After dinner and tea in the center of Cologne last Saturday night, my friend Todd and I strolled southward toward my neighborhood. Conversing about American culture, Germany, and our respective brain tumors, among other topics, we stopped to take photos into a rain puddle’s reflection and then of one another. Approaching an Asian market where I’ve shopped before, I noticed the lights were on, which was surprising due to the midnight hour. Hearing a loud, aggressive voice, I glimpsed inside and saw several people around the cash register and a man pointing a gun. Run, running, running very quickly, I shouted back at Todd staring at me with confusion. “Run, Todd, run, someone has a gun!” I said.

Todd and I dashed away over a bridge, further south on Severinstrasse, and then a few blocks east to my apartment. My heart raced. My body shook. I looked back. I thought we were being followed. Finally, we were safe inside my apartment. I was still afraid. “Lets call the police,” Todd stated.

I explained in English to the police where I had been and what I saw. The officer asked me several times if my wallet was stolen. I handed Todd the phone to communicate in German. Todd has been living in another part of Germany since last fall improving his German and Latin language skills. Todd and I both consult with Jeanne Wallace, PhD, of Nutritional Solutions, and she introduced us to one another over email.

Todd relayed the situation to the police officer through his fluent German. I found a receipt from purchases I made at the Asian market with the store’s address, which Todd read to the officer. Todd paused, smiled, and then said goodbye. He looked at me and stated, “As soon as I told the officer the exact address, he said the police received notice that filming was occurring at that location this weekend.”

The next day, Todd and I rode by the Asian market on bicycles. And there I saw a van with “Post-Production” painted on the side.

Even in hindsight, I find the episode somewhat confusing. I didn’t overreact to seeing a gun. There was the appearance of danger. However, the situation was safe. I was safe. I am safe. Sometimes fear overcomes me, and my sense of stability in the world. Sometimes my focus on survival leaves me naked in vulnerability.

I consider the scene in the Asian market highly symbolic to my life. There is a tangible threat in my environment. There is a gun in my world. It has a trigger. And in this exact moment in time, there is no danger of immediate extinction. Outside of treatment mode, and when I’m feeling well, it is easy for me to sometimes forget that I have a brain tumor. I am the image of life and vitality.

I live in two realities. The reality is that I have a very serious health challenge. The reality is that I am full of life and vitality. Both are true. And I cannot ignore either. Both must be engaged. That is how I choose to live.

I feel incredibly grateful that I’m able to receive cancer therapies that strengthen my immune system, target varied contributors to disease in my body, and detoxify my system. I know that many people affected by cancer are unable to pursue such treatments due to a lack of resources, financial and otherwise. I cry for these people. Why am I able to pursue the path I’m traveling? I ask myself this question. I ask whoever and whatever hears the voice inside of me. Tears cascade down my face, and I become aware that I feel some guilt for being alive, and well, and healthy, even with a brain tumor, and able to live in Europe and pursue holistic cancer therapies. I am challenged to acknowledge these thoughts, and yet they are present. I cannot disregard them.

“You are worthy,” a voice inside of me declares. “That is not to say that other people aren’t worthy. Everyone has their own path for reasons that often cannot be understood by the rational mind. You cannot compare yourself to others. Above all, you must believe you are worthy. Worthiness is about self-love. By completely loving yourself, each cell in your body will emit health and the highest vitality.”

I hear these words as truth. I know that I must feel worthy in order to survive, to live, to love.

Yesterday, I read about Vicki Readling in the New York Times article “Without Health Benefits, A Good Life Turns Fragile.” Vicki became a real estate agent a few years ago, and therefore needed to purchase individual health insurance. She also has cancer. Her group health insurance from her last job expired the end of 2005. Due to her cancer, Vicki was quoted monthly premiums of $2,300, a price she cannot afford, even with her 2006 salary of $60,000. She now avoids going to the doctor, and takes less cancer drugs than prescribed due to the cost. I cried for this woman. Her story speaks for countless others. There are 47 million people in the United States without health insurance.

I am grateful that I have health insurance, for which I pay almost $500 per month. Although my friends in Sweden gasped at that monthly price tag, it is less than Vicki’s insurance quote, which likely results from varied policies, carriers, and laws between states (California versus North Carolina), as well as age (I’m 33 and Vicki is 50).

Even with health insurance, if I needed conventional cancer treatments, they would cost more than my therapies here in Europe. I have a bare bones health insurance plan. That is how health insurance companies in the United States handle people with pre-existing conditions. Legally, health insurance companies cannot deny someone with pre-existing conditions a plan if they haven’t had an interruption in coverage; however, the cost for the insurance is always high and the coverage limited. And, even with health insurance, the coverage primarily includes conventional, mainstream treatments. Mine also excludes vision and dental care.

I am heartbroken for people like Vicki. I am heartbroken for people like my friend Deena that is choosing between another round of radiation for tumors close to her spine and not walking. I am heartbroken for the many people around the world living with wars, dictators, poverty, and diseases. How can we create equality and justice for all? It is impossible. I somehow trust, through the soul's evolution, that each of us plays many roles lifetime to lifetime. Therefore, someday, those that suffer in extreme ways will have peace and rest.

My heart is broken, wide open, pulsing, and bright. It hurts, and with the pain, there is joy. I am feeling. I am loving. I am love. Isn’t that what it is to be alive?