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Before I moved to Maryland from Ohio two years ago, I volunteered giving Reiki at The Cleveland Clinic, and The Gathering Place (a support center for people touched by cancer). Adding volunteer time to my life has been a wonderful and fulfilling activity. I get to know people, and do something really helpful, for which I feel so grateful.
After moving to Maryland, I sought out volunteer opportunities where I could offer Reiki. I found JSSA Hospice, and they welcomed me. I've been a volunteer at for JSSA for a year now. I am assigned patients, go to them where they are living, and give them Reiki once a week. It's been a very meaningful experience, and I'm really glad to have the opportunity to do this work.
Lately, though, in my hospice volunteer position, I've been seeing patients who are, basically, "in limbo." They're not actively dying. They're not really "living" either. It's a tougher experience.
See, some of my patients before were basically ok, considering their diagnosis. They've been diagnosed with 6 months or fewer to live, and are still capable of having a conversation, and telling me where it hurts, and how the Reiki helps. We've laughed together sometimes, and really enjoyed our time.
Other patients, (or eventually, the same ones) were actively dying. I know how to help these people with Reiki too. The Reiki energy helps them feel more peaceful, breathe deeper, have less pain, and relax. Even if they can't tell me, I can observe that the Reiki is helping.
My current patients are not in either situation. They are caught between worlds. They don't speak, and rarely open their eyes. Their care and feeding are 100% done by the nurses and other staff. They don't seem aware of my presence, and don't respond to my words. I can't tell how the Reiki is helping. I come, greet them, give Reiki, search their faces and bodies for signs of relaxation, or anything at all. It doesn't usually seem evident.
I'm struggling with this, because part of me is berating myself for wishing for some sort of reaction. "This isn't about me," my inner voice tells me. "I don't need to observe a reaction or receive a 'thank you' to know that I'm doing something that matters. This is for my patients. It's not important whether it's a nice time for me."
I have given Reiki to many people with cancer, and wished that the Reiki could make them better. I have learned that it's not about what I want. However, I do see that the Reiki is relieving pain and bringing a sense of peace and relaxation that is very helpful for them. So, in that way I can see some benefits happening, which helps. (Helps who? The patient, of course, but I think I'm really talking about it helping me. Helping me what? Helping me be reassured that I'm doing something that matters. Why do I need this? Don't I know that I matter? Isn't that an interesting chain of questions!)
This experience is different though - I can't tell that it's making a difference. I need to rely on my trust in Reiki, and my experiences giving Reiki to people who can tell or show me that it helps, to reassure me that what I'm doing is helping. This time, it's about having faith. Faith has always been difficult for me without the direct experience to confirm it. Even years of being a Reiki practitioner, and getting tons of positive feedback doesn't prepare me well for this. It still requires me to "just believe."
I know that my past experiences have proven to me that Reiki works. I don't need to know how it works. I don't need to know what it's doing. I'm past that.
I remind myself that I make a difference, every day. I matter. My words of love, my giving of time, my gifts of healing, they matter.
Even by doing nothing, I matter. We all matter. Living matters because we all matter. Every life matters, and I know this. I know it in my soul. So, I do find it interesting that I need to sit and type this out to remind myself of what I've been teaching.
So, at these hospice visits, I take a deep breath. I show up. I say hello. I offer Reiki. I ask for peace and healing, for the highest and best, and I thank the Universe, my Guides and Angels, and Spirit for the ability to be of service.
And so it is.
Since August, I've been part of a holistic healing team providing energy and other holistic support for the nicest woman, Lisa. I was asked, along with my good friend and Quantum-Touch practitioner, Ernie Betz, to be part of a team to help her. We all volunteer on various days at 11 am, and go to her house to offer our services. Lisa is 44 years old. She has four children the same ages as mine. She has a doctorate in nursing and worked in a hospital. Her kids are home schooled. She has stage four cancer in her breast and hip bone, and the medical doctors gave up.
Ernie and I have been seeing Lisa weekly on Fridays since August. When we first went, she was very frail, in a hospital bed, and had been unable to even sit up for five weeks. We didn't know if we'd be seeing her the next week or hearing of her passing. Two weeks later, she was sitting and had more energy. Each week, there were more improvements - miraculous and exciting. Most of the summer, she was getting physical therapy to walk again, and the hospital bed disappeared into the attic. She was dressing herself, could stand, and was getting around in a wheel chair. We would talk about her feelings and her progress for about half an hour, and share energy healing the second half. We laughed and shared stories about parenting, healing, and all kinds of things. I attuned her and her husband to Reiki and she read my book. I also shared other books with her, and we gave her healing stones. I've never been part of such an incredible process.
They are a beautiful family. A couple weeks ago, I even brought my kids to play with theirs, and they had a blast, all getting along and really having fun together.
For the past month, though, she has started to have setbacks. She's been having trouble breathing, swelling in the feet and legs, less energy, and difficulty sleeping. They've tried adjusting things including diet, herbal supplements, aromatherapy, homeopathics, etc. Nothing seems to be making a difference.
I have to admit I am having a hard time.
Intellectually, and as a teacher and Reiki practitioner, I know my role. My role is to provide energy. I offer support. The rest is not up to me. It never was. The good, the bad, any results at all are not mine. My feelings are totally incidental to the process. I need to just be grateful for the opportunity to serve. And I am. So very much so that I can't describe the endless depth of it.
But today, she seemed barely there. She hardly spoke. She fell asleep a little. She held a couple ice chips in her mouth to counter the dryness of struggling to breathe despite the oxygen tube just inside her nose. She asked us to help her receive the energy, because she couldn't feel it today.
Her husband is the sweetest, most attentive, positive person I've ever met. Their family has lots of support - meals brought in, people helping with the daily necessity of living, parenting, chores and bills. He has not left her side in weeks.
I am having a hard time.
"I have no right to have a hard time," my snarky voice says. "I'm coming home to a healthy family. I'm healthy. I leave after the hour or two I'm there and go back to my life."
But this experience brings up memories of sitting with my mother-in-law during her final three days as she floated in and out and struggled to breathe. I felt helpless then. I feel helpless now. I know, yes, that the energy I'm providing and my presence is helping. But she is so young. She's my age. Her kids are my kids' ages. This seems so wrong. "Not that I have the right to judge what's wrong or right for another," my snarky voice chimes in. "Yeah, I know," I answer. But it sucks. It's too familiar and I don't want it to be.
I'm also acutely aware that if the healing team hadn't been there, she very likely wouldn't have shared the Fall, much less Christmas or New Year's with her family. And I am grateful for that time. But couldn't all of our combined effort have done MORE? Did I miss something? Was there ANYTHING else we could have done to help? I just don't know.
I don't even know if I'll be able to see her again next week. The thought is like a punch in the gut, as aware as I've been this whole time that it's always been a possibility. Is it even possible that she could have a second turnaround? I just don't know. And, I remind myself, it isn't up to me.
Part of this role is being able to let go of expectations and just be present. That is healing and that is helping. Any agenda, expectations, hopes, celebrations or disappointments just don't belong in the equation. THIS IS HARD!! It's hard because I love them. It's hard because I care and I DO want her to recover; how can I not want this? What kind of person would I be if I was totally detached?
I went back and read my posts I had written (linked above) when we were with my mother-in-law during her final days. It helps to read the comments and also revisit my thoughts and feelings about life, dying, and coping.
I guess that part of life is being aware of the wholeness of it all-- The whole process: beginning and end, living, learning, and also moving on. When it comes to passing, first we do this as a witness, and eventually it's our turn. The best we can do is to just be present in every moment, for every moment we're given, and experience it. That's what life is - the experience.
Thank you for allowing me to share. All of you who read this blog are part of this shared experience.
If you would, please send a thought, prayer, or a stream of healing energy to Lisa's family and all who care for her.
Namaste.
A few months back, I was approached by a woman who I had met on Twitter, Debbie Wilker. She had been suddenly diagnosed with cancer and wanted to learn Reiki. I chatted with her about it, and although she didn't have the money to pay for attunements, I attuned her to Kundalini Reiki through master level. I also put her in touch with my friend Bridget, who had healed her own cancer with energy healing and diet, and works with people diagnosed with cancer. Debbie had high hopes for beating this disease and was determined to stay positive and do all she could. Debbie had a rare and aggressive form of cancer. I wanted to help her and had high hopes for her recovery because she was so driven to live. Debbie was 52 when she was diagnosed. She was an artist, author, mom, wife, and coach. Yes, I am speaking in the past tense. Debbie died three days ago. I found out today.She had been in touch with me many times, each time telling me about her energy experiences with self healing, dreams, and asking questions about Reiki. I sent her Reiki healing many times. She was receiving help from many energy healers, and following lots of advice. She was also receiving conventional medical treatment. She was in and out of the hospital, and then hospice care. I'm blogging about this today because Debbie's passing is in my thoughts. I know she wanted to live longer, that she didn't feel finished with her life's work. Being connected to a higher source of energy through Reiki is helpful, but it can't change the inevitability of an aggressive cancer, I guess. I'm sad over this, and it's a cold reminder that there are things we don't understand about life and death, no matter how strong our intentions to help ourselves or each other. I'm sure Debbie is at peace now, but her passing is hard for her family and friends. We know that she wanted to live longer, free of pain and disease, and able to continue with her plans. We miss her.When people die before they have had their full lives, such as children, young mothers, or people in their prime, it can seem to be senseless. Why did this happen? It feels unfair and wrong. Some people try to explain it, but there are no explanations that satisfy those of us who feel no sense of understanding behind it. "God's ways are mysterious." "God has her reasons." Yada yada yada. Meanwhile, there is a great loss for those left behind, and leaves the nagging feeling that a life was cut short. It's sobering, and a reminder that we are all vulnerable in our own way too. Life is unpredictable and death is inevitable. It may not be the end, because our spirits are eternal, but each lifetime is precious and has something to accomplish and experiences to live. When it feels like one didn't get the full measure of this lifetime, it is confusing and hurts. I know I'm not the one to judge whether someone had their full lifetime or not, for what do I know anyway? But I know that Debbie didn't feel finished, and that is hard. I know she made peace with her dying at the end, and was more concerned for her family, because she emailed me about that. But the question of "why now" remains unanswered.People in Debbie's life may still feel her presence, and she may still be around in spirit. Perhaps she will visit her husband and son in their dreams or visions. I hope that she can, and it will bring them comfort. The medical profession has a long way to go with curing cancer, and the current treatment is painful and difficult for those who have it. One day I hope there will be better answers. I wish I could have done more to make a difference.Peace.
