Three-Quarters of the Way There

I just began another chemo infusion this morning. As with each systemic treatment, I was sent home with a battery operated pump on a continuous infusion through Friday afternoon at 2PM at which point it will be disconnected, as it always is. So at that point, I will have completed my eighth infusion, which has me two-thirds of the way through my treatment! I'm very happy about this. As I've said previously, the emotional side-effects of this treatment have been surprisingly difficult, to say the least. Of course this doesn't exactly come as a surprise. Life has handed me a lot in the past year-and-a-half. I don't know what to do with it all, although I'm clear I will find my way ... in time.

A few areas of my life have been pretty incredible lately. I am very grateful for all the love in my life. And for the gift of music and the privilege to have it as a form of self-expression. At a personal level, my song writing exists as a conduit through which I release my thoughts, fears, passion, love, etc. Which results in one more part of myself no longer bottled up, unexpressed, circling around in my mind. Well, for the most part... Then there are those tunes that once I go public with them, there's no turning back. Those stay in my head for a while I suppose. But ultimately, they free my mind as well. And I can use a whole lot of that right now.

My friend Dustin always says something along the lines of, "What do you need for a good song? A few good chords and the truth!" That's my music in a nutshell. And when I'm lucky, those who listen can relate because they feel it too. Not to mention, performing with some damn fine musicians sure as hell makes for a far richer experience.

And in the mean time, if this round of treatment is anything like the previous ones, I'm in for a hell of a ride for the next five days or so. Lately I've felt like Luke Skywalker training with Yoda in the Dagobah System when he comes face to face with himself.

So please send some love my way on Friday and Saturday when all the side-effects - mental, physical, spiritual, emotional - start jockeying for position to whoop my ass. I'll update you on the winners. xoxo

Other Good News

I can finally say with some certainty that within the next four weeks or so, my first CD will be released on I-Town Records, an independent record label based out of Ithaca, NY. The record is an all original Honky Tonk/Americana music CD called Letters to the Prison City and it consists of acoustic guitar, mandolin, fiddle, stand-up bass and steel guitar, as well as two and three-part vocal harmonies.

The record only came about as a result of some very generous friends who were as committed as I was to having this record released. One of those generous people is my sister, Vivienne Scholl, owner and Creative Director of Avenue 4 Design. She took some time away from her very busy schedule and designed all the artwork for it. I am very much looking forward to the release of this CD.

In the mean time, while I wait, here's a look at the cover.

That's all for right now. Have a great weekend!

Reflection

It's been just over 36-hrs and I'm beginning to find my place here at Baja Nutricare. Arriving was different than I had anticipated. I didn't feel excited when I arrived, I felt resentful. I was annoyed with the other patients and their companions as they relaxed in the courtyard, smiling and talking. I didn't know why, but I was bothered and I wanted to be alone and away from everyone. Once we got situated, I realized that the transition was just a lot for me in such a short time. I questioned if I had made the right choice - like jumping from a cliff into a swimming hole and then wondering, "Should I have just done that?" Of course I should have, but I needed to allow myself that level of honesty. In addition, I only recently watched "Dying to Have Known" (the video about Gerson Therapy) so the whole thing was still very much conceptual. And suddenly we are here, interacting with a proud staff and excited guests and companions.

The guests and the companions want to know, "Are you here as a companion or a patient?" "Is he your brother?" "When were you diagnosed?" "What were the symptoms?" Most folks just cut right to the chase. We're all here to do one thing: stop the cancer from growing and best case scenario, reduce the cancer to the point that a local removal is possible. Everyone here has had surgery except me. Currently there are five other patients here (with their companions of course) so that makes 12 of us in all.

All of us eat our meals together (except one patient and her daughter - they eat in their room). It's buffet style. Most folks happily show us the ropes. The staff already walked us through the process and most of the guests are eager to help. We actually seem to be bonding quite quickly, finding out, "How many juices did they start you on?" "How many ounces are your enemas?" "Are they allowing you any exercise?" [rest is essential when the body needs to heal at this level]

This morning I woke up with a strong desire to play the guitar - first in along time. I asked who might know where to get one. I was directed to Dr. Cervantes and he said he might find one. Later in the afternoon a guitar was brought to me! It's an acoustic nylon string guitar strung with steel strings and most of the strings are strung on the wrong pegs. It's hysterical and gratitude is all I feel - what a treat! I'll restring it tomorrow or maybe send one of the companions out for strings. They seem to go out regularly. The cooks are looking forward to hearing a song tomorrow evening. It will be fun.