Introducing St. Rita

Chemo on Tuesday.

We don't ride alone

My friend Marygrace drew this for me. Isn’t it wild? I love that my angel is right behind me, pedaling along, sporting purple hair that blows in the wind. I also love the flowers in the wicker basket in the front. I have been told (and Marygrace didn’t know this) that I NEED to put a wicker-type basket in the front.

A cool reminder that we are all energetically connected and that we are not alone.

From here, this note gets a little graphic. If you have a weak stomach, you may choose to skip it.

Last week, those horrible intestinal pains started again. (By now, the pattern is familiar. They start out feeling like stomach aches, then over a period of 12 hours, move into stronger and stronger intestinal pain and blockage. Eventually, I throw up several times, then the pain subsides and things settle out.)

My amazing energy healer can usually stop this in its tracks, but because of the work I did in Brazil, I am not supposed to work with her until mid-September. She taught me how to get rid of them myself, but

  1. it is much easier to turn a ship before it goes full-speed in one direction, and my pains were, by now, moving full speed ahead and
  2. the approach to eliminate these pains requires intense mental focus, and I kept getting distracted by the actual pain.

Instead, I used some amazing and effective pain management techniques. After a few hours, I realized that, while they manage each wave of pain as it comes, they don’t eliminate it. I’m a slow study. Or an eternal optimist.

Still, it was the best I could do. Then I remembered St. Rita. I first learned about St. Rita in Brazil and heard of miracles attributed to her intervention. St. Rita of Corsica is, among other things, the patron saint of the impossible.

So, I asked St. Rita something like this: Please stop this pain. Just about anything else would be preferable.

Suddenly, the pain subsided. Wow. Very cool. But, I felt this need to throw up. What on earth? I sat up and….my nose was bleeding like a faucet.¬†And not just out of my nose, but down the back of my throat. Well, that solved the question of why I felt nauseous.

Avastin is part of my chemo cocktail, so any bleeding I get is profuse and takes a long time to stop. Still, I had to laugh. This was a decent trade-off for the pain, and I could not believe how immediately that trade-off was made.

I’m so grateful for all the non-physical beings around me – I have no clue why or how or even all the who’s, but they help. And I am so grateful for your physical help, as the physical and non-physical are so intimately intertwined. Thank you.

I head into chemo tomorrow, joining friends who are also doing chemo this week, recovering from cancer surgery, or are being scanned or biopsied to make sure there is no cancer in their body. Prayers all around!

Love,
Marie