Miracle meeting

It was another free day today, but so much happened that I am not sure I can remember it all. 

One bit of info: Many of the folks in my group have seen orbs in their rooms and have felt the entities work on them. For example, this morning, one guy woke with this wild pattern on his back. He is an MD from LA and was puzzled by it. Everyone really wants the entities to visit them and do their work.

Me, I'm scared. Petrified. I sleep with the light on. No joke. So my prayer since Sunday has been to get over this fear so that I can comfortably ask the entities to do whatever they need to do, and that I can hear from them what I need to do. 

This morning as I was getting ready to go out, a young boy came to visit me. He died several years ago and is the son of a woman in the group. He wanted her to know that he was happy and okay. I think also that he came to visit as a way to ease me into all this, as he was young and sweet and non-threatening, he arrived in the daylight so not scary, and he didn't have an emotional connection to me, so his visit wasn't loaded with that.

If the entities never give you more than you can handle, then, okay, I was able to handle that.

It was funky and marvelous and I went about my day. I went to the Casa and saw the enormous amount of vegetables being prepped for this week's soup. I sat and meditated and prayed. I had lunch with our group and joined in the communal singing at the Casa, even shouting out songs that I wanted to hear - I was the most vocal one there and was so uplifted by song.

We returned to our pousada for a meditation and clearing session, and then dinner, complete with a birthday cake.

After dinner, a bunch of folks left for the Casa, and I had meant to go but was in the middle of a conversation with Ig (short for Ignatius). Remembering my feelings from yesterday, I actually interrupted the conversation to suggest we go to the Casa. Unusual for me, and good.

It was dark out, and we took our cameras to go orb hunting. (I'm trying to take photos of other things, but the orbs are so fascinating!)  My first few photos showed no orbs. Then Ig suggested I call to them, and once I did, they showed up all over the place! We were having a great time when this guy interrupted us.

He spoke fabulous English with a strong foreign accent. He asked whether we believed they were orbs or dust; he wasn't sure what to think. So we took photos together and compared and commented. Ig and I both thought that he felt like a strong skeptic.

When we exhausted our conversation about orbs, we asked him how long he had been here. Slowly, he started to tell his story. 

In summary, he and his wife and daughter have been coming here since 2008. His daughter (now age 20) was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2005. After two unsuccessful surgeries, chemo and radiation, the doctors told him that there was nothing more they could do. They traveled to different places in the world to get help for her, and then heard about this place.

They came for 3 weeks in 2008, and the entity told them that they needed to stay longer. They had to return home, so they did, but returned in a month to stay for six weeks, doing all the work that the entity prescribed.

They returned the next year for five weeks, and when they got the MRI after that, there was no sign of tumor! 

However, the tumor had done quite a bit of damage so they returned here to Brazil. The entities said that she wouldn't fully recover, but she could get to 90% and be independent and take care of herself, and they were happy with that. This family takes it one year at a time as far as traveling here; the economy isn't good enough for them to plan ahead, and he admitted that finances are difficult, even through he seems to be smart and well-educated. This year, they are here for six weeks (and are staying at our pousada). I figured, it was enough cost and effort that they must believe strongly in what happens here.

As I understand / recall, most of the work prescribed to her is about having a connection to God through deep meditation and a strong faith.

It felt like a miracle story, the first one I heard firsthand, and that alone was amazing. But wait, there is more!

Before we parted, he asked our names, and told us that he was from Romania and that his name is Livio. 

I was a bit stunned - you don't hear that name often. Growing up, my father's business partner was named Livio, and he was like a second grandfather to me, a strong and loving presence in my life. I had been thinking of Livio occasionally on this trip. It isn't like I think of him on a regular basis, so I kind of marveled in my mind that I had been thinking of him and that this man had the same name.

We said goodnight and parted ways. 

Ig didn't know any of this when he stopped me and said, "I felt like he was talking to you, like he wanted you to hear that story. And what an unusual name. I have never heard that name before."

So, I feel like I was visited by a second spirit, of Livio, tonight, appearing through a human form, something I am quite comfortable with and could completely handle.

And now, I am to follow a ritual to have the stitches removed from my spiritual surgery. Talk about stepping into your fear. But I am starting to get the feeling that it will be all right, and I am breathing to let that feeling grow.

Signing off, full of marvel and love,

Marie

Love and light and no chemo

Thank you for your responses to my last message. Whether your response celebrated my chemo holiday or questioned whether I was being aggressive enough, I appreciated your thoughts and concern. Each one helped me to sort through my emotions as your statements echoed all the different aspects of what I was feeling. Thank you.

These past two weeks have been amazing in ways that I couldn't have predicted. Sure, there was April Fools' Day - great fun! - and Passover and Holy Week and Easter and all their marvel. 

And I started a learn-to-row class! Living just a few steps from the Charles River, this always seemed like something I should do but could never pull it together. For starters, I don't consider myself to be that athletic. Any new sport I learn has to have a social component to draw me in. Taking a class by myself is not my style.

Then one of the moms at my sons' school arranged a learn-to-row class, inviting other moms from the school. So, a sport I want to learn with a group I mostly know. Only hitch was that the class meets every week, but with no chemo, I can do it! We started this week and it was a blast.

But the biggest thing that happened during these past two weeks was a shift inside that moved me to another path, and I am going to invite you to join me on this path, if you are able and interested.

To take a step back: I had been having this fabulous experience of everything just clicking in my life. When I asked a question, it was mysteriously answered. When I thought of someone, they were also thinking of me. When I wanted to do something, the opportunity appeared. It was all so wonderfully FUN. 

Then, my oncologist strongly recommended that I take a break from chemo, and I got scared. Quitting chemo felt like I wasn't doing everything possible for my health. In addition, chemo had become my crutch, and I was afraid to go without it. Fear can easily send me spinning in circles and blind me so that I don't see all my options. I was stuck in indecision and couldn't tell what I wanted, needed or felt right. 

I did know that I did not want to make a decision based solely on fear. I wanted to make a decision based on joy and hope and other good and positive feelings, but I couldn't find my way out of the fear.

The day after the conversation with my oncologist, I was still in this fearful place and NOTHING was clicking in my life. For example, I would search the web for specific information but couldn't find it at all. I would email someone and they would respond that they preferred that I call them - and not leave a number. It took Herculean effort respond to emails. Anything I tried hit a dead end and I felt very out-of-sync with my life and with the universe. On top of being fearful, I was now frustrated. 

"Be still and know that I am God."
Psalm 46:10

Easier said than done. I promised myself two weeks to make a decision and I felt the urgency of racing against a deadline. But I read and re-read and re-read this Psalm, which took root in my little exhausted heart. After a few deep breaths, I decided to hand it all over to God and be still inside, or, as still as I get.

Slowly, things shifted. For example:
- My friend, Kerry, suddenly and joyfully shared a series of synchronicities in her life, impacting mine in a positive way.  Even if I wasn't feeling the love right now, this let me know it was available. 
- I was told something directly by a few people I trust, including the father of a friend and a healer with whom I work, both of whom have walked this path before. They all shared that, if I am afraid of going off chemo, then by all means, go back on chemo, but there is something bigger to work on here. That resonated deep within me.

There were a number of other fantastical experiences, culminating in an amazing, awe-inspiring day where so many things came together that my head was spinning. The happenings of that day, taken together, were so big, in so many ways, that I have trouble writing about it. I just can't seem to capture it in words. I will try to give an overview and summarize its impact on me.

I intellectually and emotionally care about healing, and I know there is more that I can contribute and enjoy in this life. At the same time, I feel like I am drawn, or maybe even being sucked, down this other path that I cannot describe. It feels light and hopeful and open in a very expansive way. It feels grounded and beautiful and very connected to others and to God. Taking this path has become my immediate priority.

It is as if I peeked into this amazing world and can't help walking in further.

I don't know exactly what this path is, or where it will lead me.  I don't expect it to be easy, and I suspect there will be work to do. I do know that I need to go there. I can literally feel and sometimes see lots of light. Step by step, my decisions are different, my actions are different, and I feel like I am being led. Maybe you know this feeling already? I also know, as strongly as I know anything, that I cannot simultaneously take this path and do chemotherapy right now. 

So, I am indeed going to take the recommended break from chemotherapy. 

If this sounds insane to you, or unreal, I totally understand. But if you are interested, I would LOVE to have you along. Not only do I prefer to do things with friends, I also have a strong sense that, if you join, in any capacity, you will get something from this as well. 

Again, I don't know where this leads or what it involves. I will be feeling my way and trying to listen carefully to the messages and strong feelings that are coming my way. But I wanted to bring you up-to-date on the movement that happened since I last wrote. 

As you know, your prayers and positive thoughts have had a powerful impact on this journey and my life. My quality of life and my overall health is even better than it was four years ago when I was first diagnosed. I have experienced miracles in my life and witnessed miracles in others, in large part due to you and what we do together as a group. I appreciate all of what you do. Whether it feels big or small to you, taken together, it feels tremendous to me.

If you don't mind, please give thanks for that collective power and strength, and pray for a healthy body for me! Then live your life fully and with joy. I give thanks always for you. 

Have a fantastic weekend.

Love and blessings, 
Marie

Blessings when you see them

What a crazy few weeks! Thank you for your help getting through all this, especially to those of you who were able to help in person as well. We were carried along by your nourishing food and company and your help with the kids, as well as everyone who covered for my husband at work. Even for those of you who say that it isn't a big deal - without your help, there would have been a gap. Thank you.

So much has happened to make these past couple of weeks crazy. In summary regarding my health, after spending some time in the hospital, I am doing much better and will take an extra week off before my next chemo session. 

Given this shift in my chemo schedule, we can now use meals on weeks where we didn't think we would need them. If you are so inclined, please let me know if you want to sign up.

In addition to my own health issues, we had innumerable crazy health experiences involving those we love, throwing us off our center in a big way. Though it impacts us deeply, the specifics are their news to share.

As for us, here are some key events:

After being ill at home for many days in a row, I rallied to meet with Eve Bridburg. Eve founded and is the current Executive Director of Grub Street, a literary arts center for writers of all levels. (If you are a writer, you need to check this place out.) I am energized just breathing the same air as Eve. She is creative, smart, funny and direct. She can cut through any degree of crap to get to the essence of whatever is going on or to highlight the absurdity in a situation. Leading a workshop, she provides important feedback to improve your work while keeping your ego intact. She laughs easily and at the right moment to diffuse tension, something I would love to be able to do. Obviously, I admire her and adore being around her. 

A confluence of circumstances brought her to my home last week (lucky me!) and, as we conversed, we discovered that we both worked for CSC Index at the same time! I shouldn't be so surprised; Index attracted smart, creative and direct people. But during that time, I was a consultant totally focused on my work, and she was an admin working her way through grad school. I don't remember meeting her, and, knowing myself from that time, I'm sure that I didn't spend a single braincell on someone who didn't directly impact my client or my team.

My loss! How silly that I didn't stop to appreciate all that wonderfulness and fun right in front of me. I feel like I could have been friends with her much earlier and enjoyed this friendship for so many more years.

After meeting with Eve, though, things went downhill fast in alot of ways. To spare you the gory details of everything, I'll focus on my time at MGH last week.

I went in for chemo on Monday, October 17, same schedule as always. My stomach felt raw and ragged, and the nurse practitioner questioned whether I should move ahead. But I had two more rounds to go before my PET CT, and I wanted to plow through them. 

MISTAKE. My stomach started out bad and got worse. After a couple of days, when I couldn't even keep down sips of water, I agreed to go to the ER. Thankfully, the oncology team paved the way and I got in without a wait.

Loads of things happened there, many of which are fuzzy due to all the pain I was in. For example, one of the nurses tried to force a huge needle into my port-a-cath, telling me that I had the wrong port. No - she was using the wrong needle. I can't blame her for insisting she was right against all evidence to the contrary - I myself have done that many times. One time, my husband and I flew on USAirways to Washington National Airport. However, I thought we were going to Dulles. When the flight attendants announced our landing at Washington National, I laughed and said to my husband, "Good joke!" without any explanation. When we got into the terminal, I commented with glee, over and over, how it looked just like Washington National. I must have sounded like a crazy person, but I knew that they had been remodeling the Dulles Airport and assumed that the final result made it look EXACTLY like Washington National. We were out of the airport before my mental image jolted in sync with my physical reality. But at least I wasn't trying to puncture someone's lifeline.

Larger than any of this, though, was the NG tube. NG is short for nasogastric tube, naso meaning something to do with nasal passages and gastric meaning the gastric system. It goes into your nose, down your throat and into your stomach. The patient needs to "cooperate" to have this all happen. That means, you need to go along with it AND actively swallow that tube. This sounds gross even if you aren't sick. It is a horrid vision if you are. 

Plus I hate the word "cooperate" when it comes to medical procedures. It makes me feel as though, if it fails, it is my fault.

Now, if you have swallowed an NG tube, you are a stronger person than I am. If you know anyone who has done this, they deserve life-long respect, admiration, and awe.

Here is the picture. My nose is clogged due to the chemo I am taking. Not a great start. And I am vomiting with only brief pauses, which means that the muscles in my throat are pushing things UP, not down. I am in the ER because can't swallow sips of water, much less a thick plastic tube that has already passed through nose-grossness. There was a doctor pushing this into my nose, and an assistant standing by with a glass of water and a straw. (They wouldn't otherwise let me have water, only ice chips.) 

The whole scene was insane. There must be a better invention. I asked them to knock me out, to give me anesthesia, anything to make me unaware, but no. They told me that I would feel better afterwards. I was skeptical. Finally, we agreed that I could keep vomiting, and they admitted me to the hospital.

My actual issue was a blocked intestine. If you think of your intestines as a one-lane, one-way highway with one exit, mine had a "road closed" sign, resulting in a major backup. Then, when my intestines and stomach produced their normal, regular digestive juices, those couldn't move forward, either. You can cure this by surgically freeing the blockage, or you can wait and see what happens, hoping to get lucky with it unblocking itself.

The nurses hooked me up to hydration to keep my kidneys going and we all settled in to see what course this would take. 

In the meantime, here is one way I survive my hospital stays: Every time I see the team of doctors, I ask them what things need to look like in order for me to be released. And then I ask them, what progress do I need to make that day toward achieving that goal. Finally, I focus every cell of my being, all day long, on achieving that progress.

Step one was to stop vomiting. However, everything in the hospital room - the detritus on the floor, the smell of the hand sanitizer, the shared bathroom - conspired to make me vomit. Still, I remained focused and achieved that goal.

After day 1 of not vomiting, the next step was to hold down clear fluids, meaning vegetable (or chicken) broth, apple juice, cranberry juice and jello. Gratefully, my husband brought the Whole Foods versions of these to me (another way I survive the hospital stays: food from outside). I still constantly felt like vomiting, but I held it together and finished 1/3 bottle of apple juice plus a large container of broth. I was quite proud of myself, but the team declared me too bloated to go home, and I was to continue on clear liquids. Argh. (I later learned that apple juice can make you bloated.)

By Friday, I was so done with being at MGH, and the doctors still didn't want to release me. Starting with chemo on Monday, I had been there almost all week, and feeling awful that whole time. On top of that, my new roommate kept repeating, "Thank GAWD I don't have cancer." I didn't even have a bed by the window, and I was getting a bit bummed out.

I lay in my bed, praying for I don't know how long. My back was to the door, and my eyes were closed. I tried to imagine being held, or being someplace safe....anything that helped me feel like God was near. I kept praying to feel His presence.

At some point, I rolled over and opened my eyes. Standing in the doorway was a short woman with dark hair, wearing a pink labcoat. She appeared to be waiting patiently.

"Can I help you?" I asked her.

"Would you like Communion?" she asked me.

Thank goodness I opened my eyes in time.

While I obviously miss so much, please know that I really treasure your being there, and appreciate your presence in all our lives. I am now home, feeling much better, and want to thank you for hanging in there with all of us.

Love,
Marie