Blogs of May 2020
It’s like there should be a dance, Hammer Time, do do do do. There is so much to understanding the process, and it is obvious that it is basically misunderstood, or hidden, or not experienced directly by most people… ’cause I’m in it, and still don’t get it.
My mom and grandma ultimately died of cancer. How is it that I don’t know this stuff, didn’t experience it directly enough? Mom never chose chemo or radiation. Her surgery was called the Whipple Procedure, brand new for Pancreatic cancer in the 1990’s. And she had the miracle results they were hoping for.
The surgery removed the mass and a large area around it (they took out the spleen, part of the pancreas, part of the intestine, part of the stomach, etc., everything that was connected was removed in one big surgery). The goal was no loose radical cells to treat. A few did get away, and appeared in her lung a decade later. That’s beyond a miracle to the medical field.
She was paraded around the hospital and introduced to doctors as proof at every check back. (There were tons of prayers and energetic support that also went with this occurrence. She had a huge “following”, and a lot of people were putting their focus and energy into keeping her on the planet. This is important to note in both stories, because Mom and Grandma had balanced support from the realms.)
My grandma developed breast cancer. (She had worked in a church for decades, so think about that story from the standpoint of spiritual support before we ever get to treatment.) She died a day or two before Mom received her own Pancreatic Cancer diagnosis. I cannot even imagine how that struck all of us, that week. I can’t remember and I can’t imagine.
There was a side issue with Grandma, because they didn’t do the massive scanning back in the 1990’s that they do today. Her heart chambers were reversed. When they placed a port for her chemotherapy, it had some little piece that broke off. The piece went into the heart and caused a stroke. The stroke took out her speech center, walking, etc. Although she had cancer, the stroke landed her in a nursing home for the ending of her life. I believe they didn’t treat the cancer again.
Grandma did not have negative reactions to the chemotherapy, other than that Mom reported that Grandma was tired after treatment.
Shante and Nyasha were very young, Shante still a baby, so my involvement was so minimal. I am looking for my emotional state at the time. I felt overextended, like I wanted to be in Bothell, be there for Mom and Grandma.
The reality of living life with a baby and toddler, the length of the car ride from Granite Falls, the double exit from car seats. I can’t find the memories in my mind or my heart. I know there was guilt, sigh. I meant to visit once a week, and probably hit every other week at best.
Chemo back then is not what chemo is now regardless. It is ever changing. Grandma might have done two treatments, may have done months of chemo. I don’t remember. I do remember the stroke, my anger at incompetence that “caused” her peril. I was not looking at it from a spiritual standpoint, most certainly not.
If we jump forward to when the kids were preschool-ish, we bought a climber from a woman in Everett. The woman had, by chance, been one of the administrators for Explorer Middle School down the road. She knew Mic more than knowing me, well, because he had more reasons to know an administrator (being the creative behaviors genius).
We created a friendship and the kids and I saw her a handful of times before her own death due to cancer. Her son had died before her, same diagnosis. She had experienced the treatments with him, and refused them for herself. His path was difficult and horrendous to watch, and she chose to go the natural way.
My pre-cancer history, my limited knowledge, comes from these three women.
micheleplumbstowell.org 
I hardly ever had disipline in (at) middle school.
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