I wrote this in February 2023, the opening chapter of my memoir, but given the current circumstances, it needs to be revisited.
I realize my lymph nodes are growing again, in the old familiar places at my groin, and in some new areas, at my neck. I keep touching them, feeling their size and shape, and I know I will be doing that all day because I know myself by now. I won’t be calming down any time soon. My oncologist says they are a concern when they are more than a centimeter and compares them to different kinds of beans, a pea, a lentil. I’m checking and feeling a Lima bean, and not just a pea but the whole pea pod.
A memory of my mother reminding me to eat my vegetables comes to mind, then the fear of what happens when we swallow a pit.
There’s a lentil under my arm and there was a Brazil nut on my neck, but it seemed to disappear which makes me think of the boy who cried wolf. My next oncology appointment wasn’t until 2 weeks so by the time I was able to show it to him and the clinical trial team, it was gone, but I felt oddly vindicated when it showed up on the next pet scan, however it was only a grain of rice.
Now I have an unappealing and ultimately life-threatening vegetable garden growing in various areas of my body and I am filled with anxious thoughts of a cancer recurrence and that occupies every thought throughout the day with dread and fear of what’s to come. I’m scared, angry, and sad all at the same time.
Present
Looking back, it seemed that eventually the “active” lymph nodes lost the war, calmed down and went away to wherever defeated lymph nodes retreat to. In the 2 1/2 years since that writing, I had a few scans with active lymph nodes appearing and disappearing, then 6 months of nothing. My clinical trial team called it CR (complete recovery). I felt like a star because I’ve been on this clinical trial the longest at MSK. A poster child. And I felt great. I joined a women’s dragon boat racing team for cancer survivors, went to the gym regularly and started to make travel plans again. I kept saying to myself and others, “for as long as this lasts, it’s great.” It didn’t seem to matter that the proverbial other shoe was looming somewhere just waiting to drop, because I thought I was filled with self-acceptance. I was just going to enjoy what I had when I had it. However, I was also reminded that it’s easy to find acceptance when things are going well.
Then around May or June of this year I felt a new pain, quite accidentally, at the nape of my neck, the bottom of my skull. I was doing an exercise and felt it when I tilted my neck back. Just like before, it disappeared by the time I had a pet scan and saw my oncologist, though new painful lymph nodes started to appear at the right side of my neck — one grew to the size of an apricot, with several blueberries scattered along my neck reaching to the top of my spine.
A pet scan and biopsy were recently completed and reading the pet scan report made me think that this is no longer a vegetable salad — it feels like a whole new meal! I’m trying hard to stay calm, but my lymph nodes are going crazy.
The clinical trial pills were attacking the deviant cells, and they responded by becoming annoyed popping up here and there in protest. It felt like they finally gave up, waved the white flag because for 6 months my pet scans were clear, and I was in another remission. But these little buggers didn’t give in at all. It was like they just hid out and developed a new plan. One said to the others, “Hey why are we just attacking different lymph nodes when there’s a whole body with different organs to discover? Let’s go check out the lungs.”
So, some went to the lungs, and some preferred staying outside the lungs, ready for an adventure. It feels like these new cells are the bad boys —they bring their buddies in droves, ready for a party.
In my initial cancer treatment, chemotherapy followed by stem cell transplant, I had angel experiences that supported me through the arduous ordeal, and I learned that “coincidences” are often messages from our guides to help us along in our life journeys.
So recently I sought the assistance of a coach to help me along on my spiritual path. Among other valuable lessons was an assignment she gave me: a daily chanting meditation by Sadhguru repeating over and over again, “I am not the body. I am not even the mind.” It helps the chanter achieve a higher level of consciousness and is meant to remind us that our bodies and minds are “temporary accumulations, not the core of one’s being.” I was doing the meditation almost daily, daydreaming through the whole thing, though theoretically I understood the message of this chant, it didn’t give me any new insight, but I kept at it anyway, you never know.
While practicing this new chant as well as other rituals, at the same time, cancer symptoms started to emerge once again, and as before I find myself becoming too preoccupied with what my body is doing, however, another part of me still tries to continue mediating — I don’t’ want to fall back into another cancer cloud but I also find myself questioning how I can say “I am not the body…” when my body is giving me so much trouble? Then recently I heard the chant in my dream or a message about the chant along with an image of a monk, and I began to realize something about the chant and having cancer again. When I use the chant and other meditations, for those moments and a little bit beyond, I connect with my higher self and find blissful peace. If I keep at it, it helps me cope with whatever is going on in my body for a short while. I still daydream through the chant, but I’m catching myself more, and sometimes I fall asleep but being able to transcend whatever annoyance my body is experiencing helps.
So, is it a “coincidence” that I started studying with my coach just before this recurrence, and is it a coincidence that she gave me this chant when she did?