The Quest

Shortly after the liver biopsy, I finally let that word—metastatic—into my consciousness.  Partly because otherwise I couldn’t explain all the tests I was undergoing.  There was another place in my body where the cancer was coming from and landing in the liver.  Because the liver has no nerve endings, there was, gratefully, no pain.  But I found this suspicion of another location troubling.  It was vague and raised so many possibilities.  None of them welcome.  I would have been happier if the cancer were in just one place.

I had recently lost a close friend to cancer.  In sitting with her as she approached death, I remembered how she had found deep peace in the process.  Would I be as gracious as she, I wondered.

Any serious illness is a journey. Modern medical technology has developed such a variety of ways to examine the body.  I had most of them:  sonograms, scopes, scans, and imaging.  A total of nine.  Some involved ingesting awful-tasting liquids, others required entering cave-like, sometimes noisy machines.  I was curious about what we would learn from each test.  If you ask for it, the lab will give you a cd with the pictures of what the test revealed.  Kind of gross.  Mostly we relied on what the expert wrote about the findings, which were sent to me at the same time the doctors received them.  Over and over, the results were unrevealing. (I took that as good news, although it still left me with an open question--and the unsettledness that accompanies uncertainty.)

It became clear that wherever that source cancer was hiding, it was not located in the “usual suspect” places or was not sizeable enough to show up.  So the plan was to treat the liver with two doses of targeted radiation, a few months apart.  Our favorite doctor, who would actually carry out the procedure, explained it thoroughly and even showed us the solution used.  Selective Internal Radiation Therapy (Y-90) delivers millions of tiny radioactive beads directly to the liver tumors.  A week before the radiation, my liver would be mapped to show which veins need to be blocked so that the radiation went only int the tumor itself.  They would treat the largest tumor first.  The hoped-for outcome would be shrinkage of the tumor, or at least control of its growth.  I had the mapping on May 24 and the first treatment on May 31.

In no way was I ever alone in these months before and after the first treatment.  As I took leave from my community activities—especially advocacy for grandparents raising grandchildren and other kinship families, and helping asylum-seekers coming through Tucson on their way to family and friends—my colleagues wished me well.  I participate in two faith communities, and both prayed for healing and comfort.  My amazing children arranged to take care of me.  Cathy was able to get permission to work remotely, so she was my primary caretaker.  Close friends provided transportation and emotional support during the times of testing.  I didn’t tell the whole world through social media because I didn’t have the time or energy to reply nor did I want to start getting messages about miracle cures and alternative interventions.  Often my mind would turn to Andy.  Although he has been gone for 18 years, he is always close in spirit and support.  And I continued to listen to music and read  and meditate.

Some of the resources that helped me during this stage:

A social worker named Belleruth Naparstek has created may guided meditation CDs.  I had used the one on preparing for surgery when I had knee replacements.  Now I listened to one on cancer and another on relieving stress.  Very calming.

My meditations seemed to lead me to think about the oneness of all creation and about transitions.  From one of Richard Rohr’s daily posts:  In Thich Nhat Hanh’s words, “Enlightenment for a wave is the moment the wave realizes that it is water. At that moment, all fear of death disappears.”

Two songs with almost the same titles, but a different way to express the theme, are Sweet Honey in the Rock’s “Breaths” and Sara Thompsen’s “By Breath.”  I listened to both many times.  Sweet Honey in the Rock also has a beautiful and hopeful song called “We Are One.”  There is a youTube version with an interpretive dancer.

And more than ever I felt supported by the many people who told me they were holding me in the Light.  Bless you!