Day #14 at Marinus—The Calm Before The Ultrasound I’ve now been here two weeks, with one week to go. Today was Sunday, our only “off” day in a given week. It gave me a chance to catch a few breaths before tomorrow, when I get my second ultrasound and find out whether or not I have to endure another—and final—round of “low dose” chemo. Let me say up front that I’m hoping for all I’m worth that I can avoid it. And, noooo, it’s not that I’m a big wussy, or anything like that. I can endure hard things. I went through 12 years of two-a-day football practices in the smothering heat and humidity of August in Louisiana. I can handle tough things. Tough is not my problem with chemo. If I thought it was doing me a speck of good that nothing else could possibly do, I would readily submit to it. But it’s not. The heat is what’s working for me, I’m sure of it, because the heat works for everyone else here and at alternative clinics around the globe. Granted, I had a very big, fast-growing tumor, so it had to be dealt with on its own terms. Now we’ve done that with the first round of chemo and the ongoing heat therapy. I’m sure the heat will be enough, combined, of course, with the dozen other healing modalities that we’re given here, not to mention a big dollop of the Budwig protocol dish every morning. (More about that in a later blog.) Because it was only one of three “off” days we can count on during a three-week treatment protocol, Vivienne and I took the opportunity to go to Chiemsee Castle, one of Big Three such castles of “Mad Ludwig” of Bavaria. It is fairly near to the clinic, a half-hour by car, and to check its magnificence all you need to do is check it out via Google Images. Yes, it really IS that elegant and opulent. We went with our good friends now, and table mates at meals, Michael and Susan Brownhill, who came in with us from the airport in Munich two weeks ago. They flew on the same plane from England that we took, though we didn’t know about each other until we arrived and were picked up by the van driver from the Klinik. Our first hour-long drive together from Munich to here was punctuated by long, heavy silences. Now we chat from the moment we see each other. We’ve become foxhole buddies in this particular war. Michael is here treating a severe case of bladder cancer, which is a difficult one to have. He wears a catheter all the time so that anti-cancer fluids can be easily infused into his bladder to kill his tumor, which at one point was nearly as large as mine last week (lemon-sized). Now it’s passing out of his body in chunks and pieces that are visible in the clear plastic tubing connecting his bladder to a collection bag he carries strapped to his calf. Like everyone here, he never complains about the poor hand he drew at this stage of his life. He gets on with coping as best he can, as do we all. What impresses me about Michael, and Susan, is the incredible dignity with which they bear up under this very difficult burden. Michael (whose friends around Cambridge call him “Mick”) is a no-nonsense, straightforward guy who is almost exactly my same age. We were both born in 1946. He has been battling his cancer for a few years now, refusing chemo and radiation, doing what he could on his own using natural methods. But bladder cancer is particularly resistant to “home brewing,” so he has ended up here as a place that can save him without poisoning him with chemo or radiation. All four of us greatly enjoyed our afternoon at the castle, but when we returned here a few hours later, it was clear that both Michael and I had had enough. We ate dinner downstairs, as usual, parted company for the night, and I promptly fell asleep for an hour’s nap. Now I’m up and struggling with fatigue again as I write this. I sure hope I don’t have to have any more chemo……. Lloyd Pye Klinik Marinus Brannenburg, Germany August 18, 2013
Posted on: Sun, 18 Aug 2013 21:41:36 +0000
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