Cancer: now it’s personal, part 1 of 3
It was bound to happen. I’ve been jet-setting all over the world trying to learn what people can do, when diagnosed with cancer. Stuff that doesn’t involve DNA damage from burning gamma rays, or injecting the bloodstream with toxic metals and chemicals.
I’ve met a lot of people with amazing stories. I’ve met a lot of docs. I’ve seen a lot of gadgets, treatment protocols, and facilities.
So it’s not really that surprising that eventually, one of the cancer patients at the places I visit, would be…..tall, handsome, and charming.
I never thought that I’d actually have a little romance with a cancer patient. One 12 years older than me, no less.
The GreenSmoothieGirls and I were staying at Paracelsus al Ronc, in the southern Swiss Alps, last month, for two weeks. One day we noticed a rather striking, well dressed, athletic-looking man, newly arrived. Looking rather like a fashion model, actually.
(Turns out, he once was, the GSG spies ascertained. I left for 2 days to meet a friend in Geneva, and attend the biggest health-food expo in Europe. While I was gone, the GSG’s invited him to eat at our table and got the scoop. The scoop is that he almost didn’t get to the clinic on time, since he was approached in Milan by a photographer to do a fashion shoot with 11 other models.)
We were alone in the little elevator together the next day after the GSGs and I first saw him. (He would later refer to our girl-gang as Robyn and the Smoothies.)
I thought I’d see if he spoke English. Most at the clinic are European and have some English, but sometimes not much. I’d heard him speaking German the day before. This elevator conversation ensued:
Me: Hi. Where are you from?
Him (with only a slight accent): Colorado.
Me: What! I have never met an American here!
Him: You sound like you come here a LOT?
Me: No, but I’ve been here twice, and besides the group of women I came with, everyone here is European, or French-speaking Canadian.
Him: Well, I’m originally Austrian and have lived in Europe. But I’m here because I read the newsletter of that blonde woman from California, who has that newsletter, you know. About raw food and stuff. She’s traveling around the world studying cancer treatment alternatives and writing about it.
Me: Oh, cool.
[The California thing threw me off. I’m from Utah.]
So it turns out that I’m in an elevator with Tall and Handsome, whom I will now refer to as T&H, a GSG reader who traveled across the world to be in this tiny town in Switzerland after reading my blog reports.
(You can read my review of treatment at Paracelsus al Ronc by searching for it on the site.)
And they’ve given T&H the room right next to mine, on the bottom floor.
The building was designed by a genius. Every single treatment room, and every habitation room, has a full wall of windows with a panoramic view of the Alps and the valley below. Even on a rainy day, you love the time you spend in your room, unlike hotel rooms I’m in so often, and want OUT of, for all but sleeping hours.
I’m making you wait for more of this story next time.