Dance --- Rumi

I returned home from the Mayo Clinic last week with the words of Jelaluddin Rumi ringing in my ears. Celebrating the 800th year of the poet's birth this year, I find myself reflecting on his work and pleased that my favorite NPR program "Speaking of Faith" (speakingoffaith.org) is focusing on him this week. (Photo: Self-portrait "Spirit" by Esâm Khattak of Islamabad, Pakistan)

Dance, when you're broken open.

Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting.

Dance in your blood.

Dance, when you're perfectly free. --Rumi

Time is limited, and the abundant water is flowing away.

Drink before you fall to pieces. --Rumi

Learning to dance through the past 21 months has not been an easy lesson to learn - through the ups and downs that life has taken me. Last week, Dr. H bounding in and armed with the good news that the blood supply to the cancerous area has been cut-off and further treatments are not required -- I breathe a tremendous sigh of relief and thank God. And now, to keep dancing...

Since September I have been undergoing major medication changes, two of which have required tedious tapering schedules over the course of weeks. I am now existing on 1/2 of what I have taken the past five years and the side-effects have been tremendous. Dr. H informed me that I have been in a hypo-state (think hibernation) for the past 8-10 weeks as we shift meds (thus, no blogging since October). If only I had known - I could have given myself a TON more grace instead of pushing myself to the limit in the ever-Rebecca fashion. To think, I went to South Africa like this, and just held a two-day stigma research meeting the day after I returned home from the Mayo!

Ah, the challenge, to keep dancing when my body chemistry is fluctuating dramatically. Be glad, be veeerrrry glad for those of you that don't see me frequently. This isn't a pretty time - in more ways than one!

(Photo: "Moving Water" Self-portrait by Esâm Khattak of Islamabad, Pakistan)

Dr. H promises however, that all the shifting and changing has a reason and that in a matter of months I will be feeling better than I have for most of my adult life. I look forward to that -- and, I look forward to having the energy to do things like talk on the phone, and write.

So, I sit in this moment and reflect on a body/mind that are washed anew with hope and freedom. Freedom to live in this moment, and in this new way.

The morning wind spreads its fresh smell.

We must get up and take that in,

that wind that lets us live.

Breathe before it's gone. -- Rumi

Pictures posted...

To see pictures of my South Africa trip that I just posted, please visit http://southafricabound.blogspot.com/

I will do some writing about my experiences there very soon.

South Africa Trip

I am blogging now from South Africa at http://southafricabound.blogspot.com and will return to this blog when I am home in a couple of weeks.

A touch of heaven, when you are going through hell

Just now at the point where I can at least throw the photos from the Mayo here on the blog. I think it will take some time for me to digest my experiences at the clinic, but admittedly, it was a touch of heaven when one is going through hell.

The artwork on every possible surface and ceiling inspired even the most hardened heart. The statue of the man lifting his arms up to the universe took my breath away when I saw his two story figure hanging in the grand atrium. It is a powerful illustration of what I have found myself doing over the past 17 months - lifting my arms up and releasing control of my life and my health. All of us at the clinic were in various stages of this pose. (Photo: Bigger than life statues fixed to the exterior wall of the Mayo building.)

My team was outstanding, and beyond compare. Thankfully, they will be taking over my care moving forward.

I am doing fine, and healing each day, thanks to God. (Photo: Chihuly installation in the main registration lobby.) The most challenging issue, oddly enough, has been the change/shift in medications. Thankfully, I am young, and strong and I adapt quickly. Speaking of adapting, I leave for South Africa in 8 days and have now found out that I have three radio interviews and may be meeting with the President while I'm there. (Photo: Original Mayo building - 1905.) How does one move from treatment to the Presiden't office in three short weeks. I don't know. If you have suggestions, I am willing to take them! (Photo:A view from radiology.)

Mayfair Renovation Blog

We have posted a bunch of the Mayfair renovation pictures on a new blog http://meridianpartners.blogspot.com if you have interest. Ignore the dates on the blog. It is chronological beginning at the bottom. We started on the property July 8.

Respecting Life

I made fresh pesto tonight, but not with the basil I planted this year. A small sacrifice. After "the animals" terrorized my precious pots of herbs and peppers last year (I overlook a wood), I decided that this year I would be crafty and beat the animals at their own game. By suspending my herbs in a hanging basket on my patio, I thought certainly I would have my fresh basil for pesto this year. Nature had another idea. A mother bird thought my sheltered basket with fresh herbs growing abundantly was a perfect place to burrow a nest and lay her eggs. Her singing wakes me me in the morning and her nest grows bigger and bigger. A choice. To let the basil die for lack of watering and preserve the nest, or let the basil grow full with watering and run the risk of damaging the eggs and killing the potential lives of the song birds I enjoy so much. The birds won.

The seasons of life intrigue me, and I write often about them. All this, as I correspond via e-mail with my endocrinologist at the Mayo Clinic - an impressive man with more letters after his name than in the entirety of his full name - Ian D. Hay BSc MB ChB PhD FACE FACP FRCP (E,G,I & L) Dr R F Emslander Professor of Endocrinology Research Division of Endocrinology and Internal Medicine, Mayo Clinic. Through reading his research and then dialoguing via e-mail, I am awed by a man that doesn't stop asking questions of me, the research, and the medical field. His passion and reverence for life are clearly exhibited by not only his desire to "cure" me of disease but ALSO increase the quality of my life beyond. Probing questions about who I am beyond my illness and desiring to know what makes my heart sing - he is a man that loves life and the humans that walk it.

Life is precious, and what that really means unfolds before me each day. This morning, as I pondered the nest with the crackled brown stems of what were basil plants hanging about it, I listened to Sunday "Weekend Edition" on NPR. "This I Believe" is one of my favorite segments that is played intermittently. Today, the essay was written by Michelle Gardner-Quinn, a University of Vermont student, who wrote it for her environmental studies class. Titled "A Reverence for All Life," NPR quietly noted before it was read by Michelle's professor that two days after reading the essay in class, Michelle was kidnapped and brutally murdered. A tragedy beyond comprehension! Michelle's Earth Foundation has been established in her honor. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12444698 Tears flowed as I listened to the essay this morning and knew then that I must distribute it.

"I believe in upholding reverence for all life. I believe that humanity has a responsibility to the Earth and to the life that we share our experience with.
As a child, I found joy digging in the dirt, examining the miracle of life. Everything creepy-crawly was fascinating to me, and I spent countless hours in my backyard exploring what wonders lay beneath. Although some people might be repulsed by this notion, these creatures did not represent slimy pests to me. Rather, such experiences in the natural world taught me about the diversity of life that could be found in any microcosm. I felt attuned with the cycles of life, my favorite being the spring.

During these budding months, I could watch the egg sacks of praying mantises as they opened or collect robin-blue egg shells that had fallen from the nests. This was where I felt a strong connection to the natural cycles of creation. This connection has inspired awe in me that I feel strongly to this day. It is a feeling deep within me that has inspired my passions and pursuits as an environmentalist.

As I grew older, I discovered that this reverence for life was not shared by all of humanity. Rather than respecting the natural world as a community of life, the environment has been valued in terms of the resources that could be exploited. Industrialization has turned life into an industry, and systematically destroys the essential diversity that provides richness to the human experience. Our self-inflicted ecological crisis has reached such a point that we no longer endanger isolated bioregions. So many toxins have been spewed into the atmosphere as a result of our industrial greed that the climate of our planet is changing at an alarming rate. Climate change threatens all life forms by altering fundamental natural cycles, giving little time for evolutionary responses.

These detrimental impacts are visible today as polar bears lose their habitat of sea ice, the sex of sea turtle eggs is skewed, whales have less krill to feed on, and coral reefs are bleached, to cite just a few examples. Climate change also has a detrimental impact on cultures and humanity's well-being as more people are becoming environmental refugees. Little is being done to curb this crisis and, within our lifetime the ecological functioning of planet Earth will be forever altered.

I believe that my connection to all life forms prevents me from sitting back and watching this catastrophe. I believe that we should understand our place in our regional ecosystems and communities, as well as pledge our allegiance to the Earth as a whole. I believe that all creatures, whether they are found in my backyard or halfway around the globe, should not suffer as a result of human greed. The reality of climate change is here and now; it is the environmental battle of our generation and generations to come. In honor of all life, I am dedicating myself to preventing this worldwide ecological crisis."

Three Is A Charm

After writing and editing multiple documents literally all day, it is a wonder that I find myself in bed with the laptop writing yet again. I guess I came out of the womb with a pen in my hand, and as you know, derive great comfort from seeing the black letters reveal themselves on the white screen.

Life is a wild ride. It struck me again on Friday that indeed, as one lets go of all control, things can really begin to move in the right direction. After 14 months of testing in two separate hospitals, I have grown very frustrated with the medical system and their inability to accurately diagnose and treat the medical challenges that they first revealed to me. I didn't ask for this. Over the past months it has made much more sense as the symptoms have seriously begun to reveal themselves - they caught it so early they weren't in full swing yet. Oh the joy, a seriously swollen neck, unexplained weight gain, and hair loss. Attractive, I know.

Sitting on the edge of despair and helplessness is not an easy place to be, but admittedly, that is where I have been in the past two months. I am ready to be young, carefree and in love with life again, but it doesn't seem to be happening. And then things changed in an instant...

I am pooped tonight but will share snippets of the story in hopes to expound more later. Early Friday morning, my sister was in Rhinelander, WI (I know - who goes there?!). She ended up in Rhinelander because it contained the only rental car available in all of Wisconsin due to an air show. She changed plane reservations from Green Bay to Rhinelander instead of cancelling the trip all together. On a return flight from Rhinelander to Minneapolis, my sis began talking to an older gentleman in the airport lobby. Over several minutes, he revealed that he was the head of endocrinology for the Mayo Clinic and specializes in the treatment of thyroid cancer and its recurrence. He was on his way from his vacation home in Rhinelander through Minneapolis (where Mayo is) to Chicago to speak to the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists. Almost directly after learning this, the plane boarded and they were separated, much to her frustration because she wanted to pick his brain about my case and get a referral. Before take-off, while sitting at the back of the plane, a woman asked my sister to switch with her and sit at the front of the plane. Unknowingly, when my sis agreed to the request and walked forward, her new seat sat directly next to the doctor.

Over the next 1 1/2 hours, they discussed my case in great detail. He was incredibly interested because I have experienced such challenges getting it resolved, and he himself experienced thyroid cancer in his early years as an endocrinologist. My sis was struck by how human he was and the great passion he has for this issue. His team at the Mayo is pioneering a new treatment for thyroid cancer recurrence that is not being done anywhere else in the world. Only 100 patients at the Mayo have received it. He is world renowned and people travel from all parts of the globe to get treatment from this man and his team.

He was disturbed by the extreme delays I have experienced in diagnosis and treatment here in Atlanta, and outright told my sister that my otoleringologist is on the wrong track and that I need to get rid of him immediately. This doc offered to contact me and suggested that I come up to the Mayo to see him for an initial evaluation and treatment plan. All of this from a man that does not take new patients and has so many layers around him that I could never get to him independently, if I tried. Unbelievable!!

I am in the process of corresponding with him and his 2nd in command via e-mail with the hopes to be up there very soon. He feels confident that we can get this resolved ASAP and I can get on with my life.

Is this incredible, ironic, weird?? I prefer to say this it is downright divine and holy and ordained by God and all of creation. I needed this more than any of you can know and I feel like there is hope around the corner. At last, the third clinic may be a charm. http://www.mayoclinic.org/thyroid-cancer/

A Second Chance...

After closing on the investment property only 3 1/2 weeks ago, I sit writing this with my muscles aching, my knees rubbed raw and black dye speckled all over my legs/hands/feet. This all feels oddly familiar as the echos of the townhouse experience of two years ago invade my conscious. This, however, is a very different experience: far less ambitious, seemingly more creative from a design sense, and much more streamlined somehow. Projects that took 3 months at the townhouse have completed within 8 days here. A charmed property - perhaps, despite the urine soaked carpet and ghosts of an evicted tenant dancing in the shadows- or maybe even more it is wisdom earned from experience.

The Mayfair Tower (right) is an interesting property nestled next to Piedmont Park with the most diverse group of residents I have seen in some time. Luxury high-rises attract a certain breed that is not duplicated elsewhere. Everything is a walk away, and I have discovered that I love that. I have decided that once I buy a place for myself to settle in (and NOT invest) I want to be down here. It is electric with the busyness of the city but earthy in some odd sense, perhaps Piedmont Park evokes that feeling.

Within the past nine days, kitchen cabinets have been refinished and dyed an incredibly dark mocha shade, a wood-floor laid, a granite countertop measured and ordered, suede paint splashed on the walls in the kitchen, the most gorgeous fitted-furniture vanity selected for the bathroom, deep coffee colored hues selected for the walls and trim with such inspiring names as Latte, Cappuccino, and Chocolate - all from Restoration Hardware http://www.restorationhardware.com/rh/catalog/product/product.jsp;jsessionid=EOEXBZM3CVO2BLAWC2ASAOVMCYLACH20?productId=prod1048003&navCount=1 (Right). A Benjamin Moore addict, admittedly these tints made me sway on this project. They got them right, somehow, and they pop with the insets painted chocolate (glass shelves and undermounted lighting make them sizzle). I jumped in circles after I fitted the foyer chandelier with the crystals that created a kaleidoscope of color dancing around the walls. Ever the kid, I'm the one that had to the fit the "pretties" on the ceiling fixture.

With the delivery of the stainless steel appliances, the project really felt underway. But it certainly won't feel complete until the new sensual creme/champagne deep shag carpet we found is installed in two weeks.
The design is informed by my new favorite designer Benjamin Noriega-Ortiz and author of the new book "Emotional Rooms" http://www.amazon.com/Emotional-Rooms-Interiors-Benjamin-Noriega-Ortiz/dp/0743285042 (Left and Below). He blends sleek modern lines with old world furnishings and sensual fabrics that create dreamscapes. In essence, places to escape from this stressed, soulless world.

The lighting in the condo borders on industrial with stainless steel, halogen beams that bounce off earthy elements like hardwood floors, granite countertops and banana leaf-woven chairs.

I feel like I have a second chance, a second chance at another investment property, a second chance at doing interior design again (who knows where it will lead), a second chance at living the life I want to live despite illness that always looms at the door, and a second chance (perhaps out of many more chance to come) to rub silky fabrics between my fingers, feel the milky texture of paint as it speckles on my skin while I paint, to sink my toes into a luxurious rug that almost buries them in its depth, to see color come alive and create squares of space that didn't exist before, and...and the opportunity to work with my incredibly talented sis and brother that make it happen mechanically and electrically. Ever the designer, I see the vision but have "0" ability to translate it to the world of nuts/bolts and hard wire.

Life is full of second chances...somehow I believe that tonight.

Knee High on the 4th of July

As I await word from my endocrinologist and surgeon who have my next months hanging in the balance of their decision, I have pressed forward with living the celebration of July with friends and family. Waiting seems to be the theme of my life, and a very difficult lesson for me - as stubborn as I am to "know" everything "now!" As if we ever REALLY know anything, truly. So, with my endocrine symptoms in full swing (a swollen neck and unexplainable weight gain - ah, the joys of my disorder - aren't you jealous?), I headed to Michigan for some time with family and to breathe the July Midwestern air as the corn is knee high by the fourth of the month and the gardens are beginning to fill in with nature's abundance. I longed to press my toes in the warm earth of the garden, and feel the rumblings of the memories of my childhood - a much simpler time when I ran barefoot in the country as the bees buzzed around me and the peaches began to bare on the trees remaining in the orchard.
(Pictured: Abby greeting me for the first time since Christmas. Abby, and Bebe in their "surprise")

Abby and Bebe greeted me in full adornment - with bows and jackets - a cute joke from my mother, although Abby didn't want to take it off. A true priss.

Michigan was bursting with what I remember well: blackberries on the bushes in the backyard, cool summer evenings, grilling on the patio, and large spaces filled with nothing but soybean fields, farmland for grazing, and people in touch with the salt of the earth. I tried my hand at a homemade blackberry pie - working on a crust from scratch is no easy exercise, but I think I have perfected it now. It was 100% Michigan.(Pictured: Making the crust from "scratch" and The finished product.

Monday afternoon found me in the little farm town of Hudson, MI (population 2500) where I was raised in my childhood and early teen years - five miles south of the town on the countryside, to be exact. I took the opportunity to snap photos for an archive I am building: my primary school, the softball diamond at Webster Park where I first learned that I picked better dandelions and did better cartwheels in the outfield than performed as a player on the team, the home in town at 610 Grove where my parent's brought me home from the hospital as a newborn, my grandfather's house and the surrounding land, etc. (Pictured: the current residents of 610 Grove, the children happened to be out selling Lemonade and cookies the day we drove by.)

I guess I feel the need to touch base with these memories and those earlier times because my current life is 180 degrees different from the simpler life within which I was raised. Battling away at mental health policy, working with world-class journalists, and gazing at the Atlanta skyline from my office perch - the farmfields in Southern Michigan seem a distant memory - but the lessons of that time/place I don't want to forget.

A return to Atlanta found me celebrating my 21st birthday for the 15th time. A surprise from dear out-of-town friends had me celebrating at the newest restaurant of one of Atlanta's top chefs, Kevin Rathbun. Kevin Rathbun's Steaks (pictured) http://www.kevinrathbunsteaks.com/ and http://www.rathbunsrestaurant.com/ my mind and was proclaimed by everyone in my birthday party to be the best steak they ever had. Butter -- it melted like butter in your mouth. And Kevin, well, his restaurants have a special emotion about them that you can't seem to shake. It is an "experience" to go there - and the man is magnificent. (Pictured: Kevin Rathbun and me)

In a return to reality, Mrs. Carter and Thom head to the Hill tomorrow in DC to provide testimony for parity legislation - one of the most important days in mental health policy in years. If the legislation is passed, it could change the lives of literally millions of people. Even after 4 1/2 years, I sit in awe of Mrs. Carter's passion, and I'm incredibly privileged to work for her in this meaningful way. I hope I have good news to share soon.

Life keeps moving along - even when I'm in a holding pattern.

Inspiration from a Starbucks Cup

While heading to Emory for testing at 6:45 a.m. Wednesday morning, we stopped by my trusty Starbucks at the edge of Emory campus. The testing I was about to do is my very hardest and a cup of decaf. Starbucks is a great accompaniment to the Xanax that would be getting me through the testing. As my nerves began to rise as we drew closer to Emory Clinic/Winship Cancer Center and radiology at the "tunnel" level (an accurate name given the claustrophobic machines housed there!), I looked down at my cup and was amazed to see this inspiring statement staring back at me.

For those of you that don't have a Starbucks addiction like most Atlantans do, each cup has a "The Way I See It" quote on the side. A quote from a Starbucks drinker, or even famous thinkers, celebrities, etc. -- even Jimmy Carter did one #206 - The Way I See It.

This one struck me and I swallowed hard finding it ironic on this morning and this day.

#259- The Way I See It

"People say, oh I could never do that! But when you meet cancer patients you understand the bravery and spirit those people show each and every day. Their struggles and spirit motivate you to test the limits of your endurance to cross that finish line. You'll be surprised at what you can do".

John Kellenyi, Eight-time marathoner and leading fundraiser with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training

Re-discovering my Interior Design Roots...

Multiple experiences have sparked my design instincts over the past weeks and have spun me back into my interior design persona. I have missed it incredibly --- a great deal actually. For those of you that don't know, after working several years as a psychiatric assessment counselor and before finding my work at The Carter Center, I apprenticed over several months with a nationally acclaimed interior designer, Dan Carithers, who was working on the Virginia farmhouse of Mary B. Schwab (of Schwab investments) at the time, among other projects (Completed dining room of Mary B.'s house above). I learned a great deal from him, and as I go through this challenging time physically, I am seeking an outlet for the design energy that seems to be enveloping me. (At left, from the Dan Carithers collection at Sherrill Furniture - Model DC12 - bench/ottoman).

Last Sunday, in typical Palpant fashion, my sister and I along with a few friends invaded the real estate open house scene and stumbled across this $3.5 million estate that happened to be open for review. The Moroccan outdoor patio/fireplace intrigued me and drew me in, although admittedly I sniffed problems with the place from the beginning. Most likely, the would-be owner ran out of money (after importing all that Italian marble) and went into default on the construction loan, forcing the bank to try to sell the property as is, with their Lowe's red tag bathtubs installed in the would-be spa-like spaces. Ugh! Incredibly intriguing.

Always looking at properties, my sister and I are ever trying to sniff out a good deal and have been exploring the Atlanta high-rise condo market for rock-bottom pricing with desperate sellers.

Investigating a 1 bedroom/1 bath in an Atlanta high-end highrise got my design wheels turning -- really turning. How can one turn 790 square feet into pure luxury with maximum light (given one window) and limited appointments? Honestly, since I saw the space, my design wheels haven't stopped turning - with the additional challenge of making the space "pop" as a "magnetic" sell in an oversaturated highrise condo market.

A small bedroom without a window of its own but catching the light from the living space window (adjoined by an arch - no doorway) had my brain intrigued. I found the solution most recently in the home of the original story "Out of Africa" in Kenya, Africa. The granddaughter is now living in the home and the solution couldn't be better (see picture at left). A hand-gilded mirror acts as a headboard for the bed, wispy netting adds a dreamy feel to the canopy. The mirror floods the room with light.

When Christiane and I did the townhouse kitchen with black cabinets, everyone threw cold water on our idea. Knowing it was hot in Europe and making its way to the States, we stuck to our guns. Now, black is everywhere.

Always searching for the next new wave in design, I think I have stumbled on something pretty special but will need to try it in a tight, small space because the price is still bordering on extravagant. Shag carpet is on its way back in, slowly. Rarely seen here in the States, it isn't your grandmother's shag carpet. It is luxurious, and furry and incredibly earth-stopping in cream. A perfect solution for an intown high-rise space of less than 500 sq ft.

I'll let you know when I can give it a try. Candice Olson of "Divine Design" is the closest person coming to this new trend, in this master suite that she just did. (See photo at left).

Interior design is a welcome reprieve from the stark reality of medical testing. Any opportunity I can take to feel sexy, luxurious fabrics is welcome in my world. Now if I can just find an affordable U.S. distributor for cream new-weave shag carpet, everything will be in alignment!

Walls...

Breathing the fresh north Georgia mountain air was just what I needed to clear my head this weekend. I breathed deeply and tried to let the rare fresh air push out the smokey pollution hanging in my lungs from the south Georgia/Florida wildfires. I guess I was trying to do a lot more than push out the bad air, but also the dark test results that hung like murky ghosts in my mind- attempting ever so to fill me with their desperation. (Photo left: Me and my new found friend in North Georgia.)

I have written a lot about change lately, most probably because I wish it would come and move me out of this limbo that seems to be my life. Fourteen months is a long time to be tested, probed, re-tested - ever the lab specimen that is poked and prodded as doctors seek answers that seem to evade them. I would have stopped some time ago but they pressed on, driven by something much greater than them. A hunch, an unanswerable question pulling at their intellectual fibers. A hunch turned into reality Thursday when my doctor finally produced numbers - the numbers that affirmed his hunch. After retesting due to lost blood samples, for the first time in a year we had reliable and most accurate data on my diagnosis. To say I was shocked is an understatement, but to my endocrinologist it simply was "I had hoped it wasn't true." A hunch turned into reality.

Good doctors follow hunches through the open doors provided to them. Superior doctors go through windows, army crawl through tight spaces, manufacture the very products needed for results, and tear down the walls of bureaucracy and never content...ever. I am within the trust and care of two superior men - one of which has me in his Fav 5 on his cell phone. :) ( Photo Right: AP's Oded Balilty - Pulitzer Prize 2007. For more on the photo see the end.)

I am glad Dr. R. didn't listen to me in January when I asked if we had simply enough -- he knew something. My antibodies are at work building walls to mask reality. By pulling away the antibodies, my levels are at 79 not 4.1 or 4.9 that started this whole chase. Much worse than we thought - and very far from the "0" they should be.

Living in times and within a body that encapsulates so much uncertainty makes one either reckon with the reality of life or go crazy.

I wish I could lay out a plan- reveal the steps in a sequential order - but I cannot, nor will I be able to any time soon. I am back at Emory/Winship Cancer Center with a specialist who may either determine this was a fluke or the other extreme - order surgery and radiation. I hang in the balance. This has and will continue to be a long journey. As I can, I will provide updates to this blog, and at the same time seek as much normalcy in my day-to-day.

Pink Floyd/Roger Waters played at Phillips Arena last week. To hear and see "The Wall" performed live is one of the top musical experiences of my life. My career is built around tearing down walls - walls of stigma, bureaucracy, ignorance, violence -- but personally, I am fighting to tear down the walls of uncertainty disease brings into my own life. Through this process, I may find a new sense of purpose and passion.

Last Wednesday, I heard Dr. Jeremy Geffen speak at Piedmont Hospital. A guru of integrative medicine http://www.geffenvisions.com/, he was launching the Cancer Wellness Center at Piedmont Hospital. Still under construction, it is heavily endowed to provide no cost resources for cancer patients on the journey to wellness by combining the best of western/eastern medicine with chemo rooms next to yoga studios, nutrition, fitness, mental health, and cosmetic (including wigs and scarves). I had a personal tour of the Center under construction by the Director and had a glimmer of what my passion/career could be in the future. Expanding my passion for mental health into integrative care, there would be more walls to tear down and maybe that is my purpose. (Photo left: Berlin, 1989. Tearing down the Berlin wall.)

The Cancer Wellness Center has a start; an open closet at the entrance where doctor's remove their white lab coats before entering. A statement -- "no walls" -- "we are all humans and we are in this together."

______________________________________

Pulitzer Prize winning photo - NEW YORK -- Associated Press photographer Oded Balilty has won The Pulitzer Prize for breaking news photography for his picture of a lone Jewish woman defying Israeli security forces in the West Bank - alone and fighting the wall of their riot gear. Balilty's photo shows a Jewish settler struggling with an Israeli security officer during clashes that erupted as authorities evacuated the West Bank settlement outpost of Amona, east of the Palestinian town of Ramallah, on Feb. 1, 2006.

Ramblings...

My office is impossible - with 100 proposals coming in over the past three weeks, Jane (the person that assists me) and I can't move among the four walls, let alone accomplish much beyond reading...reading...reading. Some amazing Fellowship candidates, and I continue to be awed each year.

When I am not reading proposals or writing proposals of my own, I somehow find time to continue my lifelong habit of reading avidly. Books are piled beside my bed, many finding their way under my bed, scores on my desk, and some even making their way in a bookbag. I'm a nerd at heart and can chalk my bad eyes up to reading by the light of my alarm clock as a little girl when "lights out" was long past and I was in the wee hours of the night, alone - with a book.

The selections I read and when are telling of my current moods and life journey. And as a woman with varied moods, I usually have several books going at a time. Now, I am engrossed in the final chapters of the sci-fi soon-to-be movie "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger http://www.amazon.com/Time-Travelers-Wife-Audrey-Niffenegger/dp/015602943X/ref=pd_bbs_2/103-5007173-6039019?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1179110872&sr=8-2, in addition to completing the final pages of the non-fiction "Fast Food Nation" by Atlantic Monthly contributor Eric Schlosser http://www.amazon.com/Fast-Food-Nation-Eric-Schlosser/dp/0060838582/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-5007173-6039019?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1179110982&sr=1-1. After consuming "The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living" by His Holiness The Dalai Lama (now on faculty at Emory) on audio, I am thoughtfully picking my way through the hard cover http://www.amazon.com/Art-Happiness-Handbook-Living/dp/1573221112/ref=pd_bbs_2/103-5007173-6039019?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1179111140&sr=1-2. Finally, I am pouring through the early chapters of "Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality" by Donald Miller with three new friends http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Like-Jazz-Nonreligious-Spirituality/dp/0785263705/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-5007173-6039019?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1179111241&sr=1-1.

Don Miller is one of the most enlightened, thoughtful writers of my generation - a 35 y/o man from Oregon, he paints spirituality in a light that has never been cast before, nor will it be after he leaves this life. A philosopher/artist/rambler at heart, the words he paints on paper resonate with the chords of my life. As if "Blue Like Jazz" is not enough, today I picked up "Through Painted Deserts" (an earlier work by Miller) as a companion to my reading of "Blue" --http://www.amazon.com/Through-Painted-Deserts-Light-Beauty/dp/0785209824/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/103-5007173-6039019?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1179111445&sr=1-1.

"Desert" is a multi-part essay about the process of change and really far more than just the three-month journey across the U.S. in VW bus that marches across the pages (now where a guy of my generation got a VW bus that STILL runs, I have no idea -- but I have to go with him on this!).

I have to share one part with you that really grabbed me when I read it -- I needed to hear it tonight, as I lay in my bed with my glasses across my face in the moments before turning out the light -- it speaks to my life now and resonates so fully with my previous blog. I'm feeling the close rumblings of soon-to-be change in my own life...

Miller writes,

I remember the sweet sensation of leaving, years ago, some ten now...And I could not have known then that if I had been born here [his new home Oregon], I would have left here, gone someplace south to deal with horses...I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to change because it is God's way. All my life I have been changing...Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.

I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently...Time has pressed you and me into a book, too, this tiny chapter we share together, this vapor of a scene, pulling our seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Everything we were is no more, and what we will become, will become what was. This is from where story stems, the stuff of its construction lying at our feet like cut strips of philosophy.

...No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath.

...And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.

I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

Wouldn't it?

Change or Die

I am writing from the best place in the world -- soaking in the sun on the deck at Cross Creek -- overlooking the golf course. Despite being in the center of Atlanta, it feels a million miles away and you would expect the characters of the movie "Caddy Shack" to turn the corner at any moment! :) A much needed break to regroup and be alone and reflect on the whirlwind that has made up my last month.

In the past five weeks, I have had a trip to NYC and two trips to DC. I'm now on a steering committee at Columbia University for the development of three years of journalism workshops on education. I am the lone mental health voice in the room with an interesting cast of characters surrounding me: Danny Glover, the actor; Bob Moses, the civil rights leader and MacArthur genius; and my counterpart at the Kaiser Family Foundation Fellowships. The scene shifts as I fly to DC for a meeting with screenwriters and television producers with the goal to improve coverage of suicide on TV. I'm finding myself being the voice that emphasizes the importance of culture -- so often forgotten. One of our interns has been doing research in this vein and found that over 450 different languages are spoken in U.S. classrooms and within a generation Spanish will be spoken as much as English!! In the world of mental health and how the illnesses are viewed -- the spectrum appears to be just as great.

Thankfully, my second trip to DC was for pleasure -- I haven't done that since I was 12. We visited our friends Kim and Doonie (host and hostess extraordinaire! Thank you!!) and did all the touristy things: the Spy Museum, WWII Memorial (Photo to the right), Lincoln Monument, the roof of Hotel Washington overlooking the White House, dinner with a DC friend, and the Vietnam Memorial (Photo below left). At the Vietnam, I found myself engaged in deep conversation w/ a volunteer vet. (I am teased about taking conversations to the third degree -- thankfully my friends were with me so I can shed some of the blame!) We discussed the 30+ years since the war and how he coped with his experiences during that time and since. He is highly ambitious and talked openly about not sharing a single war experience with his kids, how he poured himself into his career to cope, and then the failure of his marriage. We discussed what happened in his life that began to crack open the dark memories and heal the past. He flies one Sunday a month from Chicago to work at the wall as a volunteer. He retired at 53 y/o and after 25 min of conversation, he revealed that he was the former President of Sears Roebuck & Co. A truly amazing man and a conversation I will not soon forget!

As I write this, I realize these stories are all just experiences, plane trips, moments, etc. and I find myself knowing that despite all the activity in my life, if I sit still, I know change is inevitable and I have to prepare for it. Change or die -- that is the reality of life and the title of a Fast Company article that grabbed my attention. Read it here http://www.fastcompany.com/magazine/94/open_change-or-die.html

I resist change with everything in my life. In a lot of ways, I know I can't stay in this fabricated Utopia forever, and some meetings/conversations this week began to burst that bubble and force me to think about it. I know the time to get off the ride is at the peak and not on the downswing -- but where some changes in choices will take me, I don't know.

I do know that I check in at 9 a.m. Monday morning for an injection at Piedmont Hospital, and then another on Tuesday morning, and then testing on Friday. All this, because someone lost my bloodwork from the testing in January and results are not definitive. Now counting 14 months since Dr. R. observed a "problem" in my blood. Patience. Life will do as it will, and I have to trust that the changes will inevitably unfold before me as I let go.

Bebe Turns 10 Today!!

How is it possible that my sweet pup Bebe is 10 years old today?! She celebrated her 70 year mark with a little party at her Grandparent's in Michigan, where she is now a permanent resident. Just look at that face - is it possible for her to be happier? Just knowing she is so thrilled about her new set of circumstances makes the pain a little less for this mom that misses her dearly. Gone are the days of the Xanax, and panic attacks due to travel and chaos on this end. The Grandparents are fairing very well too -- they spoil the girls rotten!

A Weekend of Perfect "10s"

It has been some time since I did a top 10 list and this past weekend filled with perfect "10s" is begging for the counting. Conversations about global warming aside, the weekend was in the 80s and almost hit 90 with sun exploding everywhere. My body jumped into action and I found every possible opportunity to spend time with friends and bask in the glow of an early summer. :)

Here is my top 10 list of perfect 10s from the weekend:

10. Having my first ice cream cone of the season (since last summer for that matter). Bruster's Double Chocolate Raspberry Truffle is just what the doctor ordered!

9. Spending every possible moment basking in the sun on patios with friends.

8. Shedding the old burgundy nail polish with the crisp chill of winter and breaking into hot pink with a fresh manicure/pedicure. Ever the girl - aren't I?

7. Banana Republic having drastic spring sales on adorable ruffled linens that make my soul sing! (not to mention the size was a nice surprise! :)

6. Red peppers sauteed with Muir Glen's Fire Roasted Red Pepper marinara - a perfect homemade pasta perfected even more by Christiane and Cheryl.

5. Being pampered by Kevin as my locks were darkened and my layers kicked into a flirty flip.

4. Celebrating Greek Independence Day with friends and sinking our teeth into tzatziki, skordalia, taramosalata, melitzanosalata, revithosalata, htipiti, and kefalograviera. http://www.avragreektavern.com/

3. Hearing the tale of my spunky 12 y/o Abby teaching a chipmunk who is boss - she still is resting from the adventure, I'm sure.

2. Doing the Atlanta Women's 5K in Inman Park Saturday morning. My first race since I was sick 5 years ago, and all the joy it brings me washed over and intoxicated me once again. I am ready to start running and meet with a trainer on Wed.

1. Six more months of warm, sunny weather!

I am heading to NYC on business later this week and can only hope I will bring the sunny, warm weather with me.

Spring Has Sprung... at Last!

Ah, the beautiful, long, spring evenings. To get out of the gym, I find myself in Lenox Park walking among the unleashed dogs, the running children, and the fountains spewing forth cascades of water that unabashedly fall into staccato pellets on the water surface. Lenox Park brings forth many memories as I ponder its significance in my life. My first job out of mental health, Harbinger in March of 2000. Seven years from today I began my journey out of the clinical setting only to find the path taking me in unexpected places -- far, far from the dreams I dreamt for myself. Lenox Park saw me through many different phases: the breakup of a boyfriend here, calling my parents from a picnic table to tell them I was diagnosed with cancer, my officer window at Harbinger looking out on the fountained pond -- tears at times wondering the purpose of my life, healing from cancer on the terrace of my apartment overlooking another fountain on a pond mirroring the one from my office, and today - exercising after my work at the Carter Center - vibrant and full of life - seeking the next steps.

As I exercised, I was reminded of some writing I did from my terrace as I overlooked the pond. Digging in my writing archives, I found it just now, just before my clean bill of health from cancer--- May 2, 2002 -

"Love this new view-and feel at peace sitting here, Abby at my feet, a candle burning…outside here in the fresh air with the laptop..the crickets. No wonder I feel suffocated in the office and unable to think. Every morning I watch the ducks come from their nests at the foot of the deck, while I have my coffee or hug the dogs…sometimes with mates or several mates and now with their babies in toe. Some are still mating with babies to come later. I laugh as I watch them mate. Wings flapping and quacking. Life is blossoming here…and I’m reminded that even though my life has changed drastically-the seasons will come and go..the ducks will mate and bare their young..and life will keep going. Watched a mother duck teaching her ducklings to swim late yesterday afternoon. They all waddled in unison behind mommy…watching with their new eyes…waddling. Abby and Bebe wanted to join in the swim and almost pulled me in too…with all their excitement. I love nature… (Photo: A view from my balcony at 6136 Lenox Park Blvd -where I lived from April 2002 through May 2005.)

Remember the time when I entered a state wide drawing contest at the age of 10…for the state conservation department—I was chosen to have my picture in the calendar that year. Springtime. My drawing was of a duck diving underwater and catching a fish. My young hand caught the detail above the surface and then below…wings flapping…duck grabbing the fish. I’ll never forget how inspired I felt….that is deep in me somewhere…and I haven’t used it since. That was thrown away a long time ago, with the laughter, the running/jumping, cart wheels and red hair ribbons.

I remember watching my Grandpa Palpant in the very early days of the spring every year (and now I know this is reflected in the majority of households throughout France) nourish and cultivate the tiny seeds he dried from the harvest the summer before. He built a makeshift greenhouse from his own design and using the energy from the sun, began the early growth of the plants that would later be put in the much larger gardens that he developed. When the ground was warm and rotatilling could begin, the transfer and much larger planting would take place. I’d follow behind his path..the overturned earth…cool and sinking between my toes..running barefoot behind him….full of curiosity and the smell of the fresh earth. I remember being so young that I couldn’t even count..and he would place the correct number of seeds in my hand as I waddled along the trench he dug to plant the beans, peas, corn, and every vegetable imaginable! We had rhubarb, strawberries, raspberries, peaches, apples, currants, blueberries, sunflowers, corn, every squash, eggplant and zucchini imaginable. He even built arbors for grapes and would press them. As an adult I sit on my deck in Atlanta and realize how truly blessed I was as a child. My grandfather..showing me the cycle of life and its fruits. Showing me what life could be. At the time I thought every child had this and in my attempt to be “grown up” and sophisticated threw it all away. It is only now that I realize my life and the core of who I am is in all of that. My grandfather was living the only way he knew how to live and a way that nourished him. I laugh now, to think what those Yankee people thought of my olive-skinned, bushel-carrying, broken English grandfather….whistling amongst his plants. When I was in France last year…I saw this reflected in every relative and amongst the villagers. Everyone with their garden, their space, to watch the process and flow of life…and to do much more than nourish the appetite, …but also nourish their soul. There is something to be said for that!"

(Photo: A view of my office window at Harbinger where I worked from March 2000 through June 2002 - overlooking the pond at Lenox Park.)

I feel so blessed today as I walk through the garden and consider how my life has changed. Never would I have imagined that I would live to see Spring 2007 in such a beautiful form. Life has an odd way of moving forward and enchanting us with the possibilities. As I exercised, I pondered the amazing things in my life that I never dreamed possible -- a passion for my work and a cause that moves my soul, friendships that go beyond the ordinary, and a life that so few will ever realize since the vast majority of people in this world live in poverty and subjected to harsh conditions. I find myself unable to squelch my excitement over the prospect of Spring and the fresh/newness of life it offers. I feel free.

From Charvieu, France to Ellis Island - 1924

Charvieu, France - 1924 Passenger: Roger Paul Palpant Ship: America Destination: Ellis Island By unearthing the Ellis Island records that they now make available to family members through the website http://www.ellisisland.org/, I discover that my grandfather entered the U.S. on April 8, 1924 as a single man, alone. He had $90 and an unquenchable spirit of adventure. The ship manifest surprisingly indicates that he had no intention of staying in the U.S. or becoming a citizen. In good health, he heads to Lansing, MI without a word of English in his vocabulary. (Photo to the left: 1924 passport picture)

Two weeks ago my parents, brother, sister, and I traveled to NYC for a first-ever family pilgrimage to Ellis Island. Disembarking from the boat, I was as close to my grandfather's immigrating footsteps as I have ever been. I found myself wondering what he felt, saw, heard, and wondered as he entered the buildings with numerous other languages surrounding him.

Before he died from the cancer that overtook him in June of 1991, he wrote over 500 pages of memories - a life that spanned three continents with birth in France, a childhood in Algeria, Africa and eventually settling in the U.S. and marrying an American woman. His French army training took him into the Sahara Desert (Photo center: Grandpa right and his brother Charles left, Sidi Aich, Algeria outside my great-grandfather's home) and World War I found him at my great-great grandfather's home on the Chemin de Fialoze in Privas, France most known for its nougat. His recollections of Ellis are vivid at times and then foggy at others. With English that never was perfect, he writes:

"As immigrants, we were herded on the dock until everyone and a guide were available. After awhile a guide came and made us follow him. We walked to a ferry with all of our belongings, for me this included an old suitcase weighing no more than 20 pounds. As soon as we arrived, they led us into a big room to await our interview and physical examination. It was so long ago I don’t recall all the details accurately. It seems at one time they led us in a big room with at least one hundred iron bunk beds. When a bunch of us were released, a guide led us to the ferry from where we started. We all had a tag like a package going by U.P.S (United Parcel Service). The guide made us purchase a lunch bag already prepared and he bought my rail ticket on the Grand Trunk railway. We were led on a coach where the conductor guided me to a seat. He stuck my ticket on my hat and we started for the unknown.

Not knowing a word of English, I was prepared to communicate with the help of two small pocket dictionaries, one English/French and the other French/English. For some reason I was not uneasy about my outcome. We started toward Michigan with me not knowing at the least where I was in the United States. The only thing I took for granted was that I was headed to Michigan Agricultural College not knowing at all the location of my destination. Come to think of it, I was so adventurously minded I must have been out of my mind."

While visiting Ellis Island this month, I saw photos of the lunchboxes sold to immigrants, and visited a room with the iron bunk beds, and saw the tags with which the immigrants were pinned. It made Grandpa's memories jump to life.

The adventurous spirit that Grandpa had moves me deeply, and I find myself hoping that I can live up to the high standard with which he lived- an adventurous, creative, compassionate, giving soul. Ellis Island reaffirmed that for me- if it didn't do anything else.

Kristof NYT Op-Ed

The Carter Center was featured in Nicholas Kristof's New York Times op-ed column today 20 February 2007. Below is a copy of the piece. I'm proud to be associated with the work! -- RGP

Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company The New York Times
February 20, 2007 Tuesday Late Edition - Final SECTION: Section A; Column 1; Editorial

Let's Start a War, One We Can Win

By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF T

They were two old men, one arriving by motorcade with bodyguards and the other groping blindly as he shuffled on a footpath with a stick, but for a moment the orbits of Jimmy Carter and Mekonnen Leka intersected on this remote battlefield in southern Ethiopia. Mr. Mekonnen, who thinks he may be 78, is a patient in Mr. Carter's war on river blindness. He is so blind that he rarely leaves the house any more, but on this occasion he staggered to the village clinic to get a treatment for the worms inside him. His skin is mottled because the worms cause ferocious itching, especially when they become more active at night. He and other victims scratch until they are bloodied and their skin is partly worn away. Ultimately the worms travel to the eye, where they often destroy the victim's sight.Ethiopia has the largest proportion of blind people in the world, 1.2 percent, because of the combined effects of river blindness and trachoma. As in many African countries, the wrenching emblem of poverty is a tiny child leading a blind beggar by a stick.As Mr. Mekonnen waited on a bench by the clinic, there was a flurry of activity, and an Ethiopian announced in the Amharic language that ''a great elder'' had arrived. Then Mr. Mekonnen heard voices speaking a foreign language and a clicking of cameras, and finally the whirlwind around Mr. Carter moved on.''Do you know who that was?'' I asked Mr. Mekonnen.''I couldn't see,'' he replied.''Have you ever heard of Jimmy Carter?''''No.''Yet in remote places like this, former President Carter, at 82, is leading a private war on disease that should inspire and shame President Bush and other world leaders into joining. It's not just that Mr. Carter's wars have been more successful than Mr. Bush's; Mr. Carter is also rehabilitating the image of the U.S. abroad and transforming the lives of the world's most wretched peoples. (For a video of Mr. Carter's trip, please go to www.nytimes.com/ontheground.) On the previous night, Mr. Mekonnen had slept under a mosquito net for the first time in his life, as part of a Carter initiative to wipe out malaria and elephantiasis in this region. And Mr. Mekonnen now uses an outhouse as a result of a Carter Center initiative to build 350,000 outhouses in rural Ethiopia to defeat blindness from trachoma.Mr. Carter has almost managed to wipe out one horrific ailment -- Guinea worm -- and is making great strides against others, including river blindness and elephantiasis. In this area, people are taking an annual dose of a medicine called Mectizan -- donated by Merck, which deserves huge credit -- that prevents itching and blindness. Mectizan also gets rid of intestinal worms, leaving Ethiopian villagers stronger and more able to work or attend school. Among adults, the deworming revives sex drive, so some people have named their children Mectizan.Mr. Carter's private campaign against the diseases of poverty, put together with pennies and duct tape, is a model of what our government could do. Imagine if the U.S. resolved that it would wipe out malaria and elephantiasis (both are spread by mosquitoes, so a combined campaign makes sense). What if we celebrated science not by trying to go to Mars but by extinguishing malaria? What if we tried to burnish America's image abroad not only with press releases and propaganda broadcasts, but also with a bold campaign against disease?So I wish that President Bush could visit villages like this and see what Mr. Carter has accomplished as a private individual. Mr. Bush, to his great credit, has financed a major campaign against AIDS that will save nine million lives, and he is also increasing spending against malaria -- but not nearly as energetically as he is increasing the number of troops in Iraq. So I asked Mr. Carter whether President Bush should be pushing not for a possible war with Iran, but for a war on malaria.''That would certainly be my preference,'' he said. ''I thought the war in Iraq was one of the worst mistakes our country ever made, and we're possibly about to make an even worse mistake by precipitating a war with Iran. But I would like to see us shift away from war being a high priority, to diplomacy and benevolent causes.''So, President Bush, how about if we as a nation join Mr. Carter's war on diseases that afflict the world's poorest peoples -- and are one reason they are so poor. That's a war that would unite Americans, not divide them. Come on, Mr. Bush, sound the trumpets!