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Decision day for Cambridge's multi-million pound shared housing estate - Cambridge News

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Decision day for Cambridge's multi-million pound shared housing estate
Cambridge News
The future of an innovative co-housing project planned for land just to the north of Cambridge will be decided on Wednesday. Potential homeowners of the multi-million pound K1 co-housing project, set for the eastern side of Orchard Park, will wait with ...

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Fortunes Reversed

Laird's Blog -

Yesterday I got another chance at my prime lesson in battling cancer: letting go of the illusion of control.

No sooner had I established (at the encouragement of my oncologists) that I was meeting or exceeding all my markers for a good response to my initial rounds of chemo-therapy, then a blood draw Monday turned up an adverse number, triggering a sea change in how I was being assessed.

In particular, there was a rise in the amount of "light chain protein" in my blood (there's also a heavy chain protein, but it's the light ones that are used as a marker of my cancer's progression) and this is something that the doctors think is critical to keep at a minimum leading up to my having a stem-cell transplant.

While there's part of me that's amazed and shaken that a single test could be so destabilizing to my treatment plan, this has not eroded my fundamental faith in my doctors. We will be in this together, wherever it leads.

In any event, after first laying out the expectation that I'd be entering a relatively quiet maintenance phase of the chemo protocol from now until a July transplant at the Mayo Clinic,  all of that shifted yesterday. Determined to get back on top of the light chains, the doctors in both Duluth and Rochester have agreed that a more aggressive plan is in order that will entail the introduction of some additional new drugs.  

This new cocktail is potent enough that I'll be readmitted into the hospital for five days, starting Monday, followed by a crucial week of observations to see how I respond. The doctors were straight with me. This will be my most severe test yet, and there's no guarantee that I'll survive it. (Quite the change from the calm waters I had woken up to when the week began!)

Once again it's time to set aside all other concerns and opportunities to prepare myself to simply ride the waves of my treatment, doing all that I can to be my body's ally. It is not yet time to be planning presentations or to be crafting book outlines. First I have to get well.

While it has been a jolt to have my plans knocked down (I liked the picture of a predictable, playful spring) and to again be staring down the chaotic barrels of what my cancer hath wrought, there is also a part of me that is relieved to be facing the hard stuff sooner, with minimal delay. It was always coming, and it feels better to be turning toward the boogie man, rather than away. If the cancer is stronger than I, so be it. If I am stronger, let's find out now and move forward.

Cohousing nel grattacielo, l'esperimento di Londra - Daily Green - La notizia cambia, si fa verde

Cohousing News from Google -

Daily Green - La notizia cambia, si fa verde

Cohousing nel grattacielo, l'esperimento di Londra
Daily Green - La notizia cambia, si fa verde
La Start Up “Collective” e lo studio PLP rispondono al problema della densità abitativa delle grandi città proponendo un progetto davvero innovativo: un grattacielo per il cohousing. Il grattacielo, che sarà terminato nel 2018, sorgerà a Londra e ...

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Adonis Autism presenting at National Conference on Autism on cohousing for those with Autism Spectrum Disorder - Naples Daily News

Cohousing News from Google -

Adonis Autism presenting at National Conference on Autism on cohousing for those with Autism Spectrum Disorder
Naples Daily News
Adonis Autism, Inc. Board President Terry Kays and Debby Kays will present on plans for Osprey Village, a cohousing community for families with young or adult children with Autism Spectrum Disorder, at the National Conference on Autism, “Promising ...

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Co-housing. Io cambio status: aperte le iscrizioni - la VOCE del TRENTINO

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Co-housing. Io cambio status: aperte le iscrizioni
Sono aperte fino al 2 maggio le iscrizioni al progetto “Co-housing. Io cambio status” portato avanti dall'Agenzia provinciale per la famiglia, la natalità e le politiche giovanili. 50 giovani residenti in provincia di Trento, tra i 18 e i 29 anni ...

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Cohousing nel grattacielo: l'esperimento di Londra - Architettura Ecosostenibile: bioarchitettura e sostenibilità (Comunicati Stampa) (Registrazione) (Blog)

Cohousing News from Google -

Architettura Ecosostenibile: bioarchitettura e sostenibilità (Comunicati Stampa) (Registrazione) (Blog)

Cohousing nel grattacielo: l'esperimento di Londra
Architettura Ecosostenibile: bioarchitettura e sostenibilità (Comunicati Stampa) (Registrazione) (Blog)
La Start Up “Collective” e lo studio PLP rispondono a questo problema proponendo a Londra, città ad alta densità, un grattacielo per il cohousing in cui è possibile vivere con un low budget e condividere ampi spazi con oltre un centinaio di persone.

The Flight from Here to July

Laird's Blog -

I'm sitting at the dining room table, listening to the outdoor background music: deep bellowing of horns from ship traffic in the harbor. The St Lawrence Seaway officially reopens for business yesterday, and here at the extreme corner of the system, they're not hiding their light under a bushel (much less their horns in a bell jar). There are one or two hefty ore boats freshly loaded with taconite outbound for steel mills somewhere in Ohio or Indiana, and away we go.

Just as the Seaway opens, Susan and I are at the cusp of segment two our four-stage journey through the gauntlet of cancer treatment. While I'd like to tell you that all will be smooth sailing, our journey comes with no such guarantee.

For a quick review of the bidding:

Segment 1
Discovery of the cancer, diagnosis, and initial treatment, to see if the bad signs can be turned around and if my body is sufficiently responsive to treatment (did we get there in time?). In my case this included collecting all the information of a complicated and aggressive cancer and its attendant side effects. While it's turned out to be a lot, my team of doctors felt we had good reasons to be hopeful of a positive response to immediate treatment and wasted no time in going there once they'd secured my approval.

To be clear, there was no certainty I'd come through this initial phase well, but I did. Without going into details, I've been able to turn around every single marker associated with the cancer, and it appears I have an excellent  chance of being able to come out of this with functioning kidneys (read no kidney transplant; no dialysis). My sense is that I was very close to not being able to come back from the kidney damage I had already suffered (about which I was unaware until I was hospitalized in late Jan and began looking under the hood), but it appears I've dodged that bullet (at least for now--my kidneys will be challenged again by the stem-cell transplant therapy in July).

So it's wonderful news to be in my position, having successfully ridden the storm-tossed seas of Segment 1, with all its uncertainties, and finding a stretch of calm water in front of me.

Segment 2
Relatively quickly, my oncology team agreed that my best long-term chance for turning the cancer around lay in a stem-cell transplant, where the healthy remnants of my bone marrow (ravaged by the cancer) could be salvaged and harvested from my system and then reintroduced to my bone marrow after wiping out the unproductive stew that was currently dominating my marrow (so that I can resume the efficient production of red cells, white cells, and lymphocytes—the things my bone marrow should be doing).

First though, I needed to stabilize and reverse the deterioration of my system, which included courting renal failure and heavy-duty calcium leaching from my skeleton. Having turned things around (as planned) it will still take a while strengthening everything for preparation for the stress of the stem-cell transplant itself (no point in undertaking the cure of it swamps the boat).

Thus, this is a purposeful pause between Segment 1 and Segment 3. While this is a relatively "quiet" time in the overall protocol, it's a needed step.

Segment 3
This is the stem-cell transplant itself and the immediate recovery afterwards. It should only take about a week to harvest the healthy stem cells, kill off what remains in my bone marrow, and reintroduce my stem cells. Thereafter it's a battle between my body, bolstered by the judicious application of myriad meds to reboot my system. It will basically be up to my body to handle the trauma of the transplant, to regenerate the stem cells, and to take advantage of the opportunity of a clean slate to push the cancer out of the way and proceed on a healthy path.

Segment 4 
The recovery from the transplant will happen by degrees and there is an important marker after 100 days, at which point I'll be thoroughly tested and evaluated for what we've achieved. It will be at this point (probably somewhere in October) where the oncology team will be able to offer a new prognosis about how much cancer-free time all this effort has earned me. I will be given no guarantees. I will simply have purchased a chance.

Based on what I learn at that stage, I can plan accordingly.
• • •In meeting with Dr. Alkaeid Monday (who's playing point person on my Duluth oncology team), we went over where we were and where we were headed relative to the recommendations from Mayo (secured last Thursday in my meeting with Dr Buadi).

First off, the doctors were in alignment about the treatments and their timing. Whew. They further agreed that my responses to Segment 1 were strong and positive, which was what I wanted to hear, and they gave me permission to resume any aspect of my life that I felt healthy enough to attempt between now and the July transplant. While no one's thinking about sky diving, I'm toying with a modest resumption of consulting and teaching.

This last has been a great buoy to my spirits as I can now indulge in some proactive thinking about life as a cancer survivor. While I have little clue about long-term possibilities, my life doesn't not have to be on hold as I go through the calmer waters of Segment 2.

I especially enjoyed a metaphor about the first three segments of my cancer protocol that Dr Alakeid passed along to me in the context of Monday's consult. He suggested that I think about it in terms of learning to fly. All parts of flying are not equally dangerous. In fact landings are the most dangerous, with the challenges there being the only times that are more stressful than take-offs. Actual in the air flying is rarely a problem. 

Mapping that onto my cancer protocol, he was pleased to report that I had successfully negotiated the take-off (Segment 1) and was in the air! Not everyone makes it this far and he was quite happy with my progress. Now we're entering the relatively safer in-flight portion of the protocol, putting ourselves into the best possible position for the most critical step: landing (represented by Segment 3, the stem-cell transplant).

So hurray for where we are Serious works remains yet my current position is as good as I could hope for. I aim to make the most of this pause to have a terrific landing (and enjoy the flying time between now and then). As far as I know, everyone is down with that.

SageHill Place

New listings on ic.org -

Website: City: Taylorsville State: Utah Zip: 84123 Contact Email: cindy@sagehillcohousing.com Content Phone: 385-236-3356 Contant Name: Cindy Turnquist

Zehnder America Announces the Completion of Belfast Cohousing & Ecovillage - Virtual-Strategy Magazine

Cohousing News from Google -

Zehnder America Announces the Completion of Belfast Cohousing & Ecovillage
Virtual-Strategy Magazine
Belfast Cohousing & Ecovillage, a 36-unit multi-generational community in Midcoast Maine, completed the construction phase of the project. All of the homes are built to the Passive House standard and have Zehnder Heat Recovery Ventilation systems to ...

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Zehnder America Announces the Completion of Belfast Cohousing & Ecovillage - PR Web (press release)

Cohousing News from Google -

PR Web (press release)

Zehnder America Announces the Completion of Belfast Cohousing & Ecovillage
PR Web (press release)
Belfast Cohousing & Ecovillage, a 36-unit multi-generational community in Midcoast Maine, completed the construction phase of the project. All of the homes are built to the Passive House standard and have Zehnder Heat Recovery Ventilation systems to ...

and more »

Good News from Mayo

Laird's Blog -

Thursday I was accepted for stem-cell transplant therapy at the Mayo Clinic, as a protocol for addressing and containing multiple myeloma. It was what I wanted, and it's a big deal that I got it. Now the challenge is making the most of the opportunity.

Here is what lays ahead:

o  Between now and when the transplant is performed (projected to be mid-July, but that's a soft date)), I'll likely go through 4-6 cycles of chemo-therapy, all geared toward boosting my kidney functions and eliminaing calclium leaching from my bones. While I've made significant progress on all of these markers across the board, I can do better and the doctors, understandably, want to make the best possible use of the transplant.

o  Once we get the OK for the transplant (because the markers are good), we'll temporarily relocate to Rochester for about 6-8 weeks, where the finer detailed road map looks like this:

Mayo will conduct their own blood tests, to make sure they align with the numbers coming back from test results in Duluth. According to what we were told yesterday, there are few surprises at this stage and 90% of the time the evaluation phase results in a green light.

Next step is collecting my stem cells. They will inject me with a shot every day that will cause my bone marrow to cough up its stem cells. The doctors will start collecting the stem cells five days later and continue that process until they have more than enough to do two transplants. Excess cells can be frozen for long-term storage and viability.

Once they have enough stem cells, they give me a single shot of something to kill off everything remaining in my bone marrow (the good and the bad indiscriminately). As you can imagine, we're talking about heavy-duty poison here and this begins a stretch where I might struggle again with the chemo. Let's say sterilization takes place on Day 1.

—Reintroduce my own cells
Two days later the doctors will reintroduce my own stem cells to my bone marrow, on Day 3.

For the following three weeks my job is recovery. By Day 6-7 my blood counts will be low and I'll lose my hair. There won't be many good days. I'll be taking heavy-duty chemo and just trying to ride the choppy waves without swamping my boat. This projects to be the darkest time.. Somewhere around Day 14 my blood counts should start to recover. From here on recovery tends to accelerate. Most transplant recipients are sufficiently far along that they no longer need close monitoring and can return home in the range of Days 18-21.
At this point the key question is how much the cancer has been brought under control: it could be anything from hardly any to full remission. While the transplant treatment is not dangerous per se (that is, few die of it directly), there is no guarantee that this will contain the cancer—which is the point of all this.
Huddling with my doctors after the transplant (perhaps 100 days afterwards) we should finally be able to make a reasonable assessment of my post-transplant prognosis—how much I can look forward to time with little or no pain, which opens the door for Susan and me to think about how to use that precious commodity. Until then it will be difficult to suss out exactly where I stand, yet that doesn't mean we have to stand on the sidelines until October.

No Trips Abroad
Though from this point on most of the chemo will be conducted as outpatient therapy, I will still need to remain near enough to Rochester and Duluth to have minimal complications with scheduling. That is, I'll need to be tethered to my Minnesota treatment centers. While brief forays out-of-state might be possible on rest weeks (between active cycles of chemo-therapy) they will be limited.

One Thing at a Time
Job One from now until transplant is my getting stronger (turning around weight loss, eliminating dependency on walkers and wheel chairs, managing daily needs and hygiene with minimal dependency on Susan, and continuing to push my kidney functions in the right direction). This will directly translate into my being to make the best use of the transplant.

Resuming "Normal" Activities
I asked my doctor when I might prudently be able to return to some of my work (as a process consultant or community networker), and got an interesting response: I can resume any time it makes sense. It's simply a question of what I have the capacity and motivation for taking on. This was something of a surprise (I had been thinking that career resumption, if at all, might happen only after the transplant and we got to see what that protocol had accomplished.)
Among other things, this significantly changes how Susan and I will be viewing the months ahead in Duluth. If we aren't looking at the transplant happening sooner than July, then I have over three months to get stronger, to enhance my capacity to handle the chemo well, and start crafting the life that Susan and I want our partnership to be. I'm limited only by my energy and my body response—rather than by the calendar (I have to wait until July) or by the stigma of cancer. Though I'm still coping with back pain on a daily basis, I'm jazzed to begin this work.

We do not have to put off conversations about what we want. We can start now. I especially like how this allows us to start moving toward a rebalancing of focus after two months that have been intensely unbalanced, coping with Laird's emerging health crisis. Now we can shift to Laird & Susan's opportunities.

Sounds better, doesn't it?


New listings on ic.org -

Website: http://namafarm.webs.com City: Cambridge State: Vermont Zip: 05444 Contact Email: namafarm@gmail.com Content Phone: 802-399-9629 Contant Name: Nate Peyman

Mushing South

Laird's Blog -

We've been blessed with a mild winter in Duluth (which is assessed mainly along the lines of the Ice Index: the less ice I have to navigate between house and car, the milder the winter). Given my compromised health (multiple myeloma or MM) necessitating many visits to and from doctors  for treatment and therapy, that's been fortunate.

Wednesday Susan and I traveled by car to Rochester and an important date with specialists at the Mayo Clinic to see if I'm a suitable candidate for stem-cell transplant therapy, which is one of the most promising new protocols for treating MM. Our date was at 8 am Thursday which mean arriving on location no later than Wed evening.

Wouldn't you know: even though we're in the post-equinox, tail-end-of-the-dog days of March, the US Weather Service predicts that we'll sashay through 3-5 of wet, glumpy snow to get there. I reckon winter couldn't resist taking at least one more bite of my apple.

On the other hand, Susan drives a Subaru—the official car of the North—and 3-5 inches of crystalline sunshine should be no match for all-wheel-drive. We just left a little earlier.

While Mayo has let us know that they'll orchestrate all my appointments in Rochester, and my oncology team has made sure that all the test results and their diagnostic thinking has been duly passed along, Susan and I are driving south with just about as much surety as the Fellowship of the Ring headed for Mordor—after sifting through all the choices, what remains is the best option, regardless of its improbability. Like the Fellowship (an appellation I have a strong affinity with) I head south on the wings of trust and the loving support of many. 

Beyond what room I'll be in for my first appointment and the name of the doctor that I'll be meeting, tomorrow is another exercise in letting go. I don't know what questions I'll be asked, or even the basis for Mayo's decision about whether to accept me for stem-cell transplant therapy. I don't know how long it will take them to make a decision, or my options if I get turned down. In short, there are many unknowns and I head south thankful that I am not making this journey alone, that Susan will be participating with me as a team.

We arrived in Rochester and got settled in around 6 pm, right before the spring snow started arriving in earnest. When we woke up this morning, there were 10 inches of fresh snow on the ground. Luckily, we were able to make it to all of our appointments without leaving the block of buildings that comprise the essence of the Mayo Clinic, and thus were able to avoid any nasty weather encounters. Whew.

I felt drained from the ride down and went to bed early. What's the best way to get psychically ready for the unknown? Not sure, I had a small dinner and cashed in. I figure that laagering my energy for today was the right call. No dancing; no blackout bingo.

So here were are, on the cusp of finding out what Mayo is willing to support in my effort to place my cancer into remission. I have only the vaguest sense of probabilities, but I know what my doctors have faith in, and I have faith in my doctors. While there does not seem to be a serious risk to my mortality in attempting stem-cell transplant therapy, neither is there any guarantee of a positive bounce. We'll have to do it and find out what we get. It's part of the adventure.


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