Bad News, Oncologists & Hope

I had scans (MRI and CT) recently and saw my oncologist on Friday to get the results. I drew this portrait of him a week before the appointment to visualize him delivering good news.  I think it's a good likeness and the one curly hair is what would grow if he didn't shave it off every day. I will do this visualization more often now to prepare for the next set of test results.  It is easy for me to hold this image in my mind and it makes me smile.  This picture is on my bulletin board in the kitchen where I see if often, too.

For your musical entertainment while reading this, click here to listen to a song that has been rolling around in my brain for about two weeks now.  I have asked my dear son-in-law, Jeremy, to learn this song for me.  He has the most beautiful baritone voice!

Anyhow, the news was that I have a new, yet rather small, brain tumor.  It's interesting to note that this is the 3rd June in a row that I've had this same thing happen.  It's in my cerebellum again, which controls coordination and balance (yoga students - that's why my balance has been off lately). Last year, we traveled to Saginaw/Midland for gamma knife radiation.  Click on that to see my post from last year on this topic. Doc said that the tumor in my bronchial tube that has been making me wheeze is only slightly bigger than last scan (less than inch in whatever dimension it was measured).  He said that this is "not really bad news".  I think he meant it could have been a lot worse.

I have spent the last two days processing this information. I have done this a lot of times in the past and perhaps experience makes it a little easier, but I have been doing some grieving while integrating this information and am being gentle with myself in the process. Tears can be healing while allowing the expression of emotion. Many emotional triggers have been activated and, as these always seem to bring gifts/blessings/lessons (g-blessons), I will feel them and deal with them one at a time. This processing time (I sometimes call it hibernation) usually takes a couple of days or even several days before I find the BOTTOM LINE, then I pick myself up and carry on with healing my life.  

What is the  BOTTOM LINE?  

I know that, no matter what happens, I will be okay.  I woke up with this knowing this morning. I also get a break from chemo.  I will always HOPE for remission and I have some very loving, supportive people in my life who hope with me.  I am not denying the scientific fact that oncologists are challenged to see beyond - science and statistics say that I will surely die.  Big surprise - we ALL will surely die, but death is simply a transition back to spirit.  I believe that hope can be a powerful healer and I am doing my best to elicit some hopeful words from my Dr. Science-Oncologist, then to watch the trickle-down effect when I tell people that my doctor is hopeful for me.  I have never yet heard words of hope from this specialty type of doctor (and I have known quite a few of them).  I know they have to be careful of what they say because of legalities and they don't want to give people false hope (but, come on, no hope at all?) They seem to have this head-strong belief that science knows more about illness than sick people who might know something about healing. They seem to overlook the fact that the human being is capable of spontaneous remission - it happens all the time. Science cannot explain it because it's not a scientific, measurable phenomenon. It's proof of the PLACEBO EFFECT - what you believe is going to happen to you is what happens to you. This is more of a mental, emotional and spiritual shift that can often result in a physical shift as well.  

I am living proof of that.  After my first Stage IV diagnosis, I went into total remission for 7 years.  At that time, I believed that my very life depended on my learning to forgive hurts that I had held onto for so very many years. It worked for me until I started holding onto hurts again. And, I believed (eek, the power of belief!) that this behavior was dangerous for my health because it had the possibility of inciting can-can cells in my body once again.  I have finally learned that forgiveness really is about letting go of the pain I have been causing myself. It's truly an act of self-love. And, I have learned so very much about love in the last year...

I wonder if hope is the missing ingredient in the oncologist's bag of tricks.  My doctor already practices medicine with love, for which I am extremely grateful. When I said this to him, he seemed surprised, but said he treats patients as if they were family members - there's the love. And, I love the fact that he doesn't wear a white coat...those things can be so intimidating. If all oncologists are feeling hopeless for their Stage IV patients, and consequently, their patients are also feeling hopeless, and the patient's loving family and friends are also feeling hopeless, is it possible that this is the reason for the high mortality rates? Wouldn't everyone be happier with more hope in the ability of the human spirit to heal her/himself? Or, perhaps a knowing/belief in that BOTTOM LINE?  Supported by the best-known authority (doctor) on the subject?

Great new book that I highly recommend for everyone is MIND OVER MEDICINE: Scientific Proof that You Can Heal Yourself by Lissa Rankin MD. That's the Amazon link. I think this woman's thinking and conclusions are an indicator of a new and better direction for health care - better for doctors and better for patients. 

With great love and appreciation for your presence in my life. 

Mega-Magnificent Maggie McDee

 

Gamma Knife Treatment

On Monday and Tuesday of this week, I had a new experience - gamma knife treatment of a small brain tumor.  If you'd like technical details, you can read about it and view a video on their website...   Mid-Michigan Hospital's Gamma Knife   As a patient and caregiver, George and I were treated extremely well, with much compassion and attention from the staff there, especially the nurses.  On Monday, we had an orientation with "Jennifer from Gamma Knife" - which is how the nurse identified herself when she called us.  She was very thorough in her explanations and instructions.  We also met the radiation oncologist, who was also very informative and genuinely concerned.  We watched a video about the procedure and asked questions.  In the video, we saw the head frame being attached with a screwdriver (yes, it is screwed into your head in 4 places).  Then, we toured the treatment area that included two private waiting rooms, bathroom, MRI room and treatment room.  They put us up in a local motel for the night.  

On Tuesday, we arrived at the Gamma Knife center at 6:45am (middle of the night for me).  We met the neurosurgeon and he pointed out how this was much easier than open brain surgery - we had to agree with that.  I was given Versed and Fentanol (both great drugs for this kind of thing).  While they were 'installing' the head frame, the only time I felt anything was when they touched my tri-geminal nerve in my forehead [while screwing on the frame] and I said "OUCH!  That really hurts behind my eye, my nose and in my jaw - like a trigger point." I got another shot in my temple to help with that pain (oops, they hit a nerve, but I didn't really care too much).  I don't remember feeling any more pain.  Then, they put a big plastic bubble over my head frame and did an MRI with 1 ml. slices.  I have a (fortunately) foggy memory of the MRI sounds.  Then, I went to the private waiting room with George while analysis was being completed.  He was drinking his coffee and watching Sportscenter - just like at home.  That's another foggy memory, but I do remember that, without the plastic bubble, the head frame was pretty lightweight.  They gave George a coupon for free food in the cafeteria, which he brought back to our waiting room.  I think I ate a chocolate chip muffin that was quite tasty.

After analysis, the dr. came in and said that there was only one tumor there (yay!) and they were preparing for the treatment.  Once in the treatment room, they put a different plastic bubble over my head frame and two people held onto either side of 'the frame' to lower my head into the frame-holder.  I complained of pain in my neck and they adjusted the table in increments until the pain was gone.  The nurse then added a quickly-inflatable pillow to support my neck and I was totally comfortable in the contraption.  As I could see I was about to go inside of a tube, I closed my eyes.  I ALWAYS CLOSE MY EYES when they start sending my body inside of a tube.  I visualized a beautiful rainbow of rays penetrating my head to heal me.  Then, I fell asleep.  The dr. was surprised that I was sleeping on the table for this 21-minute treatment.  What else can a person do when their eyes are closed and they have good drugs and can't move?  

After the treatment, the frame was quickly removed and I was returned to the waiting room for observation.  I needed a little more pain medication and Jennifer wrapped a white bandage around my head, along with 2 bandaids on my forehead.  George said it looked like I'd had a horn-ectomy.  He noticed some blood on the bandage, so Jennifer added a red bandage on top of the white one.  I saw my reflection in a window as we were leaving and I looked pretty cool with my 2-toned head bandage with brillo-pad hair sticking out.  I slept all the way home (3.5-hour drive), except for brief moments when I shared a sandwich with George and took several gulps of coffee, but immediately fell back asleep again.  I had virtually no pain afterward and taught yoga class yesterday.  I was able to resume normal activities the day after the treatment.  Pretty impressive, I think.  They took really good care of us there.

I am feeling SOOOOO good with no chemo in my body right now.  I haven't felt this good in over a year, so I am really enjoying it.  It is a beautiful day and I'm seeing diamonds on the water of Lake Huron this morning.  Natural beauty is such a joy in my life!  

Good luck to Cindy, RN, who is going to start working in her own gamma knife dept. soon.  Have a wonderful day.  With love,

Magnolia

Is Cancer a Battle?

I have a different point of view on this whole idea of cancer being a battle. Although, I sometimes think of Zena, Warrior Princess, as my hero. Cancer encourages us to muster all of our strength to meet its challenges, but I still don't think of it as a battle. My 15-year journey with cancer has presented me with many challenging opportunities to examine my thoughts and feelings, to change my priorities, to learn more about love and to realize more of who I really am. Without cancer, these changes probably would not have happened and I would have died long ago according to my oncologist's prediction in 2001. I consider it to be a gift, never a battle (unless it was with myself or my medical team). One of my first lessons was that it's not about WHAT happens to you, it's all about how you CHOOSE to deal with it. Tremendous healings can occur in the emotional, mental and spiritual aspects of a person's life - and those are the aspects that matter the most. When someone dies of cancer, I would much rather hear something like "they faced their challenge and became a much better, happier person because of it and they died in peace." (rather than they lost their battle, poor loser). Death is something we all experience sooner or later - cancer can give us the unique opportunity [time] to really think about how we want to live the remaining, very-precious moments of our lives, and how we would like them to end.

Perhaps I need to clarify that my feelings about cancer being a gift are NOT that it was a welcome gift, but that it has inspired me to make great changes in my life - changes that have made me a much better person. It's not fun and it doesn't feel good and it's very frightening and can be earth-shattering. I would not wish it on anyone. I have worked very hard to choose this point of view and it feels right to me. I try to "look for the gift" in every unpleasant situation. It often requires a great deal of time, soul-searching and prayer for me to discover the gift when the situation is 'bad news' from my oncologist. Then, I resolve to move on with my life, forever changed because of the gift I have found. I am filled with gratitude for every day that I am enjoying the gift of life and the miracles of modern medical technology and prayers and, most especially, LOVE.  

Introduction

Hi, this is me.

I am in the process of learning how to actually DO a blog while writing what I had once thought would be a book about my learning and growth experiences from my journey with breast cancer.  I would never wish this disease on anyone because it can be quite challenging, even devastating.  However, it has helped me learn a lot about myself and how I deal with life and it has inspired me to change and evolve to be the person that I am today.  I'm sure that I will continue to grow as I learn more and more.  Since I've been 'an impatient cancer patient' for 15 years, I have become more comfortable discussing the topic and am open to any questions you may have about my experiences or opinions.  

My goal is to share what I have struggled with and learned from my too-numerous-to-count experiences with my own cancer and others I have known with the disease.  Much of what I have to say can be applied to anyone dealing with a difficult life challenge because many of our human experiences are very similar at their core.  I will also draw some parallels between my experience and Anita Moorjani's experience [author of DYING TO BE ME] because, although our experiences are very different, we have both dealt with life-threatening cancer and have drawn many of the same conclusions about why we got cancer in the first place and some important life lessons.  

Please feel free to comment, ask questions, share your own experiences, or just read along.  Share this blog with others you think might benefit from it.  I have lots more to write and will continue to do so as often as I can. 

If you type in your email address near the top of the screen, you will receive new posts by email (I think).  Like I said, I'm still learning about this.  

It is my hope that others can learn something that may be useful in their own life journeys.  Unless I specifically quote someone else, all that I write here is MY OPINION based on MY EXPERIENCE and the experiences of some very special people I have been blessed to know along the way. I am not a medical professional or a cancer expert--but I know what my experiences have been like and I understand the power of CHOICE we all have to live our lives to the fullest no matter what 'trials' we live through. 

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As you read along, take to heart only what feels right to you and leave the rest.  Here we go....wish me luck.  Peace and joy,

Magnolia