Hey Chemo! I'm Talking to YOU

Hey Chemo! I'm talking to you!  What are you? Cells? Molecules? Atoms? Blobs? Soldiers? Witches' Brew? Drugs? Nuclear weapons? Syrupy Liquid? Whatever you are - we need to talk.  I understand that many very smart brains have worked very hard to develop and test your formulation. I think those scientists and doctors are doing the very best they can to "fight the war" they feel they are fighting against this disease called cancer, along with the cooperation of those brave souls/cancer patients who participate in clinical trials.  It appears that cancer is a formidable enemy.  I don't even like to give that word the energy required to say it or type it.  

How about can-can?  Like the dance.  I'll call it can-can.

We humans can be a war-like culture, always involved in conflicts of some kind evidenced by the fact that we have multiple wars going on  at once -- a war on drugs, a war on terror, a war on poverty, a war on can-can -- you name it, we'll wage a war against it.  

That makes me think of a song. Here's a quick diversion. We never, ever do nothin' nice-n-easy.  We always do it nice-n-ROUGH.  Click to listen to Proud Mary on youtube.

As I was saying, I want to talk to you, chemo, about making a different arrangement - a different agreement - so that we are not enemies, so that you are my ally, supporter, helper, healer, and friend.  I want you to meet my can-can.  I want you to search out can-can cells and blobs in my body.  Please start by taking one of the can-can cells by the hand and saying, "Do you remember who you are?  I am here to help you remember who you really are."  If they can't remember the original reason for their existence (like being a healthy lung or liver cell), then simply escort them to the nearest exit.  If they do remember, help them with a make-over to restore them to their natural, perfectly Divine beauty and function.



Some medical people choose to view chemo as poison and have told me so very matter-of-factly while aiming the needle into my vein.  To quote, "You know this is poison going into your veins, don't you?"  As if my beautiful computer-designed stickers that say "Divine Healing Love" and "Love Potion No. 9" stuck to the IV apparatus are feeble attempts to deny the reality of it all.  In the eyes of can-can, chemo is poison.  In the test tube, it kills can-can cells.  It also kills a few other cells in the body and I'm sure the hope is that, like arsenic used to treat heart-worm in dogs, the chemo kills the can-can before it kills the patient.  It kinda makes me feel like I'm "living on the edge".

I cannot discount the efforts of all the people who have worked so hard to make chemo a reality.  Many people's lives have been saved or extended with these powerful drugs. Others' lives have ended - I especially honor those people.  

I am choosing to view chemo as Divine Healing Love, aka Love Potion No. 9, coined by my dear friend, Vicki. Click to listen to Love Potion No. 9 on youtube

I just LOVE that there's a song out there for EVERYthing!!  I use my imagination (imagery) to see the light of Divine Healing Love pouring down through the ceiling and infusing the liquid in the IV bag with a brilliant white or rainbow light.  Every drop of chemo is infused with that light.  I see it flow down the tubing and enter into one of my veins.  From there, it spreads first to every blood cell of my blood, then to every cell of my body - every organ, blood vessel, muscle, nerve, bone, brain, lungs w/bronchial tubes, glands and all my other parts.  Soon, my body is glowing with the energy of Divine Healing Love.  Once all my cells are filled up, the energy radiates out from my body to fill up first the Cancer Center and all who are present there, then out to the rest of the hospital, spreading the high frequency vibration of Divine Healing Love to everyone nearby - patients and workers both.

Memory Issues

A normal Neuron "working" in the brain-not sure I have ANY of these...

Masculine version of me at my old job

Between my extreme estrogen-deficiency and gallons of chemo pumped through my body over the years, not to mention 2 "radio-surgeries" on my brain, my memory just isn't what it used to be.  Since I once earned my living as a project manager, my memory was my most valuable tool for my work.  So, after my first go-round with chemo in 1997, I realized that that job was no longer right for me.  This really was a good thing because that job had been a source of a whole LOT of stress for many years.  Over time, I have learned to accept my slightly-faulty memory. I have become accustomed to things like:

• Walking into a room and not remembering why
• Not being able to find things that I was SURE I would remember when I put them in their place
• Not remembering phone numbers - my phones do that for me now
• Forgetting what show is on TV during a commercial
• Occasionally wondering where I'm going when driving
• Not remembering conversations
• Not remembering where my calendar and my to-do list are
• Finding the to-do list and not remembering what I was going to write on it
• Not being able to find a simple word (searching, searching, not finding) and allowing others to help me finish sentences.  One of my yoga students is especially good at that, which often comes in handy during class.  I often find myself saying, while pointing, "that thing". 
• Retrieving the wrong words - like saying soccer when I meant to say scrabble.  That substitution made sense to me because they both have the letters S and C and both are games, so they must be stored near one another in my brain (?)
• Not remembering how a movie ends - that way, I can watch it multiple times and enjoy it every time.  The same is true for jokes - I can enjoy them again and again (if someone else tells them).

I have found a solution to the first item listed above.  I make up a song and sing it out loud, for example, "going to get the toilet paper, toilet paper, toilet paper, going to get the toilet paper and put it where it goes."   I keep singing the song until I've accomplished my mission.  It works well for me, when I can remember to make up a song.  I told my 86-year-old mom about this and she says it works well for her, too.

I have a humorous example of a conversation I totally forgot.  Here is a photo from inside of our gazebo - with Lake Huron in the background.  My husband and I were celebrating our gazebo's grand opening in May.  A friend noticed that there's a tiny hole in his sock - and, my socks don't match - oh no!

We had visitors last month - sister, brother & sister-in-law - so, we spent some quality time together in the gazebo.  A bald eagle flew directly over our heads while we were all watching it, which was TOTALLY COOL.  Anyway, I was talking about how I had been shortening the name of our gazebo to things like "gizbo" or "G-bo" when somebody said, "How about G-spot?" and we all laughed heartily.  A week or so later, my brother called me and started the conversation with, "So, how are things in your G-spot?" Having totally forgotten the earlier conversation, I sat in stunned silence, wondering why my brother would say such a thing to me. Then, he reminded me about the earlier conversation, and we laughed. I think we were both blushing. Now, I always call it the g-spot.  Going out there in a few minutes to meditate.  It's a beautiful day here in MI.


Anyone else have memory issues and/or solutions?  Or, an amusing story about memory-malfunctions?


Joy and peace to you,
Maggie McDee

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.