Currently, when someone is struck with a devastating diagnosis the procedure is to go to a specialist and through a prescribed medical treatment program. This is a prudent procedure and recommended, of course, however, as I’ve discovered in my own journey, the power of your faith may also play a pivotal role.

In 2011, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Not as devastating as some, and as cancers go, this is fairly easily treated. I had studied the connection between disease and emotions for many years, but I also had a family history of cancer. As someone with their emotions in check, this diagnosis led me to question - what is the stronger force here? At first it may appear the cancer history is stronger, but is it?

My path through this cancer diagnosis was very typical. I had something that I thought was just a normal part of menopause - continual bleeding. I was on hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and thought, “This is normal.” After a week of very abnormal heavy bleeding, I did go in to see the doctor. I was given a series of tests. There were some “shadows” and a dilation and curettage, more commonly known as a D&C, was scheduled. A week after the D&C, I received a call to come in to see the doctor.

Checking in at the doctor’s office, I got the feeling the staff knew something that I didn’t. There’s something surreal about this sort of visit. The nurse took my blood pressure and asked, “How are you?” in a way that made me feel like she was refraining from adding, “Since you are getting a diagnosis of cancer today.” But she finished quickly, quietly and left.

The doctor came in with my paperwork. He was a young OB/GYN use to delivering babies and laughing with pregnant women. I was at the other end of that spectrum. I was a menopausal woman with a defunct uterus to whom he had to deliver the diagnosis of cancer. I could tell that this was not his area of expertise, and why should it be? “Hey you’re pregnant!” or “It’s a girl!” are much more in his line of work. But he did say it. He did say, “It’s a cancer” to me.

To me... those words were said to me, someone who thought she could laugh her way through dis-ease, someone who thought cancer is actually hard to get for a stabilized, alkalized person. At this point, I needed to be referred. There would be nothing else to do here but listen to the referral list and pick one.

We are fortunate to be close to the West Michigan Cancer Center (WMCC), which was a natural choice for me. I was very familiar with them because my father and brother-in-law had been treated there. The appointment ended and I walked out with my cancer referral ticket.

I sat in my car for several minutes, not wanting to return home where my mother was. My father had six bouts of cancer over many years and my mother cared for him full-time particularly the last three years. I know my diagnosis would be devastating to her but even more so I was afraid of her moving in and taking over my care, which I neither needed nor wanted. This was my biggest fear. As much as I adore my mother, this would smother the life out of me. So if getting cancer was a growth process (that is a very bad pun) and part of my growth process was to face my biggest fear, then here it was.

My husband’s place of work was only a couple of miles away so I drove over and parked. I composed myself as well as I could and called him. “Bill, I’m in the parking lot could you come out for a few minutes?” I had never done this before. I usually don’t bother him at work so a request like this immediately signaled to him that something important was happening. I’m known for being a strong person, which has caused people in my life to periodically refer to me as “the rock”. But today, at this moment, sitting in my car in the parking lot of my husband’s work, I’m no rock. This is a cancer diagnosis. It slit me open and laid all my mortality before me. It disarmed me totally and completely.

Bill shut the door to the car. At the first crack of my voice, I knew I would not be able to deliver the information without breaking down. Ideally, when presenting information such as this, one must start with frame of reference statements such as, “I got my diagnosis from the doctor today.” Just blurting out “I have cancer!” and falling apart doesn’t give your spouse, friend, or family member the few seconds they need to process the information.

I don’t remember quite what I said. I do remember being in the moment over four years ago when I said “I do” to this man. I remember distinctly because it was a moment I wanted to remember. This moment I did not want to remember.

My husband, bless his heart, said exactly the right thing at the time, “Everything will be alright.” This is a loving, comforting statement. People should say that to one another more often. I knew there would be many miles between here and alright, but in the moment I wasn’t alone and there was enormous reassurance in that simple statement. It helped me be able to prepare myself to do the next step – tell my mother.

Unfortunately, it really didn’t matter the condition of the cancer - stage one, stage four, whatever, there was only one word that mattered here... cancer. I’m fortunate to still have my mother in my life, having lost my father a couple years ago to cancer. And the news would be difficult for her. Most everyone she knew who’d gotten cancer had died from it and in her eyes, that would ultimately be my fate as well.

For my own well-being as well as my mother’s I decided to keep as many details from her as I could. I wasn’t going to die from this cancer, I was sure of it, but the only way I could stay with that belief was to diligently protect myself from the worries of others. Remaining aloof, to me, was one concrete step in that direction. My mother wasn’t happy about the lack of details, but she tried to be understanding and took on her new role of starting to alert the family about my condition.

As I waited for the cancer center to call me with an appointment, I went into action. Most of my friends are healers or are interested in healing. I have others that meditate and still others that pray. I put it out there that I was open to any and all forms of prayers and healing anyone wanted to send to me.

There was a group in Oregon that meditated for me. My best friend healer, Terri, used a Harold McCoy technique on me. My prayer group did traditional Catholic prayers for me. These women were so eager to send healing energy. I was humbled by their generosity and grateful for their intentions and attention to helping me to improve.

If other women are faced with similar circumstances, I hope they will seek out these groups. The night I had my healing session with Terri, I had a dream of a bright light in the area of my uterus. There are times in life when you just know things. You don’t know how you know and you may not even have confirmation yet of what you know, yet that inner knowing is unmistakable. I was being healed of my cancer and I knew it.

On my first visit to the cancer center, I was photographed. I thought this was bizarre. There is a photograph on file of me with cancer. I was now part of a club for which I received a five year membership that I didn’t want. I met with the doctor who examined me and scheduled me for a hysterectomy. I did tell her about my beliefs in healing and that I would be invoking the power of prayer, but in the end my family history was a stronger argument for the operation.

In a future world, I may have had additional testing to determine the extent of the impact from those healing sessions, to get confirmation of the belief I’d had that my cancer was being healed. But because the methods I was using were alternative and spiritual in nature, in our current medical environment it’s difficult to find a doctor that will use that as a criterion for additional testing. Some may argue that I could have been more vocal, but at the time I made the decision that I felt was best for my care. As many others today, I believe the holistic and allopathic health systems can work together and compliment one another.

On my operation day, my husband, my friend, and my mother were in attendance. The operation went well, and the doctor met with them afterward to answer their questions while Terri took the opportunity to explain my beliefs about healing and the methods she used for my care.

When I went in for my first post-op checkup, I received the report that they could find no cancer in any of the tissues they removed. They “officially” attributed it to the D&C that I had, but I was ecstatic (and knew better). No cancer and no additional treatment were needed because, after all, they can’t treat me for something I don’t have. I walked out cancer free. When I went in for my next check up (I am signed up for a five year membership), the doctor popped into the examining room excited to say it was rare that someone would need no treatment after that kind of cancer.

I’m calling my case an almost miracle because I only lived with the diagnosis for a month, hardly worth noticing. My mother has other interests to pursue because I am not a cancer patient. My cancer doctor is joyous that I do not have cancer. I believe a full miracle will occur when more people pursue a course of healing after diagnosis rather than waiting until all other options are expended. When I am one of many receiving healing early in the diagnosis and not this rare individual doing so... that will be a miracle.

Devastating Illness or Diagnosis?

If you are diagnosed with a devastating disease:

• Establish boundaries between yourself and others if their worries and anxieties interfere with your peace of mind. This is a time to focus on you, and keeping a positive mindset is paramount.
• Incorporate both allopathic and holistic approaches. One helps heal the body; the other, the spirit. Working together creates something powerful.
• Seek healing resources that are freely and lovingly given from a spiritual perspective. It’s an active approach to your care that will empower you at this most vulnerable time.
• Be hopeful. Hope is strong medicine. Don’t be afraid to use it.
• Practice good self care. It’s easy to forget to be diligent about your own needs for rest, good nutrition, and gentleness with yourself when you’re in the midst of a crisis. This is a time when you most need good self care.
• Ask for what you need. Not sure what the terminology means or what the recommendations are? Get a second opinion and ask for clarification. Also consider having someone come with you to help interpret and ask the questions that you might not think to ask. The people in your life will want to help you in whatever way they can. Let them if that feels right to you, and if what you really need is some time alone to process, that’s okay to declare as well.