Beating Back Cancer: Llamas

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Healing Powers

Allie Settles Into Her New Home from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

Animals heal. Research supports this simple statement. I am not naive enough to suggest that pets provide a cure for cancer or various ailments. But I do know one irrefutable fact: they work their calming magic for me, and I am the beneficiary of their subtle ability to heal, make whole. The beauty and grace of their love infuses me every day with a healing calm, enabling me to maintain a totally positive approach to my disease. In fact, my cancer is not, at least at the moment, on the march. While I will never be cured of Non-Hodgkins Follicular Lymphoma, my disease's progression is another thing. At the moment, I am holding fast.

When our dog Julie went over the rainbow, my heart broke. Sleeping with her on the floor, holding her tight, hoping for a good outcome broke my heart. And while some criticized my lack of suitable time spent in mourning Julie's loss, I knew I needed another dog, quickly.
We found Allie through a former student, Janelle Moser, who sent me a link to her breeder--in Virginia. Jennifer Brinson volunteered to travel the 560 miles round trip to fetch Allie, and the rest is history. I could feel the inner difference even on the long drive home. That inner repose, the knowledge that life was whole again. I know I control my climate, but it is always better because of the animals that share my life. But perhaps you have to be an animal person to understand.

As for me, I'm off to the barn to tend to my llamas and check to see if maybe today, on this lovely cool country morning, I just might have a new cria to greet.
Healing Powers
Animals
Animal Therapy
Cancer
NHL
Wellness
Jennifer Brinson

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Beating Back Cancer at Perelman Center for Advanced Medicine

Mickey and I are in the large reception room in West Pavilion, Level 2, waiting for my appointment with Sunita Nasta, a specialist in Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, Hematology, and Oncology. Three months ago, almost to the day, I ventured to the Perelman Center for Advanced Medicine and it was the best decision of my life,

reinforced several times. Since I chose Penn Medicine, I have met several doctors and surgeons who validated my choice. Nice to have my research confirmed as a fine choice. But I knew that as soon as I was treated by Dr. Nasta.

Driving to the PCAM in Philadelphia, we allowed 2.5 hours to drive, and still arrived late. Turnpike construction, likely stimulus package funding, made lane merging a nightmare and the pace crippling. Then, another 15 minutes trying to find a parking space. How does anyone live in cities.

Despite anxiety about being seen as a late arrival, the ambiance of the Perelman Center always calms. Perhaps that was part of the design capture, but this spacious center, dotted with upcycled art, feels reassuring. That's good because I am nervous just a bit because I think my lymph nodes are on the march, reminding me it is so much easier to be optimistic when things are going well.

Which leads me to a dear friend's story of a family friend in the

OBX who succeeded in surviving cancer, only to have it return with a vengeance years later. This time her clock is ticking, and her otherwise open and optimistic approach has changed. All of which is a timely reminder to me. As this appointment approached, I noticed a mood shift. Not much gets me down, but the countdown to this visit came after a week's anxiety with weather and the llamas, followed by a postponed surgery.

Again, what grounded me was my girls. After the heat wave we survived, I looked at life on the farm as the new new. Now it's time to rethink the new new as I move forward, beating back cancer. Knowing that something in my life will keep me laughing, as my llamas do, or at least smiling through the difficult down times gives me courage and faith to move forward. See what I mean as you meet Maria, my talking llama.