(Something Special is Happening During Breast Cancer
Awareness Month, for YOU! Part 4)
Unfortunately, bereavement is often a part of Breast
Cancer Awareness. But this is a story about how love conquers all, including
death.
Introduction: David Dibble is my guest blogger for
Breast Cancer Awareness Month. My blogs are on his site accessible by his website.
He is the creator of DreamWork, host of the DreamWork Global Summit and lead
teacher/host of DreamWork Day and the DreamWork Coach Certification Program.
David believes most times cancer or any disease is a message that a person has
been unwilling in some way to hear or act upon. If one can get the message, in
most cases, the disease is no longer necessary. David also believes the message
that needs to be heard and acted upon is encoded in every dream.
The
Death of a Fisherman – A Love Story
Although not a really big man, my dad had been a
star high school football player and we had lots of clippings his mother saved
to prove the point. After high school, he became a tuna fisherman. In those
days, even the largest fish were hauled from the ocean stout line tethered to
bamboo poles. It wasn’t a job for the weak or faint of heart. My dad was
neither. He could do five one-arm pull-ups with either hand and was afraid on
no one other than my mother. Then again, this was sensible because no sane
person would cross my mother.
When the big nets came to tuna fishing, bamboo poles
and the fisherman who held them were relegated to the scrap heap. I can only
guess how much my dad missed his time at sea, but miss it he surely did. He
went to work on the night shift in an aerospace factory and years later, when
his services were no longer needed, he was downsized in more ways than one.
Unable to find work, he went to welding school and soon found himself
surrounded by sparking steel and clouds of smoke. Still, he was working and
that was the important thing.
It was a crisp winter day in 1984 when I got the
call from Dad. He informed me that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer and
was scheduled for immediate surgery to remove the diseased lung. After surgery,
he would have aggressive chemotherapy and radiation treatments. I asked if I
could visit and he said he preferred that I wait until after the
treatments—that he did not expect to be good company. The wait turned out to be
ten months.
The treatments bordered on intolerable. Dad liked
his doctors and knew they were doing their best to arrest the cancer. Still, he
also told me after his last chemo treatment that it would be his last, even if
it meant dying. “Better dead than to be that sick, son,” he lamented.
In the fall of 1985, after his checkup with his
oncologist, Dad called to tell me that he was going home from the hospital. The
checkup had not gone well. The cancer had spread and there was nothing more the
doctors could do. He was told to go home and “enjoy the last three or four
months of your life.”
I was angry. I thought, After all he had
endured—that’s it? Go home and enjoy the last three or four months of your
life? It just wasn’t fair. There had to be something we could do. I put my
anger to work.
Call
to Action
I determined to read everything I could lay my hands
on that offered alternative methods of treating cancer. I read about diet,
exercise, laughter, meditation, contemplation, visualizations, and more. I
sifted through tales of miracle machines, energy healings, rain forest plants
and herbs, and clinics that were healing cancer in foreign countries after
having been driven out of the US by the FDA. What was true and what was hoax?
Still, some of this resonated within me. I
determined that Dad did not have to die if he was willing to change his life,
really change his life. When I had gathered all the information possible in
this mad dash against time, I called Dad and asked if I could visit him and
talk about what I had learned about alternative methods of treating cancer. He
was both curious and happy that I was coming to visit him.
When I arrived at his front door, Dad greeted me
like never before. Although his once rock-hard body was now weak and frail, he
hugged me strongly and for a long time. Was this really my father who never
touched or opened up? It was. Yet, something in him had changed.
I told Dad that I did not think he had to die, if he
chose to live. However, the only way he was going to get better was if he was
willing to change—big time. I shared all of the information I had collected and
asked if he was willing to commit to any of the methodologies. He seemed
hopeful and I saw even little flashes of enthusiasm. After some careful
thought, he chose to try changes in diet, a strict (if limited) exercise
program, visualization, and possibly meditation. He would also quit smoking,
which had been an on-again, off-again proposition, even after the discovery of
his cancer. As additional support, I committed to go on the macrobiotic diet
with him.
As a part of his healing, we agreed that as soon as
he was strong enough (well enough), we would fulfill one of his lifelong
dreams. We would travel together to Costa Rica, the one place that he had
always dreamed of seeing before his death. The third member of our traveling
team would be Jim, one of my best friends and one of Dad’s favorite people.
Then, I handed my father a present that I saved in
case we reached this magic moment. He opened the gift the way a young boy opens
Santa’s best present under the Christmas tree. Inside the heavy box were books,
brochures, and travel information on Costa Rica. I told him that since he had
been the navigator in the war and on the tuna boats, he would be our navigator,
too. He should start planning our itinerary.
Miracles
as Usual
From the first day of my visit, Dad began to
improve. He changed his life. He was consistent in his wellness practices. He
called often to tell me about his little victories or ideas for our Costa Rican
journey. Sometimes his energy was so vibrant that I began to question my own
aliveness. Six months into his wellness practice, he said something that both
chilled and delighted me.
“David, the cancer is gone.” “How do you know that?” I asked with care, so
as not to dampen the moment. “David, I just know.” And he did.
Back at the hospital the doctors were dumbfounded.
Dad was supposed to be dead, very dead. Instead, he was not only alive, but
also well. He was cancer-free. He became a medical marvel for which the doctors
had no explanation. Their enthusiastic advice now became, “We don’t know what
you’re doing, but whatever it is, keep doing it!”
Ten
Days in Costa Rica
In November 1986, Jim, Dad and I rented a small van
at the airport in San Jose, the capitol of Costa Rica. Luckily, the old
fisherman hadn’t lost his navigational touch, so we had full confidence in his
ability to guide us to the best sights. Besides, based upon all the books and
notes he brought with him, we were sure he had studied everything ever written
about Costa Rica.
Our only caveat was that we would be always in the
moment and allow the trip to unfold. We would be like the wind, free to follow
the path of least resistance, free to change in an instant, free to be inspired
and joyful during each moment of this most magical journey.
The ten days we spent together in Costa Rica were,
without a doubt, the most satisfying and gratifying of my life with Dad. He was
open, funny, emotional, and gracious. He was alive with gratitude for every
sight and sound—and for the company, too. I saw the little kid in him, the
parts of every father that are usually hidden from their sons in the name of
parenting. Even today, I can still hear the laughter over beer and tacos. Jim,
Dad, and I jostled to “one-up” the other with the most outrageous story,
swearing absolute truth all the while. I also heard stories of life that I had
never heard before, stories of Dad’s life. After Costa Rica, we became even
closer—good friends.
The
Continuing Saga of Life
Shortly after Costa Rica, Dad lost his job at the
shipyard where he was a welder. The company had to restructure in order to
become more competitive and the older workers were the first to go. No age
discrimination, of course—just coincidence. The law required that he have a
chest X-ray before being laid off. He was given a clean bill of health and told
to stay in touch, that more work, like prosperity, was just around the corner.
Dad checked every day, but the work never came. Unfortunately, the work must
have taken a wrong turn and headed out of the country where wages were lower
and profits higher.
Dad looked everywhere for work. First he looked for
another welding position. Later, he applied for anything. Anything! But, as Dad
pointed out, “Seems like they don’t want us old fellas. No luck today, but
tomorrow’s a new day.” Brave words, but no job.
Dad had always been a hard worker. He took pride in
his work. He needed to work. However as endless rejections bowed his once
strong shoulders, his energy and will sagged. After a while, I think he just
gave up.
Three months after the layoff, he stopped exercising
and began smoking again. The diet went by the wayside, too. He mentioned that
he wasn’t feeling himself and was planning to see the doctor. Four months after
the layoff, the cancer was everywhere.
Dad said, “The bugger is back and I’m too tired to
fight it this time.”
The
Last Father’s Day
Dad and my sister Judy had their differences. They
hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in more than five years. I invited Judy to
come with me to Texas to visit him on Father’s Day, reminding her that the
cancer was spreading fast and that he probably didn’t have much time left. I’d
even pay for the trip. Although it was a difficult decision for her, Judy
bravely chose to come with me.
I called Dad a week before Father’s Day. As usual,
even though he was weak, he perked up when I called. I told him I had a
surprise for him. He said that I shouldn’t send him anything--that he had
everything he needed.
I told him I wasn’t sending anything, but I would
deliver my gift to him in person. The phone went silent and I knew that he was
wiping away a tear or two. After a minute, he came back to the phone and
started to tell me how much my coming meant to him. Then I relayed my other
news.
“Dad, I have another part to this surprise. Judy is
coming with me.” I heard the phone fumbled and then hit the floor as Dad sobbed
quietly.
I will never forget the sparkle of pure joy that
shone in his blue eyes as we met him at the entrance to the Veteran’s Hospital.
He moved with a combination of a shuffle and a hop, rather like he was dancing
or doing a little jig. Waving all the while, his dance carried that stooped old
body to meet his kids. He grabbed and hugged Judy in a way that I had never
seen before, tears streaming down his pale, wrinkled, weathered face. He kept
repeating the words, “You’re so beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”
He spent the better part of the day shuffling us to
meet the nurses, doctors and all the friends he’d made at the hospital. His
bragging about us should have been embarrassing. It wasn’t. It brought tears
over and over to those who had come to know my father in his final days.
Moreover, it brought tears to Judy and me. After
all, it was Father’s Day, Dad’s day, the fisherman’s day. Dad wasn’t a real
religious man, but he told me later that it was an inspiration and a gift from
God that we had come to be with him on his last Father’s Day.
Dad went downhill fast after Father’s Day. The last
thing he told me was that the time he spent with Judy and me on his last
Father’s Day was the happiest day of his life. It was a bit of a miracle that a
person could be in such ecstasy in a tired, worn-out, diseased old body like
the one that carried around my dad.
A
Connection to Wellness and Healing
The purpose of this story is to illustrate the power
of the body-mind-soul-spirit connection and its correlation to disease,
wellness, and healing. Dad, in some sort of body-mind-soul-spirit dynamic,
created his cancer, then healed himself completely, and then recreated his
cancer again. We all have this creative ability. We all have the divine
guidance we need to do the right things in any life situation. It’s in our
dreams.
Sweet
Dreams to One and All!
By David Dibble who can be reached at
www.newdreamwork.com or david@newdreamwork.com.
As a guest blogger, I give Kathleen (Kat)
O’Keefe-Kanavos permission to use and post the following blogs. David Dibble
10/2/2013
Guest BIO:
David Dibble, former CEO of a successful technology
company, is an author, keynote speaker,
trainer, consultant, executive coach, systems thinker, and a practical
spiritual teacher. He is the creator of DreamWork, DreamWorkDNA, & The Four
Agreements at Work, based upon his eight years of work directly with don Miguel
Ruiz, author of the best-selling book The Four Agreements. He is the host of
the first ever DreamWork Global Summit and the creator and host of DreamWork
Day, a global celebration of dreams, dreaming and dreamworkers. David is the
master instructor of the DreamWork Coach Certification Program and winner of
the prestigious T Award for innovation in coaching. He can be reached at
www.newdreamwork.com or david@newdreamwork.com.
BIO: Kathleen O’Keefe-Kanavos, Intuitive Life Coach,
survived three breast cancers, wrote SURVIVING CANCERLAND: Intuitive Aspects of
Healing (Cypress House, Jan 2014) http://tinyurl.com/p7cjfxa websites: http://www.survivingcancerland.com & Access Your Inner Guide, Hosts Living
Well Talk Radio, Cancer Q&A columnist CapeWomenOnlineMagazine, Breast
CancerYoga, Dream Queen columnist- Wellness Woman 40 & Beyond, Your Dream
Intrepretation , WakeUpWomen; R.A. BLOCH Cancer Foundation Hotline Counselor.
Represented by Steve Allen Media
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