A Big Bad Surprise

by Lois Zinn


"One of the big problems with the hell realms is that the suffering is so intense that we become completely engulfed by it, rendering us incapable of action.  For this reason, it is very difficult to break free."
                                                                                     Ani Tenzin Palmo
                                                                                     Reflections on a Mountain Lake:
                                                                                       Teachings on Practical Buddhism

It happened in 2012, the year some say the world as we know it will end.  Coincidentally, it is the year of my second Saturn return, a 29-1/2 year cycle often resulting in considerable pressure and an awareness of one's own mortality.  Despite this knowledge, it still came as a shock to me when I learned that I was diagnosed with Stage III ovarian cancer.

In my  mind, cancer was not a possibility as I had always taken good care of myself.  I ate well--no red meat or even chicken--and mostly organic food.  I was a pretty relaxed person in general and meditated to alleviate any stress I did have.  Moreover, I exercised regularly and practiced breathing exercises.  I had a support group of friends, too.  All the right things I did, or so I thought.  Was the world just too toxic for my body to handle?  Was there something emotional buried deep within my subconscious that brought this on?  

"Why did you catch it so late?" I asked my oncologist, a young, aggressive doctor who upon finding that the cystic ovary he had just removed was cancerous proceeded with a total hysterectomy.  "Because the symptoms are so vague."  I had had bloating after I ate and some minor discomfort, nothing I connected to a possible cancer diagnosis.  Later I learned from a coworker that my regular pap smears didn't screen for ovarian cancer.  "It's not cost effective," she said.  "What's my prognosis?" I asked the doctor, who was vague at best.  "We'll probably get you into remission.  After that, it could return in three months, in which case it would not be a good prognosis, or in three years, a better prognosis."  I was angry at my doctors for not giving me the tests I needed to catch cancer early, for not giving me hope, for offering no choice of treatment better than toxic chemotherapy.  The news was devastating, and I could not stop the stream of tears pouring from my eyes.  

This was the worst thing that had ever happened in my life, yet the doctor did not react to my grief.  Shortly after delivering the diagnosis, he left the room hastily, and a young female assistant took his place.  She told me what would occur during chemotherapy treatments, about sitting in the hospital for hours while chemicals dripped slowly through my system, about pills to alleviate nausea, about losing time from work and losing my hair.  It was difficult to take this all in.  She left me with two books, one called Chemotherapy and You, and another on recipes for cancer patients.  She advised not to read the Internet as it would only discourage me.

 I felt hopeless and shaken.  Once home, I could do nothing other than sleep.  It felt like I had just been given a death sentence.

Lois Zinn is a reading specialist living in the Fair Trade town of Media, Pennsylvania.  She has edited for health advocate Gary Null and now writes about her personal healing experiences in the hopes of inspiring others.  Lois can be reached at loiszinn@hotmail.com.