Parting the Mists

Note: This is a continuation of my January post and the February update about dealing with Stage 4 ovarian cancer. 

Sometimes wise reminders come from the most unlikely of places, a thing I was reminded of recently.

I was sitting in my local cancer center, speaking to the local oncologist who administers my chemo treatments (as opposed to the oncologist at the University of Kansas who did my surgery and directs my treatment overall) as once again I could not receive treatment for a pesky lung nodule due to an elevated white blood cell count. I was also experiencing my fourth UTI since my surgery on March 4. 

Since these infections had been recurring – and because my spleen was removed during the surgery, which further weakens my immune system – I asked what I could do to improve that system. I expected a suggestion of supplements, diet, and so forth. 

Imagine my surprise when she said, “You must find the source of life.” 

She went on to say she wasn’t referring to religion necessarily, but to what it is that makes life meaningful to me. 

Immediately, tears came to my eyes. Not because what she said made me sad or was a revelation, but because I already knew that and had lost sight of it. I know that we cannot just treat a body, and I’ve focused on keeping a positive outlook. Plus, the Avalonian tradition that is my spiritual home is, first and foremost, a healing tradition. 

Hiking in nature, alone or with loved ones, is always a source of joy for me.

But . . . the fact remains that I had stopped doing many things that bring joy and meaning to my life. Some of it is due to physical limitations. Hiking the longer trails into nature would be difficult right now, and I’m supposed to avoid getting into dirt, which limits gardening. Going on short adventures with the family pretty much ground to a halt because travel has been uncomfortable with surgical drains and such (and COVID-19 didn’t help). I haven’t even listened to music much, which tells me perhaps I was heading into a slight depressive state.

Gardening proves rewarding as well as a connection to the Earth.

Well, enough is enough. 

For gardening, there are gloves. 

For hiking deeper into nature, there is taking my time and plenty of breaks until I rebuild endurance.

For adventures, we’ve restarted short local excursions to a nearby lake and trails. COVID or not, natural outdoor areas and picnics are very doable.

For music, there is remembering to turn on the radio. And figuring out how to connect the iTunes from my computer to the iPad for easy listening around the house.

Another thing I miss a great deal was actively learning and sharing the learning – and helping people connect to the information they seek is satisfying work under the same umbrella. Before health issues and the pandemic began, I worked part-time at the local library. I had enjoyed this aspect of the job immensely. Frankly, I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed it. The pandemic has taken that away for now as my library only does curbside and bookmobile deliveries and most part-time staff is on furlough. I don’t blame the director a bit for keeping it locked down – our area isn’t the safest as far as people needing to do their part. But still, I miss it so much. 

The local hearth of the Daughters of the Sacred Grail is another missing piece of this learning/sharing element. The hearth usually meets every Wednesday evening and is a place of studies and sharing as well as sisterhood, and has been a part of my life for 15 years. The pandemic has shut down our in-person meetings, and online group chats really don’t cut it for a group like ours. Yes, it’s nice for seeing the beautiful faces and hearing their voices, but a group meeting with a lot of back-and-forth among six or more women is difficult on Zoom. 

So, until this cranky year is done messing with us all, I will be continuing to do what I can to find a way to fulfill this mental and emotional need. Some of it may come through this blog, which has been a bit neglected other than the card of the day. Perhaps one good thing to come from months of limited activity is a refocus on this online outlet as well as a few other projects. I’ve got a Yule Oracle deck on the backburner as well as the idea for a compilation-style book about experiences with the Crone (both everyday women we know and goddesses). Plus a few fiction stories to complete. We shall see. 

Regardless of the steps I take to tap into my “source of life,” I know that this expression from my doctor will come up in the future when I see others struggling in one way or the other. It doesn’t matter if we are suffering, as I am, from Stage 4 ovarian cancer or severe depression or the loss of family or friend: without tapping into our source of life, we are all lost. Here’s hoping we all can connect to our source in these difficult times. 

Blessings of Avalon to you all,

Thistle

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