Nov
9
A Path in the Darkness – How Do We Find Our Way?
November 9, 2009 | Leave a Comment
A Path in the Darkness - How Do We Find Our Way?
It has been a few weeks since my final chemotherapy and I have come out of the chemo-fog. So, as I plan out the future path for surgeries, treatments, and so on, I am finding that the choices are not as clear as they have been in the past. Such as: “I have cancer? Then, take it out! . . . The surgery failed? Then, Fix it!” Those decisions were easy choices to make regarding my road to recovery. But now the pathway remains a bit hazy and unclear as if I’m traveling down a darkened roadway at night and can’t see very far in the distance. I know the correct path is there; I just have to have faith that I will choose the right road and take the proper steps to do so.
So, as I contemplate this next stage of my trek I know that the direction I must choose is the one that will take me to the top of the mountain with the least detours as possible. I must choose a path that won’t cause me to wander far off course from my ultimate goal to be whole and well again, stronger than before and happy to have ventured the paths I have taken.
Now that the killer drugs have done their work I rest here at the side of the road as my body remains weakened and broken down. The blood work tells the tale of one who has been to hell and back again. My thyroid, kidneys and liver are not at healthy levels, and I am told that my adrenal system will take some time to return to normal. I could see that effects most obviously as I attempted to climb a long switchback trail this weekend and had to walk most of it. For years I have been the leader (or one of the leaders) of the pack on uphill climbs; Always one of the strong and technically proficient riders. There have been many times that I would stay at the back with the slower mountain bikers to help the new riders with technical instructions on how to make the climb easier. It has been more than a decade since I have been the one who is back of the pack because I just couldn’t climb it any faster. As I walked the majority of a three-quarter of a mile climb called “Meadows” I listened to my body and found fascination in the discoveries of why I was struggling.
Exactly three weeks earlier I was on a similar group ride, only, the temperature was 20 degrees hotter (in the mid 90’s) with unusually high humidity for our area. I was at the same time frame regarding my recovery from chemotherapy (just two weeks and two days from my last treatment). That particular ride was extremely difficult for all of us, but for me in particular. We found ourselves hitting heat exhaustion. You know that the thermostat in your body isn’t regulating properly when; no matter how much you hydrate you are feeling chilled, have goose-bumps, and the sweat just doesn’t come even though you’re in an oven of sorts. This is when you know you are in trouble, finding every bit of shade to rest in and water to hydrate with. I was not alone with this condition, finding out later that half a dozen of the other riders were going through similar struggles. I did, however, have another factor to contend with. My last appointment showed that my red blood cell count was extremely low. While the other patients’ numbers were in the twelve’s, thirteen’s and fourteens, mine was ten point zero and I was told that if it crept down into the eights I’d have to have a blood transfusion before they could administer any more chemo.
With this knowledge I found it fascinating to see just how much energy it took to go a short distance on the uphill climbs (we are talking about 5, 10, 15 foot sections). If the hill had any steepness at all to it where I had to exert my leg muscles to make the climb, I’d find my heart and lungs being extremely overworked by the time I crested even the shortest of hills. I would stop and allow my heart rate to recover before continuing on and would walk most of the hills on the latter part of the ride (knowing that the heat factor had to be controlled). It was on this ride that I made the fascinating connection with my red blood cells and oxygen needs. I would go four feet and see my heart and lungs being worked to such a degree that I could hardly breath. In my past physical condition this state couldn’t be reached without tackling a much longer and steeper grade at full exertion. It was my muscles requiring oxygen from my blood that created such a need from my heart and lungs to work that extra mile. This was so noticeable to such a degree that I started to calculate how much oxygen deficiency I was really dealing with compared to a healthy state of me. With the red blood cells being the transporters of oxygen to my extremities, I knew that I was probably running on two thirds, if not less, of the required oxygen in my blood.
So, as I struggled on both of these occasions, to simply walk the hills that I normally would ride, I had much time to contemplate my state and condition and which pathways I would take on my road to recovery. Sure, I’m finally done having chemotherapy, but now I am faced with a decision to be on drugs with side effects that will stop estrogen production (something my form of cancer feeds highly on) or to simply have my ovaries removed and stop the estrogen production at its source. One might think that this would be an easy choice seeing how having the ovaries removed would mean another surgery on top of two I’ll be facing in the new year (reconstructive surgery, as well as having the “Porta-cath” removed from my collarbone area). Remember how I mentioned that the drug to stop my ovaries from producing estrogen has possible side effects? Well, let me list a few: Blood clots, stroke and cancer. I don’t like those risks no matter how low the risks are.
So now you can understand just why my pathway is darkened and the need I have to not put myself into danger by the decisions I make.
Now what? Does a person just start traveling down one road, not knowing whether it is the path of least danger, just because they are told that it is the safest road for them to be on? Well, what happens if you have several doctors that disagree? Do you get more doctors opinions so that you can weed out the contradictions by bringing in more options? Sure, that is one way to handle it, which I did. I can tell you one thing though: With as difficult as it has been for me on this latter part of my journey to see clearly just where I am to go regarding the drugs and surgeries, it would have appeared a bit clearer many years ago when the options weren’t as great yet the dangers and risks were so much greater.
I went through the desert a few years back and wrote of my travels. This insight brings an interesting metaphor to the scenario I now face. I wish to share it with you!
Route 66
We are traveling through the dark of night on Route 66. Less then a century ago this was the Road of Dreams for thousands of impoverished souls seeking a better life in the west. The Depression of the thirties brought this country to its knees as its citizens crawled in desperation to find any means of survival. Hope turned to despair and dreams to darkness as families went hungry.
Here we travel and wind our way through the high desert called “The Mohave.” The darkened silhouette of the foothills surround us. As I look beyond the cast of our headlights into the blackness I wonder how vast this desert actually lies. It is one environment that awakens when darkness puts the world to rest. By day the temperatures of this unforgiving terrain can take a man’s life in hours, and by night, test his will to live and feel the dawn of another day. The temperatures alone are not the only threat of separating a man’s soul from his body. Creatures are all about us . . . some venomous and others carnivorous. It is so strange that one can travel through such a challenging habitat and be so untouched by its presents.
Off in the distance, periodically, we would see a cluster of warm amber lights. They appeared to be the welcoming beacon of a far off village. Yet, as we approached the dozen or so trucks lining the edge of the highway, we realized it was just a makeshift rest area for weary drivers. When passing those cities of lights I imagined the sleeping drivers in their air conditioned cabs and how far removed they are from the tent cities that lined this very highway four score and many years ago. Time being the difference in marking their journey and the difficulties or ease of one from another. In today’s pathway the road is smooth and quickly ventured. Such a contrast from yesteryears route on this same stretch of highway known as “The Road of Dreams.” Many of the forgotten found their final resting place at the edge of this Hell on their way to Heaven. Oh, how that exodus has become a forgotten page in American History.
As we continue our journey into the darkness of the night I say a prayer to the forgotten. A prayer of recognition of their hardships that Heaven would know I wouldn’t soon forget the sacrifices and difficult lives of those who have paved this path before me.
* * * * *
Our roads have been paved by many who have journeyed before us. Because of this our travels are less rough and hazardous. But, that still doesn’t assure that we will be on the right path. Just as there were dangers in the past we still have similar threats that can get us in the end. We however, are traveling with more protection and have more knowledge (brighter lights) to see further in the distance. We still have to make wise decisions and not just rely on others to choose for us. Is it wise to go out in the heat of the day, a heat the may take you down? Or, is it better to travel when darkness surrounds you and you may not see the next turn, the hidden dangers?
Years ago I attended college in South-Eastern Idaho where one of my classes was focused on backpacking and survival in the wilderness. The final assignment was to trek the Southwestern boarder of Yellowstone National Park at night and alone. The instructor would send each student on their trek 10 to 15 minutes apart from the hiker in front of them. We had no lights, other than the light of the full moon, and we were instructed at one point to stop, be still and just listen. It was at this time and place that your fears could take control. The sound of your breath and the shuffling of your feet on the path would then be silenced and all outside sounds would become magnified and take total control of your thoughts. I remember vividly sitting on a log and fearing what appeared to be the sound of a wild animal at the edge of the darkness. I sat in fear just long enough to come to my senses and realize that nothing was out to get me, and at that point I began to relax and not fear the darkness and those dangers that existed only in my mind. I then felt at peace with an indescribable sense of self-awareness as I listened . . . really listened to the sounds of the wilderness. I found that when you do not fear the unknown you gain a greater clarity of what is around you. This clarity brings with it an ability to focus on what is real and filter out those distractions that will get in your way as you seek answers to problems that may cross your path in the darkness.
A person may never have complete answers. I will never know just how I got cancer, but that is not as important as what I will do to make sure it doesn’t return. So, as I weigh out the options and choose the pathways ahead in my journey I have learned to not just sit there on the side of the trail for too long. Once you have chosen your route it is important to keep moving, not stopping too often to let the fear of wrong decisions cloud your thoughts and take over you senses. If you do stop for too long then you may find that those hidden creatures you’ve feared in the dark will find you. The darkness is definitely very real. I have been blessed to know, however, that there is a way out of that darkness and a way from that lost feeling of being alone and not being able to see. What is that secret? Well, here it is! When I have a problem I will make sure that I find as many possible solutions to that problem as I can. I’ll then place them before me and, from the many options, I’ll make a decision. This next step is a step that many will leave out but, in my opinion, is of the utmost importance. I will then pray about my decision and also will listen for the answer. The answer will come in a feeling of peace about the choice or a feeling of nothing (a stupor of thought). It is listening to these answers that will make the difference. Peace is the answer you want! If you feel nothing then it is time to go back to the drawing board, back to your other options, and change your answer. Come up with another solution and then ask again, “Is this the right answer?” Do this as many times as needed and you will eventually find peace in your endeavors.
Even though I have been traveling in the dark I am carrying a great torch that lights the way. That torch is a bright light of knowledge that no doctor or friend could give me. It is peace that comes to my soul by pausing long enough to choose my road, ask if it is the right path, and then listening for an answer. When that peace comes to my soul about the choices I have made then it is time to get up and move on. Not only can I gain assurance that my journeys compass is pointing in the right direction but, by taking these same steps, you as well can feel confident that your pathway is taking you to the top of that mountain. And if you really think about it . . . It is only from the Heavens that out pathways can be seen clearly.