March 28th, 2009

Do you believe the old philosophical saying, "there are no accidents"?   Sounds like a harmless notion but it really isn't.  The number one movie in America right now, Knowing, makes a case for the possibility that certain events can transform a non-believer in the "no accidents" theory to a believer.  Granted, the events depicted in the film are earth shattering but then the character, out of grief and despair, was rooted pretty deep in his non-belief so nothing short of cataclysmic could bring him around.  In the case of ordinary people, a few Twilight Zone moments can be overlooked but when the evidence starts to stack up in ways that simply cannot be ignored or explained in any other way, one can't help but consider the possibility that there are no accidents. 

I had always been a theoretical believer by nature but that belief remained untested for most of my life.  Until one day when something happened that set into motion a chain of events that could be considered a textbook for the "no accidents" philosophy.   This chain, the events leading up to its first link, and its ultimate consequences are the foundation of my story as told in Silver Platter Girl.  When it first happened, I made a conscious decision to believe it was not accidental and that I was in the midst of a fantastic journey filled with symbolism and profound healing orchestrated by a power that I simply accepted, requiring no further explanation at that time.  I called it faith and adhered to it with fierce determination.  In private moments, I wondered if my philosophy was a crutch for putting a hopeful face on a very dire situation, a possibly terminal cancer diagnosis.  Then a friend told me that she had once heard tell of a doctor who wrote a book that somehow she imagined was meant for me.  She wasn't familiar with his work but just "knew" I needed to have the book.  I "knew" she was right and found it right away.  It was Dr. Bernie Siegel's Love, Medicine and Miracles.  In the pages of that book I found validation for my theory that my disease was exactly what I thought it was, that I had participated in its creation, that I had the power to use it for healing, and it was no accident.  It was pure opportunity.  Bernie, as he insists on being called, brought credibility to my belief.  He, as a cancer doctor, had witnessed it first hand.  What a relief.  I didn't let that book out of my sight for the first two weeks of my life as a cancer patient. 

My personal set of Twilight Zone moments began to grow in number at an astonishing rate of speed.  When you accept that the "no accident" theory is in full effect, your awareness gives you the ability to identify how it all fits together, like puzzle pieces.  Theoretically, once the last piece is put into place, the transformation is complete. 

I couldn't wait to get to the Mayo Clinic once I was diagnosed.  My only prior connection was that I had assisted the Clinic when they purchased their beautiful piece of natural desert by facilitating a good neighbor deal with an adjacent community, a client of mine.  I was impressed at Mayo's efforts to take into consideration the impact they would have on the surrounding area and for my efforts, they sent me a tin of delicious cookies when the deal was done with a lovely note thanking me for my help.  I just felt we belonged there, me and my disease.  Sitting in the exam room at the Breast Clinic for my first appointment, my heart sank when a female doctor walked in and I knew instantly that although she was kind and appropriately concerned over my case, she was not the one.  Luckily, she knew it, too.  She excused herself and brought my Dr. John back with her.  Once he entered the small room, that was it.  I later learned that he was her husband and was none too happy when she plucked him out of the hall and dragged him into my exam room.  He complained that he had a full patient load already and they argued.  I don't know how she knew but I had already given up questioning the non-accidents and accepted my good fortune in finding my healing partner.

He just kept saying the right things at the right time.  He didn't wish to participate in my no-accident theory but gave me full support to explore it fully while he promised to take care of the cutting edge science part of my case.  A deal was struck.  We each had our own parts to play and while he was a scientist by training and career choice, it was clear to me that he was much more.  That allowed us to communicate on a level beyond science and medicine which was a requirement for me.  So we became a small ensemble.    

After ten years of joyful recovery, Dr. John referred me to an internist to take on my extended medical care.  It was exciting to see a doctor that wasn't an oncologist.  She mentioned on our first visit that Dr. John would "graduate" me from oncology care now that I was so far out.  But Dr. John decided we were not the graduating kind.  We would meet every year for our regular check-up during my transplant anniversary month of February as close to Valentine's Day as possible, he said.  We would use it as a way to celebrate what we accomplished together.

This year when Dr. John asked me how everything was going, I told him about Silver Platter Girl and my anxiety over the possible consequences of telling my story.  He asked me if I knew the parable of the seeds.  While he quietly performed my annual cancer exam, he spoke of the farmer who threw the seeds into the air.  Some would fall on hard ground and just wash away in the rain.  Some would root in shallow soil and begin to grow, but only temporarily.  And finally some seeds would take root in deep, rich soil and produce a good crop, a hundred times more than was sown.  "He who has ears to hear, let him hear", Jesus said. 

Dr. John said that movements that push important ideas into the consciousness of people always require sacrifice for the greater good.   He said that when the Mayo Clinic was built in the desert, many coyote habitats were sacrificed.  But my life was saved. 

He promised to read my book, which he did right away.  He wrote a beautiful endorsement that appears on the back cover.  My Dr. John..... a specialist in the "there are no accidents" theory.  And, oh yes, my check-up was perfect.  A miracle, he said. 

SPG