The year before I was diagnosed with those mets, I had a huge trauma in my life.  My mother and I had been best friends all my life.  I was an only girl in a family full of men, so you can imagine I was quite spoiled by my brothers and adored by my mother.  She was my intercessor, my defender when things got bad with my dad, which they did quite frequently.  Most often, I would see her positioned, standing literally between him and I.  Well, she transitioned out of her body in Mar 2004.  I was there.  I had never been with anyone as they left their body and I had no idea what to expect.  Those around me were in panic mode and kept disappearing for what seemed like hours on end and I really felt alone with the whole thing.  It was the only passing I’ve witnessed to this point.

I was, at her insistence, executor of her estate and while other family members could find their ways of escape, I had work to do.  All the prior assurances of the help I would receive fell by the wayside when the reality  hit.  I had to call creditors, find out how much debt she had, find out how much asset she had, and how to match them all up. Then came flying the body back to SC for burial and making sure things went smoothly.  A quick anecdote … I went to check on things at the funeral home before the viewing.  I looked at my mother and they had done her up in true old lady style … curling ironed ringlets on her head and pale peach lipstick and nail polish.  Anyone who ever knew my mother knew she would never be (and yes, I said this to the funeral director) caught dead with that on her!  So I had him take me back to the makeup, I took that pale peachy crap off her lips and put the most vivid red I could find on her.  That was my Momma.  All full of color, life, laughter, and love.  Anyway where was I?  Oh yeah, and grieve the loss of the most important person in my life.  To top that off, a mere four months later, we had PCS orders again.  A very stressful, painful, traumatic time and I had to handle all the work associated with it.

Now, to my knowledge, the United States is the only culture in the world that doesn’t have healers.  We have the FDA and doctors.  Not that they’re always bad, but there is a lot of intermingling going on, so we have to be our own healthcare advocates.  Anyway, those other cultures, Eastern and Ayurveda in particular, see tumors as a sort of red flag … an attempt, on the body’s behalf, to call our attention to something that needs work.  Sort of like the check engine light on a car.  Something that has been trying to get our attention and we just ignore it and keep on going.  That something, according to these culture, is usually something emotionally traumatic. 

There is a German man, named Hamer, who theorizes that all disease is related to emotional trauma.  And he takes it one step further.  He associates specific traumas with specific cancers.  For example, breast cancer is always a mommy issue.  I didn’t have mommy issues … or did I?  I’ll tell you about that later.  And I had already contracted cancer by the time she passed, so I quickly ruled that out as the cause of my original cancer … that was then.  But then, and even now, I’m pretty damn certain that what caused the cancer, that was laying dormant, to reappear with a vengeance, was the trauma of her passing and the void it left, combined with the stress of executing her estate and that move to Idaho.  I was exhausted emotionally and physically, I was wounded, and that set the stage for more serious disease to move right in.

  1. Rachael says:

    How very beautiful she is!


  2. Rosieo says:

    I am really enjoying your writings (although I would wish that it was fiction in stead of about this horrible beast cancer). I can relate to you also because it was the same with my Mom. It is ten years now since she has passed and there is never a day that goes by that I don’t think of her. And yes as the person before me stated: Your Mother is so beautiful

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