It is beyond the scope of this book to verify, authenticate, validate, or determine the efficacy of any specific treatments, methods, approaches, philosophies, suggestions, recommendations, preparations, or anecdotal information disclosed, mentioned, or discussed in this book, or in any reference or resource. Neither the author nor the publisher has done so. The author and the publisher are not liable in any way for any damages or consequences, direct or indirect, of your use or misuse of the any specific treatments, methods, approaches, philosophies, suggestions, recommendations, preparations, or anecdotal information provided in this book.
Introduction
Wake Up and Pay Attention!
Arms raised to the sky and feet touching the top of Mission Peak, I had a panoramic view of the area near my home. In spite of the dark clouds, the southern tip of San Francisco Bay was visible. Surprise, excitement, wonder and high energy filled me. I almost said aloud, “I can’t believe I am standing here. Oh my God, I made it! There is no way that I should be standing here.” The years of stress before my move to California two months earlier had compromised my health and fitness and made me doubt my ability to climb this 2,500-foot hill in Fremont California. The buoyancy of accomplishing “mission impossible” lifted me beyond myself. I felt invincible in that moment.
The excitement lasted only moments. My next thought was “Wait a minute; something does not feel right. The sun should be shining because I’ve reached my six-week goal of climbing to the top of Mission Peak.” But as I looked to the sky, all I saw were dark clouds. I became somewhat alarmed that I couldn’t see the sun. I strained and tried to pierce the clouds with my eyes in search of that sun. After several minutes, a little break in the clouds appeared. The sun smiled on me and let me know it was there. I felt relieved because this experience would not have been the same without the blessing of the sun, even if only for a brief moment.
There I stood at the summit with a young man who had a deformed foot. The only two people on the mountain that day, we made our mark on a pillar with the pen he brought and said a few words to each other. Perhaps, that was my first clue that we should not have been there. In fact, the closer we got to the peak while climbing, bursts of cold rain and wind tried to discourage me, but I just kept walking. Once I stood three-quarters of the way to the summit, nothing could stop me. Some inner strength, that I didn’t know I had, took over. Suffering from debilitating asthma and in weak physical shape, I had to use asthma spray about a quarter of the way into the climb. But, once I broke into the high energy of the “zone,” I felt lifted beyond limitation. I am not a hiker, and I knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
The young man and I began to climb down the mountain, walking at our separate paces. Suddenly, I became aware that the clouds seemed to be coming closer. Before I knew it, I had zero visibility and began to panic. I had no idea where I was putting my feet on the narrow path. For a brief moment, I feared I might become lost on the mountain. Somehow, I let that fear go and concentrated on slowly placing one foot in front of the other while trusting the process and the path. After about fifteen minutes, I could see again. At that point, I definitely knew the universe was trying to speak to me. However, I didn’t know what it was trying to tell me, and I certainly did not have the time to figure it out right then. Once I could see, I needed to pay careful attention and get myself off the mountain without getting hurt.
Somehow, I let that fear go and concentrated on slowly
placing one foot in front of the other while trusting the
process and the path.
One-half hour into the descent, the rain poured down on me. I was getting drenched to the skin since all I had on were lightweight long pants, a short sleeve polo shirt under a sweatshirt and my favorite hiking hat, which did keep the rain from my eyes. Knowing I had at least another hour of walking ahead of me was too overwhelming to think about. I had to stay in the moment and get off the mountain as quickly as possible. When my feet started sticking to the muddy earth and I could hardly walk, anxiety overwhelmed me again. Steep muddy sections had to be navigated, and I had to be careful not to slip or fall. After one such steep decline, I looked back and saw the young man with the deformed foot struggling to get down. Afraid he would fall and be left on the mountain until the next day, I stood at the bottom of that area and waited for him. The rain continued to pound me. At that point all I could do was laugh. I was so wet it just didn’t matter. His safety had become more important. I slowed my pace, and we walked together for another 20 minutes back to our cars.
When I reached my car, I struggled to untie soaked, muddy sneakers with fingers too cold to function. I threw the sneakers in the trunk of my car, drove the five minutes to my home and jumped into a hot shower. I was so excited that I could hardly contain myself. I felt energized and omnipotent. “I did it!” kept repeating itself in my mind. “I did it!” I reached the peak and made it off that mountain without any injuries. In my current state of health and physical strength, this seemed like a miracle. I called Paul, my significant other, at work to share my good news and realized that I felt so high there was no way I was going to get a cold or pneumonia. I never even sneezed.
From Clouds to Clarity
Two weeks later while watching television, I casually pressed my fingers around my chest and discovered two small lumps high on my left breast. At first I denied that they could be cancerous, especially since I had had a mammogram back home in New Jersey two months before this discovery. At that time, everything had looked normal. “Besides,” I told myself, “with my disciplined lifestyle and spiritual practices, I cannot possibly have cancer.” I hadn’t taken my gynecologist seriously several years earlier when she warned me that the way I was taking the hormone replacement therapy (HRT) put me at a 50 percent risk factor for getting breast cancer. Convinced that I wouldn’t develop cancer, I actually stayed on HRT for a total of ten years. Three and a-half months after I moved to California and six weeks after climbing Mission Peak, I was diagnosed with stage I invasive tubular breast cancer.
My body revealed its secret only two weeks after the adventure. I must have heard the subtle message at some level of my being. My intuition and fingers did the rest. This early detection gave me a great prognosis. Something was looking out for me.
I received that diagnosis while living in my landlord Lala’s house. I am still amused when I see how the universe works through its subtle messages. What an appropriate name to get my attention! Finally the time had arrived to stop living in “lala land” and deal with the real world; I had to face a life-threatening disease and make important decisions in order to save my life. I immediately made the commitment to find the right treatment and also explore my part in getting breast cancer.
Not for one minute did I feel that my body had betrayed me. I really do believe that my body reflects how I live my life, including what I put into it. Right after the diagnosis, I remember asking my body to forgive me for not listening and taking better care of it. I was willing to acknowledge anything I may have done to contribute to the cancer. I could look back at all of the subtle and not so subtle warning signs I had not seen, or had chosen to ignore.
Fortunately, the cancer diagnosis released me from a naiveté that almost cost me my life. I could not be angry or blame anyone. I just felt sad that this was happening to me and that I could possibly have prevented such a health crisis. Following the diagnosis, my first words to