Chapter 13 – Anniversary Time

Reflections on Acceptance and Possible Outcomes

What a winter it has been, as the years roll by since my life-changing diagnosis in 2017—a moment that, like many others before me, marked a profound shift in my life after receiving the difficult news of cancer.

Current state of health, as of October 2024, is pretty good! I’m just back from the latest 4 monthly clinic in Dunedin. The clinical trial continues 🙂

In 2017, while sitting in my truck at the Snow Farm car park, I took a deep breath and called my local medical center for an appointment with my long-time friend and GP, Andrew. I delayed mentioning the lump in my groin until the last of the three concerns I wanted to discuss.

Andrew didn’t sugarcoat it—the news wasn’t good, and I appreciated his directness, knowing me well enough to cut to the chase. That winter became the season of change and acceptance, marking my first decision on this journey.

Looking back, I realize that choosing acceptance was the easiest decision I could make at that moment. Taking action has always been empowering for me, but I understand it’s a decision many struggle with. Andrew agreed, noting that his patients who embraced acceptance rather than fighting or battling the illness tended to fare better. Another point he made stuck with me: opting for treatment through our New Zealand health system statistically gives patients the best chance of regaining their health.

I met fellow skiers like a woman with advanced breast cancer, diagnosed around the same time as me (sadly she has since passed on), and Graeme, who was in remission from prostate cancer. Graeme was there because we had met years earlier at Aspiring Hut, and I had introduced him to cross-country skiing (nearby Wanaka) as a way to learn about the snowpack for mountaineering and tramping.

Up the valley from Aspiring Hut is French Ridge Hut, accessible by a long, steep, and arduous climb from the valley floor into the alpine zone. It was on that climb, many years before, that I first encountered the values inherent in acceptance. But at the time, I didn’t feel like I had much choice.

The climb to the hut takes two to three hours from the valley, with several false summits—humps on the ridge that trick you into thinking you’re almost there, only to reveal yet another ascent. I knew this from previous visits, but on that occasion, around 2004, it was particularly humid. Three-quarters of the way to the bush line, I realized I had heatstroke or heat exhaustion.

Mistake number one was continuing upward. I rationalized that I could rest at the tree line, rehydrate, eat, layer up, and get my headlamp ready for the next very exposed section. As dusk approached (mistake number two), I set off again at a slow pace. An hour later, the wind picked up, and to my horror, it began snowing horizontally. My headlamp was nearly useless in the blowing snow, and I realized I might not find the hut, with no shelter on the ridge.

Over the years, I’d had a few close calls, but they usually passed in seconds. This time, the situation stretched on, and so did my thoughts. I recalled the mountain wisdom: mistake number three often leads to a fatal outcome (the trick in all this is to know when you’ve made #1 and #2!). If that was my fate, it would be death by hypothermia/exposure, alone in the dark. However having had a couple of near misses as a young man I do know, you don’t know it’s onset, and dying I think would be peaceful along with a confused mind and uncoordinated body (the trick in this one is recognising the conditions of wind/rain that can bring on loss of core body heat, and layering up/eating/getting out of the wind, at that point).

Acceptance wasn’t something I chose that evening of folly—it just happened. I slowed my pace even further to conserve energy while generating enough body heat to survive. Hump after hump passed, and mentally, I entered a calm, detached state. I never thought it at the time, but if there is a third eye (intuitive seeing?) it was engaged also. I’d experienced this before in relation to route finding in the dark in the mountains, more than once. It’s quite the tool to have in the toolbox!

All this, I much more recently realised, is the power of acceptance—it relaxed me and allowed me to keep going. In the zone, where 110% concentration works in conjunction with a slowing down of time. A wonderful place of commitment and pure magic. It’s also worth noting that the breath played a huge role in the outcome. I’d gone uphill on enough mountains to know that doing it right gets us there with more energy to spare on arrival. What I’ve learnt since through ACT therapy is the calming effect and that when anxiety is put aside we have a much more holistic view of what’s going on around us and within. Then (often later for the refined version) the story we create about the event is less fragmented, and because of this more accurate (and as I recall and write this one I’m inclined to think it is pretty accurate).

Finally, through the wind and snow, I spotted something unnatural: the corner of the hut’s toilet roof. At that moment, I came back to myself, coming back to, “of this world”! But exhaustion hit hard too. I was only 50 meters from the hut, but I sat down against a rock, not to sleep but to rest. As I marveled at the snow-filled night, I reflected on how my mindset had shifted out of survival mode instantly. It was a profound experience., especially the speed of change (I refer here to buying into, or more like, being forced into acceptance at the bush line as dusk was gathering, as well as at the moment I knew I was safe).

Imagine if…

The brain’s ability to forge new neural pathways can happen incredibly quickly, almost instantly. But I also note it can take a long time and some hard work—maybe one’s previous life experiences inadvertently prepare us/the brain, as in the French Ridge folly!? Or the situation dictates it.

So I wonder: if we can so swiftly shift our mindset, how might that impact a disease like cancer, or affect the treatments? Could opening those mental doors somehow influence the healing process? I do know that for sure when I walked into the oncology day unit for my first download, my mind was as open as I could make it. I had accepted stepping into the unknown. Looking back I think I went a few steps further! And that may have changed the chemistry in ways that made a total response to the first (traditional chemo) treatment possible. We just don’t know as I can’t go back and make different decisions. It’s an unknowable scenario!

But then what role, exactly, did acceptance play in my rapid remission? I like the word “stumbled” because, looking back, I think I repeated the French Ridge experience in my own cancer story—it just took much longer to unfold. Does moving beyond mere acceptance lead to healing opportunities we may have previously overlooked, or that science has yet to discover? Perhaps then the best approach is to explore each door we’re offered, while also embracing the incredible support, with accompanying success rate provided by our health system.

I stayed an extra night at the hut to recover. Rain had made the bush track slippery and risky, but more importantly, heat exhaustion damage takes time to heal.

By the time of my cancer diagnosis in 2017, I had mostly forgotten that experience, but subconsciously, it was still with me. Now I see that some traumatic experiences can be valuable, even transformative.

Fast-forward to December 2023, when a fortuitous opportunity arose: The Snow Farm needed a hut caretaker, so I applied and got the part-time, year-round job. As autumn progressed, I took on solo work, maintaining the four huts and helping with the final construction of a new base building before the ski season.

Among them was an oncology nurse, and we had some deeply insightful conversations about acceptance. I learned how common it is for people to deny acceptance, right up to the end, turning their experience into a battle that consumes energy and resources that could be better used elsewhere.

This experience reminded me of a book I had read years ago, which touched on how sages approached death—not through suicide but through acceptance. A knowingness even of when to leave (their body):

Another unexpected and more recent valuable lesson:

A cat I’d looked after and got very close to had to leave. Health issues. A very sad and poignant saying goodbye – his last few cuddles were on my lap, prior to his last visit to the vet. Middle aged and affected by a previous encounter with a car Nemo taught me the following:

• Set boundaries (patting his damaged rear end would elicit an attempt at biting – don’t go there!).
• The value of play (see photo). His reaction times were incredible.
• Knowing when to do nothing (he’d watch a bird close by but never attempt to catch it. He knew he could and he was so fast in play he could have easily done so, but never did).
• The importance of being social (any human visitors, he’d be there wanting to be involved. Not looking for pats or tickles, but simply to be part of it). If ignored he’d get quite offended and wander off.
• That mixing with school children walking to school was good for his health.
• Non engagement (again do nothing). (Once by his home door/pathway he was in an exposed position and a dog went by, oblivious. Nemo simply ducked behind a potted plant and quietly waited until the threat passed)
• He knew how to give love (unlike many cats that demand same). He was uncanny in this respect. Near the end he’d sometimes retreat to a walk-in wardrobe (to die it was realised), but would always return to the love he knew he was part of. And that he deserved.
• Before I met him he knew when to leave a less than suitable relationship (he was with a house full of noisy children and two dogs – his owner when found was really glad he’d found a new place to live).
• Being curious (helps off-set anxiety I’ve found – he was always so interested in many things – it seems he drew things to himself deliberately)

RIP Nemo (aka Puss)

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) — The Ongoing Journey

Since finishing my formal ACT sessions in June 2024, I had intended to review my notes, but life had other plans. Instead of revisiting the past, I found myself diving deeper into the present. It’s as if the universe sensed I was ready for more—and not in the way I expected. I became busier, but not in a burdensome sense. Instead, life started unfolding in fascinating ways, with serendipity and coincidence appearing more frequently. This added richness to my daily experiences.

I always knew that questioning my beliefs, biases, and values would lead to growth—usually for the better, though discernment is crucial. What I hadn’t anticipated was how others would change their approach to me. In subtle but significant ways, people began presenting themselves with a different energy, and their shifts triggered changes in me too. These moments affected how I reacted, sometimes leaving me unsure where to focus my attention, even in terms of writing for this blog.

As seasons change—especially in winter, with its new dampness and corresponding snowpack changes or even shifting perspectives on climate change—so too does my inner landscape. I’ve encountered more of what could be called “suffering” in the world around me, though I acknowledge I can never fully understand another’s pain. Meditation, in a form that resonates with me, has become my default mode. It’s been fascinating to witness the uptick in my capacity for empathy and compassion, not to mention how much easier it has become to stay grounded.

I now find myself stepping back more often, observing situations without getting drawn into the emotional whirlwind. This shift allows me to maintain a broader, healthier perspective. I don’t feel the need to react to everything. Sometimes, all that’s required is to listen deeply to another person and ask the occasional yet simple, clarifying question. This helps me figure out where best to invest my energy to get the most meaningful results, both for myself and those around me.

Last Words (for Now)

• The change in energy from others has started to influence my relationships in profound ways. I’m sensing more authentic connections, which feels refreshing.
• I plan to expand on my observations of serendipity, as this seems key to exploring how ACT has heightened my awareness of life’s interconnectedness. To do so, I realize I’ll need to become more open—starting with myself, to myself! I’ll address openness with others as the process unfolds. Not long ago, I believed I had always shared enough of myself with others, but I now see that I was mistaken. I’ve been closed off, to my detriment and theirs.
• The ongoing question is how this personal growth aligns with my larger life goals and values. How do these shifts support my overall vision? Note to self: values is the keyword!

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BTW current state of health, as of October 2024, is pretty good! I’m just back from the latest 4 monthly clinic in Dunedin. The clinical trial continues 🙂

The next post/chapter will be titled something like, hmm, well I’m not sure yet!

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