Using Visualization To Find Inner Strength

Late last December, about two weeks after I had a unilateral mastectomy to remove cancer in my left breast, I found myself in my oncologist's office discussing the pathology report from my surgery.  It was surreal.  He told me that he recommended chemotherapy, that I would lose my hair, and that I would need to have a port surgically placed in a vein.  He asked if he could go ahead and get me on the schedule for the port placement.  He handed me several sheets of paper with information about the chemotherapy drugs and their laundry list of side effects.  My head started spinning.  I had just lost a breast and now I was going to lose my hair?  I told him I needed time to think about it.  I was in denial.  I thought he was somehow misguided and that if I got a second opinion and researched it for myself I would find that he was wrong.  I was angry at him for recommending it.

I went home and did some reading about the characteristics of my particular kind of cancer.  The cancer cells in my body had a protein attached to them called HER2, and left untreated, that protein could make the cancer grow aggressively and rapidly.  Even though the tumor had been surgically removed, the HER2 protein made my chances of having a recurrence much higher.   There was a treatment called Herceptin, given along with chemotherapy, that would target any remaining HER2 cells and greatly improve my odds.  And so it began to sink in that chemo was the way to go for me.  I knew in my heart that I wanted to do whatever it took to give myself the greatest chance of survival.

And so I drew myself a nice warm bath, got in for a soak, and cried until I couldn't cry any longer.  I felt like facing chemo was like stepping off a cliff into an unknown void.  I didn't know how I would react physically or emotionally to the side effects, and I was already mourning the loss of my long, thick and wavy, strawberry blonde hair.  It was somehow scarier than losing my breast had been.  I think it was because I knew the breast had to go.  There was no question in my mind about that.  And the results of surgery seemed much more cut and dried.  Chemo scared me to death.

When the tears were all dried up, I sat there in the warm tub with my eyes closed, in a deep meditative state.  My mind and body were very quiet and I was relaxed.   Then, in my mind's eye, a set of glowing eyes appeared.  At first I thought they were cat's eyes, but then they transformed into the eyes of a wolf.  From there, thoughts of a beautiful and powerful wolf began to fill my mind.  I could see the wolf standing guard, as if she were protecting me.  A sense of peace came over me and I knew that I would be o.k. and that I would find a way to get through it.  I decided that the wolf would be my spirit guide that would see me through the upcoming winter.  The use of the term winter being both literal and metaphorical.

I wrote this poem shortly after completing my chemo treatments.

Winter of the Wolf

I nurtured something fierce within me, 

Let my softness become hard,

And transformed my spirit into a wolf.

I told the wolf to eat up my darkness. 

Let her piercing eyes shine through my own, 

Until we blazed together with healing light.  

As winter came upon us, she curled up inside my soul. 

I allowed her thick fur to warm me.

Her wolf song became my lullaby as we rocked each other to sleep.  

The bitter cold of winter drifted by us,

As she flashed her teeth in the face of my fears,

And our dreams piled up like snowflakes, beautiful and fragile.

On the last night of winter, we woke and spring thawed our frosty breath.

She howled into the dark, until dawn came, rosy and full of hope.
I thanked her for helping me through the bitter cold.

I touched the warmth of sun on her soft fur,
And watched her run free into the trees.
I let her go.  My wolf.  My animal.  My spirit.  My Guide.

Me during my first round of chemo treatments, before I lost my hair.