The PET/CT scan of August 12th was compared with the one I had about 6 months ago. The final impression on the report was that my stage 4 metastatic breast cancer is “stable.” It still feels a little scary to me to read “stage 4 metastatic.” I used to think those words would mean I was close to the end. But I also used to think 70 would feel old. It’s funny how one’s perspective changes when you are projecting into the future, or living it now. “Now” almost never feels scary to me; another lesson on the value of living in the present instead of worrying about the future.
When I read the report on my scan, I wanted to read that miraculously there was no evidence of disease. I still believe that is possible. I believe it is possible for tumors to get smaller without the “benefit” of chemo or radiation. My oncologist has a different perspective. What he is looking for in the scan is whether the cancer has shown up in any new places in my body. Once it is metastatic, he believes it will never go away or get smaller. It’s just a matter of how much it has grown. So the fact that there are only very small differences in 6 months is good news to him. My cancer is very slow growing.
When he told me that everything was about the same, I questioned whether the lump under my arm should be smaller since I had it surgically removed mid-June. He looked at the report again and said, “it’s about the same.” He said at this point in my journey, small differences are irrelevant.
I told him how small differences could activate my hope, but he didn’t seem to care about that. He is a technician who is useful for monitoring what is happening in my body. I will only be disappointed if I expect more from him. I have to be my own advocate, and find ways to activate my own hope.
The mission of Healing Journeys is to support healing, activate hope, and promote thriving. If the medical world was doing that, Healing Journeys would be unnecessary. I’m grateful for getting continual reminders that what Healing Journeys does is still needed.
I am continuing to search for more ways to promote my healing. I believe that healing has to come from addressing all levels of the person — mind, body, emotions, soul, and spirit. I have signed up for a 3-day training in Matrix Energetics in October. I expect it to be another source of support and personal thriving on my healing journey.
Jan on the Haiku Path
In the meantime, I am continuing to employ the six strategies I committed to when I started writing this blog. I am writing this while spending a week in Pt. Arena (on the Mendocino coast in Northern California), deepening my spiritual life, trusting my intuition, having more fun in my life, eating well, taking supplements, and expressing any negative feelings that come up (so far none have, but I’m ready to express if they show up). The ocean and the scenery are beautiful, I’m with someone I love, and life is good.
Jan,
Your oncologist is a mechanic with that “if you tinker with this, that will happen” point of reference. However, you and I know that we are made of energy, which is both more powerful and more subtle (grace is living with paradox) than anything you can physically touch. He is the mechanic, but you are NOT a car to fix. It is a shame that you aren’t getting any encouragement from him, but you are serving as his teacher with another way of thinking. We can only hope that he’s a good student.
Sending energy your way, my friend.
Hi Jan,
It is hard to hold a state of equanimity when the dismissive remarks from your oncologist rankle me so much. Where are the “Healers” in the medical field?
I know there are some. They have spoken at your conferences. Is your Doctor
wanting you to do something you do not want to do or is not in keeping with
your healing philosophy? His remarks sound punishing to me; certainly not
supportive. I would say fire his ass, but I lack the information that keeps him
on your payroll.
Blessings dear Jan
A paraphrase: I listen to the oncologist… Whence cometh my hope? My hope comes from deep within my body, my mind, my soul. My hope comes from the love that surrounds and fills me.
Stable is fine with me. You know how to live well with cancer.
The Haiku Path? 5 steps, 7 steps, 5 steps?
From this summer on the Big Island some haikus for you.
Square-rigged egrets sail
Wherever they wish today
Knowing, trusting – air.
The palm frond opens
like a hand of playing cards.
This is the real deal.
Cat sleeps on soft chair
freeing birds to entertain
me and their sweet selves.
White caps rise from blue,
take a gulp and disappear.
Exhale, inhale, breathe.
Love to you, Nancy
I agree with the others, Jan — this doctor is not serving you at the moment. Remission can also refer to a disease that is stable and not causing any problems; it doesn’t mean that the tumors have to go away completely. Some of my Radical Remission research subjects have been living with their stable, small, metastatic tumors for decades, like little cysts that their body has cleverly encapsulated. If you keep up your anti-cancer diet, supplements, and mental/emotional/spiritual work, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had another stable scan in 6 more months. I’m so glad you are with someone you love this weekend and at the ocean — what could be better than that? Enjoy your stable remission and the beautiful life you are creating for yourself every day. After all, what is life if not something to be enjoyed?
Keep it up, you are an inspiration!
Ruth
Jan, it makes me sad to know that you are being seen by an oncologist that only thinks in terms of your cancer and not in your potential as a whole person with thoughts, hopes, dream, and a life to live. The idea that your cancer is stable is good but where is the Tao of Possibility?
Sending you light and love.