A NEW PROJECT

by Alison Hammer Winans

Although job prospects in northeastern Oklahoma were lousy, I insisted we stay at Sparrow Hawk Village, instead of moving on in our search for a home. During my treatment, I wanted to be sustained by the stillness of nature and a community of loving, spiritual people. This unexpected change in plans forced our decision to fly to California and retrieve our stuff from storage. As we packed our suitcases, Tom said, “I’ll get a job and support us financially, so that you can put your energy into healing, instead of worrying about our debts.”

“I’m depending on you now,” I replied. He had not worked for eleven months, but I believed that he would keep his promise this time.

On our way to the airport, we stopped off at Dr. Smith’s office in Tulsa to discuss the result of the biopsy and how to proceed. Without speaking Tom and I sat hand-in-hand on the pink loveseat in her waiting room. It was January 14, 2002, twelve days after our first visit to the young surgeon. The initial shock had worn off, but I was still coming to terms with having a life-threatening illness and getting involved in western medicine. The diagnosis was “moderately differentiated infiltrating ductal carcinoma,” with positive estrogen and progesterone receptors.

Dr. Smith called us in and took the time to translate this saying, “The cancer cells started in the milk duct and then invaded the surrounding tissue. Your female hormones, estrogen and progesterone, helped them grow. They are different from normal cells but not as different as they could be – which would be a worse scenario.”

I liked the way she looked me in the eye and sat close to me. She welcomed and answered all our questions, but even more firmly outlined her ideas for a course of action. “Before we do anything else, I want you to have a chest X-ray, CT scan and bone scan to rule out the possibility of metastases. When breast cancer metastasizes, it goes to the bones, lungs, liver or brain, so all these areas have to be checked.” She continued, “If the cancer has already spread, I will not do surgery on the breast unless it has started to break through the skin.” Tom was looking at the floor, not saying anything, just like he did when we first came here. Unbelieving I stared at her, and tried to imagine it breaking through the skin. How could she say something so horrific? Seeing my look of panic, she quickly said, “Breast cancer is very treatable.”

I was starting to feel the train of events running away with me. I tried to assert myself saying, “I really don’t want to have those tests, but I guess I don’t have a choice if I want you to remove the lump.” Well I did have a choice—there were alternative treatments, but would they work? “Do you know how much the tests cost?” I said reluctantly.

“No I don’t but they are expensive,” she said. “Unfortunately Project Woman does not pay for these diagnostic tests.” The non-profit, Tulsa Project Woman, would pay all the expenses for my surgery as I did not have any insurance. Dr. Smith, in agreeing to work with them to help medically underserved women, would receive less than her usual fee.

I looked randomly around the room, at the photos of her young blonde daughter, at her daughter’s artwork, at self-breast exam pamphlets, seeing and yet not seeing. I said, “Okay, you can make my appointments.”

She concluded, “I’ll try to find an oncologist who will work with Project Woman. Remember that breast cancer is very treatable.” In spite of her optimism, I felt afraid and dismayed as we left her office.

Tom held me as I cried, “What will I do if it has spread? Am I going to die soon?” The medical machine was moving and carrying me with it into a totally strange world. Yet I was asserting some control and not just blindly going with what the doctor said. Having been immersed in the holistic health paradigm for over twenty years, I planned to do everything that I thought was important to maintain my health. Dr. Smith had said to me, “I’ll still work with you even if you use iscador and other holistic treatments.” Thinking that this meant she understood my position, I was disappointed to find out, many months later, that her notes for the first visit read, “She has been, she states, neglecting getting medical care.” That wasn’t how I saw it. She didn’t mention the doctor who couldn’t find the lump. And I had a mammogram that was a false negative, Then we lost our health insurance. So I tried Jin Shin Jyutsu, acupuncture, Chinese herbs, eating raw foods, cleansing my liver, homeopathy, my guru’s sacred ash, Chi Gong and healing in the Daime church. All these modalities were part of my medical care. Mind you, they hadn’t got rid of the lump and that was why I was here, putting my trust in Dr. Smith.

In the airport taxi I said to Tom, “It makes me so angry that medical procedures are about the only service that you have to commit to buying without knowing how much they cost.”

“The AMA, the insurance companies and the pharmaceuticals have got it all arranged. Do you know how they do it?” Fortunately we arrived at the airport then, so I didn’t have to listen to one of Tom’s long expositions. Why couldn’t he get a job as a teacher? He was always so excited to explain things to me. He would be such a great teacher.

We talked more on the plane to San Jose. “Alicat, remember the hymn by Mestre Irineu that says ‘The stars told me, everything in the world can be healed.’ You are going to be healed.”

“Yes, that’s one of my favorite hymns.” We sang together in Portuguese, “Eu subi serra de espinhos, pisando em pontas agudas. As estrelas me disseram no mundo se cura tudo.”

“We can find some alternative treatments to heal you so that you won’t have to have chemo and surgery. After we get my computer from California, I’ll search on the internet.”

“But Tom, a lot of those things are unproven and expensive and I’d have to travel to Mexico or somewhere. Besides, remember that the best way you can help me is to get a job.” I lapsed into silence. I couldn’t believe that I was arguing in favor of western medicine instead of against it. Maybe I was more of a scientist than I liked to think. Anyway I was going to try straddling both worlds, integrating western and complementary medicine.

Tom continued, “Jesus is the great healer. If you do have to lose your breast, Jesus’ healing would bring it back.”

“I wish I had your faith in Jesus. But seeing as I don’t, you pray to him, okay?” I didn’t want more of a rift to develop between us, although it seemed to me that Tom didn’t get the urgency of my situation. “My faith is telling me that I am doing the right thing because all the pieces are coming together—I’ve found a wonderful surgeon, my surgery is paid for and Sparrow Hawk Village is full of holistic healers. After one month here I already have friends, and I love the forest and river and wildlife.”

We arrived at San Jose, picked up my car and a UHaul van, and a week later were back at our storage locker in Tahlequah with all our belongings in one place. The morning after we got back, I drank my contrast—chalky, pasty stuff that was nasty and gave me diarrhea—before driving back to Tulsa for the diagnostic tests. I arrived at the hospital just in time to rush to the restroom, and then they made me drink more. The young lady at registration told me, “I don’t know how much the tests cost, maybe about $1200.” I was probably worrying more about the money than about whether the cancer had spread. I spent several hours there in surreal rooms with large cold steel machines, whirring noises, flashing lights and technicians in white coats. It was weird being at the hospital going through extremely high-tech tests when I didn’t feel ill, I certainly didn’t look ill, and it was hard for me to believe that I was “ill.”

That night, I dreamt a male doctor was saying that I wasn’t going to live long, because the cancer had metastasized and spread. I stood up, saying vehemently, “I’m not going to die!” I affirm that I am alive, I am totally whole and I am healthy.