am now a 6-cancer thriver, all primary cancers (not metastases). Early last year I was diagnosed with AML (acute myeloid leukemia, in bone marrow failure) and given “weeks/months” to live. Yet here I still am. Still functioning, still independent, still vital. I can only say how humbling it is, and how grateful I am. “Who made that rule?” is a guidepost for me. I am happy and grateful for your being. Thank you. With Love and Blessings.