The News.

January eighth. A tuesday. The day I got the results from my 150 day experiment.

It started with me sleeping in a bit longer than normal, two hours of meditation and then my new weekly Qi Gong class, a class where I purposefully opted to stand rather than sit. I reasoned on my walk home the night before that for me sitting was a type of defeat, and since I knew I would hear good news later in the day, I needed to stay away from anything akin to defeat. I needed a win, and while this was a bit hard, it was one i could manage.

So I stood as I moved through the positions radiating and intaking healing energies. And when it came time to close the class, I was still standing. And smiling (though, i am pretty sure it is impossible to not smile after qi gong). And awash in vibrant energy (my skin felt a bit like I had bathed in tiger balm molecules).

As the day went on, that feeling never went away, in fact a nervous energy also swept over me, making me feel like I was generating and/or receiving something like stereophonic energy, pumping on multiple channels to the beat of my heart.

And with that much energy surging through me, I was a bit more antsy than usual. And frankly, ever since I had my tests on the 2nd, my sense of surety on being cancer free felt less buoyant. Struggling to tread water as the weight of doubt multiplied, the antsy felt far more like flailing. So while I focused on controlling my breath, I also found myself looking at the clock, almost like I was gasping for air, right before an undertow dipped me beneath the waves.

I guess you could say I was a bit nervous.

I had been so sure for 150 days. But once the coming test results were out of my hands, well out of my body, it became harder to know, as if my physical connection to those pieces/parts of me removed sank farther underwater each day. So I spent the day helping out at my favorite cafe, just waiting for three o’clock to roll around, so I could jet off to the hospital to collect the results. The results I was now only half sure were going to tell me what I wanted to hear.

Even with trying to stay busy, the waiting was quite time consuming. I swear I could hear the seconds ever so slowly tick away, at something close to 1/5th the normal speed. Tick, tick, tick… I could hear each long second tick, even from the digital clock on my phone. I told myself that I must be really present to feel each moment take so long to switch to the next…

At least I was able to keep my good humor about it, right?

Three o’clock rolled by and even though I was being magnetically pulled toward the hospital, I kept looking for an exit strategy. “If I was so sure, if I knew from my basest particle that I would be successful, and then if I am not, will I ever be able to trust myself again?”, “Do I really need to know?”, “Just how loud will the ‘I told you so’s be?”, etc, etc. But I refused to let the inertia of doubt derail me. Even if what I heard was not the all clear I wanted to hear, I knew the dedication I had shown, the rigor at which I followed my plan would get me where I wanted to go, even if it took longer than I wanted. I would not let myself give up or be defeated.
So I fidgeted my entire ride there, wavering back and forth on if I was going to get good or bad news, just like the crashing of the waves, and the rising of the tides. And then when I got there, it felt like an eternity to sit and wait. As trite as it may seem, Tom Petty’s refrain, “the waiting is the hardest part,” kept channeling through my head. But, without a doubt, as I have mentioned before, he is correct. Absolutely correct.

And then it was time. To make this tie in with the rest of this, it would be nice to say time shifted to slow motion as I got up and walked to hear the news, but it simply did not. It more shifted into warp drive. The only thing that slowed down was my breathing. And then when I heard the news, I stopped breathing entirely, as I was not prepared to hear what was said.

I wish this part of the conversation was recorded, as everything was moving so fast and my lack of breathing only exacerbated that. But the gist of what was said, was: ‘we can find no trace of cancer in you, but we need you to come back in for more tests, as it does not make sense.’ So yes, contrary to all the intentional thinking, the visualization, the diet, the music, the everything I did, I was not prepared to hear this. How crazy is that?

Some more things were said, but I had a hard time hearing them. I was unable to focus. The single thing that I can most vividly remember is that I was smiling like an imbecile. Smiling so big, that my ears acted as the strangest dimples. Go ahead, try and visualize that without laughing….

So I scheduled more tests and shot over to tell my friend Keiko the news. She beat breast cancer a few years ago, and the amount of times we have chatted about how awful the big C is, I knew she needed be the first person I told. And when I told her, we did a bit of hopping and something akin to a jig in the kitchen. “Cancer free, cancer free, cancer free….” our refrain went.

I had about 40 minutes till I was supposed to met a friend for a celebratory dinner, so I told one of my furry cat friends the news and he curled up on my lap and began to purr in a way that I had never heard before. It was fairly easy to see he was as pleased as I was with the news. We had had many a chat about what was happening, so his comfort and pleasure at my news of success was beyond welcome.

Then I headed over to meet my friend for dinner, where there was an absolute glow to our conversation. It felt like our many words took on a physical quality, like bricks, or even tetris bricks, and as we said them they would fall, building up around us, a healthy protective barrier to any ill will, thought, etc out there. And in fact, this just further strengthened the protective cocoon I had created earlier in the day during Qigong. It was a an utterly magical conversation. That said, I don’t remember much of the exact words that were said, just the glow we emanated. What I do remember is the question my friend asked: “are you concerned about these next tests?”, to which I replied: “No. These tests are for the doctors, not for me.”

Apparently the doubt that had been hanging onto me like a fringe of lint, had been expelled from my person entirely, for as i sang out with my friend Keiko, “cancer free, cancer free….”.

January 8th: I feel like this needs a star date or something to make it official.

I wrote the above two weeks ago. But the whole doubt thing crept back in and I began to worry about posting it, as having to backtrack such good news would have been more than just a bit demoralizing. So I opted to only reveal this after getting the second round of results. I honestly expected to receive them on this past Monday. But heard nothing. And then the doubt shifted into overdrive. I sadly started to assume the bloom of “cancer free” was wilting. Clearly, my strength of conviction/intention is not as strong waiting as when doing.

But… My doubt was for naught. January 24th, three weeks after I first went in to see how successful my ‘150 day to being cancer free experiment’ went I got the news I have been desperately waiting for. Cancer free status: confirmed! Living with intent and purpose, focused on healing and mending, feeding myself only nourishing anti-cancer thoughts and foods, shelving – as much as possible – doubt, negativity, outrage, etc…, lead me to where I wanted to go.

As my friend reminded me when I told her the good news for a second time, the universe is a pretty sweet and magical place and being able to stick around in it a bit longer is a treat of massive proportions.

After I got the news, I wrote a song and belted it out as I rode my bike. It went like this: “dancing, dancing, dancing…” repeated about 45K times. And as you sing it, you have to be smiling, and if possible veering from side to side of the street, radiating joy so brashly and vibrantly that you can not fail to infect any and all others you encounter with it.

And while I have five more months till I get the all clear “in remission” status I hoped to have right now, from here on out I am committed to do so without doubt, and just the assuredness that success brings. In the meantime I am gonna just bask in the amazingness of this sweet and magical universe.

About Randy

I'm just a guy trying to out run his dying kidneys and live life as vibrantly as possible. Until I can't. I grew up in Tejas. Went to school in Vermont. And currently live in Brooklyn. But not for long....
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9 Responses to The News.

  1. Rebecca Rogers Maher says:

    Randy, I read this and just started sobbing. So happy for you, so amazed by you. Beautiful, beautiful, joyful.

  2. Steve Sole says:

    What wonderful news. Congratulations. A brilliant and emotional piece of writing too. I was almost scared to read on…… But great conclusion.
    Good Job as they say.

    • Randy says:

      glad that it had the intended effect.
      while i am sure i was not able to convey the quickening dread that seemed to start weighing on me as i waited, i really hoped to provide a glimpse of it at least.

  3. Erica says:

    Well I smiled about 45X reading this, especially at the beautiful scene you painted at the end of radiating joy from the inside out. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, my friend.

    Cannot wait to see/meet you soon! It’s gonna be a very joyful day. Ten million thank you’s for never giving up and giving in to doubt and doctor’s prognosis. The universe IS a pretty sweet and magical place, all the more so with you in it!

    Let’s sing that song when we finally meet! :D

  4. Lisa says:

    Randy, you are an amazing writer, I really felt that I was there with you, waiting for those results and yes, when you wrote me when I was still home to tell me the news, I also started crying, tears of joy. You are such an inspiration to me and all whose path you cross everyday in our learning center and cafe but especially to Nap Dow and I who admire you and your determination and focus to stay positive and healthy.
    Much love to you!

    • Randy says:

      you are so kind lisa.
      this is surely the impact i wanted to convey, and am humbled quite a bit to know that i was able to transit others to this moment, even if just remotely.

  5. Finally got back to your blog today after some time away. I read this post and the next one so many times–I had to keep being sure, really sure, that I’d read what I’d read. I am so, so ecstatic. There are no words!

    Hugs,
    Leslie

    • Randy says:

      i share your ecstaticism lesile
      so much that it has made me a bit more tired than usual of late
      it is a windfall that i refuse to gamble with, just enjoy the living hell out of.

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