On the plane trip home Greg said to me, "Mary,
I guess I should have told you that the oncology nurse suggested that I not be around any large crowds because
my immunity is so compromised." "Yikes!" I said, "You have just been exposed to 500 people in a conference room all meditating. That's
a lot of people and potential germs." We looked at each other and shrugged acknowledging that indeed we had sent a positive intention before
we went to Whistler and in our hearts we knew that Greg would not have picked up any illness at the event. He didn't.
Finally the anticipated results were available. In as much as finding out a diagnosis leads to some closure, it
also opens the flood gates to new questions, fears and emotions. Greg, always the picture of perfect health before
this, was diagnosed with Hairy Cell Leukemia. The week before he started Chemotherapy he fell and broke his ankle.
It couldn't be surgically pinned due to his suppressed immunity so it was casted instead. In October we were off
to the Cancer Centre for the first treatment, Greg in a wheel chair, holding my purse while I tried to balance
the crutches and push the wheelchair with one hand trying to avoid any bumps or loose gravel. What a sight! Once
inside the Centre, we were escorted into a room with so many patients hooked up to so many IV bags. The nurses
were happy, smiling and inviting. I felt that we could and would get through this together with faith, determination
and hope. Greg's treatments started with him lounging on a reclining chair at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre, listening
to Snatam Kuar on an iPod our youngest daughter rigged up for him, visualizing white light as the chemo drug dripped
into his veins, and his broken casted ankle propped on some folded blankets. I took out my journal, and started
writing.
Once the chemo was complete, and Greg needed to recover at home, our adult daughters offered their support daily,
family made home-made soup, and friends sent loving cards and emails. Due to the risk of infection, we didn't invite
people over and I only took quick outings to the market not wanting to risk bringing home any colds or viruses.
Each Friday evening I ordered from local restaurant's online menus for our "Date Night". Once we selected
the food choices, I drove to the restaurant to pick up the selection and returned home with the weekly treat.
I rented a wheelchair and each day I wheeled Greg around our neighborhood so he could get some fresh air. Eventually,
he was able to propel the chair himself using upper body strength while I briskly walked by his side. Over the
course of Greg's recovery, I wrote, kept up the house, concocted a variety of blended organic juices for him to
drink, and we had long chats with our daughters and family. Greg and I meditated together, ate together, rested
together and realized that this time of ours was very precious. |