Chocolate Cake?!

For those patients here receiving the Alivazatos treatment (what John is getting), the diet is very strict. No red meat. No acidic foods. No simple sugars. No candy. No dairy. Get the picture? Our meals consist of waffles, granola/yogurt or toast for breakfast, some kind of vegetable soup for lunch, salad, steamed vegetables for lunch and dinner is a different kind of veggie soup (tonight was carrots and lentils), salad and rice (last night was mushroom stir fry). Each meal has some kind of fruit juiced: carrot, barley, pear, guava, papaya, etc. Yum, right? Maybe if you're a rabbit - or a support person to someone receiving Alivazatos. So, okay, I'll survive and maybe lose a few pounds.
Tonight, however, a surprise!! We got our lentil/carrot soup. We got our salad, chicken (a rarity) and our steamed vegetables. Everyone was literally clapping when they brought out the chicken. But, then...the cart with DESERT! Oh. My. Gosh. Chocolate?! Can it be?! The excited tension was palatable in the dinner room. Everyone's eyes sparkled - especially mine and John's. We. Love. Chocolate. There is no other way to explain it. Love, pure and simple. And we'd been deprived for four days. It was too good, a mirage. A dream.
Carlito set our plate down in front of us. "Gracias," we breathed, our forks clenched in our sweaty, anticipating hands. We looked at each other, each thinking, "Heaven!" Everyone started eating - you could hear the satiated groans, tongues licking lips, making sure every last crumb was tasted and not wasted. The room was silent, save the pleasured smiles and the forks gently tinkling on the plates as the next piece was scooped up. John and I each dove into our piece of luscious chocolate cake. The huge scoop teetered at the edge of the fork...yum! Bliss! Utter delight! Wait! Confusion...what? Chew, taste, chew - oh my God! Don't swallow! This isn't chocolate cake! They've tricked us! I felt betrayed, broken! No...it can't be! Coffee?! Are they kidding?! Who? The? Hell? Puts? Coffee? In a Cake?! For the love of God! I almost cried. John's face fell, his fork clattered to the plate. He couldn't get the cake out of his mouth fast enough. "Mom!" He cried. "I know, sweetie. I know..." Dinner was over. We had to leave. Back to our contraband m & m's in our apartment...

At Andrea's request

Andrea requested more pictures, so here you go lovebug:

Rich and Pat (Pat has MS)

Beverly and Jean (Bev has lung cancer)

Hallway, bathroom on right, kitchen on left, bedroom at end

Day 3: Tuesday, Dec 31 Don't want cancer? Then Sing!

Met with the doctor today. He had the results of John's baseline blood work. John is all normal except in the areas of his liver function and immunologic function. Both are showing too high numbers, which makes sense considering the amount of toxicity in his body from all the backed up stool. He'll have labs done every Monday morning (fasting) to compare and see if his treatments are working in the right direction. He took his treatment this morning without incident - it takes a little over an hour. It's perfect - he sits and watches TV or plays games on the computer while I run out on the patio on the treadmill. We kill two birds with one stone. Today, he came out on the patio after his treatment with his RC car. He scared the bejeezus out of the poor Amish woman when his car went racing under her feet - she jumped and let out a little yelp. She laughed after she realized what it was, but she at first thought his car was a giant spider scurrying under the chair she was sitting on. She was fascinated with the little car as she'd not seen one before. Her husband, Glen, knew what it was as he was not Amish when he met her!!! He was in the process of leaving the Amish order, "going English" when they met. She convinced him to come back Amish. Wow! I feel like we're living in a book! Just to update you, too, on the mentality around here after yesterday's shoot out: Even though there was a drug shootout between the dealers and the cops up near the grocery store three blocks away, a big group of patients walked up there this afternoon. John and I didn't go - I still wasn't comfortable with it, but they all went. So, the feeling of safety is there - besides most feel when it's your time, it's your time (although I have to think, why push it?).
This morning was kind of funny - I led a group of patients in a little yoga/pilates/ab workout session on the floor of the treatment room. I brought my little 5 lb ball and two exercise bands and we did some ab stuff (most couldn't do more than five reps, I told them all to meet me again tomorrow). Then one of the doctors got involved. He's a Chinese doc who doesn't speak English or Spanish, so it was hilarious trying to learn from him. He was showing us Tai Chi - telling me that yoga and Pilates are baby stuff and doesn't help you like Tai Chi does. Then, he gets on the floor and starts pawing around, going for the kill and moving like a lion. He's roaring and making big lion faces - he had us all in stitches until we all had to get on the floor doing the same thing. So, here's like five of us crawling around on the floor, roaring and mewing and pawing like lions. He was trying to tell us that using ALL your muscles at once, like a lion, makes you healthy and strong. Not like the stupid isolation exercises like ab work. Well, I'm sorry, but I just can't see a bunch of overweight people at your local Y crawling around on the floor, roaring and pawing for 45 minutes. I don't think it would fly! Then, he gets up on one of the chairs and starts humming, first from way up in his head, then his mouth area, then chest, then low chest and finally his stomach area - making all these strange humming noises. We all kind of froze, not sure what he was doing. We eventually understood he wanted us to copy him - so we all started trying to make these ridiculous noises. We definitely did not sound the same! He gave up eventually telling us, "You will all get cancer if you do not learn this!" He told us that singers rarely get cancer because they use all these levels of their body. If we don't want cancer, we should sing! Well, of course!

Mom's Turn on Day 2

This is the the view from the treatment patio. Unlike conventional (allopathic) medicine, one of the aspects of treatment is the well-being and frame of mind of the patient. Here, they make the patient as comfortable as possible. I'm not taking paper gown vs. cloth gown comfortable. I'm talking, what do you want to watch in TV, what chair/floor/couch/bed would you like to sit/lay/stand, are you hungry/thirsty, would you like someone to rub your feet while you get treatment, would you like your blankie/teddy bear/book? That kind of comfortable. If you want treatment outside on the beautiful, sun-drenched deck over-looking the hills of Tijuana - you got it. Es no problemo.
John recieved his IV and treatments like a champ again today. They're not painful - they are just so concentrated and intense, they make his face flush. He gets all red-faced and his ears get hot. Yesterday he got splotches on his arms, but nothing today. That's a good thing! Everyone sits around in the big, comfy chairs talking about treatment, back home or what's on TV. After the Alivazato's treatment (the concentrated infusion of minerals and vitamins), he went into the hyperbaric chamber. That was new today. He was so psyched to go in! He called it a spaceship and said he planned to travel to the moon. Well, he traveled to wherever the song on my iPod took him, anyway! After two treatments, he was pretty tired, so he went back to the room to lay down where's he been almost all day. This is pretty typical at first - very tired, headache, feverish...It'll go away in a day or two. While he was resting, I left him to go for a walk to the grocery store about 3 blocks up with some of the other patients and their families (imagine being end-stage cancer and being able to walk three blocks to the grocery store! Only here!). Good thing we went then, because about a half hour later, there was huge shoot-out up there between drug lords and cops! Holy Hannah! No kidding either. And I'm probably absolutely freaking out my parents right now, but it's true. They closed the street, had cops everywhere and helicopters flying overhead. We never heard gunshots til later, but we were asked to stay on the clinic grounds (again, es no problemo!). It's finally quiet five hours later but I'm a little nervous to sleep tonight. I asked our security guard (armed) if things were okay, he said no, stay in. He would make sure everything was alright. There are only two ways in here (other than over the walls, but then whoever'd have to fight two very large Doberman's to get through the yard to our walls) and the security guard has them covered. We've all discussed the situation at length (all the patients) and we've all decided we feel mostly safe, but we agree that it's extremely weird to be so close to danger. The Amish couple keep calling the gunfire "fireworks." They're having a hard time believing it's guns. So, we are in the for the night. No nighttime get-togethers this evening.

The upside is I'm really improving my Espanol. It's amazing how easy it's come back. However, when I find myself searching for a word, I end up signing it. As if that's gonna help! I also cannot get over how cheap everything is here - grocery store only cost me $7 (American) to buy some pop, 2 bags of chips, pudding, salad-fixings, dish soap and apples. Rock on!

Oh! Gotta run! The neighbors came over to play cards. Yea!

Day 2: Tuesday, December 30

Treatment - the "stuff" is a concentrated mix of minerals and vitamins my body is severely lacking. B's, niacin, potassium, etc.

Elias got it the first try! I didn't even have time to hold mom's hand!


This is warming my arm so Elias can find a vein to place the IV.

My First Treatment

My first treatment was pokey. That means it felt like a bee sting because Elias (the nurse), he put a needle in my arm to draw blood and put the treatment stuff in my body. He had to stick me twice because the first time my vein wasn't big enough to find. The second he found a really good vein and he got it. I got to sit in a big comfy leather recliner chair while the treatment dripped into my body. I watched a movie then we finished we had breakfast - waffles!!

Our Apartment...

Day 1: Sunday, December 28, part II:

(The whole story wouldn't fit on on posting...the rest of the story continues here...):

The streets are not well-kept. Very bumpy, lopsided, many holes and cracks. The cars fly down the streets, pretty much ignoring traffic signals, but stop when the light is red. There are police trucks everwhere traveling in packs of three to five. There are about seven men in each truck, decked out in black SWAT uniforms, some carrying rifles, some AK’s. Good God. ALL the stores are barred up…Spanish music blaring from many of them. It is simple straight out of a movie. You know the term “movie magic?” There’s no magic in movies set in Tijuana. What you see is real life. Noisy, busy, crowded, scary. Many of the cars have dark, tinted windows. When I see fancy cars, the ones that are too shiny, I wonder who’s inside? Drug lords, drug dealers? Maybe too many movies, maybe too many warnings from my sister-in-law who lives in San Diego and hears the Tijuana news all the time. Regardless, I wasn’t going to let that stop us. What’s a little automatic weapon? Ha! Child’s play (as I pee my pants…). We walked down the road for about four blocks, then checked inside a store (my goal was a candle – the apartment smelled funny). To get into the store, I had to ask permission from the clerk. He unlocked the barred door, let us in and relocked the door. “Um…hola. Habla engles?” “Si.” “Oh, good. Do you sell candles?” “No, the grocery store two blocks up does.” “Buena, de nada.” “Buenos dias.” He unlocked the door; we left to make our way two blocks to the grocery store. On the way, we were greeted by two Rottweilers protecting their masters’ car dealership. We practically peed our pants again. The dogs came at us a little gentler than you see in the movies, but there was still the chain link fence topped with razor wire. Good God. We finally reached the grocery store, got our stuff (how weird is it to read common products in Spanish…Doritos, corn, tampons, chocolate, pasta…Very surreal). We beelined back to the clinic and our safe home. For any runner friends and mom: I will not be running while here, unless they have a treadmill. Ron – while my goal was to totally kick your ass (sorry kids!) during our next race, it looks like you may have the upper hand here. We shall see how this plays out!
We unpacked and moved in, more or less. John is now playing video games as it’s hard to watch Spanish TV. Now we are waiting for 5:30 so we can meet other families in the lounge while we eat dinner. One of the men we met earlier today, the Amish guy from Indiana, told us that when they first arrived last Sunday, they felt out of place and scared. Now, a week later, they feel right at home and safe. I really hope that’s how we can feel in seven days. Living on constant alert, with fear and the unknown is hard. I’m already beat and it’s only been three hours. John seems to be taking it in stride – asking questions, looking around, just like a kid. But he was holding my hand when we were walking the street. We see the doctor at 7:30 tomorrow morning.
Dinner tonight was vegetable soup in a mushroom base, vegetable rotini with pureed vegetable sauce, barley juice and watermelon for dessert. Good thing they have such…interesting? Delicious? Sparse? No red meat? Meals since I won’t be running outside these stucco walls! But, it’s not about me, is it? In that case, any advice on getting an almost-11-year-old to eat that kind of meal is more than welcomed!
We met some very nice families during dinner, as well. One couple, who just had their 50th wedding anniversary last week are here from, of all places, Sparta. Another Amish couple, who happen to be cousins with the first couple we met (they came separately) and a family of six from Southern Illinois – they’re daughter is sick and they are trying to make her well. Oh! And another couple…don’t know much about them. Everyone is extremely friendly, talkative and more than willing to share their experiences. I have to remember to speak to the other older couple tomorrow. The husband seems to have an interesting sense of humor. Even with five children present, he had the nerve to bring up ways to get “some action” (in case children are reading this…) while going through treatment. Okay then…

Day 1: Sunday, December 28

This morning was quite nice. Rob and I did a 9 mile run in the safe, posh suburbs of San Diego. Our 8:26 minute pace even took us into San Diego proper. Quite a contrast from our life this afternoon. We arrived in Tijuana about 2:30. Crossing the border was cake; no lines, no passports. Plenty of patrol, though. There are hills to the east as you come in…barb-wire fences zig-zag across the desert, border patrols cruise up and down the dirt roads and there are towers every few hundred feet. I can only imagine the arsenal of the people up there, manning them. Overwhelming sites, to say the least. We arrived at the clinic just a short time after crossing into Mexico. I was actually on the phone with Anj when I lost the connection and we entered another lifetime. It was just like an episode of the Twlight Zone I would watch as a kid. As we got into town, the entire scenery changed. Gone were the nice cars and well-dressed people lining the roads. Gone were the fashionable stores, beckoning you to come in with their marvelous sales and sophisticated items. It was all replaced with unkempt streets, cars moving at dizzying speeds, small shops with bar-covered windows and people dressed in dark clothing trudging along the uneven sidewalks. It was noisy, breathtaking and very different. I felt out of place. John and the driver, Sergio, were chatting about how to say “black dog” in Spanish. En nuestras casa, tengas una perro negro. “We have a black dog at home.” We made three right turns and there we were: Home, Sweet Home. I couldn’t even tell it was a clinic until I saw the small Red Cross sign posted on a telephone pole outside the buildings. Close to your experience, mom, of the Red Cross flag you saw in Zhuatano (however it’s spelled, you know what I mean). The apartments and the hospital here, however, are a lot nicer than what you described. We live (well that came out easy!) in a small village-type place. There is a stucco wall around the entire compound, which takes up about a half a block. Think the size of Target. There are about nine apartments, and I mean just that: apartments. They are one level. Two are tiny houses, one is attached to the cleaning lady’s house and the rest are conjoined, just like a unit. Three on each side of a small path. The path is lined with beautiful Mexican plants, one near each doorway. Our unit number is 302: my first college dorm number. 302 Drake Hall. How funny. The apartment is small, but big enough for us, plus maybe 2 more. You enter into the living room complete with two lazy-boys, a couch and TV. There are windows all around. To the right is a short hall. Immediately to your right down the hall is a small bathroom with a stand-up shower, sink, etc. Down the hall about 2 more steps on the left is a small kitchen. There’s a tiny table with four chairs, a dorm-size fridge, sink, cupboards, microwave (which I find interesting, given their alternative view of food here) and ironing board closet (something I won’t be using!). There’s a door leading out back with windows on either side of the door. And just one more step down the hall, right at the end is a bedroom with a double bed and nightstand. The floors are all hardwood, with the exception of linoleum in the kitchen.

Sergio gave us a small, quick tour of the facility before turning us loose in Tijuana. We were able to meet two other families: one Amish and one conservative Christian. After our tour was finished, John and I decided to walk up and down the main road around the corner to the clinic. Wow. Culture shock.

Travel Day...
Mom's Perspective:

The day started out pretty fine...it was hard to leave Carl and Andrea at the airport. Especially with Andrea doing her best to not cry. I gave in though and let the tears come. Not seeing them for a month...too much, but for a good reason. The arguments for being strong in my head were loud and relentless. John grabbed my hand, squeezed and sent me a little smile. No, that was all wrong. I am supposed to be supporting him. Things got better once we were seated on the plane. The airline had changed our seats and separated us but the flight attendant was nice and helped us sit back together.
Once in Minneaplolis for our long layover, we found our gate then grabbed something to eat. John is supposed to eat only certain foods, but it's not like the airport is going to offer organic, fresh meals for him. We could've brought something, but I'm not sure where we would've fit it! We were packed to the gills with stuff. Going away for almost a month...it's amazing what you need. Food did not make the Top Ten.
After we ate, we found a nice little corner, curled up and watched a movie on the computer. Well, John watched the movie, I slept for a bit. The flight to Phoenix was long, dark and boring. Finished my book, John slept.
Our connection from Phoenix to San Diego was short - 36 minutes - and we had to make it from one airline to the other. That meant sprinting from one terminal to another, taking a bus and getting to a third building. Oh, did I mention I was carrying about 40 pounds of stuff in a backpack and duffel bag? Not everything fit in the suitcase...As we sprinted to security to make the gate, I was egging myself on with "This is good Ironman practice...strong stride...easy breathing..." Ha! I was freaking tired! Ironman is cake compared to that sprint! We finally got to security - that's always a circus as I have to get patted by TSA (pacemaker). So, a minute to get a female TSA...another minute for them to explain the procedure (I know it already!!) and another 5 for them to do their thing. On top of all that, I was lucky to get a trainee!! Oh, joy! Oh, fun! OMG...we have FOUR minutes to get to the gate located at the END of the terminal! She had to redo her pat-down a couple of times since she didn't do it right the first time (down to THREE minutes...). John was frantically trying to pack up all our stuff back into the backpack and duffel. TSA took out everything because we're carrying computers and the PS2...too many cords, they have to look at each one separately. Not mention I was carrying some weird-looking workout gear. TSA was completely befuddled with that. Try explaining a weight-ball to a man with a gut the size of Iowa. Finally, finally TSA was done with me. We threw everything in the bags and flew down the terminal. We were sprinting...TWO minutes to take-off (which, if anyone travels enough, means the doors were probably already closed...they close doors about 10 min before takeoff to prepare the cabin). We were sprinting down those moving sidewalk things they have, shouting to people on the walkways, "Excuse me! Please move!" It was something out of an movie. We finally got to the gate as they were literally closing the door. "No! Wait!" I shouted out. The guy says, "You for San Diego?" A nasty comeback shot through my mind, but wanting him to wait, I responded, "Yes! Please hold the door!" He obviously didn't want to impress me, so he says, "Well, hurry up." I actually stopped running for a split-second and looked at him. I almost blurted, What does it LOOK I'm doing?! But, again, wanting to keep him on my good side, "Got it!" (I sucking up to people. Hate. It.) We got to the gate, he checked our tickets, and told us to get moving (as I was breathing heavy and sweating...I mean, what clue did he need to know that we had already been moving?). We got on the plane and, just like in a movie, everyone was seated, everyone seemed to be looking at us and everyone seemed to give a collective groan as we made our way to the very last seats on the plane. Row 25, seats D and F. Thank God we made it.
Arrive in San Diego, go to get our luggage and...it's lost. No luggage. Leaving the country for almost a month and no luggage. No problem, they tell us. Give us a forwarding address and we'll get it to you within 3-5 days. What? Going to Mexico? Oh, you'll need to come pick it up from the airport. No transportation? We can hold your luggage until your return flight. Can you pick up the items you need while on vacation? Not going on vacation. Oh. I see. Let me get a supervisor...By this time, it's 1:15 my time. I'd been up since 4:30 the previous morning. I'm just a little tired. They didn't see the nice side of me. Screw being friends and being polite. They charge me $15 to have a bag and they lose it?! I don't think so. After a few exchanges and unkind words, they promised to have our bags to us by noon. They have one hour and eight minutes...
John was so cute at the end of all this, though. With his sweet innocence he says to me, "Well, mom. You said this would be an adventure." Gotta love him.


John's Perspective:
Travel today was very tiring. Not much else to say.

(Man of few words...)

Introduction

* DISCLAIMER: This blog is not for the squeamish. Poop will be discussed and all issues surrounding it. You don't like it or have a weak stomach, as someone for a synopsis. *

Deciding to go to the International Biocare Hospital in Tijuana, Mexico was not easy. Dealing with low motility has been a 10-year process. This problem started at birth. We've been to major hospitals, had some really good doctors (and some pretty bad ones, too), tried all kinds of medicine, changed up John's diet (gluten-free and dairy/casein free, no sugar, no added colors, etc.), tried a pooping schedule, reward charts (How guilty I feel now thinking back then it was his fault. This is an example of a bad doctor.), structured life schedule, prayer, yelling, punishment and most recently (in the last few years) remedies, homeopathics, natural interventions, diet again...It goes on and on. Over time, it just became part of our lives. I mean, really, I don't think anyone in the Happel household has any dinner time decorum any longer - we talk about all kinds of bathroom issues: How often, how much, color, etc. If it has to do with poop, we discuss it! We even have photos!! Well, don't get all judgemental on me. We have to show the docs what's coming out. It's not like the photos are framed and up on the fireplace or something (yes, for you grammar-freaks, that is plural).
So, it has become part of us in more than the usual way. Lately, the last few weeks, have been horrible for everyone, especially John. He has not had a good poop (I'm not going to define "good." Use your imagination...) since the Monday before Thanksgiving. Yes, you read that right. Yes, I have my dates right. The Monday before Thanksgiving. Let me check my calendar...uh-huh...that would be...November 24th. We're going on 21 days. Twenty-one days. Are words like "toxic," "pain," "bloating," " no hunger," etc. coming to mind? Yeah, it's all there. To top it all off, he's had six enemas. One baby one, five big ones. And still pretty much nothing. Mostly brown water. Ugh! Are you feeling the pain yet? This has been his life forever. The doctor and I have been on the phone too many times. It's bad when the receptionist recognizes your voice.
So. How did we come to find out about IBCH? Through a co-worker where I teach. She and her late husband went to this hospital to get treated for cancer. IBCH treats mostly cancer patients. Their therapies are tested and used mostly on those kinds of patients. This is NOT John. He has a condition. They know people that have gone there. Everyone has had extremely positive results. Now it's John's turn. To be honest, I'd been thinking about bringing John to this facility for over a year now. But, it's out of the country, maybe I can get the naturopath to do something different, I'll do more research, find more answers, talk to more people...yeah. While that worked for the short term, it was going to fix whatever problem John has. We need something more, we need something long term. He needs to be healed. We're going to Mexico. Tijuana. Sounds crazy, but when it's your baby, you'll do anything.