Returning to one of my passions:
Post the surgery, to remove the tumor in my groin, there was a month long period of inactivity and recovery. Some of that time I adjusted to my new paradigm, but more work was in order. So after a month I jumped straight into my favourite winter activity cross country skiing. An excellent way also to strengthen physical fitness. Which of course makes it harder to hold negative thoughts.
Time Line of This Chapter:
- Recovery from surgery – passive nothingness
- Recovery from surgery – active, enhancing mental attitudes
- Call to adventure – destiny has summoned the hero patient from within the pale of his society to a zone unknown
- Opening up to others. A sometimes personal, sometimes benign energy everywhere that supports a superhuman passage
- Bucket list stuff. Or practice exploration of perilous paths of initiatory conquests, and moments of illumination?
- Amulets against the dragon forces – books/mentors etc.
- Oncology counseling began at Dunstan Hospital in Clyde (one hour drive away).
- The road of trials – a series of tests/decisions/tasks to be grappled with
- Looking for dis-ease causes
- The all-powerful, all encompassing entry to recovery. First sit-down, with a registrar oncologist – Dunedin Hospital based.
At first I skied near the Lodge at the Snow Farm, Cardrona, New Zealand. After all I had a new camera to come to terms with.
Pretty soon I was able to go further afield. My favourite tour is down to the headwaters of the Meg river. A route called the River Run.
On the Cromwell to Queenstown road you’ll find the Meg enters the Kawarau Gorge. This is right by the car park at the Roaring Meg power station. The Gorge is a tributary of the Clutha River.
My sense of normality was being restored! I can’t recall if I’d told any of my skiing buddies what was going on. And I was learning that social contact is a proven path to a healthy life. Along with exercise!
Pretty soon my body, the moon and the weather transpired to lure me into a little adventure – a full moon ski tour.
This is Bob Lee hut on the out-skirts of the area. I like to arrive as the sun is setting and do some photos. Then eat a sort of evening version of lunch, and prepare for my return in the darkness. The light of the moon (here rising) being my guide, rather than one of the three head lamps I carry.
But quite a telling thing happened on the way to Bob Lee. One of my friends who works at the area was driving by on a skiddo to deliver packs and food to one of the huts. And she stopped.
It seems she had noticed my changed energy or demeanour, and so she asked me what was wrong. Or what had happened.
So there I was blurting out the whole story, or at best a shortened version. When she’d gone this got me thinking. In a way the disclosure in a surreal setting was quite a help in gaining perspective.
All to soon the snow was “played out”. As spring decided to appear I seemed to travel all over the place in the lower South Island.
< Martyr Saddle, where there is a viewpoint overlooking the Cascade valley. South Westland. A World Heritage site
Looking back I’m now inclined to think that at a subconscious level I was entertaining a bucket list!
Taken by the Kinloch Lodge at dawn on the delta.
<Where the Dart River in Mt Aspiring National Park, enters Lake Wakatipu.
How did I feel:
Like one of the mob dispossessed of health!
Which means the loss of health will trigger grief – over the loss of same
Very vulnerable, but with a growing sense of calm. With an inclination to not “buy into” anything. An empty vessel!
And that I could achieve the above by filing all incoming information as provisional. Not a new habit! Being opinionated does not engender a sense of contentment. Which of course is an opinion!
When we’re open to serendipity this is what can happen:
While working for the Dept of Conservation/NZ Alpine Club at Aspiring Hut. In the National Park of the same name, I met a couple of lovely families. They had a great holiday in some good weather. One of them made the journey in by electric wheel chair, which he’d designed himself. On both counts a huge achievement!
We became FaceBook friends later. Since I post lots of images on that platform he noticed one, and asked if I’d supply a copy as a cover for a new book coming out. I was happy to donate it.
Then one day, right in the middle of the above discussed changes in my life, a “thank you” copy arrived. It was uplifting to say the least. It was very useful to read about how others dealt with big changes and challenges regards health. Published by the NZ Spinal Trust
🔎 As mentioned in my last blog/chapter I was duly summoned to Dunedin Hospital in the spring time 2017. To the oncology/hematology department. It was to be the first of many many visits. It’s focus to name my illness, and my treatment options. I got the lot and on paper too.
I was hosting mantle cell lymphoma. (non Hodgkins – I would have preferred the less severe plain Hodgkins). The information came across to me in such a way, that indicated the need for speed regards treatment.
I met with a registrar – a relative newcomer to the game. It was immediately obvious that announcing grim black and white news was a challenge. I was Stage 4A and if I recall possible timing, to “curtain time” was as 37 months. I felt for the messenger!
The registrar presented two treatment options. Along with paper intense documentation. The first being a pretty heavy-duty Nordic Protocol. (the connection to my cross country skiing amused me). The second a milder option, I assumed would not work as well. The former meant I would have to spend a few nights in hospital every 28 day cycle. This freaked me out, and more on why later.
What happened next was wonderful. I was immediately given the cell phone number of a very experienced nurse. I was to avail myself of the txt messaging facility to the tune of about two messages or questions per week. Having a caring and loving line of communication gave a strong signal. The journey to good health had begun. When we know others care, we know we have a better chance of recovery! And I knew that my body was not seen as an isolated machine. Divorced from our emotional and spiritual aspects.
What not to do:
I’m reminded at this moment to write about something very important. My wonderful local doctor mentioned it a couple of times:
We get a diagnosis, and with the best of specialist help, we construct a plan of action. e.g lifestyle or dietary changes.
And off we go making what can be for many, mammoth adjustments! But despite this, the disease progresses.
The trick then is to avoid at all costs thinking that we’ve not honored our resolve well enough! And we beat ourselves up.
Never forget that our thoughts influence our immune system!
In case this scenario visited myself, I started meditation. Mindful that for many years athletes have used visualisation techniques. It’s a big topic to imagine winning, or finishing! And one I’ll write about later. But for now, beware!
And one more thing: refrain from Googling your flavour of disease. This advice from the hospital was very wise! Best to wait! In my case they soon furnished me with appropriate URL’s. Then at my leisure I could read and understand well balanced appropriate information.
Decisions I decided to make:
At this point, there were too many! Time seemed “of the essence”. The idea seemed to be to get ready for a rough ride. To either get well, or otherwise.
One item headed the list: how to handle many possible nights in hospital during treatment. (If I choose the more intense one on offer)!?
You see up until age about 9 years, I spent an extraordinary amount of time in hospital. For reasons still unknown.
Back then this amounted to an unsettling sense of abandonment. That it was from very loving parents was very confusing (and can cause dissociation). The experience also involved sharing a room of four beds with older men. One was there for a quick surgery. One for a few days to establish a diagnosis, and one to die. Even as a wee kid it was obvious which was which!
The sense of this establishing a victim mentality was something I’d not bought into, a long time ago. The experience(s) have made me who I am, and for this I am grateful. And no one has had a perfect childhood anyway! Mine was pretty damn good too, compared to many.
So I decided some counseling would be a good idea. So I txt’d my new nurse and asked for some local recommendations. Her reply, “I don’t know of anyone in Wanaka, but we can do that. I’ll organise a referral – I think there is someone at Dunstan Hospital” (an hour’s drive away for me). And in due course I soon found myself getting the help I needed.
Looking back this decision was the best one I made during this very rushed period. And it triggered a very deep sense of appreciation. Out of which flowed 💗 and the very seeds of an idea:
I could start to compile a 10 point list, or thereabouts, of things to change. Ones that could make a difference to my quality of life, and most of all my thoughts. My theory is that if some of the ten were only at say 6% instead of the full quota, then if I got three or four up a few percent, there would be significant cumulative gains to the overall plan to reach 100%.
Several weeks before my diagnosis I did a trip to Mavora Lakes, in northern Southland, with a very close friend, and we did a day long mountain bike trip to…
< Careys Hut in winter.
It was a very tough trip for me – I had to dig deep coming back especially.
< the track was very muddy and wet
I put the experience down to age. I was wrong!
During my first visit to oncology in Dunedin, I had to sit for sometime in the waiting room. I got to observe other people waiting. None seemed as healthy lifestyle wise as myself. I fought off a quick “why, poor me” thought.
What replaced it was the profound insight that these people may have put their hand up much sooner than I had. And got a doctor’s appointment sooner rather than later. When not feeling quite their normal – especially when physically challenged. As opposed to myself gritting my teeth and boxing on.
My outdoor experience had worked against me, I thought. It’d cost me valuable time! Yet, I was to realise a lot post diagnosis. And during what was to follow, that the practice of driving with the mind was to work in my favour. Growing old, I’m not entertaining!
By the Way this has been the most challenging post/chapter to write up so far. It could maintain that lead. It spans a time that contained the most urgent of adjustments. That’s how I perceived it at the time!
BTW current state of health, as of June 2021, is pretty good!
The next post/chapter will be titled something like, “Let’s Wait and Watch”
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The content presented on the site is in no way intended as medical advice. Or as a substitute for medical treatment. Guidance from your doctor or other health care professional should always be sought. Be involved with them on all levels. The most trivial information can be pure gold to a trained professional!