I
came to know my client sometime after her initial diagnosis. She shared
with me that the best science of the time was giving her little hope
for a cure. As all people, she was afraid, sometimes angry, sometimes
depressed and always concerned about what her death would mean to her
family. I believed she cared for and loved her family deeply.
As
I came to know her, I found that she had some definite beliefs and
attitudes about life and about the challenges she faced with her
diagnosis. She was determined to live even though I believe in her heart
she knew that her stay here would not be long. I found her to be
realistically courageous as she faced her mortality.
In
the course of working with individuals and families as they face the
end of life, I encourage them to work on healing their relationships;
that is, finding peace in all relationships. While that is sometimes
difficult and takes time and perspective, it is always possible. Curing
is not always possible.
As
people go through this process they often receive lots of care and
attention, but the family and the caretakers are often neglected.
Sometimes
the role of caretaker is more difficult than the disease itself.
Oftentimes a great number of emotions surface – all of which are
normal, ie: loss of hope, regret, feelings of helplessness,
vulnerability, frustration, sometimes guilt and shame. Oftentimes
caretakers are caught in a double bind – they do not want the loved one
to suffer, and they do not want to lose the loved one, yet they know
that death will end the mortal suffering.
As
humans we are complex, we often feel conflicting emotions – I encourage
you to allow yourself to feel, to be vulnerable, thereby allowing
yourself to love and be loved completely.
While
vulnerability may feel like weakness and no one I know likes to feel
weak – vulnerability is what allows us to love – the truth is, we are
all vulnerable and we all are in need of the healing power of love –
love is that healing process that can never be taken away from us if we
nurture and care for it.
We
as human beings have a tendency to attach our identity to things that
are impermanent, job, property, things and even bodies; all these things
can and will be taken from us. Our values, our integrity, our love can
never be taken away – we can give them up, but they can’t be taken
away.
Some
thirty nine years ago I was in the delivery room in the hospital in
Logan, Utah. I was standing helplessly watching my wife truly enter into
the valley of death as she was giving birth to our first son. After a
long twenty four hour labor process, our son was born. But he was not
breathing, he was pale blue color and I could see the concern on the
faces of the doctor and the nurses attending my wife and my son. The
doctor worked on the baby for what seemed like a long time attempting to
start the life process. After a few actual moments, the baby took a
deep breath and started crying, his little body becoming animated with
life. After cleaning him off, the doctor handed him to me. In that
transcendent moment I felt the most over-powering love and gratitude to
my wife and for my son and for life, and at the same time the awesome
responsibility for this most precious gift of life that had come into my
world.
Some
five years ago I stood by the bedside of my mother. There were loved
ones surrounding her, my father was holding tightly to her hand, not
wanting her to leave. At last he gave her permission to leave. He let go
of her hand and she let go of her last breath in mortality and her
mortal body became still. A peaceful countenance settled over her
physical body and I felt the joy that comes from seeing a loved one
released from pain and suffering, finally to be at peace. At the same
time there was a grief in our minds and in our hearts, particularly for
my father as he was to move on without her. I have no doubt that there
were loved ones there to greet my mother. As she passed through the
veil, as she took her last step in mortality and her first step into
immortality.
In
both of these experiences, the arriving of life and the leaving of life
have had profound impact on me and how I view the great cycle of life.
As Robert Augustus Masters says, “Death makes life worth living. Death
makes beauty unspeakably obvious. Death makes love unsurpassably
important. Death wakes us up. What better ally could we have than Death?
Death gives all the same opportunity. Death leaves no one out.” (Integral
Post, Such Raw Beauty by Robert Augustus Masters)
The following poem from Bernie Sieger, MD., is by one of his patients
Nine months seems like a long time
I watch my body change
Tired I sit staring out at life
Books and music transport me beyond my body
Nine months finally pass
I give birth to my child
All the discomfort and pain is now justified
Chemotherapy and radiation
Twelve months seems like a long time
I watch my body change
Tired I sit staring out at life
Books and music transport me beyond my body
Twelve months finally pass
I give birth to myself
All the discomfort and pain is now justified
I
have often heard the phrase that someone has “lost their battle with
cancer”. When I hear such statements it saddens me because I think they
do not understand the true nature of life. We can lose the battle to
cancer only if death is failure. If I believe death is failure then
mortality must be failure as well, and we all must fail because we are
all mortal. Mortality is terminal. So what is cancer? The following is
what I have learned by working with many people and their families who
have had the cancer diagnosis.
Cancer
need not be a battle, it is an opportunity; an opportunity to live and
love fully and completely. It has taught me that the things of life that
are important range much further than the limitations of the physical
body. It has taught me that love is really the only healing power in the
universe and that healing transcends curing. Cancer cannot destroy that
healing power. It has taught me that beyond hope lies peace knowing
that I loved and received love without conditions.
I
have come to realize that beyond the dualistic nature of this physical
world lays a dimension where every experience is perfect, where every
experience teaches us about the possibilities of what our true nature
is.
We
learn that we are more than the physical elements making up our bodies,
that can be damaged and harmed by the forces of nature, and that we
must honor and cooperate with those forces. We learn that we are spirit
and that spirit animates the elements that surround it. We realize that
beyond spirit lies intelligence, made of light and truth. In reality we
are made up of the very essence of God stuff. Cancer is the gift that
allows us to truly know and experience this God stuff of hope, of love,
of compassion, of empathy, of pain, of purpose, and of connection to all
things. It is creating the possibility of relationships where there are
no images, no pretense, and only true connections with other mortal
beings who suffer pain and disappointment along this journey of
mortality.
It
has given me a sense of purpose greater than my individual experience.
It has allowed me to share my life experience with others and that by
sharing, we all grow.
No,
we don’t lose the battle with cancer. We are wounded but we come to
understand that God allows no wound without a gift that is commensurate
with that wound. We come to understand that life is what it is, and that
we can chose the way of light that leads to pure joy or chose the way
of despair. There is no battle, only opportunity. Opportunity to be
fully human, to love fully and completely and to receive love fully and
completely, and finally to come to understand what it means, “I AM
LOVE”.
The Measure, by K. W. Brewer, July 27, 2005
I measure my life in friends and I am humbled by the numbers, the quality, the style, path, policy and grace.
I measure my life in days when friends write, and when we converse as they sit by my bed, read poems and listen.
I measure my life in family who speak through tears, who serve me meals on a wicker tray, who pray and love and float.
I
measure my life in pine siskins who entertain me in feeders outside my
window, and Gus the Schnauzer who curls next to me in bed.
I measure my life in friends who do not know my sins, who hug my shrunken body, who break open my heart with words.
I measure in life in cancer that has taught me how to measure my life.
Today
and in the future as you mourn and grieve the loss of wife, mother,
sister, friend fellow journeyers – reflect on the gifts her life story
gave you, speak of her, remember the lessons learned, allow yourself the
sadness that comes from such loss, remember the Christ in the Garden, "not my will but thine"– surrender and the angels will attend thee.
Thank you for allowing me to share this sacred moment with you.
•Ann's name has been changed to protect the confidentiality of her and her loved ones
