Hope is in the Air

Posted: 06 Dec 2017 03:30 AM PST By Rebecca Ruiz   IgnatianSpirituality.com ® is a service of Loyola Press, a Jesuit ministry. Full article Hope Opens New Horizons ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Just last week I was reading the daily posts sent out by Loyola Press when the one noted above came into my inbox and shook me down to my foundation!  What a beautiful way to describe the recent experience of being healed in spirit.  In the three weeks since coming home from KGH my heart and mind have remained open and joyful.  While the person perched on the rock in the picture cannot see the horizon clearly, they appear open and ready for whatever may come their way. It's very much how I feel now,  welcoming each new day with no idea of what surprises might be in store.  Somehow, in some way, I've been rescued from the dark and often gloomy, slides down rabbit holes since we started these Adventures in Prayer & Medicine in 2012. It's hard to imagine, in August 2017, we crossed the five year mark down this path.   Had I taken the prognosis of at least one physicians seriously, I'd be long dead by now.  After all on June 25, 2013, a mere two weeks after major spinal surgery, I found a note in my medical file which read something like 'patient advised of metastases to liver, resulting in shortened life span, likely less than a year.'  Can you imagine if I'd allowed that to take over what life I had left?  As it was, it took several months to pry loose the armour of fear, regret, sadness and any other 'poor me' emotions you can think of.  Fortunately for me, buried deep down inside there has always been a spark of hope telling me 'You're a survivor'.  Here we are, still beating the odds, and if Pope Francis' words ring true, who knows what developments may come along in the treatment of this disease while I'm busy living the life I was meant to enjoy. On reflection, it took this latest fall down a rabbit hole to finally shake loose the helmet of a lifetime of memories and experiences which allowed the enemy to worm its way into my psyche.  While on the surface I remained cheerful, it was the deep down feelings that could rain on any party I might be enjoying.  Unless you've had such experiences these comments may not resonate with you.  Somehow though, I think each of us has those pesky intruders buzzing around inside of us.  Suffice it to say, this face to face experience, staring cancer right in the eye of its wickedness, God has answered my prayer of not being defined nor identified by the illness.  He seems to have also blessed me with a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card to wipe out any past blemishes and hurts of the past and look forward with hope, regardless of what the future may hold. Another perk which comes with giving it all up to God are the God Winks sprinkled along my path on almost a daily basis.  I've written before about this little book from several years ago called 'When God Winks' by SQuire Rushnell (yes the Q is capitalized), former head of ABC broadcasting.  He writes with the premise there are no coincidences, only God's affirmation we are on the right path.  He encourages us all to keep a 'coincidence journal' and use it as a way to look back on how events unfold from some seemingly fleeting experience.   One such experience comes from a couple of weeks ago when I had been sharing with someone about a local physician/historian who proved the miracle for the first Canadian born saint.  She's from Kingston, yup right here in town.  As we were leaving KGH one day recently, as we passed through a door, a poster on it jumped out at me almost singing about this same physician giving a talk on the same topic the following day!  Oh my, I had chemo scheduled the following day.  Well the next day it felt like we were rushing even if getting chemo is not something one can 'rush' and I made it in time for the talk over at Queen's.  This was through the generosity of our neighbour Hank, since Mike was busy, finally getting to live a little more of his own life since my hospitalization.  So there I was, taped up from chemo, waiting like an anxious child for some superhero to enter the room.  Best ever was being able to get her book autographed (I had actually thought to bring it with me).  No, best ever was getting permission to contact her!  I have a vision of recruiting others to organize a talk for people looking for hope.  Make sense?  I thought so too. There are many, many more such examples but if I took the time to share them in this post, it would be time to write the next one.  At this point I'm not sure where it's going to lead but I know God validated my idea and now I just have to wait to have it present more information about the logistics.  I'm excited beyond measure of the possibilities which exist.  They exist in large part because my brain isn't being drained of energy by ruminating about the dark side of things.  It's really hard to explain, but it's true. Last Saturday set the stage for the season as Matt, Jaclyn, Ella and I attended a Christmas concert put on by Michelle Kasaboski and organized by her (identical) twin sister Paige!  I have listened to this songbird (as the real ones flit by my window this morning) since she was eight years old.  She is now 26 and decided to focus on music as her passion and work.  I've long said when someone has the music in them, they have the music in them and they must find a way to share it with others.  This is definitely one such case.  I was moved to tears when just before the break, Michelle and her musical friend Roy, dedicated the Prayer Song by Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli to, of all the people in the audience, to me!  As the tears rolled down my face, little Ella reached out, put her hand on arm to comfort me, understanding they were 'happy tears'.  By the end of the performance, Ella herself, snuggled in Daddy's arms was crying a river of 'happy tears', she was so taken by the music.  Don't hesitate to Google Michelle Kasaboski, she will be easily found. We're only a week away from Christmas and somehow I thought I had another week as well so now am wondering what to do with the shortened time line.  If ever there was a year to shift our traditions, this might be it given having lost two full weeks to my hospital stay.  Hmmm, perhaps something to pray about rather than fuss about and let things happen as they may.  After all, of late I've also been letting go of attending functions I previously would have thought imperative for me to attend.  Well the sun still comes up, time still marches on despite me not attending a few events.  I'm sort of surprised how much fun it is to give up doing things which, while fun, may have seemed somehow obligatory, thereby taking the fun out of it. Only being a week away from Christmas has not removed my joy of sending Christmas cards which have to be out early this week so I will sign off by wishing you a very Merry Christmas. A Happy and Healthy New Year and a sack full of thank yous for your support, prayers and kind thoughts. By the time I write again we will either be ringing in, or have just rang in the start of 2018.  Enjoy time with family and friends, take care and God Bless. Hugs, Liz dobbsjones@gmail.com "Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."

Gravely Ill to Amazingly Well (?!Really!?)

 This most recent slide down a major rabbit hole is unlike any other since starting these Adventures in Prayer and Medicine.  Why?  For the first time I have felt unwell as a result of the illness and not simply from treatment or side effects.  It may seem like splitting 'hares' but has been profound from my perspective.  Up until now it's been a detached sort of relationship with disease, and,  it's been a full 15 months since my body has had to deal with any treatment.  It seems many people think I've been on one drug or another over this past year or more, but nope, nada, zilch, zero in terms of direct cancer treatment. Pain meds, yes, muscle relaxant, for sure and blood thinners, daily, to avoid another blood clot.

On reflection, I know something was brewing even while we were off 'pilgriming' luxury style across Spain, France and Italy. No knapsacks and hostels for us, just comfortable hotels with food and wine aplenty and buses at the ready to round us up to drive to the next point of interest.

Back to reflection for a moment....a small infection in one of my 'chemo' toes was, I thought the culprit for an elevated white blood cell count, but maybe not totally.  Aching in my back, more often than not,  easy to blame on strained muscles which liberal amounts of Voltarin would keep in check.

On Friday, November 10th we attended one evening of a most interesting film series at St. Mary's Parish Centre called Pivotal Players (of the Bible).  The room was cool and drafty which we were warned about but I sat through it, concerned about catching a chill.  Over the weekend things ticked along nicely with a visit with 'Mini Me' Ella which included a sleepover, one of many we cherish.

As Monday rolled along it seemed as though I was developing the flu despite having had a flu shot on October 29th.  Fever joined in early to mid evening, followed by aching muscles and joints, topped off with a chorus of nausea.  I had, on Sunday, emailed the nurse for my oncologist asking if I could have my blood checked due to continued feelings of weakness, vs. feeling tired or sleepy - there is a big difference in my dictionary.  She responded promptly, advising me to have blood work done on the morning of Tuesday, the 14th then carry on to a clinic appointment they managed to fit into an already busy schedule.

Blood work reflected I guess what is considered a 'high' white blood cell count at 36 and flu was dismissed out of hand with disease being the offender of the day, in a big way.  In a calm and casual way, I was advised I was being admitted in order to get things settled down, the cat scan, originally  scheduled for the following Monday, the 20th was done the next morning, the 15th and while all hell didn't exactly break loose, there was ample concern and puzzlement going on around my state of health.

The pain levels in my back were at the top of the charts, hovering around an 8 out of 10 but what was different, there was no relief.  Again, something new.  The sense of my entire abdomen and back locked in a giant kind of toothache constant pain left no position providing comfort of any kind.  It seemed the only way to manage was to remain in a sort of 'locked in' position and try not to move which of course only made matters worse by tensing all those already screaming muscles.

Over the course of the next several days, hard to believe I had a ten day sleepover by the time infection was sorted out, cleared up, chemo started and I was discharged home.  For those who are interested in the medical sequence of events, I will attempt a short overview:

November 14th - admitted with elevated white blood cell count and bilirubin (measure of liver function); started Hydromorphone by IV to bring pain to manageable level; will be starting antibiotics . Concern infection may lead to OR procedure to drain any offending fluid buildup hence NPR order put in place (nothing by mouth - not even sips of water if possible).  Case is more unusual than the norm (what else is new); major concern is pressure on gall bladder from mass in liver.  Cat scan should give more complete picture of what's going on.

November 15th - not sure of source of infection - suspect bilirubin, maybe tumour infected; may put a stent in to check for evidence of infection.  Plan is to get infection under control, drain whatever possible through a fairly complicated procedure for which I was awake (ugh) then start weekly chemo protocol similar to last year.  Treatment once a week for three weeks followed by a week of and start again, 6 times lasting in all about 5 months.

November 16th - drain put in, very little output but continued antibiotics led to decrease in bilirubin; concern infection may be too 'thick' for tube.  One might ask why surgery can't be done to remove entire mass and be done with the problem.  Operation is not an option due to high risk of septic bleed.

November 17th - 21st - ongoing monitoring of white blood cell count, continued IV of antibiotics and apparently every blood culture known to science done to narrow down any possible cause. (well maybe not every but darn close - you know what I mean).  Plan is to stay put for now with antibiotics, lots of fluid by IV and, over the weekend, looking for me to be stronger, moving around and a reduction in the fever.

During this period I was given strict orders NOT to allow any resident to poke my liver due to concern of what might be a potential deadly strike by innocent hands trying to learn their craft by laying hands on patients.  I must say there were only two less than positive reactions - one being indignant, after all they are a 'doctor' and another who couldn't do their work without poking around; well, in this case so be it, try someone else.

To give you a sense of the serious nature of this adventure, one of the docs, very awkwardly asked if we had Powers of Attorney for Care in place as well as directions in the event my condition worsened to the point of having to consider life support.  While it was an easy question for us to answer in principle, yes and yes, for at least a little while time seemed to have stopped as we considered the very real possibility of what could happen.

As I review our hospital diary, I could go on for pages about the ups and downs, back and forths like a virtual game of snakes and ladders depending on decisions and outcomes of those decisions.  It was difficult to have little to no water to drink which was precipitated by whether I'd end up needing another intervention.  I had no solid food, at all, for over a week but didn't really miss it.

A major concern throughout my hospital stay was to ensure my quality of life was protected; it being every bit as important a part of treatment as any medical intervention.  By November 21st it seems we'd progressed a fair bit to the point of being optimistic about the future and considering when chemo would begin.  And it turned out, first session was on November 23rd, my 61st birthday!  While most people grimaced at the thought, I reminded them it was like a 'rebirth', flushing out the past and welcoming the future with hope and gratitude for being in the right place at the right time to receive such compassionate care.  Even as we started chemo, both Dr. Francis and Dr. Biagi were prepared to provide me with the structure guidance I needed to make the decision and proceed, but didn't want us in any way to feel pressured to start one treatment vs. another.  Our decision was based on how the change in the illness is what brought us to this place and so better to start chemo rather than wait for the clinical trial which is not yet even open.  I will be able to transition to trial after full protocol of chemo is complete - remember the 6 cycles lasting about 5 months - uh huh - that one.  We were advised we should have a good sense by Christmas of the effectiveness of the chemo and, yay, let's talk about discharge.

On Friday, November 24th, Mike packed me up light a fragile carton of eggs, avoiding every bump in the road and carefully setting things up at home to allow for maximum comfort.

A friend was here today for a visit and most interested in how we made out both on our trip and our adventures in prayer and medicine.  By the end of our pilgrimage, I explained how yes, in fact we had traveled half way around the world in the hope of some glimmer of a miracle but reconciled how if it was not in God's Will to heal me in body, to please consider healing me in spirit to cope with whatever is to come.  I do believe, He has done just that.  In the darkest nights at KGH, I can only describe how I believe God came and wrung me out like an old washcloth, releasing the past toxins of shame, pride and any other negative emotions attached to my body.  Since coming home, I feel lighter and ever more joyful than I have, ever ? (maybe??)  I'm feeling amazingly well and can hardly believe I've had chemo once a week, the last two weeks running.   We'll see how this week goes, after chemo this Thursday, but things sure look promising from where I'm looking out at the world.

As I close, I'd like to make a similar comment to my Dad's when he spent the last three months of his life in KGH.  The medical care was most kind, caring and compassionate, but truly the best service he'd received was the spiritual care.  I had someone gently volunteer each day to offer prayers, blessings and communion during my stay.  I also had the Sacrament of Healing administered at least twice.  The greatest sense of a miracle having taken place is through my belief, and many others, in the power of prayer.  There is nothing quite like it.  The more open we can become, the more obvious it becomes on just how God can help us in the worst of times, in ways we'd never imagine.  Try it!  You'll like it!

Take care and God Bless.  Thanks to all of you for your kind words of encouragement and support.  Until next time,
Lots of love and hugs,

Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com

"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."