Kathleen is back in the hospital. She had some upper intestinal blockage (sluggish intestine), so she is back in for observation. We hope she will be out today, or tomorrow.

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Kathleen is now home from the hospital and resting.

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Dear friends – Thank you all for your emails, conversations, prayers, thoughts, and words. Please keep us in your hearts and minds. Here’s the latest as of Friday noon:

Keep checking www.kathleenflowers.com for updates!

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The ovary and uterus were removed, and no other organs. She’s in recovery right now. We will have other updates later.

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Kathleen had to cut her Ireland trip short and fly home May 6th, due to ovarian pain and some organ blockage due to the size of her ovarian growth.

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now mondaz night here, daytime in the states. the clinic visit went well todaz – as well as we could have hoped! but we still await the test results and consultation tomorrow, so keep her in your prayers – appointment is 2:30pm our time, which is 9:30am on the east coast, 6:30am west coast.

dr. kübler, his wife, the nurse, and the receptionist were all in good moods and happy to see kathleen (and me, too, it seems). k´s veins cooperated and the blood draw took less than 2 hours, and was fairly uneventful except for the pain of the needle going in and out. we read a bit about venice and visited a bit with her fellow-patient from carmel in the next room, going throgh the same process (we had dinner with them Saturdaz night, too). dr. and frau kübler seem optimistic. k is still having pain in her abdomen, and maybe that will cease if/when she can stop the medication she was presc ribed months ago.

weather is still cold and damp. we had 1 good daz, saturdaz was sunnz and warm, and we took advantage, getting up earlz and taking a train an hour and a half to the south and the alps, then a series of trains and gondolas up to the highest point in germanz (right at the border with austria, from the peak we crossed over to austrian soil, i mean snow). tons of skiers up there, quite a scene. we walked around and took photos. the pig was with us there, as everywhere, and we have the photos to prove it!

spent sundaz in the museum full of classical art, from late medieval and renaissance through 18th centurz masters. i liked the Dürer and we both like the oldest works, e.g. Giotto, Fra Angelica, Breughel. Some nice Rembrandts here, and tons of Rubens – highlz recommended if you#re into Rubens and Van Dyck…

gotta run. thanks for your replies (hugh, tony, max, karen, diane). more so on! k will also have tomorrow#s news posted to www.kathleenflowers.com by her brother.

love to all, kathleen and howard

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Kathleen will post more about thes photos (updated by brother).

First Trip to Germany, with sister.

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Guten Tag, Freundin! (Good day, friends!)

Yeah, I’m becoming really fluent in German—ha! The one phrase I’ve mastered is: Entushuldigungse which means “Excuse me” or “I’m sorry”. The phrase that would come in more handy, but I can’t seem to remember for the life of me, is: Ich vertsche nicht which means “I don’t understand.” I guess being half German explains why everyone starts talking a mile a minute to me in German. For some silly reason, I think if I listen hard enough I’ll understand but when they come to the end of their long discourse, all I can do is smile sheepishly and say, “Ich spreche kein Deutsch” (I don’t speak German.) Oh, well, I’m listening to my language tapes and the doctor’s wife and receptionist were surprised to hear me say, “Auf Wiedersehen” when I left my appointment yesterday. They both laughed and one even said, “Super!” which of course took away some of the sting of that being all I could remember to say after listening to two lessons of German and practicing lots more phrases than “good-bye”.

So, yesterday: Phew! What a day! I set my alarm early and rode my bicycle to the swimming pool to pump up those ever-naughty weins and came home for a quick breakfast (and no liquids, this time!) and then hopped on my bike confident that I could find the clinic within half hour. Well, now I know that once I enter the humongous English Garden park all I do is stay on the main road that is reserved for the buses. It’s basically a straight shot from my apartment to the clinic. I get to ride through acres and acres of the greenest grass and trees and across the bridge that leads to the neighborhood where the clinic is.

But, yesterday morning was another story. I second-guessed myself, got all turned around, took a path and got lost. I accosted a man waiting at a bus stop and even after he told me he didn’t speak English I still thrust my map in his face and pointed where I needed to go. He shook his head and made hand gestures that I should go over to the beer garden and ask someone. Well, even in Munich, I know that the Beer Garden is not open at 9:30 am. 9:30! That was the time of my appointment. I was late for my first treatment. I knew that wasn’t going to go over well. I got on my bike and continued riding in the wrong direction. Finally, I stopped and called the clinic and gratefully, the receptionist laughed when I said I was lost in the English Garden. I suspect I’m not the first. Finally, while looking at the map yet again, a nice man stopped and gave me directions in English. I told him that he saved my life and he laughed, but in some regards, it’s only a bit of an exaggeration…

I made it to the clinic and instead of having to stand in the corner for my tardiness, I was received warmly. The nurse prepared me and the doctor came in. He was in good spirits until the first try resulted in the same frustrating end: the vein starting giving blood and then shut down. He seems thoroughly perplexed and frustrated and said that this is the strangest case and that he’s never seen anything like it. (Oh, great.) But, the second try did work and he left the room shaking his head and muttering, “Well, for now the blood flows…” and I lay there thanking all my guardian angels and half-holding my breath that my vein would continue to cooperate. It did. In fact, somewhere towards the end of my 10 rounds (fifteen minutes each) of having the blood first pumped out of my vein and into a machine that filters out what the lab needs in order to make my vaccine and to multiply (I think) my Natural Killer Cells (those cells in our body that attack the bad guys) and then returns the remainder of my blood, I dozed off. The nurse woke me up to say that my vein had closed down again and to pump my fists. Luckily, that did the trick!

After the blood filtering, the doctor’s wife used the same IV to let my first round of dendritic cells slowly drip into my body. The dendritic cells are supposed to “educate” my Killer Cells (sounds like such a “surfer” thing to say, “Hey, dude, those are some killer cells you got there!) for better tumor antigen recognition (my dictionary on the computer defines antigens as: a toxin or other foreign substance that induces an immune response in the body, esp. the production of antibodies). Jeez, this is getting technical. I understand what my treatment consists of and the concept behind it when Dr. Kübler explains it to me (more or less) and draws nice little diagrams to show how it works, but I wish I could explain the whole process better to you. Before I left, Frau Kübler assured me that I wouldn’t feel any side effects from this treatment, that those would come in a couple weeks when I got my first vaccine shot, and that she’d warn me before they happened.

But, as I was leaving, I noticed a sharp pain where my remaining ovary (and cyst) are and discounted it as possibly being pre-menstrual cramps. I rode my bike home (without getting lost) and ate a big lunch. Since the pain was starting to get stronger, I decided to try and lie down and see if a nap would take care of things. Instead, the pain just intensified and seemed to spread through my abdomen. With embarrassment, I emailed Dr. Kübler to just check in about the worsening pain and remind him that I am due for an utlrasound to check on the cyst on my ovary. When I lied down again, my legs started to ache, the pain in my abdomen was spreading, and I felt more and more nauseous by the minute. I started to get the chills. It all was a little too reminiscent of the symptoms I had in February when the tumor in my abdomen “blew-up”. After another hour, I tried calling the clinic but there was no answer or answering machine. This time, I left a more frantic email message for Dr. Kübler, while trying to suppress images of having to figure out how the German emergency medical system works in case I actually was having a repeat of what happened with my last ovarian cyst…You can imagine.

Luckily for me, but probably not for her, a poetry friend from Santa Cruz, Angelica, who is German and home visiting family and friends, showed up to share the vegetable soup I had made the night before. We had planned the get-together while I was feeling fine just a few hours earlier. She sat with me and listened to all my mounting anxiety about being afraid I was going to have to fly home, have another surgery, and not get to have this treatment after all. She stayed really calm and tried to console me and help me figure out next steps. She also suggested that even though Frau Kübler said I wouldn’t have side effects from the treatment it seemed like a likely explanation. I told her that early in my diagnosis I swore I would not be the kind of cancer patient that worried that every little ache and pain was the cancer returning; but I am humbled again. I see that it’s very hard not to jump ahead and start imagining worse case scenarios–especially when the pain is so acute.

After another hour, mom called and so I went and checked email again. Fortunately, there were two messages from the doc. He said not to panic (WHO’S PANICKING?) that my reaction was normal and in fact, a good sign because it meant that the dendritic cells were actually working and that the tumor cells were lysating—being destroyed and metabolized back into the blood stream. He said that the acute symptoms only last for several hours and not to worry that I was having a relapse. And, that we’d check my abdomen “in due time”.

Ahhh….I instantly started to feel better. Angelica had suggested I take an Advil about half an hour earlier, so with the comforting news from the doctor and the pain medication starting to kick-in, I stopped feeling like a wild animal pacing in a tiny cell (a cell of my own worst imaginings!) and she and I ended up having a lovely evening, getting to know each other better. In fact, she has invited me to join her and a friend to go to a museum this afternoon and tomorrow she’s taking me to the village she grew up in for their annual wine festival this weekend—complete with Polka bands! (It seems that there are no WiFi cafes in her little village, so I won’t be taking my laptop and will be out of computer contact until next week.)

I woke up briefly a couple of times during the night and when I realized that I wasn’t in pain, I felt such an euphoria. And I feel absolutely fine today! Crazy.

Once again and always, I feel so taken care of. Even in the hardest moments, an angel appears to encourage and comfort me and then invites me on some true Bavarian adventures! I won’t lie and say “Cancer is fun;” but, I do constantly marvel at all the incredible people I’ve met and extraordinary experiences I’ve had since my life took such a radical turn.
Well, it’s time to get ready and see if I can find my way downtown (to the most crowded and touristy part of Munich) to meet Angelica and her friend, Frank. Wish me luck and really: thank you for making me so lucky!

I love you all!
Kathleen

Health

Dear Friends,
I am back in “blogland” and promise to update more often. I’m going to try and keep this short but hit the major points since I last wrote: honeymoon and return to clinic, and diagnosis results.
Italy was fantastic in every way: the incredible art and architecture, the ancient ruins, the breathtaking countryside with its olive groves, vineyards, and fields of sunflowers, the friendly and boisterous people, and of course, the delectable cuisine—of which, I tried to taste almost every thing. The agritourism farm houses we stayed in were gorgeous and rural and hosted by very sweet people. We met other travelers and yet felt like we had a lot of privacy, too. We also had a rental car for most of our three weeks so we did little road trips to different towns and sights almost every day. Howard was an incredible tour guide and chauffer. He really had a knack for driving in Italy—which I have to say was a bit stressful and often comical, as we circled around and around the turn-abouts until we finally figured out which exit we were supposed to take. Boy, did that confuse the Italians!
We returned to Munich Monday morning via an overnight train from Rome. We had a budget sleeper car, which was amazingly comfortable. I was afraid I wouldn’t sleep at all; but, on the contrary, I felt like I was being rocked all night. I kinda’ loved it. I had my first appointment at the clinic on Tuesday. The short of it is: SUCCESS!!! The doctor took my blood and after the right arm did not cooperate, he shook his head and said that it didn’t look hopeful BUT then the vessels in my left arm did stay open! I held my breath for next 4 hours while a machine filtered a gallon of my blood and then returned to my body what the lab didn’t need. Since I had been really trying to help my veins by hydrating all morning, 15 minutes into the treatment, I had to go to the bathroom. Frau Kübler (the doc’s wife and nurse assistant) said that she would have to disconnect me from the machine and that if the needle in my arm got jiggled at all, it probably wouldn’t work again that day. So, I waited another hour to visit the toilet, until I felt like I would explode. Luckily, with Howard’s help, the needle must not have gotten jostled ‘cuz it worked again when she re-hooked me up. Phew! Anyway, the procedure was pretty painless and I cried with relief to find it working.
We returned on Thurs to get the diagnosis, which pleasantly surprised the doctor and us: my tumor cell counts are not too bad. The goal is to get the dozen different things he checks for in the blood below 500 parts per million. Higher than 500 and you’re at risk for metastasis. I’m not sure what the highest numbers are but I’ve heard they can be in the several thousands. Mine were between 600-900—below 1,000 is actually a pretty good place!!! I’m so thrilled, as you can imagine. I was pretty worried that they’d be really high with all the tumor activity I’ve had and with all the operations (which according to Dr. Kübler increase metastasis). The doctor seemed genuinely pleased and optimistic–which is not something I take lightly from him! He said that he thinks my attitude and behavior and even the Protocel all probably contributed to me being in such a good state considering how serious my kind of cancer is. He also said that it was a prudent choice not to have done chemo or radiation since it showed up in the blood analysis that I have some kind of enzyme (or something) that blocks those treatments. Instead of those chemicals and procedures attacking the cancer cells they, in fact, would have destroyed my Natural Killer Cells (the immune system’s weapons against disease).
But what I put at the TOP of my healing list is all the prayers and love and food and cards and EVERYTHING that you all have sent my way in the last two years! I will never be able to thank you enough!
So, I start treatment on Tuesday. One day a week for 10 weeks. Again, for four hours at a time, I will be hooked up to that machine having blood taken, filtered, and returned so that a new batch can be examined to see how I am progressing, and to send to the lab to have my next dose prepared in vitro. I will also be getting some kind of vaccine that is supposed to give me flu-like symptoms within a few hours that last about a day. This vaccine is supposed to “kick-start” my immune system into action to attack the cancer cells. At another time, I will write in more detail about what this treatment is about—as I rudimentarily understand it…
Sadly, Howard left for the US today. He almost got bumped for a free intercontinental ticket and but then they didn’t need his seat afterall. Shucks! That would have really come in handy. It was very hard to say good-bye to him. We’ve been virtually inseparable for the last month and have had a great time together. I also feel more afraid about being in this new country than I expected. I tried to console myself by asking how much scarier could it be than all the operations and unknowns we’ve faced since my diagnosis but then I realized that it was always “we” facing those: Howard ever by my side. Now, I get to experience on it my own. That’s a whole different story…
But of course, I’m not alone. Like Howard, all of you are in my heart and all I have to do is think of you and the room fills with so much love and support. I continue to feel so fortunate in every way. One of the last huge blessings I’ll share is that my friend Jamy connected me with her friends Silke and Debra who have generously set me up in their gorgeous apartment, complete with bicycle, internet, and cell phone to use in a very nice neighborhood in Munich! I can walk or bike ride to the clinic and am near really wonderful little organic shops. There’s a beautiful and expansive park with a river flowing through it, a lake, even a Chinese Pagoda and Beer Garden just five minutes from my front door! I really can’t believe it!
OK, I tried to be brief but that’s what I (and you) get for me waiting so long to write. I will write more regularly now that I have internet access and a home-base.
I love you all so much. Thank you for all your well-wishes, prayers, and thoughts. Keep them coming: they’re working! I’ll be home and cured before you know it!
Kathleen

Health