Blog Article Archive

You May Have Moved on, But Your Body Still Remembers – Dr. A. Potvin.


As I’ve written about before, the most important relationship you will ever have is with yourself.  Whether you like it or not. Another difficult realization is how long it can take for our bodies to implement some of the changes our thinking selves so desperately want.  But here’s the thing:

Your body has a memory.  It lasts longer than your mind-memory does.

Not even in a woowoo way, either.

Your cells die.  New ones are born.  Receptors on the surface of your cells rearrange themselves to better receive messages. Sometimes receptors are put away. Other times more are brought out.  New pathways in your brain have to be built, like foot paths through the woods, while the old pathways fill in with brush.  Your body has to trust that you will nourish it, and you won’t leave it to starve.  It won’t get rid of its reserves until it can trust you.  It has to know life is safe before you can sleep through the night again.  How your genes express themselves takes time to change.  The stress your grandmother felt may still be expressing itself in your genetic makeup now.    

Your body adjusts over time. Sometimes this can take a lot of time.

That’s why you have to tell it every day that you are there and you will give it what it needs. Nutrients, sleep, kindness, forgiveness, movement, sunshine. The list goes on. History rewrites itself in every action that you do differently from that moment forward.

You have to be your body’s reason to trust.

Wellness Said with Love,

Dr. Potvin

As I Lay Dying – LA Times – Laurie Becklund

I am dying, literally, at my home in Hollywood, of metastatic breast cancer, the only kind of breast cancer that kills. For six years I’ve known I was going to die. I just didn’t know when.

Then, a couple of weeks before Christmas, a new, deadly diagnosis gave me a deadline. No doctor would promise me I’d make it to 2015.

Promise me, I told my friends and family, that you’ll never say that I died after “fighting a courageous battle with breast cancer.” This tired, trite line dishonors the dead and the dying by suggesting that we, the victims, are responsible for our deaths or that the fight we were in was ever fair.

Promise me you’ll never wear a pink ribbon in my name or drop a dollar into a bucket that goes to breast cancer “awareness” for “early detection for a cure,” the mantra of fund-raising juggernaut Susan G. Komen, which has propagated a distorted message about breast cancer and how to “cure” it.

I’m proof that early detection doesn’t cure cancer. I had more than 20 mammograms, and none of them caught my disease. In fact, we now have significant studies showing that routine mammogram screening, which may result in misdiagnoses, unnecessary treatment and radiation overexposure, can harm more people than it helps.

In 1996, during a self-exam, I found a peanut-sized lump in one breast that turned out to be stage one breast cancer. I had the “best,” most common, kind of breast cancer, found it early, got a lumpectomy and short dose of radiation. Five years out, my doctor told me there was little chance of recurrence and said, “Have a great life!”

You can imagine my shock when, 13 years after my initial diagnosis, I was in gridlock on the Harbor Freeway and got a call from my doctor with the results of a PET scan ordered after routine blood labs. “Maybe you should pull over,” he said.

Half an hour later, in an elementary school parking lot, I learned the scans revealed stage four breast cancer in my bones, liver, lungs and brain: a death sentence with an average life expectancy of three years.

I demanded the truth, always, from my doctors. I was a reporter who needed facts to plan whatever life I had left. I would not live in denial. But I was too scared, too private to tell anyone except my husband, my daughter and three friends. My very cells suddenly became my most intimate secrets.

Who would ever sign another book contract with a dying woman? Or remember Laurie Becklund, valedictorian, Fulbright scholar, former Times staff writer who exposed the Salvadoran death squads and helped The Times win a Pulitzer Prize for coverage of the 1992 L.A. riots? More important, and more honest, who would ever again look at me just as Laurie?

It took me more than two years to summon the courage to meet others like me, at a Metastatic Breast Cancer Network conference. When I arrived there were no pink ribbons in sight, except for a single lapel pin that had been turned upside down like a noose.

I introduced myself to the group’s president and vice president, who were comparing their hands, red and shiny from the side effects of various chemo treatments. Metaphorically, I had been both hiding my identity and fearing I’d lose it. It wasn’t until that day that I learned some people literally lose theirs, via their fingerprints.

The women at the conference greeted me with questions. They were shocked to meet someone whose cancer had metastasized to all four possible sites breast cancer can go. How was I even alive? They had set up lunch tables labeled “Brain,” “Bones,” “Lungs” and “Liver.” I told myself, at least I could table-hop.

Later that day, in one of the most powerful rituals I have ever seen, the group’s president asked all of us to stand, then sit back down when she reached the number of years since our diagnosis. At two years, most had to sit down. When she reached seven, no one I could see was still standing.

Looking back, I realize that I’ve been trying to report my way out of this disease. I’ve read so many books; researched hundreds of clinical trials; done my best to learn the complicated language of cancer and microbiology; attended conferences in Indiana, Florida, Mexico and Portugal. I joined online forums. I signed on with the user name “WontDieofIgnorance.” Despite it all, I fear that is exactly what is going to happen. I might as well have been playing Chutes and Ladders, a childhood board game whose outcome is based on rolls of the dice.

The medical establishment tells me I have “failed” a number of therapies. That’s not right: The establishment and its therapies have failed me. The system we live in as metastatic breast cancer patients is simply not designed to deal with the cycle we are living and dying in. The estimated 40,000 women (and a few men) who die annually can’t wait years for FDA-approved, “gold standard” clinical trials. We’re dying now.

Another quarter-million Americans are estimated to be waiting in the wings. I say “estimated” because no one is required to report a metastatic diagnosis. Death certificates normally report symptoms such as “respiratory failure,” not the actual disease. We are literally uncounted.

We now know that breast cancer is not one disease. What works for one person might not for another: There is no one “cure.” We are each, in effect, one-person clinical trials. Yet the knowledge generated from those trials will die with us because there is no comprehensive database of metastatic breast cancer patients, their characteristics and what treatments did and didn’t help them.

In the Big Data-era, this void is criminal. Consider what Wall Street does. Even the tiniest companies can see how much stock they sell, compare themselves to cohorts, review history, predict trends. Why can’t we create such a database for cancer patients, so we can all learn from patient experiences and make more educated decisions on what treatments will extend and improve lives?

The most powerful organization in the breast cancer universe, Susan G. Komen , has raised $2.5 billion over the last 20 years, much more than many corporations will ever earn. Yet Komen channels only a fraction of those funds into research or systems to help those who are already seriously sick. Most of that money continues to go to a breast cancer “awareness” campaign that is now painfully out of date.

We need people — patients, doctors, scientists, politicians, investors, families — to make a fresh start. We must create a new system of data collection and an open, online, broad-range database about patient histories that will provide information invaluable to those who’ve been given a death sentence. Patients as well as doctors must contribute.

It will come too late for me. But it is possible to end the game: Patients shouldn’t have to climb up ladders and fall down chutes.

Laurie Becklund, a former Times staff writer, died Feb. 8. She wrote this over the last few months. 

SPECIAL EVENT: The Taste of Downtown Peterborough 2015

Taste of Downtown

Health of the community relies on the support of local businesses, so check out some of the amazing local restaurants in town, many of which rely on local farms for their food! Peterborough is incredibly lucky in that we are surrounded by organic farms!

  • Charlotte Street between George Street and Aylmer Street
  • Free Admission!
  • Rain or Shine, come and enjoy some of the best food, music and shopping Peterborough has to offer.

An aerial view of the popular Downtown Business Improvement Area’s (DBIA) Taste of Downtown that returned for a seventh year with 16 downtown restaurants participating, along with live music and vendors on Saturday, June 14, 2014 on Charlotte St. in Peterborough. The 2015 version is set for June 13.
Clifford Skarstedt/Peterborough Examiner/Postmedia Network file photo

Participating restaurants:

Bualai Taste of Thai

Smoke’s Poutinerie

Dr J’s BBQ

Nutty Chocolatier

Shish-Kabob Hut

Brio Gusto

Turnbull Cafe

Brickhouse Grill and Bar

By The Bridge

Island Cream Caribbean Cuisine


Cosmic Charlie’s




Wild Wing

Sapphire Room

Kettle Drums

La Hacienda

Special Features:

Fleming Culinary Food Battle

Giant Sidewalk Sale

Artville — Art School of Peterborough hosting a showcase of local artists

Live entertainment: The Briannah Cotton Band, Bridget Foley and The Pocket Kings, Kim Doolittle and The Wolfgang Brothers

Desiderata: My new favourite inspirational poem.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c.1920

Gluten Free Coconut Flour Tortillas

I follow the Against All Grain blog for it’s amazing recipes. This is one I will be trying very soon, it is so versatile! This recipe was taken directly from the website:

Can be used as flat bread in wraps, enchiladas, tacos, pizza crust, burritos, and as crepes!

Ingredients (makes 8-10)

1/2 cup coconut flour
1/2 teaspoon grain free baking powder
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 1/2 cup egg whites (or 16 egg whites)
3/4 cup almond milk

*2 tsp honey (optional: use when making crepes)


Mix all the ingredients in a bowl and let sit for 10 minutes. Whisk again. The batter should be more runny than that of pancakes, about the same as a crêpe batter.

Heat a non-stick skillet over medium high heat and spray with oil or melt enough butter to coat the bottom and sides of pan. Pour 1/4 cup of the batter into the pan, swirling the pan while you pour to ensure the bottom is coated and the tortilla is thin.

Once the bottom looks set (about 1 minute), carefully release the sides of the tortilla with a rubber spatula and turn over.

Spray the pan again, and repeat above steps until all the batter is used. Layer the tortillas on a plate and set aside until you’re read to fill them and bake.

A Note About Coconut Flour

Coconut flour is made by drying and finely grinding the meat of a coconut. It is packed with dietary fiber and protein. It is naturally gluten-free, so it doesn’t trigger an inflammatory response in the body. The high fiber content also keeps your body from absorbing sugars into the blood stream. It is a great alternative to those who have nut or wheat allergies, but can be somewhat tricky to bake with.

I learned the hard way that you cannot substitute it for another flour 100% unless you add additional liquid. Eggs are usually best because Coconut flour has no gluten and the eggs take the place of gluten. Some sites suggest that you add 1 egg for every ounce of coconut flour, but then you’re dealing with high fat and calorie content, so I usually add extra egg whites instead and occasional apple sauce or juice if I’m using it in sweeter baked goods. It’s really about trial and error, and takes some patience while learning to use it.