Feed aggregator

Reservations in Rochester

Laird's Blog -

This week I got the call I wanted from the Mayo Clinic. They will begin my stem cell transplant procedure July 12. Yeehah! Here we go.

By implication this means the doctors are satisfied that my cancer is responsive to the chemotherapy, something I had to establish before they'd proceed, and that the protocol for the next two-and-a-half months is expected to be a continuation of the chemotherapy I'm already taking (and which I know I can tolerate well enough), aimed at gradually increasing my strength and recovery from the mess they found me in Jan 31 when I finally stumbled into the ER at St Luke's Hospital in Duluth.

Looking ahead, here's the front end of what will happen in Rochester. The first week is highly scripted. After that the schedule is more flexible, depending mainly on how I respond.

July 12-14                      Final testing begins.

Afternoon July 14          Meet with Dr Buadi (who oversees all stem cell transplants at Mayo). I need a green light from him after he digests all the test results. While we're expecting no surprises here, who am I to rule out surprises after all that's befallen me the past year?

Evening July 14             They'll start giving me injections to induce my bone marrow to make my stem cells available for collection.

July 18                           Begin harvesting my stem cells. This will proceed until they have more than twice what they think they need.

July 22 (?)                     Once they have the stem cells in hand, they'll give me an injection to kill off everything in my bone marrow.

July 24 (?)                     Two days later they'll reintroduce my healthy stem cells to start repopulating my bone marrow. The rest of my time in Rochester (perhaps six weeks in all) will be devoted to healing under close medical supervision, hoping that a robust response from my stem cells will dominate, placing the cancer in remission.

Mayo's has enough experience with transplants for people with my cancer and the volume is large enough that I'll be able to stay at Transplant House, a private facility in town (about a mile from the clinic) that is wholly geared to support people going through what I'll be going through. They have two large buildings conveniently located in Rochester (with daily shuttle service to the clinic) each of which houses abut 30 people. Each room has two beds (one for the patient and another for the primary caregiver) and a private bathroom. Kitchen facilities are open to all in the house with private storage space in the refrigerator and cupboards for each patient. Amazingly, this is available for $30/night.

I figure it will be a piece of cake adjusting to the housing after all my years in an income-sharing community. In fact, for me, being bivouacked temporarily at Transplant House will mostly represent an upgrade in living space. It will seem spacious. What do I need, after all, beyond a caring companion, a bed, a bathroom, a comfortable chair, a table, and an electrical outlet with a wifi connection?

Among other things, that means I won't miss spring in Duluth, which can be a tricky sighting.
No only am I a patient these days, but I'm discovering that being a Duluthian entails patience. Every day I look at the Minneapolis Tribune and peruse the weather maps. For most of April northern MN has stood out as the font of blue from which all other cold weather emanates in the continental US. It's impressive. And another week goes by without daffodils or lilacs.

I was driving to a rummage sale this morning when a person in the car casually reported that her husband was going to miss the sale because he needed to help out with the family maple syrup harvest. It's the second half of April for Chrissakes! Talk about a time warp. Sandhill would have wrapped up sugaring two months ago.

That said, the delay does not mean I've missed anything. Since I won't be going to Mayo's until July, I'm confident that I won't miss any spring flowers. Of course the upside of the delay is that the mosquitoes have not yet appeared either, which, up to a point, is a trade I'm willing to make. I give enough blood at the hospital; there's no need to give in the backyard as well.

Nutritional Leavening

Laird's Blog -

I had a delightful hour on the phone this morning, catching up with an old friend who has done a lot nutritional training and research in recent years and had a lot to share with me about how nutrition may play a significant role in enhancing my chances to enjoy a happy ending in my battle with multiple myeloma (MM)

It's just another way in which I have landed well after getting buffeted about by the health gods. While no one wishes to contract cancer, all experiences are not created equal and I'd be an ingrate to not see the amazing extent of my good fortunate in the face of my life-threatening illness. In no particular order, let me count the ways:

o  I discovered the cancer in Duluth MN, which just happened to have a crackerjack young oncology team operating out of the local hospital who were up to speed on the latest in treating MM. They recognized what I had right away and got to work immediately.

o  The oncologists have good professional ties with Mayo Clinic (located in Rochester MN, abut 3.5 hours away by car) and were able to get me accepted there as a candidate for a stem-cell transplant. This is highly fortunate in that the Mayo Clinic is one of the leading places in the country for performing this cutting edge protocol for containing MM.

o  I finally broke down and went to the hospital (where the cancer has uncovered) while I was with my new partner, Susan Anderson. Though I had been intending to see doctors when I returned to my home in North Carolina, I didn't make it that far. I was at the tail end of a road trip that had started Nov 13 and thought I was only visiting Susan briefly as a final holiday stopover. However, I had anomalous back pain that was getting steadily worse and never got well enough to leave Duluth.

That meant that, unintentionally, I was with Susan when the bad news was discovered and there is no single thing that has been more valuable to me the last three months of riding the cancer whirlwind than having Susan steadfastly by my side. I have no idea whatsoever how anyone could manage the barrage of information and decisions I was facing without the kind of support that a dedicated partner can provide. I have been highly fortunate.

In fact, things have gone so well with Susan that I have now permanently moved to Duluth so that we can be together regularly instead of occasionally.

o  For most of the last four decades I have lived in an intentional community (Sandhill Farm) that grows 80% of its own organic foods. I enjoyed a diet that was low in animal protein, high in fresh vegetables, and as devoid of inorganic foodstuffs as we could manage. That's an excellent foundation from which to tackle cancer.

o  While my kidneys have been seriously compromised and the cancer is taking over my bone marrow, my health cupboard is not bare. In addition to whatever benefits accrue to me by virtue of my good eating habits (mentioned in the previous bullet point), I have a sound heart, good lungs, no history of major health problems, and all my factory installed teeth. So while my reserves are being called upon in this battle, it's noteworthy that I have reserves.

o  I generally enjoy good balance and have (knock on wood) not fallen once since the cancer was found. This is especially helpful in that a side effect of MM (at least in my case) is that I have been suffering calcium leaching from my skeleton which renders my bones more brittle, and therefore susceptible to breakage. Thus, falling is an especially bad idea right now and good balance has helped keep me upright at all the right times.

o  I have enjoyed an incredible outpouring of support from friends and family. In addition to an avalanche of cards, letters, emails, and phone calls, I've even been graced by a handful of personal visits—all of which have been calculated to buoy my spirits at a time when it was really needed. Wow.

o  Regardless of the ultimate outcome of my dance with MM (who knows how close death is?) I am currently enjoying a time of high lucidity and recovered energy and focus that allows me to reflect on what's happening, to wrap up loose ends that would be impolite to leave to others if things suddenly take a turn for the worse (no matter what, I'm still going to die eventually and all those odd and ends were going to need attention at some point), to reorient my priorities to emphasize close relationships more and a nose-to-the grindstone work pace less, and to be more in the present and more accepting (the flip side of which is judgmental and directive).

o  As a process consultant and professional facilitator I am frequently asked to bridge between parties who struggle to hear each other accurately or to put an innocuous spin on statements that diverge from the recipient's thinking. As you might imagine it's highly beneficial that I have a wealth of personal experience to draw on when attempting such bridge building and it occurs to me that I can now add to my repertoire what it's like to face death in the form of a life-threatening illness.

If I am able to return to active service as a process professional—which I have every intention of doing—this will be one more significant way in which it should be easier for me to hold others in distress who are questioning whether anyone else in he room can understand what they're going through.
o  I had process work commitments lined up that I would have had to cancel but I had already identified competent partners that I could hand the work off to. The clients still got served in a timely way, and my partners got extra exposure and income. 

o  I have money in the bank. While it's not yet clear if I'll have the dollars needed to handle all of the expenses that will ultimately fall to me, I might. Because this didn't befall me until I was 66, I am covered by Medicare and have a decent supplemental program to boot. That means that the vast majority of my expenses will be covered no matter what, but my treatment is not cheap and insurance will not cover everything. In getting sick I face a double whammy: the income ceases (my work life has been suspended to attend to the urgency of my health needs) at the same time that my expenses soar. While this is obviously not a sustainable pattern, I may be able to weather the storm without encumbering myself with crippling debt. I have a chance.

o  In addition to friends who are there for me at the heart level, holding me in the light, some of my friends—like the one I started this blog talking about—are information resources on the road to wellness. 

During this morning's phone call my friend introduced to her research on inflammatory foods: the importance of balancing Omega-3 intake with that of Omega-6, the evils of sugar (now there's a shocker), and being vigilant about pesticide residue on store-bought foods—regardless of whether or not it's organic.

As she suspected, my oncologists were not trained in nutrition. While they are not antithetical to it or hostile, neither are they focused on that approach and my friend was essentially offering to stick her thumb in that dike, or at least train me on where to stick my thumb. Fortunately, information about nutritional sensitivity is not all together new to me and I am not having an inflammatory reaction to her suggestions. Whew.

What's more, the call today comes in addition to an offer I received from another good friend a couple weeks back to help with a raw juice diet aimed in the same direction—better health through careful attention to nutrition and minimally processed food. What with all the visitors I've had lately I haven't yet had time to secure the juicer and get set up. With offers like this can the flow be far behind? Yeehah!

My cup of blessings overfloweth.


New listings on ic.org -

Website: http://feralculture.com City: Manley Hot Springs State: Alaska Zip: 99756 Contact Email: contact@feralculture.com Content Phone: Contant Name:

Getting Less Conflicted About Conflict

Laird's Blog -

In the last week, a colleague sent me the link for a TEDx talk entitled: Conflict: Use it, Don't Defuse It. The two presenters, CrisMarie Campbell and Susan Clarke, are professional facilitators and they do a good job of laying out their main premise: that conflict is inherently neither good nor bad, yet most people (and most groups) avoid it (or try to contain it) to their detriment.

They claim—and I agree—that conflict is a source of energy and information, and if you can learn to approach it with vulnerability and curiosity you can get amazing results. In the video they share some powerful stories about their personal and professional lives where these lessons were brought home to them.

Unfortunately, Cris & Susan don't take it quite far enough. While making a case for the benefit to be derived from stepping away from defensiveness and combativeness, they do not make clear how someone can make that choice—especially in the heat of the moment.

Over my years as a process consultant and facilitator, I've learned that the point of entrée is working with the belligerents emotionally, where you're able to bring to the surface an accurate summary of what each player is feeling and what those feelings mean. It is crucial that this be accomplished with minimal judgment and maximal empathy, so that the person feels heard and understood (note that I didn't say that they feel agreed with, which may or may not happen).

Often, as the facilitator, I will demonstrate what I'm looking for before asking the other conflicted party to take a turn, simply because this request may be too difficult until they, themselves, have been heard. While it's important that the hearing and reaching out ultimately happen across the lines of the conflict, it is often useful for the facilitator to prime the pump—after which they gracefully exit the dynamic, leaving the belligerents to proceed on their own.

The key here is whether authentic hearing and sharing are happening. If so, the facilitator can step back. If not, then the facilitator steps in.

While conflict comes in all shapes and sizes, the most interesting forms (read volatile and intractable) involve at least one party being in active non-trivial distress. As such, once you're clear that there is a significant emotional component in play, then I think it's helpful to keep the focus on the feelings until they have been adequately identified and understood. This expressly means setting aside content (the action or behavior that triggered the conflict) until that's been accomplished.

To be sure, people will tend to squirm when you do this (because arguing over content is more familiar and is deemed safer), but it can be done. If you don't, then the unresolved tension tends to distort the information and cripples the problem solving. In short, attempts at problem solving without acknowledging feelings just don't work. Somehow, a bridge needs to be built between two conflicted people (it may be more than two, but any conflict can be broken down into a collection of pairs) or you won't get any constructive traffic between them. Further, it has been my experience that that bridge needs to have emotional girders or it will be brittle and insufficiently resilient.

While it's possible for the belligerents to have done sufficient personal work to be able to understand this dynamic and to unilaterally step back from the fight and reorient with vulnerability and curiosity (as Cris & Susan advocate), don't count on it. It takes an exceptional person to pause mid-salvo, lay down their ammunition, and ask their upset counterpart for more information. I've seen it happen, but not very often.

Better, I think, is developing a group agreement (and the group's capacity) about how you'd like to proceed and then authorizing the group's facilitators to step in and guide the process, reminding people firmly, but gently how they intend to act when conflict surfaces.

I realize that I'm asking a lot. For the most part, facilitators are expected to manage the content of meetings, making sure that the group stays on topic, listens well, and moves productively toward resolution of group issues. By adding responsibilities directly related to conflict, I am significantly expanding what's expected of facilitators—I am asking them to manage energy as well as content, and to work with people emotionally as well as rationally. This is a big jump and won't land well for everyone. Even if you like my thinking about conflict, you need to seriously consider whether you have facilitators who can answer the bell (or be trained to).

When I'm 64

Laird's Blog -

Back in 2013, I took advantage of my 64th birthday to compose a blog about where I was in life, using the lyrics of the Beatles' classic "When I'm 64" as prompts. It was full of whimsy and fun. 

Well, here I am 30 months later and I'll be darned if I don't have an occasion to dust off that title and use it again...

As you know if you've been following this blog and my cancer saga, I have my blood tested every week. It's part of my chemotherapy regimen, helping my oncology team track my progress in battling multiple myeloma. In particular, I was on the edge of renal failure when the cancer was discovered at the tail end of January, and my #1 treatment priority has been reversing the kidney damage to avoid dialysis or a kidney transplant.

In my instance, the doctors are relying on a particular marker called immunoglobulin light chains. When the cancer was uncovered my light chain number was something in the vicinity of 1800 and they wanted it under 100. Gulp.

Fortunately, my body responded pretty well to the chemotherapy and we were able to drive the light chain number down to 66 after about six weeks of treatment. That said, I had a hiccup at the end of March, when my light chain number climbed back to 239—which development had my oncologist's immediate attention. 

In fact, this was considered a serious enough slippage that my doctor was ready to switch protocols, calling out heavier duty chemo guns in order to drive the light chains back down. Ugh. Thus, just 10 days ago I went into the hospital for my regular Monday morning blood draw, prepared to be admitted to the hospital for five days of amped up chemo. At the last moment, however, my doctor rescinded that order because my light chain numbers had dropped back to 111. Whew. Based on that reversal, he wanted to give the ongoing (less heavy duty) chemo protocol more time to get the job done. Maybe there was a delayed reaction and he knew it would be easier on my body if we could contain the cancer (and the light chains) using less poison rather than more.

Naturally, this reprieve was fine by me. It bought me a week of steady-as-she-goes, which Susan and I enjoyed thoroughly. Of course, there is a new blood draw every Monday, so all eyes were on the light chains ha emerged from the blood sample taken April 11, to see if the wind was still blowing in the same direction. Imagine how big my smile was when the nurse called Tuesday afternoon and reported that the light chain were now down to 64.

Not only was that the best news I could imagine getting, but it magically provided a perfect entrée to today's blog. Sometimes everything lines up just the way you'd like.

Does this mean there will be no more glitches en route to my getting stronger in preparation for the stem-cell transplant procedure (probably in July)? Alas, no. Cancer doesn't come with guarantees. There may be more potholes ahead on the road to recovery and I don't have a map that reveals their location. Yet it's good news nonetheless and has understandably leavened the mood for Ceilee and Annie's visit this week. 

I now have a green light to attempt some judicious reemergence as a process consultant prior to the stem-cell transplant, and I am working with Alice Alexander and the Coho Association of the US to have my debut be May 19 in Salt Lake City, when I conduct a half-day pre-conference workshop on how to facilitate conversations about aging in community. The main event, Aging Better Together, will be May 20-21 and there are still openings to join us if this topic grabs you and there's room on your dance card.

Maybe I'll see you there.

Old Home Week

Laird's Blog -

Starting this evening I'll be visited by my son, Ceilee. While that would be exciting and newsworthy all by itself, it gets better. My pleasure will be doubled when his mother (my close friend Annie) will arrive for an overlapping visit tomorrow. Ceilee's coming from Los Angeles and Annie from Floyd VA, and they'll be with Susan and me for five days or so. We're all looking forward to the time together, as my old home intersects with my new one.

Even as I continue the joyful work of establishing Duluth as my new home (having happily thrown in my latter year allotment with Susan) one of the joys of my cancer diagnosis is the bountiful opportunities I've had to make connections with friends and family all over. 

It's interesting when you think about it. After all, no one is getting out of this life alive, and no one knows exactly how much time they have (or more pertinently, how much quality time they have). That said, there is a marked tendency to live one's life as if it will go on forever and to not seriously plan for end of life. A consequence of following that course is that mortality can take you by surprise and you might miss the chance to say goodbye, to take some moments to slow down the music and appreciate what each relationship has meant to one another. 

Thus the cancer has helped sharpen my focus and that of those I know. Not being sure how much time I have, the dire diagnosis created a sense of urgency and people are reaching out now (letters, cards, emails, phone calls, and visits) in incredible numbers. It's been a terrific time for connections (and reconnections). I have received those blessings because I might die soon. As no one will demand their time back if I don't expire in the coming months, this is a pretty good deal.

Thankfully, I'm not contagious and the doctors have placed no dietary restrictions on me (in fact, fattening me up is one of their top priorities). I've been able to bounce back sufficiently from the initial rounds of chemotherapy to participate in most aspects of everyday life, all of which has helped to grease the skids if a dear one is inclined to visit. Susan and I even have a couple of spare bedrooms available at Chez Anderson, easing the logistics.

It's nearly impossible to know how much life I'll be able to fully enjoy going forward, but then, why spend time on that question? Instead, I'm looking at, "How do I want to use what I have, recognizing that there may be little left in my hourglass?"

In my case, this is a Susan and Laird question, not just a Laird question. Susan has been a rock of support for me these past three months and I've made a commitment to enjoy, celebrate, and appreciate with her what life remains to me. So far it has meant a lot of gin rummy and enjoying PBS broadcasts Sunday evenings, but we're also talking about traveling together. Thinking up joyous ways to be together is not difficult at all; the principal challenge is manifesting the time and stamina. We will take these final rapids together, for as long as the fast water stretches out in front of us and we can keep the canoe upright. We are far enough along in our journey that we no longer need a map—just follow the current. Yeehah!

Meanwhile, amazingly, I have been able to return to work on a limited basis. Yesterday I drilled down on the teaching themes for an advanced facilitation training. I made an initial pass at this two years ago. Yesterday morning I doubled my thinking. While there's no knowing whether I'll have the time and energy to deliver that training, I know that it's a natural progression of my body of work in the field of cooperative group dynamics, and would be the thing I'd most like to complete if I can get to it (because it has the greatest potential for doing good in the world).

Thus, I've been able to return to conduct meaningful work less than three months after the initial diagnosis and treatment, to make encouraging headway in containing the cancer, and to enjoy this incredible outpouring of love and support from friends and family. My cup runneth over. Yes, I have back pain everyday, and I've had to reconcile with the reality that I'll never skydive in Montana or windsurf the Columbia River, but every time I open my eyes in bed Susan is lying beside me and it's a pretty good life all things considered.

This week my work output is likely to decline as I focus on enjoying Ceilee and Annie. But isn't that exactly as it should be? There will be more laughing, more cooking, more drinking, and more story telling. I can hardly wait.

Bedford Cohousing

New listings on ic.org -

Website: http://www.bedfordcohousing.com City: Bedford State: Virginia Zip: 24523 Contact Email: lonforehan@aol.com Content Phone: 540-586-3439 Contant Name: Lon Forehand

Seniors on PEI invited to consider co-housing style of living - The Guardian Charlottetown

Cohousing News from Google -

The Guardian Charlottetown

Seniors on PEI invited to consider co-housing style of living
The Guardian Charlottetown
Guest speakers will include Margaret Critchlow, founding member of Harbourside Senior Co-housing site in British Columbia, and Lori Weeks, a gerontologist currently working in the school of nursing at Dalhousie University and a member of the Atlantic ...


Subscribe to The Cohousing Association aggregator