February 23, 1999
Later In The Day
I am back! Dr. Hoppe came into the examing room and told me the good news. My scans looked "normal." My chest x-ray looked "normal." Normal is good! Normal is not boring. I amdue for some normal in my life. Now let me do this, "SIGH." Big "SIGH!" of releif that is. Phew! I will wait to actually jump up and down on March 13th, it just seems right to wait until my actual anniversay day.

Early In The Day
Well, later today I go to Stanford to see Dr. Hoppe for my 2 year follow-up appointment. Yes, it has just about been 2 years since that very last rad was directed at me. Now how does that make me feel? Several ways. I am relieved to be alive and relapse-free, but at the same time I am holding back that actual sigh of relief until I hear Dr. Hoppe's words that make my status of good health official. I really should be planning a celebration, but I get the feeling that I am supposed to keep this little milestone event to myself. Nobody really wants to hear about your cancer once you are done with treatment, we survivors are supposed to quietly go on with our lives as if nothing happened. Well, let me shout, "SOMETHING HAPPENED AND I HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOREVER!" That does not mean that life is bad, actually life is better. I am more focused and I know what I want. I refuse to give in and let myself fall into a pit of negative statistics. I would just have to climb out and it would take some kind of a monstrous creature to pull me back into the pit. And then I would climb out again. I am very lucky to have been able to see the ever-shrinking world of cancer, because it appears so much bigger once you leave it behind.

Besides all that weirdness that goes on in my head before I see Dr. Hoppe today, I have been working on starting a nonprofit organization called HelloCancer. My first mission will be to provide healing tools for kid's with cancer, all based on my visualizations. The first healing package will consist of tools that will teach kids how to visualize using my personal approach to imagery, which is not only fun, but also gives kid's back some of the power that having cancer takes away. It is so important that kid's learn how to take an active role in their healing, and that they see their treatment in as positive a light as possible. A sprinkling of that "spoonful of sugar" thinking can't hurt.

The name HelloCancer came about because I want kids to say "Hello" to their cancer, give it a face, and eventually be able to say "Good-bye Cancer!" I call this innertalk, the verbal part of visualizations that directs the images, all of which take away power from the cancer. Imagine, inviting your cancer to a tea party, a chemo tea party. As the host of the party, introduce yourself to your cancer, "Nice to meet you Cancer and welcome to my chemo tea party." Continue talking to your cancer. "Please enjoy this big cup of a chemo tea that I made especially for you. Drink up Cancer, and then you must be on your way." Pause to feel the power within yourself as you knowingly watch your cancer gulp the chemo tea. Continue talking. "Cancer, it is time to go, you are no longer welcome in my body. You look confused, so let me make it clear, tea time is over. Please go away! It is my party and those are my rules. Oh, if any of you are still here next week, please do stop by at my next chemo tea party. I will be making an extra strong batch just for you."

Anyone interested in knowing more about HelloCancer, becoming a sponsor, or contributing in any way, such as providing legal services, can contact me at: diana@cuppark.com.