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.
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