I went to acupunture this morning. I was in good spirits because my chemo session is finished, and I'm feeling OK, and — best of all — I'm completely unattached to any tubes and catheters. I'd been to acupunture before, when Steve and I were trying to have a baby; but that time, I went to a different practitioner across the street. The session was a gift from a friend, who sees the same acupunturist. I really liked this woman. We talked for a while about my cancer and how I'm doing, and then she told me where she thought she should put the needles this time — mostly in my arms, hands and shoulder.
So I lay down on the table, and she put the needles in — little yows and yips as they tweaked my chi but nothing more — and she told me to relax and breathe in the spring energy and fill my lungs with white light and breathe out all the grey yucky stuff. I tried to focus on that meditative breathing, although I allowed all manner of colors to fill the white — sherbet colors, greens and yellows mostly, swirling around inside the body of my imagination. I thought about my tumors and told one of them (the one near my spine that I can feel) that I wished it would just go away. It wasn't a hateful command, and I couldn't bring myself to curse it or feel anger at its evil. I just spoke to it as part of my body that's getting out of control, like a frustrated parent.
Then, out of nowhere, a voice in my head said, "Something magnificent is going to happen." And I was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears formed in my eyes.
That's all I can say. I left feeling good and positive, like someone reaching for the stars.