My friend Kate sent me this quote on the day of my full body
scan, which was also the day of the vernal equinox. She said it was no coincidence that the scan was
to occur on this transitional day.
The day began with an early morning drive over the pass to
the hospital where I had gotten the RAI one week earlier. My friend Jenny drove
me since I was in no condition to be behind the wheel. When we arrived, the
nuclear medicine technician led us both back to the testing room. He asked me
if I am claustrophobic. I said, “I don’t think so.” Well, I didn’t think so
until I opened my eyes to find the machine just millimeters from my nose.
Suddenly a feeling of panic developed within me. Fortunately, my rational brain
quickly took over and decided that panicking was not going to help the
situation. Instantly a few techniques I have practiced kicked into autopilot:
breathing, audiation, and visualization.
I attend a weekly restorative yoga class where I have been
in the practice of holding one gentle pose for 10-15 minutes while focusing on
my breathing. This form of meditation was the first technique I used to stay
calm and focused. In reality, the scan is not a difficult process, but knowing
I needed to stay still in this machine for 40 minutes did take some mental
creativity to manage.
Once my breathing was slow and regular, the first thing that
popped into my mind was the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” At the time, that was my happy
place. Why, I wondered? When I thought about it, the message for me was that reality is not always as
scary as what we fear in our heads. When I was a child, The Wizard of Oz was my favorite movie…except for the tornado. I
was so afraid of the tornado that I refused to visit my aunt who lived in
Kansas. Reality: Tornados are dangerous, BUT the chance of being caught in one
(and transported to Oz to meet a wicked witch) is highly unlikely (especially
growing up in Massachusetts). Reality: Cancer can be deadly, BUT I am fortunate
to have a good prognosis and to have caught it early. I am doing everything
within my control to take care of myself. This is a temporary condition and I
know I will get through it.
The rest of the scan was a surreal retrospective/flash forward as a
70's/80’s rock radio station played a soundtrack to my visualization of the upcoming
year. Aerosmith sang to me while I visualized a visit to Las Vegas in April to
see my husband perform with his percussion quartet, and to catch a few rays
sitting by the pool. Elton John was my muse while I imagined a fabulous sister weekend in Denver with Kerri. Guns and Roses sang to me while I imagined a road trip in
June, with my husband (and a new puppy?) to visit family and celebrate our
niece’s high school graduation. Billy Joel serenaded me while I imagined a fun
and epic road trip with my mom traveling from Florida to Colorado. Finally,
David Bowie sang to me while I visualized our trip to South Australia in
January for teaching and performing. In my mind, this also includes lazy days
at the beach, exploring Australia’s wine country, and a cage dive with great
white sharks!
Although it is important to live in the present moment,
there is also value in looking forward. Having something to look forward to in
a time of darkness sheds light and energy on your day. Having dreams and making
plans can be a positive way to remember, “this too shall pass.” Life is a
series of transitions. I recall with great clarity a lecture given by the
composer David Maslanka during my undergraduate years at the University of Massachusetts. He drew a shape on the blackboard that looked like this:
He then described life as a series of these passageways:
Our
whole life we transition from one wide, expansive space to another, but in
order to get to the next wide, open space, we must pass through these narrow,
uncomfortable spaces that challenge us. Similar to passing through a birth
canal, it is a passageway to another phase in our lives. I have always
remembered these wise words at challenging times in my life and the visual
image is a beacon of hope. There is comfort in the certainty that the challenge
or discomfort is a temporary condition and that beyond it lies the next open
and expansive space.
The scan came to an end and it was time to go home. The med
tech let me take a picture of my scan with my phone, and told me off the record
it looked normal to him, in other words – no metastasis! You can see my
thyroid bed shining like the North Star, some radiation in my salivary glands
just above it, and then the path of radiation through my digestive system.
My
follow up with the endocrinologist will be April 4th and at that
time I will get the official results and find out what the next steps will be.
There is some concern that there is too much residual thyroid tissue left and
it could mean a third surgery, but my hope is that this narrow passageway is
about to give way to a new wide, open, expansive space.
I have been on the thyroid replacement hormones now for two weeks now and I dare say I am starting to feel like myself again. My husband was home last week for his spring
break and we had a wonderful time together, catching up with friends and
soaking in hot springs. The weather has shifted toward spring, which means long
walks along the Rio Grande and summer is around the corner.
No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
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