This is not an 'I have cancer diary'.
It's interesting that at times the very thing we need when we need it the most can come to us unexpectedly and in a most satisfying way. The night before my surgery I posted a diary that led to an exchange with a fellow Kossack who lives just a few minutes away. Two mornings later we were meeting for coffee! We met in a quaint, family owned coffee house where breakfast was lovingly made and set before us as if in their own home. My husband and daughter and I had the pleasure of meeting edrie. She took a liking to us too and invited us to the ranch where she boards her horse, Sani. Much of the morning's conversation was about horses, animals and the relationships between humans and animals. My husband calls our daughter a 'Dr. Doolittle' because if anyone could talk to animals, it would be her. She has a wonderful way with animals. She and edrie have much in common. This diary is about a love for animals, the search for how and why things happen to us that cannot be explained and the relationships between humans and animals.
When we first disclosed the cancer our dear friends told us that "life gets hard." This, of course, is very true, and a gentle and subtle encouragement to consider accepting my diagnosis. Over the last few years I've experienced a number of perceptions implying that something would happen or wouldn't happen, then some coincidence would take place and I'd feel like, yeah, I knew about that. Getting cancer was not one of those things... However, the passing of my Uncle, my mother in law and my husband's Aunt were, it was just that I didn't know who would pass. And again, I had the perception that this cancer, while frightening, was merely passing through me. And it did. Now the tumors lie in some petrie dish fully examined and dead. I, however, am very much alive and grateful for this swift switch of fate. I don't know how long I had the cancer, I only know that it wasn't meant to be... But looking back, there were dark moments, long days, fear, worry, anxiety, sadness.
I tend to experience my world through visceral sensations and body movement. If I am to achieve a state of deep relaxation or a releasing of emotions, it will occur as my mind drifts to a repetitious movement that embodies my emotional state. As a therapist, my own world centers on choreographing my inner life and watching it unfold as a dance; sometimes a story ballet, an underwater ballet, or a modern dance of movement that need only be movement. Rhythm in sensation, balance... that is what I dream of. These metaphors are real, captured in time, experienced emotionally and physically... much like that of riding a horse.
When I was in my early twenties I lived on a small horse ranch. I learned to ride a little and developed a relationship with the ranch owner's horse who wouldn't give his owner the time of day. I don't think he treated his horse very well and she didn't like him. Go figure. The ranch owner let me ride her because she wouldn't let him on her. If he showed up with the saddle she would play a game of try and catch me. She always won. I used to talk to her, look her in the eyes, sing to her, pet her. I was in awe of her beauty and gentleness and she accepted me. This was my first experience with a horse. Through the years since, I rented horses on trail rides but that was it. So, when edrie talked about Sani, I perked up... never mind my arm and breast were numb... my husband reminded me that the surgeon specifically stated, "do not do anything stupid, like ride a horse!"
The days following my surgery were cleansing. I felt calm, peaceful, tired, sleepy. I slept a lot. As the week wore on my mood changed. We were waiting to hear the results of the surgery, if a mastectomy was needed, and what the course of chemotherapy and radiation would be. Waiting was hard... continuing to disclose with family and friends was getting harder. But the memory of my first day with edrie and Sani at the ranch was helpful. We were introduced quietly and sweetly. We were observers in edrie and Sani's world of carrots, treats, nuzzles and ongoing discussions that were based on mutual respect, love and safety. That first day I felt peaceful. The rolling hills, the horses... we didn't hear people talking, we heard the patterned trots of the horses and we saw the excitement of the riders and felt their horses velvety noses, coarse hair, and we breathed in their scents. Sani breathed in my breath, my husband's breath and my daughter's breath.
edrie invited us back again the next week. Sani tickled our hands as we fed him and the other horses huge quantities of carrots and treats. I stood squarely with him and gazed at his eyes from side to side. He seemed to be taking me in too. edrie told me that Sani was telling me that I would be all right. I took that in and I believed her. I believed Sani. What ever happened in those moments was deeply comforting. As I write this my eyes are welling with tears... he knew, edrie knew and I knew that I would be all right. As I sit here typing this out, only a few weeks later, I am cancer free, breast in tact, having learned today there is no need for chemotherapy.
My daughter and I went back to the ranch over the next couple of weeks 2-3 times each week. Each time edrie explaining that Sani knew us and accepted us as part of his herd.
We met other horse owners, their dogs and horses, watched lessons and learned how to take care of a horse after riding. edrie had offered to allow my daughter to sit atop him and ride him. Sani stayed very close to edrie, his eyes switching to her then forward again, repeatedly, asking edrie, "is she Ok? is she all right?" while my daughter gently guided him at 7 feet high.
The past several weeks while visiting Sani and edrie at the ranch provided me with a peacefulness I really needed. For my daughter I took comfort in the healing power that horses can have as she coped with her own emotions and attempted to regulate them while feeling loss and sadness for her great Aunt and worry for me. I experienced shifts; first in acceptance that the cancer could bring about a life changing momentum that I might not have control over, then confidence that I could endure the impending chemotherapy treatments if it were to be dealt. Somehow these shifts of feeling states occurred while in the presence of the horses. There were moments of emotional overwhelm that met its limit and receded in a moment, relieving me of burden, dread and worry. Then gentle, reassuring nudges and kisses from Sani encouraged a quieter state, like a daze, while the processing happened at a deeper level. I can only surmise this is the therapeutic work that horses and individuals can do together when they each have an open mind and a willingness to communicate and accept the gift each other can bare.
And here'z edrie