We'd Rather Be Walking: Was I Dancing?

Kilimanjaro, 2006

"Dale, stop that," my darling spouse hissed from behind.

"Stop what?"

"Stop dancing!"

Whaaaa . . . was I dancing? Maybe -- and, why the heck not? Life was soooo good. I'd just retired from the army and was making my way toward the Roof of Africa! I took a look over my shoulder and saw poor Cliff surrounded in a cloud of PigPen-like dust. We were making our way through a dusty bowl between soaring rock walls. And I, kicking up my heels up to (no kidding, on my iTunes Shuffle) Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas," was producing a puff of silty dust that cloaked all those on the trail behind me.

Lesson learned: It is indeed an experience of joyous flow to be in the moment; stay in the moment. And sometimes it's best to step off the trail and give in completely to a mini in-the-moment dance party. In fact, stepping off into an overlook jetty to surrender to a mid-trek hullabaloo can enrich the jubilation (and totally juice the flow). Aligning and harmonizing a very present heart and head serves to focus and to honor that which must be savored before moving along. Yesterday, we took a tiny side-step to do just that. And in a moment of complete surprise, Dr. Rixe even joined us!

OK, so it was a little dance party in the onco-shaman's office only in the most figurative of speech. I've never seen the special teams' captain dance . . . and really do not expect to. But his eyes were dancing -- his eyebrows bouncing above his round (think Harry Potter, only rimless) eyeglass lens. There was no doubt his COVD19 mask concealed a giant smile. The scan results were in, and they were good. Really good. Last Thursday's MRI showed NO disease progression. Half of the lesions on my liver are gone. The remaining two have been reduced by half -- basically pared down to the size of two very small peas. My labs were perfectly normal and my cancer marker (CEA) was once again (two months in a row) below any detectable range. And I know, I usually wait 'til the Progress Report section of my posts to detail this type of info -- but ya know, this is just one of those times to jump off the trail and bust a move. A little celebration is welcome here. And we are due.

Dr. Rixe also was happy to inform us that I qualified for the clinical trial he mentioned during our last meeting, and should our current path get scrambled, we have a relevant (and very good) treatment option. He asked how the mistletoe therapy is going -- and shared with us that he and Dr. Hooper (my integrative medicine doc) now are consulting on my care (yay!). And perhaps the coolest thing Dr. Rixe said yesterday is that we can't really know exactly what has arrested the disease progression -- given all the conventional, integrative and complementary steps of the entire team -- but it is working. Dr. Rixe has no need to be the saviour -- no ego. Really, he's just a little bit magical. His guidance to us: "Just keep doing all that you're doing."

So yep, we'll keep:

Dancing
Learning
Jumping in the pool together every afternoon
Operating with open, flexible, growth mindsets
Choosing optimism
Celebrating our amazing warrior team (if you're reading this blog, you're likely a member)
Committing to those things we have to live for (vs reasons not to die)
Following a therapeutic ketogenic nutrition plan (that's just me, Cliff eats healthfully, yet not with my dietary limitations)
Administering mistletoe therapy (think Cliff, with a syringe in his hand three days a week -- target: my belly)
Practicing Blueprint for Health energy work
Jumping on the Peloton to pedal with Denis, Sam, Matt or Robin -- or on the tread with Matty (sure others too -- but Matty is just pure human happiness!) -- All HIIT for me, of course.
Taking slow, leisurely post-dinner strolls with the dogs
Savoring our often breathtaking Southwestern sunrises and sunsets
Tending our plants
Maintaining and renovating our dream home
And talking excitedly about our next chapter