Archive for Burzynski

Year Three Gone By

My friends,

Book publishing is a slow process, at this point, mostly waiting, waiting for connections to be made, for responses from those connections, for the next inspiration. Sample chapters have gone to one agent who said he could not pitch this book to a major publishing house because I don’t have a substantial following, you my dear friends, not withstanding.

Now connecting to another agent to see if we can make some inroads to Hay House. Asking for your Light and love for the highest good of all concerned.

In the meantime, I have been encouraged by my beloved Kenny’s soul to continue to write. So here I am again. I’m going to start with a photograph that in earth terms has no explanation.

The little ducks are about 2” long each and the crosses are about 7” long. See how the crosses are perfectly aligned parallel to each other on the wooden surface and the ducks are all facing one direction? I did not place them in these positions. And no one else was in my room when I noticed how specifically they were placed. My only explanation is that Kenny somehow moved these objects to get my attention. *

Crosses & Ducks

Crosses & Ducks

So on January 11, 2013, when I discovered this little tableau, I wrote my question to Kenny. Remember, the way I access these messages is through wri—I don’t seem to be able to focus verbally or visually. So putting my hand to the task seems to keep me focused enough to get the message.

“Dearest Kenny,

Did you move the ducks and the crosses?”

“–Ahem—who else my Cutie Pie!”

“Why?”

He wanted to talk to me, to let me know I was putting out a certain kind of negativity that may be blocking my next steps. He said he would protect me and guide me through clearing. It was a very short message, but important in that it is bringing me deeper awareness of my consciousness.

I haven’t written in a long time, probably since the summer when I was immersed in polishing and categorizing and organizing and finalizing the sample chapters. And I noticed that my awarenesses aren’t as deep as they were when I was writing. The writing itself opened channels into the depths of my patterns, my awakening heart, and my unraveling. Profound is not a profound enough word to describe the unfolding that took place one paragraph after another. I long for more something—what is it that I long for?

The place within my consciousness where there is bliss, where there is fresh discovery, where wisdom resides and peace is present. Where all there is is the outpouring. I think at this moment I am describing the state of God Consciousness, Self Realization, and Oneness. To be present moment to moment while God showers me with mercy and unconditional love, to know what is taking place, to sit quietly still while my vision of God dances before my eyes.

It occurs to me that for the first time in my entire life, with no hesitation in any thoughts or feelings, that I am praying to my own consciousness that we place God first in all we do, all we think, all we feel, and all we imagine and wish for.

With my particular numerological life path of cooperation, solid foundation and perfection, routed in the earthbound even numbers of 2, 4, & 6, it has always been difficult to put God before all else. At once the concept asks me to give up control (as if I had any at all ever!) and I thought set aside my aspirations, my wishes and my dreams. That somehow God would find my countenance only worthy of isolation, spinsterhood, and deprivation. That nowhere in my wildest dreams would God agree with any of my dreams, for I must have needed to be punished for any and all past crimes against my soul and therefore against God.

Surely I have revealed enough in past articles for you to understand where all that unworthiness comes from. So today with my understanding of God as benevolent, kind, and unconditional, I practice self-forgiveness for any judgments I have held against myself for past indiscretions and transgressions. And I realize that God only sees me as an innocent child, completely lovable and tender, learning as I put one foot in front of the other. That there is nothing for God to forgive.

I did not die when Kenny died. I have much more to live for, to learn about, and to practice—especially placing God first in my life as I live each day in its glorious unfolding. Apparently he was done on this earthly plane, but I am not.

Which leads me to how to live each day in the heart of God. What would I do, I ask myself? Whatever it is, I do with a consciousness of serving. Serving at work, serving in my interactions with friends, family, and coworkers. Serving as I contemplate discovering new relationships. To emerge from the cocoon of a child-born need to be shown I am loved, to giving love, serving, sharing, and taking care as the fruits of my impulse to belong.

The whole being emerges content in the serving, peaceful in the relating, completely free to share delight and compassion, joy and even silliness. The whole being spontaneously touches with hugs, comforting pats and caring, giggles when it’s funny and belly laughs when it’s hilarious, which it is more often than ever now.

From our Hospice Chaplain just 17 days before Kenny passed into Spirit:

“Dear Kenny,

I wanted to write you to affirm your wisdom and good humor and sureness of life in the spirit. I also wanted you to know that all the love that you share with your loved ones will only increase, though they may not be able to see you in the form they are used to seeing you in.

You have everything you need. Your words are a testament to that. The only thing I would suggest is that you and Carol (or anyone else who will) agree on some touchstone symbol of connection (a particular bird, butterfly, etc) that you can send them when you are in your next cycle. This may sound crazy and may or may not be compatible with your beliefs. Most families were certain I was crazy when I suggested this, but then they would call me and say: “You’re not going to believe what just happened!” We would laugh together about the wonderful gift of “coincidence” of timing or electrical “impossibility” that had just occurred…or the cardinal that wouldn’t fly away, though only 2-3 feet away…the butterfly that landed on some loved one’s nose!! So I offer this to you in the hopes that the ongoingness of life somehow fits into your life view. It is not intended to diminish any part of your full spiritual potential…it is just a love tap from the other side that brings comfort to those of us left on this side. You write beautifully and I imagine that your writing will continue in some special way. Clearly you have written beautifully on the hearts of your sisters. You have Karen, your Mom and Dad, Gramma and Gacky waiting for you with open arms whenever you are ready to graduate this part of your journey. I send you thanks for reminding me what I sometimes forget, which you obviously have known all along: “Have fun with your life!” Back atcha. Well done, Kenny. Your birthing will be glorious.”

Today I immerse myself in the passion for God even more after having seen the movie, Les Mirerables. Even though the story is sad and it brought tears of compassion to my eyes, it also brought tears of joy and connection and recognition that God is real. In the beginning of the movie the priest says to Valjean, “I saved your life for God.” At the end of the movie, Lemaire eloquently utters, “To love someone is to see the face of God.”

So from beginning to end, my heart was open, receiving of the most beautiful melodies, lyrics, costumes, scenery, production, all of it without a smidgeon of hesitation, reservation, withholding. How glorious it is to receive with the purity of an open heart. Everything is blessed. Everything is bliss!

March 30 marked three years since Kenny’s passing. Here’s to his soul, his memory, his talent, and his ability to bring us joy and exampleship as he blazed his trail to God.

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2011 in review

Dear Readers,
I haven’t posted lately because I’ve been busy editing prior posts and your comments in preparation for sending the manuscript to my editor for her first serious, contracted take on how it will shape up into a book. There are 47 posts and uncounted comments from you, my dear friends, in support of the writing and my personal process and Kenny’s Soul. Below is a report that WordPress produced just for your fun look-see and your Light. Before you read that, I am including the Preface that Kenny dictated through my hand just recently. It’s quite profound and gives us an idea of how the Soul looks at the human experience. Here goes:

The purpose of this book from my point of view is Divine Intervention. We are all divine and until the moment of our death, we doubt that Divinity. From the plane on which I’m now living and looking, the human being is a direct emanation from Soul, from the God Source, therefore Divine in every cell, every breath, even every thought, if one is willing to observe the root of the thought. The root of all thoughts, whether toxic or benevolent, is contained, surrounded, and embedded with Living Love.

 In this book, the reader will find a personal blessing on every page, whether it is describing a perceived negative occurrence or a revelation of the Divine. The Lord God of the Universe oversees all levels of creation and loves them all. It is only believing our mind that leads us astray. My darling wife has given of her very nature in the outpourings on these pages. Read with an open mind and awareness of how your spiritual heart is responding. Therein lay the opportunity to make choices in alignment with your highest good. And so it will at once touch your loved ones whether they are aware of it or not. For every organism is connected to every other organism in the universe, and each one is contained within the whole—the Holy Spirit, the One God of the Universe.

 By the way, I am as we say on earth, “in blissful heaven.” I am working hard, resting well, and contributing so much more than I could in my human body. And in case you’re wondering, I spend time with Carol on a regular basis, mostly while she is sleeping. If you would like me to, I will be glad to make myself known to you also. Just ask inwardly for my presence (for the highest good of course—there is no imposition meant here).

 I always remain a devoted student of the Holy Spirit, Carol’s loving husband in Spirit, and your friend,
Ken Jones

And here’s a quote from Kenny while he was still with us that spells out very clearly the message of this book. He was, and still remains, quite the writer:

 “I do not know what Spirit has in store for me. I will keep breathing as long as Spirit gives me breath. And if melanoma absolutely must claim my body, it can have it. Melanoma cannot go where I go, because I go into the pure Spirit of the Soul Realm that is my true home.”

Ken Jones
December, 2009

Loving you all and so appreciating your ongoing support and Light. It’s immeasurable.
Carol

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 10,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Houston is Probably a Nice Place

I look back on that month in Houston where Kenny sought treatment for his cancer and it appears dark, scary, and full of anxiety and at the same time, filled with the miracles of perfect timing and spiritual assistance. Overall though, I would have liked to skip the actual day-to-day-ness and just learned the lessons. It was the toughest four weeks of my life, not to mention that Kenny was very obviously losing one body function after another daily. So while Houston is probably a nice place, not so much in my memory.

When we left the Gerson clinic in Tijuana at the end of November 2009, because the melanoma had infiltrated Kenny’s brain, it was recommended that we look into the Burzynski clinic in Houston. They are known for working with cancers in the brain. We applied, some sixty pages including all his lab reports since the original mole was diagnosed in 2000. He was accepted for a start date of February 9, 2010. We took all the steps to prepare for the trip–this last-ditch effort to halt the onslaught of the monster invading his body. It was going to be two weeks of out-patient care with overnight stay at a nearby hotel, and then back home to LA for follow-up treatment.

The day before we left, one of our dear friends who is a runner, dedicated a 5K run just that weekend to Kenny’s recovery. She showed us the DVD. It was a sweet moment of prayer and communion. By this time Kenny had lost about forty pounds, was looking rather thin and felt weak compared to his old self. They’d found a lesion in his digestive tract that was bleeding and he’d already had several blood transfusions.  He needed assistance showering and drying off and was slow and deliberate in his movements and not able to drive. Another long-time friend offered to assist Kenny with showers in the mornings and that was such a treat for all of us. You see, I had been showering Kenny myself for several weeks, and it was one of the most precious moments of the day. An honoring of his body, a blessing, a sweet and profound time of taking care of his body. He loved it and I loved it. And when we asked Kev to assist so I could prepare breakfast at the same time, he loved it too. Such a privilege to care for someone so intimately.

Back to Houston. At the airport, porters met us at the curb with a wheelchair and escorted us to the plane, making sure we were comfortably seated and all tucked in. In the meantime, Heartfelt Organization and a minister in MSIA who lives in Dallas had enlisted the assistance of ministers in Houston to help when we arrived. Jesus bought all our groceries. Yvette was to learn to make juices for us and clean the kitchen in our suite almost daily. Joaquin came to visit about three times a week to chat and hold the Light. Baba was to arrive a week later and visited every single day and did errands as needed, and spent the night so I could rest and arranged a ministers meeting right in our little hotel suite. Jesus did the laundry, made the bed, and helped Kenny shower many times during our stay. Our little army of soldiers was on the march with whatever was needed.

The second day at the clinic, Ken was scheduled for a scan to assess the extent of the melanoma. He wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything until after the procedure, which was late due to another patient’s emergency. I was frantic with worry because he had been getting dehydrated very easily. I called home (the seminary) and asked that an all-call go out to everyone in the building to send Light to Kenny and the procedure immediately. This comforted me a little while forever optimistic Kenny was certain everything would be OK all along. I prayed for Divine Intervention and finally the procedure was under way–4 hours after we were supposed to go back to the hotel. Finally he could eat a meal and drink his precious carrot apple juice–we were still following the Gerson protocol. That was Wednesday. Thursday we saw the nutritionist who immediately put Kenny on a protein-rich diet–his blood work showed advanced anemia and he was very weak. It was time to “beef” up his intake after five months of a completely vegan diet, part of the Gerson plan. This was another blow to the belief that Kenny could reverse the melanoma march.

Friday we had a telltale appointment to view the scan with the doctor and the radiologist. Both were stunned at what they saw. Kenny’s entire torso was blackened on the silhouette drawing and on the actual scan pictures, tumors lit up like lightbulbs everywhere, most of them concentrated in his torso, but also scattered throughout his limbs, neck and head as well. The radiologist was heard saying, “I’ve never seen so much involvement in any other patient.” We’ll try to help, they said. Kenny said, “Maybe I’ll be your Burzynski poster child.” We walked out of the clinic that day heavy with the reality of what we saw. And as if the day before wasn’t enough change to handle, today made its way into our awareness with a one-two punch, sending me reeling with tension and worry.

The next week presented the inevitable complication, Kenny needed another transfusion. It was off to the First Street Hospital to be admitted to their emergency room to wait for blood to arrive. It took all day for blood to show up. In the meantime, our own crew of ministers came to us with food and juice, and sweet Grace drove all the way from Austin with delicious homemade soup and bread. How tenderly we were ministered to, how dear these people who hardly knew us were caring for us. I was in tears most of every day, either from gratitude or from worry or from venting anxiety or sadness or resignation, or lack of sleep or…Kenny too, but mostly from gratitude.

Finally, the next day all the blood was now in Kenny’s veins and he was released to go back to the hotel. Some more visits to the clinic in the next few days, some more good food, juices, clinic-prescribed drugs (some of which were chemotherapy that presented their own set of really uncomfortable symptoms), and it was back to the hospital again for the next blood transfusion. Only this time he was to be admitted as an inpatient for ten days to handle one advanced melanoma symptom after another. Clinic drugs were suspended while IV’s and blood were administered along with his anti-brain swelling medicine, his thyroid medicine, and a host of other pills. In his later blogs he talks about how precious it was to have a bowel movement. It became tougher and tougher and one remedy after another was suggested. None worked very well, the daily battle to complete the cycle of eating and eliminating dragged on. After months of urinating a surprising couple of gallons each day, even urinating became a problem until the Foley catheter was inserted bringing blessed relief. All the while I slept in the visitor chair in the hospital room night after night, going back to the hotel every few days only to shower while one of our dear friends stayed with Kenny. I made sure that he was never alone, never without an MSIA minister or initiate by his side.

It was time to transfer Kenny from the ICU floor to a regular room in another wing. The internist visited to draw up the release papers. He suggested Kenny might want to think about getting home as soon as we could and arranging for hospice care. Kenny declined and said he would resume his Burzynski therapy. The doctor and the nurse took me aside outside the room and said with urgency that there was only a short window of time that we had to go home before he could not travel on conventional flights. Eventually he would need a special medically equipped charter flight that would be cost-prohibitive. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was hearing and I was seeing with my own eyes, and yet I couldn’t fully grasp that Kenny was slipping away at such a fast rate now. Every day another body function was compromised.

Just a day later, the gastroenterologist blustered  in after we were settled in the new room and he announced, “Do you know about a bucket list? Well it’s time to make yours. Eat anything you want and do whatever you want. OK, Buddy?” Did all our mouths drop open? Did we hear him right? Who trained him in his delicate bedside manner? I was livid with disbelief. Couldn’t say a word, neither could Kenny nor Baba. We just let him disappear out of the room as if he never showed up. Kenny was bent on continuing his Burzynski therapy.

Some time between hospital visits in Houston Kenny said to me, “Carol, I don’t think I’m going to make it.” I knelt down beside his chair, began to sob and said to him, “Oh Kenny, don’t say that, you’re still in treatment and don’t we believe it will work?” His response was something like, “OK yes, we’re still in treatment.” Now it seems apparent to me that what he really meant was, “OK Carol, I know you can’t handle it so I won’t talk about it anymore. But the reality is I’m dying.” And I am reminded that just about a month ago I heard him talking to a friend about a favor he was asking someone to do for him and the phrase, “You wouldn’t refuse a dying man, would you?” flew through the air and stuck in my skull like a speeding bullet. But just like all the other signals that he was declining rapidly now, I stuffed that one somewhere in an airtight compartment in the far reaches of my consciousness. Denial–that my strong, tall, handsome, smart, funny, and beautiful husband was slipping into the “Well of Souls.”

But I did listen to Doc #1 and suggested to Kenny that we continue the Burzynski treatment at home, that we do what we could to get home while he could still get on a plane and off again. He was walking very little now, had to be hoisted out of his chair and tucked into bed at night, but we knew what we had to do. Making arrangements to go home was in itself a relief. The timing of every occurrence in Houston was perfect. We prayed Spirit would meet us at the point of our action and it did, time and time again. We asked and prayed fervently that Spirit would fill in the gaps when we didn’t know what the next step would be, and it did repeatedly.

Taking Comfort in the Moment

If I had been more present with Kenny I would have listened to him talk about how he felt about not making it. I would have opened my mind and heart to hear him and hold him while he talked. I would have remembered when my father died, I did the same thing. He said, “Carol, it won’t be long now.” My answer was, “Oh Daddy, you seem to be getting better, aren’t you?” He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows in an expression of doubt and passed away three days later. So while memories of Houston flood up during this one year anniversary since we embarked on that never-to-be-forgotten journey, I’m here to suggest you come present with your loved ones and talk about the inevitable–one of you will leave this world before the other and it will be impactful and profound–and oh so worth sharing about from the sincerity and tenderness of the spiritual heart. In another article I’ll talk about Kenny’s plane ride back home, and in another I’ll talk about why I was in denial–such a strange set of responses, but completely understandable. Next time.

Please feel free to respond to this blog either in the comment field or by email directly to me at carol.jones43@yahoo.com. And if you want to receive notice of the next blog entry, click on the appropriate box below. God bless you and may you embrace each experience as an opportunity to love and forgive and learn and come present.

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The Day my Husband Chose Hospice Care

It was March 11, 2010, just two days after arriving back home from our trip to the Burzynski Cancer Clinic in Houston, Texas. Houston is another story. But the significance of March 11 is our appointment with the oncologist, who had told us he’d do whatever he could to carry on the medications prescribed at the clinic. By this time, Kenny wasn’t walking much. He had a Foley catheter and was on a zillion medications for just as many symptoms. I wheeled him into the patient room where we waited for the doctor. He came in with his assistant. Kenny had lost a lot of weight and was very weak. When the oncologist saw the actual line-by-line treatment plan, contradictory to the Burzynski Clinic protocol, he announced to us that in all good conscience, he could not administer these drugs for Kenny’s condition. We asked what the alternative was, and gingerly he took this opportunity to mention Hospice–again. (In July ’09 we didn’t give it a second thought. In December we interviewed the Hospice worker just to see what it was all about and refused to start because it meant no more blood transfusions and we knew we were headed for many more.)

But this time, Kenny jumped at the chance to say “That’s what I want.” I looked at him incredulously, my heart sank like a lead weight into my stomach, choking on a giant knot in my throat, hot tears making their way down my cheeks, I was speechless, heart-broken, and in shock. Fighting back the sobs I really wanted to let out, all I could say was “Really, Kenny, really?” After all these months of focusing every waking moment on Kenny’s care, now we were to focus on his dying. This was so not in my plan, though it began to be evident way back in November, that there might be no turning back, that Kenny’s body was headed for the “Well of Souls” as he coined it. But I had a way of stuffing these day-by-day awarenesses somewhere where I could hide them from myself. If we were deeply involved in treatment plans like the Gerson protocol or the Burzynski Clinic, how could I also embrace that he was dying. I couldn’t.

So while I was reeling with this new era of preparing for him to die, I busied myself with all the Hospice arrangements there were to be made–the hospital bed, the wheelchair, the oxygen machine, the nurse appointments, the calls from the chaplain and the social worker. Kenny on the other hand, was continuing, not his valiant battle against cancer, but his journey into the Soul Realm where every day, as he drew nearer to his final day, his peace and love and joy and gratitude brought him to levels of realizing himself as one with God that knew no boundaries. Every day he expounded another seminar about our precious spiritual teachings. Every day he would tell me what he was grateful for. He said, “I’m a happy man. I have everything I need, plus my loving family and friends and you.” Every day I would say something like, “Kenny, you’re my hero. My one and only love of my life.” He would say back, “Carol you’re the love of my life.”

And for a while, while he still had some strength, the way he would get into bed was to put his arms around my neck while I swung him from sitting on the side of the bed to lying down. And that’s how we’d get him up in the morning. Precious moments these embraces. They would be the last times he would hug me, though I could kiss him, hold his hand, and wash him, brush his hair, dress him, and feed him until the very end. These were all precious moments that remain as symbols of the depth of our love. They remind me of the oneness we both experienced in each other. Both of us headed in the same direction, both of us  responding to his every need every moment of every day. One day we were lying close in bed and he managed to put his hand on my chest. Kenny had big, comforting hands with a healing touch. Even in his last days he was able to transmit that healing energy to me. I cried like a baby, no I cried like a wife who was losing her husband. Any day now he could be gone. Any day now the Well of Souls would claim him for the last time.

Where did I put all those images and signals that I was losing him? Stacked up somewhere in my consciousness, overshadowed by requiring myself to take Kenny’s direction, after all this was his life, his dying, and his Soul’s ascension. A celebration awaited him on the other side. I’ll find the right words another time to describe how my consciousness worked with compartmentalizing the power of that experience when it becomes clearer to me.

I’ve documented other precious moments in these last days of Kenny’s life in previous posts and I’m compelled to share as many as I can remember with you because of how tender and memorable they were. Somehow remembering them is comforting. In some ways like when we first fell in love—coming home after a date floating in the euphoria of going over each moment in my mind’s eye many times. There is new meaning now to the sentiment, “I only have my memories now.” It’s sometimes sad, but it also fills me with the experience of deep and abiding love. How divine that is.

Please feel free to comment either through the comment field below or by email directly to me at carol.jones43@yahoo.com. And pass this blog address to anyone who could benefit from what Kenny and I have and are still learning—he as a Soul after consciously dying to this world and me as his devoted partner, making my way through the grief of losing him into the peace and loving that awaits my awareness. Little by little I experience myself lifting my Spirit and lightening up. God bless us all.

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Giving Up?

Today I found myself giving up on my chances for recovery from cancer, but for no real reason. My friends had not given up on me, miraculous as it sounds. Yes, we are flying back to Prana tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean the Burzynski medications are not going to work for me. I will continue taking what I can of them and combined with my cancer healing affirmation I may be able to heal the cancer. Light on all that for the highest good of all cencerned.

I do not know what Spirit has in store for me. I will keep breathing as long as Spirit gives me breath. And if melanoma absolutely must claim my body, it can have it. Melanoma cannot go where I go, because I go into the pure Spirit of the Soul Realm that is my true home.

I can still walk a bit and I have a good appetite if I eat what Spirit directs me to eat. I can have bowel movements, even if it means painful Fleet enemas. I still have Carol’s undying devotion to do anything and everything to take care of me and make me comfortable. I still have Dr. Burzynsky’s willingness to work with me and provide the medications that can overcome the cancer. I still have the love and support and faith of friends who are constantly sending me the audible Light stream of God. And I am still having miracles of perfect timing happening everyday to keep me going.

So, there is no reason to give up. I hereby let go of all and any reason to give up on my recovery from cancer and I allow myself any and all chances for a full recovery.

Well, I’m still here. After an amazing travel day from Houston to LA, and a very difficult night back at Prana, I find myself still breathing and carrying on. The night was difficult because Carol and I were both up all night dealing with a series of small bowel movements. A nurse is coming this morning to help us with all that. We are considering getting a hospital bed in here.

The flight from Houston was another series of miracles of perfect timing. The most significant detail was the extremely turbulent and dangerous landing in rough cross winds. I held the Light for the pilot and realized that it only takes one Light Bearer to do a job like that if you are strong in the Light. Together, the pilot and I landed the plane safely.

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