If any of you are wondering why I’ve taken such a long break from my classes, here’s what I’ve been up to. Okay, the spoiler is in the title below: I’ve had cancer. And here’s the story:
How I spent my Summer Vacation (or Lynn’s Adventure with Cancer)
Any of you who have ever attended classes with me know I don’t look at illness as a random event that strikes out of nowhere, with no connection to our beliefs, expectations, early childhood learning and life lessons. So I approached cancer as perhaps my biggest life lesson to date and opened to the “adventure” (more like dark night of the soul, as I found out!). I will get the medical “what happened” out of the way first for those who might wonder before I getting into the “why.”
The Medical Details
My cancer diagnosis followed increasingly severe symptoms of what I thought at first was a simple sinus infection—something I had never had before. When antibiotics (the first I had taken in my whole adult life) didn’t resolve the painful symptoms, a trip to an ENT produced the shocking diagnosis of cancer. I was truly taken aback having gotten to the ripe old age of 67 with virtually no major medical illnesses and little history of cancer in my family, and went into the experience as something of a medical virgin. Weirdly, just several months prior, my husband, Bill, was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor at the base of his tongue and had undergone surgery at the ENT department at Mayo Clinic (he’s currently all clear and doing great). He had excellent care there so we went right back to the same department for my treatment.
The cancer I had was a rare one and tricky to treat because of its placement deep in my sinuses, smack in the middle of my head, but the surgery was not all that painful and the recovery not that terrible. I was hoping for the same outcome as Bill—no radiation or chemo, just out and done. But not so lucky. Or should I say, that was not to be my adventure.
I was sent to a Mayo radiologist and a chemotherapy oncologist for consults and for a time I put myself on their fast-moving conveyor belt of prescribed treatment. The side effects sounded dire: serious short-term and permanent effects to eating, tasting, smelling, hearing, vision, and of course, losing my hair. I was sent for a dental consult to arrange to have some of my teeth pulled prior to radiation because radiation would kill the all the bones in my jaw so that any future dental surgery wouldn’t heal. I was moving right along with it until I heard from the dentist that more than a few teeth would have to go, they would all have to come out with no option for future reconstruction and then, only two weeks after extraction, six weeks of radiation and chemo would begin. The news was devastating but I felt there was no option. After this news, I spent the next 18 hours frozen and feeling already dead.
The next morning my intuition (spiritual guides? God?) spoke to me and said in no uncertain terms to get off the conveyor belt, that this path would do me more harm than help. So Bill and I opted to do a three-month intensive treatment program of noninvasive therapies at the Hope4Cancer clinic in Mexico.
In that cancer seemed to be some weird couples thing Bill and I were doing together, we both underwent treatment there, spending more money than we ever would have if life were not on the line. I don’t regret it for a moment. It was truly the most amazing experience of my life, deeply nurturing, healing, blissful even. It made me sad that this kind of immune-supporting therapy isn’t standard accompaniment to the cancer-blasting medical protocol practiced in the U.S.
Bill came home revived but I still had the headaches and nerve pain all through my face and neck that had plagued me since before surgery. My surgeon wasn’t even sure it had anything to do with the cancer. So I coped as best I could. I felt bad all the time and lived on NSAIDS just to get through the day. But I felt certain I was cancer-free. Until my first scan. Bill had one shortly before mine and we celebrated his all-clear results. Mine, however, gave the gut-piercing news of a recurrence.
I spent another day frozen. My inner guidance nixed going back to conventional radiation because I saw, intuitively, where that would take me. Was it just time to die? I intentionally spent the week not problem-solving, just surrendering, praying for guidance, and asking for a gentle path through this be it toward healing or dying. It was actually a lovely, peaceful week of swimming in my Florida pool, relaxing in the sun and just enjoying life.
Meanwhile my husband and a close family member with a medical background were frantically researching options and hit upon proton radiation therapy, a newer, more targeted form of radiation with far fewer side effects. We had written this off early on having asked my Mayo radiologist about it and being told there was virtually no difference between the two. Bill had heard the same thing from another radiologist at Mayo when he went through his cancer aftercare consultation. And we believed them—they should know something about radiation, right?. But, after doing their own research, my family found a well-established proton center not far from Mayo and arranged a consultation with a radiologist who described a protocol that didn’t sound fun, but sounded doable. No dental extractions required, only the tiniest, baby dose of chemo, and the accompanying unpleasant effects of treatment would mostly go away in time. I immediately liked my radiologist, who felt confident that my cancer was “curable,” and even more importantly, my inner guidance said yes, yes, yes!
Everything fell into place and it all happened quickly. I’m not going to say it wasn’t miserable… awful… godawful! It was and still is. Eight weeks out of treatment and I am steadily improving but still have a long way to go to feel anywhere near normal again. And whether or not cancer will show up in my first scans remains to be seen. I can’t say that I’m happy with the idea of ending this incarnation earlier than I had envisioned, but I’ve definitely made peace with it.
So, Why Me, God???
Those who know me at all recognize my compulsion to turn life circumstances that might be viewed as simple misery with no redeeming value, into a spiritual adventure. My first insight as I wondered about the odd coincidence of Bill and I moving to Florida and both immediately being diagnosed with cancer in our faces, was that Florida felt like a life reset and upgrade to us both. We both considered that perhaps cancer represented some releasing of old programming about not deserving a better life, resisting too much happiness… etc. You know—that old, unconscious childhood stuff that keeps us limited.
That my cancer would show up in my nose made sense to me given my upbringing—mom smoked four packs of cigarettes a day and dad smoked three. I grew up in a box of second-hand smoke. I also had my adenoids radiated at six months, a crazy thing they did to young children back then as treatment for ear infections, nasal congestion and so on (treating symptoms resulting from my breathing so much smoke, no doubt). But what internal emotional healing was I to take from all this? Removing the tumor surgically, and a good chunk of my sinuses, had the remarkable effect of giving me open, uncongested nasal passages for literally the first time in my life. Constant congestion was so normal to me I never even thought about it so breathing freely for the first time was truly a miracle! But, apparently, letting go of a gigantic chunk of my dysfunctional childhood was not to come that easily.
In Comes a Recurrence of Cancer and Phase II of the “Adventure.”
My course of radiation was a very aggressive, 6 ½ week process of two treatments a day, five days a week. We had to stay near the treatment facility, as it is two hours from our home, and were able to stay at a beautiful, free housing center for cancer patients. I didn’t even know such places exist and it was an incredible blessing. Our accommodations were as nice as any hotel suite.
Strangely, I actually enjoyed my radiation sessions. They lasted about thirty minutes and required being tightly strapped down in a creepy Hannibal Lecter-looking mask molded to my face to keep me in the exact same position every time. My hands were strapped in place and I was instructed not to move an inch for the duration. My technicians said that a lot of people freak out.
I, on the other hand, seem to have a talent for lying inert like a rock and enjoying it. Put me in an MRI tube, strap me into radiation bondage, and I’m a happy camper. My practice as a meditator? Or just that I’m a natural couch potato? Wherever it came from, it served me well. In every treatment session, I found myself going on amazing journeys with a team of spiritual guides who joined me each time. Little by little, they explained to me all the connections between the dysfunction I was exposed to early in life and the process I was currently undergoing—and how, like peeling an onion, self-limiting coping mechanisms were being replaced with thriving mechanisms. More importantly, they showed me where I need to go from here if I want to continue this incarnation as opposed to calling it a day and heading off into the afterlife.
My guides came one by one in the early treatments. First there was Jesus, of course, the master healer. Along with this beloved universal guide, was one more personal to me, the Benevolent Trickster. I don’t hoard him to myself and encourage anyone to call on him, especially in dark times. He appears to me as a little wizened old man in a hooded monk’s robe who has a tendency to break out in dance from time to time and nearly always has a humorous gleam in his eye. Just when times couldn’t seem any worse, in times of fear, anxiety and despair, he pulls the ground out from under my feet and tumbles me into a reality better than I ever dreamed possible. He delivers the unexpected, in a good way. I know he seems too good to be true, but he’s come to my aid so many times that I’ve learned to count on him. I just need to remember to call him. During treatment he became my best friend.
Immediately, I saw these two take their positions, which have remained more or less constant throughout (there was an occasion when, to my amazement, all the guides broke into a lively and most undignified group dance… but I digress). Jesus, as I have experienced his energy in healing work, has the capacity to facilitate instantaneous healing. He is the miracle-maker. At one point, I asked him, “can’t you just give a little miracle action here so I can be done with all this? I know you could just give a little ‘bippity, boppity, boo’ and I’d be done.” He made it clear that a quick little miracle out of my situation was not my journey and would not serve me but that he “had my back,” thus his position behind me. He did, however, invite his mom to come stand on my left to give comfort and to gentle the path for me.
The Trickster has always appeared on my right—my right-hand man, perhaps? He was always there whispering in my ear, interpreting what was going on in a way that was very down to earth, always with humor, giving me a sort of spiritual-messaging-for-earth-dummies report.
In that Jesus was apparently not there to give me an instantaneous healing, I said to the Trickster, all this spiritual support is great but I need someone to help with the actual healing here, someone to help bomb these cancer cells into oblivion. That’s when Archangel Michael showed up.
He was quite an impressive presence: all red fire and power and aggression. From then on, he remained with me as part of my team, taking a position in front of me, pinning me with a gaze as intense as any proton beam and ready to go to battle on my behalf. I personally, had no desire to “battle” cancer. The lovely residence that housed us left a booklet in our room full of quotes from patients and their loved ones. I was struck by the frequent references to the “battle” with cancer and the courageousness of those fighting it. I felt neither courageous nor in a fighting mood. My intention was to find a gentle path through my situation. Michael instructed me to relax and leave any “battling” to him, which he seemed to undertake with glee. So I did and was quite amazed at his focused, roto rooter-like action through my head and entire body that, while it was not the “Bippity boppity boo, one touch and you’re healed” miracle that is more Jesus’ style, it felt quite potent and did allow me to let go of any worry about the efficacy of the proton beams.
But Michael wasn’t the only one actively working along with the radiation. As Michael came in with the intense Healing Fires of God, Mother Mary quietly provided cooling waters that calmed the upheaval Michael left in his wake and actually had a freezing effect on cancer cells so they just sloughed off. Being behind me, I often didn’t have that much awareness of Jesus (though I knew he had my back) but I often chatted with the Trickster as I watched Michael and Mother Mary do their thing.
So, as I let my team do their work on my physical body, I gave more attention to how my illness related to my upbringing and learned childhood coping mechanisms. My therapist at Hope4Cancer pointed out that cancer manifesting in my nose reflected an experience of things “not smelling right” to me as a child. Well, I couldn’t argue with that. In my box of second hand smoke, things literally didn’t smell right, but with my father being an abusive alcoholic, there was much that emotionally didn’t “smell right” as well.
After my surgery I could wonderfully smell and breathe again but I was still left with near-disabling head and face pain. Less than half-way through radiation, this pain that had plagued me for nearly a year just completely disappeared. Every time I feel frustrated with how long my recovery from radiation is taking, I remember this and am grateful. This striking demonstration of healing in process coincided with Michael doing some intense roto rooter maneuvers and in one session declaring offhandedly, “Cancer’s gone.” Such a relief! But by then, I was becoming increasingly nauseous.
My teeny tiny, baby dose of chemotherapy that I was assured wouldn’t have many if any symptoms attached was making me horribly, deathly nauseous. I’m generally not prone to nausea but my new BFF, the Trickster, helped me remember the last time I had a bout of prolonged, severe nausea. I was six years old and my mother had just gone from being a stay at home mom to working full time, meaning that I was dropped off with strangers before school, dropped off with other strangers after school and only saw my mother for a brief time each evening after spending most of my waking hours away from home.
I developed an unexplained case of nauseous stomach aches and, even though I was normally a food-loving chow hound, stopped wanting to eat. My doctor could find nothing wrong with me—stress wasn’t really considered back then—but decided that since my mother wasn’t around to monitor me during the day, just to be safe, I should have my (perfectly healthy) appendix removed. So my stress-related nausea was rewarded/punished with traumatizing surgery.
My nausea soon resolved never to return, but soon after I developed a need for corrective eye-glasses, which I have worn ever since. Trickster and I, along with some input from Michael helped me to understand that as things continued to not smell right and the stress level of my circumstances increased, I felt this in my gut—the part of the body that registers big emotion, including painful ones. When this processing was interrupted with the punishment of surgery, I learned to remove myself from stress by being “in my head” instead of feeling it in my gut. Not only did I develop vision issues, but since childhood, I have always been prone to headaches. My guides helped me see that undigested and unresolved childhood dynamics were moving from my head (which now had less pain) to my gut where they originated. And that this was the first step in letting them go.
I won’t go into every connection and insight that was shown to me because there were many. Suffice to say, nearly every radiation session offered a new, sometimes quite surprising, piece of the puzzle and my guides were always with me. The physical journey I went through was wretched, reaching a nadir halfway through my four chemo sessions. I became so nauseous with constant retching that I couldn’t even get a sip of water down. My normally thin body had become so emaciated and dehydrated that I couldn’t stand up without going faint. My family became so concerned that the decision was made to take me to the hospital for emergency intervention and to have a feeding tube put in.
Bill took me to the hospital closest to the proton center (seemed sensible, right?) but we didn’t know that it was one of the worst, most understaffed hospitals in the city. The floors were filthy, there was blood spatter on the walls and there were armed guards outside of many rooms because it’s where prisoners are taken. I was immediately put on intravenous fluids but no action was taken to schedule me for a feeding tube so I languished there for a week. It took the dietician to get outraged on my behalf so that eventually I was given some nutrients through my IV, not just hydration.
I didn’t relish a feeding tube—one was put into me prophylactically before my surgery in case I needed it, which I never did. Recovery from that surgery was way more painful than the surgery on my nose but eating had become such an impossibility that it seemed like the only option. But day after day, there was no word from the surgical team. Nights were hellish, endless hours of coughing and retching too much to sleep.
On perhaps the worst night of all, I talked to Trickster and said, “You better have something really good up your sleeve to counter this much misery. I can’t imagine feeling much worse than this…” I was told to pick a card from a deck of angel cards I had with me and received the message: “Find blessings in your current situation.” I stifled my first response of “f#&% you, God!” and through gritted teeth chanted over and over, “thank you, God.” Can’t say I felt it but fake it till you make it, right?
After a whole week, the eight-member surgical team piled into my room and declared that they had a date for my feeding tube surgery. But not for two more weeks! Seriously??? Because I had been doing so much coughing and retching they were going to have to do a much more serious surgery of inserting the tube into my bowel rather than my stomach (didn’t like the sound of that).
By then, my radiologist had discontinued my chemo treatments, deciding it was doing me more harm than good, and my nausea was starting to subside. My surgical team was going to send me home for two weeks with my IV still attached which would require exorbitantly expensive, not-covered-by-insurance, in-home nursing care. I avoided that by a hair by managing to gag down a little food in front of the team—my first solid food in two weeks—and convinced them I would be able to feed myself without an IV or a feeding tube.
In the end, their inefficiency (that infuriated my radiologist) and my miserable week in that awful hospital resulted in my not needing the dreaded tube. All in all, it was worth it. I had to hand it to the Trickster—he pulled off another of his grand surprises on my behalf.
What’s Next?
As my team continued their work healing my body and opening my awareness to deep insights, Jesus remained in the background. But the day came when the focus stopped being on me and my own personal miseries. Jesus stepped into view and made it clear that continuing this incarnation for as long as I planned (in other words, not dying from cancer in the near future) required stepping into “Purpose” (capital “P”) in a higher way. I was shown a threshold that I would have to be willing to walk through. I wasn’t sure I understood what was on the other side. I’m still not sure, but it seems it has something to do with healing.
While I have spent much of my career, forty-some years of it to be exact, working with world-known, miraculous healers and energetic forms of healing, I’ve never really thought of myself as a healer per se. In my experience, the best healers have invariably gone through their own healing struggles and I never had.
Jesus pointed out that I couldn’t say that any more. Hmmm… well, that’s true. Then Michael stepped forward and said, “I am now your healing power. You have me with you and inside of you.” And he showed me a way of doing energetic healing that I had never experienced before. In this particular radiation session, I spent much of it just offering healing in this manner to everyone and everything I could think of. It was quite different from anything I had ever experienced or how I had ever thought to do healing work. I liked it and inwardly said Yes.
Weekly Healing Services Beginning in January
So that brings me to a new offering. On Wednesday nights from 7-8 PM EST (6 PM Central, 4 PM Pacific), I plan to offer a healing service on Zoom. All are invited. A group healing service will include individual healing attention to each participant, in the way I have been shown. Afterward, I will offer brief intuitive readings for anyone who wants one, as time permits. By all means, invite friends. All are welcome. The service is free. You may leave a voluntary donation if you like.
Oh, a post note, toward the end of my treatments my relationship with the Trickster had become that of an extremely intimate best friend. He seemed to be sort of a side kick to all the other guides and I asked him about himself. What are you, exactly? Who are you? Tell me about yourself. He laughed, with that characteristic gleam in his eye and became very big for a moment. He said, “I am God. I am ALL. I include all of your guides in ME because I AM all faces of the Great Mystery.”
All I could think was, ‘Whoa…” but I sort of got it. Sort of. And I felt so blessed to have God as my personal BFF.
A recorded,virtual healing service is available here:
This recorded healing meditation is one an individual can tune into anytime to support their own healing. It’s also designed for a group to use on behalf of another. There is information on how to create your own healing circle for yourself or a loved one.
