Saturday, August 18, 2012

Commitment to Alternative

For the past two weeks I find myself so emotional, I can barely function at work.  To make matters worse, my supervisor and co-workers are on some kind of witch-hunt to find fault in everything they task me with.  I can't tell if they are trying to pressure me to quit or just find it sport to hold my mistakes accountable so their own blunders don't seem so large.  It's hard enough to get up, shower, wash your face and get to work on time without knowing you have to do it and fight another day of cancer.  I probably am making mistakes and I will be the first to admit it.  I can barely walk down the hall at work because I can't even concentrate to remember what I am doing.  I am consumed with finding any way but radiation treatments.  I want to spend my every waking moment researching what this cancer is, what to do about it, and band together with those who have fought the fight before me and won it.  What did they do?  What made the difference that they survived it?  The one thing I know is that it's all about manifesting what you become as a human being and living a higher conscious life to become that very special, meaningful you.  This message I know like I know I am a woman but it's kind of dusty and hidden like some treasure you love but have forgotten to keep close.  I'm not emotional because of my illness; it's my son’s death.  I still can't handle him being gone.   I go to his room everyday hoping he comes back during the night, like he was just out with friends and it's all a bad dream.  I can be mad at him again for making me worry.  But I can't, he's not coming back and I hurt that I let him down as a mother.  I should have taken better care of him, I'm not honoring his life enough, and I ache that I will never see his wedding or hold his child in my arms.  I can't hold the tears back and all my thoughts are of him and every memory I ever had of his life with me.  

Through my job, I am allowed six free appointments to see a therapist when one goes through life changes.  I am given the names of 3 women to choose from.  I search online to see who they are and if we will be a good fit to share my deepest hidden thoughts with. I settle on one because she seems from her advertising and photo the most "normal" of the 3, plus she is close to where I live.  I would rather that she has a spiritual edge but what's more important at this moment is someone who has the insight to set me back on track. I'm listening to a program on PBS and I hear the speaker read Chapter 1 of this woman's life and it so sounds like me:  "I walk down the street.  I see a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I fall in.  I can't get out."  Well, eventually she gets out.  She just doesn't walk down that street anymore.  I need someone to tell me how to avoid that street altogether.  So I meet with the therapist.  She gives me a laundry list of things to do and I go off to tackle them and we agree to meet about 3-4 weeks later.  She tells me I am living from a place of fear. Fear from all the loss I've had in such a short period of time; fear of not living up to everyone’s expectations of me.  For the first time in my life I've learned how to say, "I can't".  I never did tolerate those two words in my vocabulary before; I’ve preached it to my students in every dance class I've taught for the last 40 years.  Now I can't do anything - right.  I am juggling 11 balls when my capacity to juggle effectively is about 6 max.  I've got to pass off a few of these balls without the possibility of fearing some kind of public breakdown.  I've got to find a way to keep smiling and not take to heart every single person who has never had cancer giving me his or her opinion on how to deal with it or cure it. 
In four days, I am to start radiation treatments.  I spend the weekend trying to knock out the therapist's laundry list.  I sign up for Tai Chi, make acupuncture appointments to get Chinese medicine, do hypnosis, start meditating, find a way to lessen my stress at work, continue to stay committed to eating raw and juicing more. I'm going to Guided Imagery classes at the Caring Place in Las Vegas, join in on the monthly reiki circle, search for information on how to start a blog, and look for an organized dance class, the therapist thinks I need one.  I might just let that one wait a while.  I'm happy to be doing Wii Zumba in my living room.  The other thing I am positive about is that I am feeling so fantastically healthy right now.  Maybe they have it all wrong.  Just maybe I don't have cancer at all, it doesn't show on the CAT scan, they can't do blood work on me to find it, it's so small that maybe I can just kill it on my own.  I spend the next 72 hours on the internet.  I find everything on Kindle I can order to read, I find the "cancer tutor" website, Never Fear Cancer Again and order his supplements, call Dr. Burzynski in Texas, find local alternative cancer doctors in town, look into Isaac’s Clinic, Gerson Institute, Budwig's protocol, baking soda cures.  On Monday, I call to cancel the radiation.  I’m going to lick this on my own.
I hear the lyrics for Steely Dan's chorus to "Deacon Blues" playing in my ear:  
"They got a name for the winners in the world 
I want a name when I lose 
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide 
Call me Deacon Blues"

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