Metaphysical Author
Cancer Gift

Cancer Gift

by | Aug 12, 2025 | Cancer Diagnosis, Caregiving, Self-Empowerment

I was raised by a lovely giver and became a giver myself. I recall my first job after college (many years ago) at the Lighthouse for the Blind in San Francisco, a sheltered workshop for visually impaired and hearing impaired adults. On my lunch hour I did volunteer work at the Salvation Army. It was an older building, so the friendly nun who worked there would buy me big poster boards and markers. I’d draw colorful pictures with inspirational sayings under them to brighten up the walls.

Honestly, I always thought my giving nature was one of my best qualities.

Then I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Although insurance covered the major cost of surgeries and medical visits, there were numerous co-pays and unforeseen expenses that began to mount up. A caring friend suggested putting up a GoFundMe page.

While I have done my share of outreach and fund-raising for others, doing it for myself was a different matter. The idea of talking about my personal health and asking for financial help in a public arena was equivalent to an invitation to go mountain climbing, something I do not plan on doing in this lifetime or the next.

Months went by. My friend kept asking, and I kept saying I will think about it. Meanwhile, a number of you encouraged me to say yes.

Finally my well-meaning friend asked me why I find it so difficult to receive. I asked myself the same question. Why am I so resistant to asking for help when I am so willing to offer it? And why can’t I take care of myself financially?

The last question is easier to answer than the former. It’s a combination of circumstances that some of you may be familiar with. As a full-time caregiver for my beautiful mother, we lived modestly on two incomes. When she passed the expenses remained the same, only I was down to one income. At the same time, the years of caregiving took a toll. I was tired and inward. I hardly left the house for a year, then two, maybe more.

Was I working? Yes, I worked from home an average of six days a week before this unexpected cancer diagnosis. Right now I am close to finishing the redesign for my first three book interiors and covers. But creativity doesn’t necessarily translate to financial success unless you actively promote yourself.

As it happens, before my mother’s needs became demanding I consulted for other authors, helping them with all aspects of writing and publishing. And every time a new client called, the first thing they asked was if I could help them market their books. It was like a cosmic joke because I never excelled at marketing my own.

Wait. Could my resistance to putting up a GoFundMe page have something to do with my failure to promote myself aggressively? Am I, a self-help author and professed seer of energy, unaware of my own resistance and secretly harboring low self-worth?

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I had the thought there might be a gift in this situation. Is this it?

This cancer experience has changed me. Humbled me. I acknowledge that giving comes naturally. I acknowledge that I have not (past tense) been as open about receiving. I’m working on it. Deep breath. Arms open wide. We all know the drill.

I finally said yes to the GoFundMe page and will share the link. Also, I am ready to promote myself and be proactive about marketing my books. Maybe not right away but once I deal with the physicality of my current situation.

If you feel called to help me, I am deeply grateful. (Link at bottom of screen.)

In conclusion, we are all engaged in a giant game of expansion and contraction, where the places we move forward and the places we hold back (resist) shape our reality.

Fortunately, healing is within our grasp. So if anyone reading this can relate to my experience, may I suggest you also practice saying ‘YES’ when someone offers you their help.

 

Cancer Diagnosis

Cancer Diagnosis

by | Aug 10, 2025 | Cancer Diagnosis, Self-Empowerment

and My cancer diagnosis arrives by phone. The first thing I do is pull up a picture of Jesus on my computer and look him in the eyes. He speaks to me as clear as a bell. “Magic is underfoot,” he says.

Moments later I receive a text from a healer I’d reached out to saying that he can see me the next day. Followed by a text from my neighbor saying that she can drive me the four hours to see him the next day. My faith has not wavered since.

I am inspired by the visit to the healer. A firm reminder that our bodies have restorative powers. I decide positivity is the best medicine.

I’m 74 years old and don’t take any medication. I attribute it to being a long-term meditator, twice a day for over fifty years. When I am under the weather, I prefer herbalists or homeopaths or chiropractors to traditional doctors. Suddenly finding myself in a medical drama facing life or death choices is challenging.

Every interaction I have with doctors, surgeons, nurses, office staff, technicians is caring and professional. I am humbled to receive that level of personal attention.

As for those serious choices, I have spent a lifetime relying on my intuition so that is what I do. I listen within. When the answer isn’t clear, I take advice from a knowledgeable friend (a scientist) and a naturopath (who developed a synergistically blended formula to address hormone mediated cancers to keep them from proliferating).

There are a lot of decisions over the next few months. When my inner light is green, I take the doctor’s suggestions. When it’s red, I don’t. As you can imagine, it’s not easy to go against medical advice.

In the end I agree to surgery. Prior to going into the operating room, I see a TV mounted on the wall with changing nature scenes. I hear Jesus speak through the screen. He says, “I am in the doctor’s hands.”

In spite of the heart-warming message, when they roll me into the operating room I have a break with reality, convinced I’ve stumbled onto the set of Grey’s Anatomy.

Two months pass. Many friends become angels.

I say yes to physical therapy and radiation. Physical therapy is a learning experience. I like it.

Radiation is painless at first except for the position you’re poised in depending on your situation. In my case, my neck and shoulder are compromised. In the morning my whole body hurts. I pray for relief. Something sweeps over me as gentle as a summer’s breeze. My discomfort fades.

I receive radiation for several weeks. Things get complicated. I get a skin rash that spreads. The doctors and nurses are beyond kind. I’d call them regal. They assure me the rash is not related to the treatment. That doesn’t stop the sleepless nights or calm the irritation.

Next, I have trouble swallowing and nerve pain. I am told these are temporary side effects, along with severe redness.

Understanding helps. I discover the reason my neck is placed in that uncomfortable position is to safeguard my esophagus, which lies close to the lymph nodes the radiation is targeting. Evidently it can still cause inflammation, but if you’re reading this and about to get treatment yourself, try not to worry. It may not happen to you. Now I purée my food.

Fortunately my swallowing improves. Another side effect appears. It’s scary. I feel my positivity wobble. Thank you Google. Knowledge is comforting. It doesn’t take away the pain but it helps to give a name to my experience. I see my radiation oncologist. The situation begins to resolve.  

I ring the bell at the women’s cancer center. A lovely man with one of those toy bubble-maker guns fills the air with bubbles while others clap. The healing begins.