Eighteen Months

Here we are, July 1, 2010. I'm trying not to count so much, not to put too much weight into how many days or weeks Nicholai's life has gone on; trying to keep my head in the moment – with some, if obviously not complete, success. But I just can't help it.

I can't help celebrating that he's still here, still playing, still drooling on my lap, still whining for back and belly rubs. I can't help but notice the profound disconnect between what I'm told (the cancer paradigm) and what is REAL.

Told: Nicholai had three months, at most, to live without treatment, six months to live with alternative treatment, maybe nine to twelve months to live with full chemotherapy and radiation treatment, if we were the lucky ones. I'm told that without these expensive, toxic, dangerous drugs, he can't survive.

Reality: Nicholai is living with strength and beauty eighteen months later. Because of inadequate research on alternative care (it'll never be a giant profit center, so the big boys would hate to find out it is actually the solution), we don't know if Nicholai's survival is due to our interventions, or just dumb luck. We do know that his survival is not due to the poison drugs and harsh radiation offered by oncology.

Told: We don't know what causes cancer, it seems to be genetic.

Reality: Much study on genetics and cancer reveals that the links between environment – both voluntary and involuntary (ie: smoking vs. exposure to DDT in childhood) have a much larger role in the etiology of cancer. Only 5% of breast cancers are the result of a "breast cancer gene," and studies have shown that adoptees share more health characteristics (including incidence of cancer) with their adoptive family than with their biological one.

Told: Don't trust real food in its natural state; buy pretty packaged processed food. That stuff from the farm – pastured meat, fresh milk, homemade cheese and yogurt – it's downright scary and it's gonna kill you – and your little dog too.

Reality: Factory farmed everything is bad for us. Meat, eggs, and milk of course, are toxic soups of herbicides, pesticides, drugs, feces, sickness, pain and suffering – all of which come right up the food chain to our plates. But veggies too, grown in monocultures and harvested in lots too big to keep clean, have treated us to contaminated spinach, lettuce, and other veggies.

Told: Nicholai would quickly waste away losing appetite, strength, and energy.

Reality: Nicholai is running and jumping, bouncing and celebrating. He roots through garbage for snacks and chases balls into the river. At this moment, he is nudging my hand, urging me to leave the computer and hit the trail with him. Cancer can be debilitating, but so can traditional treatment. Stepping outside the paradigm, there is both help and hope.

In this eighteenth month, I have to trust what I can see and feel and touch. I have to trust my breathing lungs and beating heart, for I too, am a non-chemotherapized long term cancer survivor. I have to trust my happy living dog trotting at my side.

Is it just me, or have we accepted lies as truth and truth as lies? I'll have to contemplate that later, it's time for a walk.