21-Day Liver Gall Blader Flush

it's been some time since i last posted to the blog. today is the summer solstice. i've been preparing for this day as i've been fasting for 21-days with 90% liquids (master cleanse, green juices, smoothies), 8% raw foods, 2% cooked foods, coffee enemas, and a TON of supplements from Premier Research Labs leading to today. I've been feeling great, full of energy, getting to the gym regularly, and back in my power. today, on the 21st day i've prepared my body for this flush advise by my friend dr. gabriel cousins from the tree of life in az. today i've have taken in two epsom salt drinks and 8-ounces of olive oil over 15-minute increments with some additional supplements from PRL mixed in. the intention behind this flush to to give my body the final squeeze of pushing out any things residing in my body, especially my gall bladder and liver after the cancer/chemo chapter of my life. if anything has been lingering, i know i've knocked it all out. it's been over 4-months since my last round of chemo, 2-months since the port was removed from my chest, and 11-months since falling down the rabbit hole of cancer. it's fucking done, over, nullified, conquered, defeated, finito! this cleanse restores my everything back to optimum vitality. i feel stronger than ever and i'm wildly excited with everything happening in my world. life is more delicious than ever! thank you for reading and all your prayers and support. - fabian

surprise present

on the new moon of april 14th i held onto a daily practice during my morning prayers, riding the surge and energetic build cascading towards the full moon of april 28th. stirring my cauldron for a surprise present, over these two weeks in between moon phases my life was mounting towards a definitive ending of some significant chapters, (a) surgery to remove the implant that had lived in my chest for 8-months during my battle with cancer was at hand putting the exclamation point on cancer free!, and (b) i was helping my wife move out and was reinventing my apartment - as 'everything is gonna be alright' as i can be, things were going to suck. two weeks walking the path of ashes, wrestling with the great shifter of shapes, riding the victory of conquering cancer, and profoundly feeling combined excitement and remorse of what life means without Parashakti. At the table of great unknowing I held fast to my prayers and worked through the realities at hand. the full moon came with a surprise present gift wrapped in a text message from my brethren Elliot asking 'can you tour with the band in Europe next week and play keys? crazy, i know!'. With 24-hours I was learning new songs and had my tickets to play music with my friends in France, Belgium, Germany, and have time off in Amsterdam and Brussells. Playing music with my hommies in John Brown's Body was the best medicine. deep thanks be to The Great Mystery.

this ending - this beginning - this birthday

I've never been one to freak out and hit the panic button. I've been fortunate to be endowed with a certain sense, a depth of calm and understanding that when calamity hits everything goes into slow motion and I'm able to operate with clarity.

Tonight, I can't sleep. I'm bursting with anticipation as on April 22nd I land on a new birthday. I will finally have surgery to remove the implant on my chest, this metal cylinder that I've been living with since last summer that is directly accessing my jugular vein where all the chemo poisons shot through my heart to assassinate the cancerous cells. I could have taken a variety of holistic approaches that would have been gentler to my body and over all experience, but I signed up for this insane mission (with a knapsack full of green juices and sweatlodge prayers), allowing me to assassinate any shadow of a monkey on my back that would ever dare whisper to me that cancer is lingering in my body. There is no sharp shooter in fighting cancer… an analogy I like to share with friends about cancer: When an army has to destroy a rebellion, and those rebels are dressed like civilians, it is impossible to send a sharpshooter in to just assassinate the rebels because they are mixed in with the innocent villagers. What generally happens in this scenario is the military bombs the village, killing the rebels and all of the innocent (look at Afghanistan and Iraq). I don't approve of this method when innocent lives are taken, especially for political nonsense; but in the arena of cancer - the body is the village, the cells are both the innocent and the rebels, and the chemo is the unleashed military arsenal.

This experience with cancer has been an explosive fire. The process of defeating it has burned away almost everything - .my marriage, my career, my body, my being - so much has been burned down to ash. For months, my violent dance with chemo sent me into a burning river in what I described as a river in the valley of death, it was a baptism I wish upon no one. My 14-day cycle of death and rebirth lived through over and over again for 12-rounds over 6-months is an experience I am so grateful not to have to ever have to live through ever again - the entries of this blog serve as the memory. Through all this, I am fortunate - I've survived. I have spoken to my regenerated molecules, I have spoke to my reoxygenized blood, I have spoke to the four winds, I have spoken with my ancestors and know to my core that I have conquered the beast. The removal of 'the port' will mark the end of life as I have known it as with this new tribal scar, this initiation tattoos a specific moment in my life time; this ending - this beginning - this birthday.

I've had the last 8-weeks to live, love, regenerate, reassess, rebuild, and realign myself with my breath and my heart. As my new birthday approaches I'm diving over the edge head first with absolute surrender and trust in to the great unknown… diving in to what I named this blog so many months ago - into the great mystery. And so it is…

Phoenix Rising

CT-Scan and Procedures

It's been about 9-weeks since I made an entry here. After spending 7-months beating cancer, I escaped the New York City winter and lived between Miami and Los Angeles. I've returned to a regular yoga practice, been exercising a lot, eating healthy, I'm deep in my daily spiritual practice, and over all feeling highly charged and alive. I know to the core of my being that I am cancer free, there is not an hint of disease anywhere in this body.

Still, procedures need to be adhered to… I had a hospital visit yesterday, my first time walking in to Mt. Sinai Medical since my last round of chemo in February. In previous visits my body would convulse and my head would start spinning just by placing my feet on the concrete steps outside the hospital doors; that reaction is no longer activated; it's a bit of a big deal…

I went to the hospital to have the port 'flushed' and a CT scan. I had to consume a thick chemical infused smoothie, and 20-minutes later I was in a robe, laying back being swallowed by a machine. As the CT-scan was proceeding I was injected with ISOVUE, a solution that allows the machine to reach my body. The nurse said, 'your whole body will feel like you are getting a hot-flash, try not to panic'. Fortunately, it was no big thing, I just visualized turning into light and breathed easily. When the procedure was done the nurse said, 'just drink a lot of water and the chemicals will be out of your body in a few days, you need to get them out of your kidney's'!!! I asked 'can i go and sweat it out in steam and sauna', they replied 'that would be much faster'. i rushed from the hospital to the Russian Baths and detoxed for three hours, it was a profound experience between the heat, the bathroom, the heat, the cold, the bathroom... the chemicals took the express train out of my body.

I have a few birthdays in my life, anniversaries of major events that have initiated me though this life. i have a new one coming up next thursday april 22nd as at 8am that morning i will be at the hospital going through the surgery to extract the metal implant in my chest from which the chemo was administered. it will officially mark the conclusion of what has been the darkest chapter in my life. It's almost over… Following the surgery I intend to do a liver/kidney/heavy metal detox to rejuvenate my blood.

Phoenix Rising

Into The Next

Today is a birthday of sorts. It marks the first time in 6-months that my 14-day cycle of death and rebirth is over. My affair with chemotherapy is really over. It is the first time in two weeks that my blood is feeling a deeper sense of chemical absence. It's the first time in two weeks that my mouth feels far from chemo mouth. It's the first time my body is not craving meat and wine combat all the chemicals. It's much easier, and enjoyable to drink green juices and eat salads. Each day I go to the gym, I feel my strength and energy returning to me. The chemicals are fading, I'm beating them out. I've been in Miami for a week. The weather has been far from ideal with the temperature dancing between the mid-50's and upper 60's, far from the skin penetrating heat I've been longing for. Hopefully my body will engage in that sensation when I reach LA on Sunday for my 1-month there. I shaved of all my hair since I arrived here. I've buried some of it, offered some to the ocean, burned a handful with some cloths I regularly wore during chemo, and gave some to the wind to play with. Little rituals help in activating intentions, and allow me to connect with my spirit guides, my orishas, my angels, whatever name we give to the unseen - I feel I'm being witnessed by the other side as I transition into The Next.

Phoenix Rising

I should be ecstatic and bouncing off the walls today as I've crossed the finish line and completed my 12th and final round of chemo therapy. 7-months of hell is over. I'm happy, exhausted, and so deeply relieved that this chapter of my life will soon be past me. Over the next 12-months I will be having to visit the hospital for check-ups and to 'flush' the port implanted in my chest. The implant will remain with me for one more year 'just in case'. I feel I am cancer free. I have spoken to my blood, my cells, my DNA, my skeletal and molecular composition. In every vomiting occurrence I did my best to consciously focus and purge the cancer, purge old stories, burn away illusions, and burn out any old karmic baggage that no longer serves any purpose. It's been era - very, very real. As my poisoned blood has swirled through my body I feel as though it has etched into my bones my life story thus far like the carvings on some ancient walls. I'm very clear on where I'm standing, and I'm psyched to reengage and rewrite the next phase of my life.

Thank you for all the prayers and well wishes, it fueled the process.

Phoenix Rising

Round 11 - on the 15th purge

It's been 6-days since I was last in front of my computer. I wish I could say it was because I was on retreat deep in the Peruvian Amazon making a profound connection with nature, or recuperating on a sun drenched sandy beach in the Caribbean, or detoxing with my wife in Costa Rica at a yoga intensive; but no, this was a chemo week - round 11. I'm finally climbing out of it's shadow. I'm not one with a habit of complaining, and I've expressed in previous blogs the reasons I write this; but more than anything, I write this for myself and others that might benefit from my experiences through chemo.

Because of my age, and because I am approaching the conclusion of these treatments, the chemo has gotten more aggressive. This past round was by far the most hellish of them all. Thinking about it makes me sick. Simply put, 5-days in bed, absolute weakness, 5-days of continual vomiting, total nausea, inability to hold anything in my system, not even water or the anti-nausea meds. The chemo squeezed itself deeply into my blood and bones. I vomited so much I stopped counting on the 15th purge. My old friend Vishal had me on the phone as I was having a meltdown on Friday night. His trusted diagnosis lead me to the ER.

I had to spend my Saturday in the emergency room at Mt. Sinai with my devoted mom. My dehydrated body got pumped with 5-litters of fluid, two smaller bags of potassium and two hits of anti-nausea medication. I had vomited so much that small ulcers have formed at the back of my throat. The simple act of swallowing my slimy medicated saliva currently provides an excruciatingly painful experience; as if when the opposite walls of my throat compress together to swallow they stab each other with tiny sharp blades instead of kissing and giving thanks for the yumminess entering the body. Sipping warm tea, broth, some pita and hummus, letting some chocolate melt in my mouth - insane pain. My larynx and esophagus are on fire. My tongue is chalk white. The doctors say that if I were not on chemo it would heal quickly as the throat regenerates new cells continually, but since chemo kills all the good and bad cells, it will take longer. I've never moaned and groaned more in my life. Add to the mix my hair has been thinning and slowly falling off. Thank God, this hell is almost over, Feb 1st is the 12th and final chemo session. I'm almost there…