When I was pregnant (my son will be 49 next week), I thought about pregnancy and his birth every day. It was all-consuming. A similar thing is happening with the next big transition, death. Since my oncologist told me in July of 2023 that she wanted to refer me to hospice because I would probably be dead within 6 months, I have thought about it every day.

I didn’t fully believe her, and I didn’t accept the referral to hospice, but I started preparing for the inevitable. I did accept her referral to a palliative care doctor and have been meeting with her monthly for 1 ½ years now. Although my many medical teams and I have been holding cancer back since 1989, we haven’t stopped it. We’ve just slowed it down. It has continued to progress and has been part of my life for 36 years now. I know I won’t be the one person who gets out of this life alive, and chances are cancer is going to be my ticket out.

I took a superb class on Zoom called “Peaceful Exit“ (www.peacefulexit.net) that helped me “get my affairs in order.” I went through the legal minutiae, and the emotional grief of closing Healing Journeys, so someone else wouldn’t have to do it after I was gone.

I started reading many great books about death. My favorite was “The Grace in Dying: A Message of Hope, Comfort, and Spiritual Transformation” by Kathleen Dowling Singh. She said Elizabeth Kubler Ross’s 5 stages of letting go didn’t go far enough. When you get to the 5th stage, Acceptance, you are still in the mental ego. Death requires that you let go of that too. She describes the next three stages as Chaos, Surrender, and Transcendence. I have already gotten to Acceptance and am curious about what comes next. She got me optimistic and excited about the impending transformation.

In the meantime, I keep working with my Naturopathic doctor who recommended protocols that have continued to slow down the cancer, but not eliminate it. I have done two ablations with an interventional radiologist who is doing experimental work. Their measurement of Circulating Tumor Cells indicates that treatment hasn’t been helpful, so I am discontinuing it.

For months I have been experiencing symptoms of cancer in my lungs and liver. Mostly, I am really tired and can no longer do many of the things I used to enjoy. No Pickle ball, no walks, no travel except for short trips that don’t involve much walking or time sitting. I need to lie down and rest frequently.

I’ve been thinking it might be time for Hospice soon, and am looking forward to it. I don’t see death as a failure, but as the next grand adventure. I’m ready for it.

I had my monthly blood test yesterday, expecting the results to point me to joining hospice. Instead, my cancer marker went down again, my liver functions are normal, and on paper I look like a healthy person (with cancer). In the past, I’ve been happy with these results. Today I felt depressed. I almost feel like I need to apologize to my friends and family for not dying. I have been talking about dying with them for almost two years now. It’s getting old.

On the other hand, since my desire and intention has always been to be an instrument, my belief is that as long as I’m still here, there must be a role for me to play. I don’t know what that role is now, but I’m open, and can only take it one day at a time. For today, my “instructions” were to write this blog.

If I am going to stick around longer in Earth school, I want to have reasons to get out of bed. I want to find a way to re-engage in life enough to make living more desirable than my anticipation of Chaos, Surrender, and Transcendence. I don’t have to give up that anticipation. It will inevitably come. My challenge is to have a meaningful life as long as I am here.