Ever watchful and learning,
It was during my stay in the Vancouver Cancer clinic that I began to notice
a shift in my energy depending on what the energy level was of those who came
to visit me. If some one came in and they were in a good mood, I would gain
energy, almost as if I could siphon it from them. I would be bubbling with energy
for hours. Kind of like the addictive energy at a lively party or, on the negative
side, the aggressive energy that can emerge in a large emotional crowd.
The opposite held true that if I was visited by those who felt low about my
condition, even if they tried not to show it, I was left totally drained by
the time they departed. This was my first encounter with energy, the ‘Ki’
in Reiki, or the ‘Chi’ energy in ‘Tai Chi’. I didn’t
understand at the time what it was, I only knew, by gut instinct that it made
an important difference. We actually began asking family and friends not to
visit me unless they had been having a good day or were in good spirits.
Since then I have learned a bit more about this energy transfer and have obtained
second level Reiki. I have worked with it to aid in digestion, soothe minor
aches and pains, relax, slow down the heart, and best of all, help my children
to calm down at bedtime. My mother has her third level Reiki now and seems to
be able to help others with a wide variety of problems. Even three of my children
have Reiki certificates. Some might say it is all psychosomatic and I really
don’t mind, since it works either way.
Other than noticing this energy transfer, I also began observing the other people
sequestered to the terminal floor of the cancer clinic and how they were dealing
with their prognoses. I began noticing that there is a personality, or maybe
it would be better stated, a way of perceiving that has a better chance of survival.
It became my belief that those who believed whatever they had heard or were
told, who didn’t feel the need to stand up for themselves, died; the ones
that were passive, listened well, didn’t ever disagree. The ones who believed
that they were probably going to die due to the facts they had obtained through
their doctor, or had been told, through a friend, who heard it from a friend,
who saw an article on TV.
Add to this their doctor had only given them a minute chance at survival, and
their concept was that doctors are always correct, infallible. (I of course
had learned this lesson earlier). They were nice, passive, and very negative
on their own behalf. Basically they accepted that they were going to die. Here
I was telling the nurse she couldn’t give me my chemotherapy treatment
till the regiment was adjusted to how I was feeling that week, (it may not have
needed changing, I just wanted to feel I was in control. For that matter, they
might have told me they had changed it just to appease me and then given me
the regular dose. I don’t care. I felt good about the chemo program, the
way it went.)
I also didn’t like being hooked up to the intravenous, so I would speed
it up to get it over with then undo all the tape and offer to take it out for
them, even though I knew doctors orders were to leave it in overnight. I was
aggressive, opinionated and, again, always in a hurry. (One time I had the IV
going too fast, really too fast, I ended up with a lump under the needle where
the liquid wasn’t being absorbed quick enough, I learned not to do that
again.)
In hindsight, though I might still be in the same hurry, I would think it was
a better idea to have made arrangements with the doctor ahead of time. I wasn’t
always thinking so clearly. (I’d like to blame this on the hormones, again.
An all around good excuse) It’s not that I wasn’t friendly, I was
just very much concerned with my own needs being met. I basically knew, by this
point that I wasn’t going to die, because I hadn’t had my children
yet. It was a logical view, at the time, and a perception that worked for me.