The Phone Call I Hated to Make

Image from www.wowreads.com

Image from www.wowreads.com

“When you give yourself permission to communicate what matters to you in every situation you will have peace despite rejection or disapproval. Putting a voice to your soul helps you to let go of the negative energy of fear and regret.”
~ Shannon L. Alder

 

I had to make a phone call yesterday. A call that I was dreading. If you read yesterday’s blog you’ll know why. During a meditation I’d received health information about one of my clients. Bad news. The worst news.

If it was true…

During my meditation it had been so clear. I saw the woman’s face. Liz, her name is. Then I saw Liz’s body. I saw a huge mass of tumors in her abdomen. I saw small tumors elsewhere. I saw her body consumed by these dark masses. I felt the urgency of needing to contact her, the certainty of what I was seeing. I was flooded with sadness and futility. It kept me up all night.

Yesterday morning I was an exhausted mess. The further away I stepped from that meditation, the easier it was for doubt to creep in.

Maybe I’d imagined it.

Maybe it wasn’t physical, but emotional, or symbolic.

Maybe I was just plain wrong.

There was the fear too. What would I say? How would I start? How would my information be received? Would I even be believed?

What if I was wrong?

I made the call at about 8.30 in the morning. The woman I’d been worried about all night answered and burst into tears.

‘I knew it would be you,’ Liz said. ‘I read your blog this morning, and I just knew. I’ve already rung in sick to work and called my family doctor’

‘I might be wrong,’ I said to her.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’re not. I’ve been asking for help, and telling the Universe that I’m not coping. Yesterday I kept thinking about you all day. And that friend of yours with the little girls – the one who died. I was going to ring and make an appointment to see you. Then I read your blog this morning and I knew.’

We both cried and talked for the next ten minutes. Liz is 52, happily married, with a son in Year Six, and daughters in Year 8 and 9.  Liz’s mum died of cancer at age 62, shortly after being diagnosed. Liz’s mum had been obese, a heavy smoker and drinker, and a diabetic. Liz has been careful to eat well, to exercise regularly and to stay slim. She doesn’t drink or smoke. She hasn’t needed to go to a doctor for years.

Lately though she has been tired. For maybe the last two years she’s had back pain on and off, headaches and belly aches and crushing fatigue. Her stomach has been swollen and bloated. She’d put it down to stress, approaching menopause, and to not completely giving up wheat and dairy.

Although lately she’d begun to worry that something more serious was happening.

Liz rang me at lunchtime to give me an update. The local doctor had been able to fit her in straight away after a cancellation. After his examination he’d sent her straight to hospital, given her mum’s history. Liz had an ultrasound, followed by a PET scan. She was then told to wait for the result, and asked to ring her husband so that he could come to the specialist’s rooms too.

Liz said that she could tell from her local doctor’s face that it was bad, before she’d even had her scans. Then the scans took forever, and more than one person was called in to help during her ultrasound. The room went quiet. That was when Liz was sure. But still, while she was waiting for the results Liz was trying to be optimistic. Liz told me that whatever happened, she’d decided to spend the money she’d put aside towards new carpets and curtains to take her family to Hawaii at Easter instead, a place she’s wanted to visit ever since she was a little girl.

Liz called me again last night. She has been diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer. It has spread to her liver, lungs and brain – everywhere. The doctor apologised over and over to her. She said he appeared genuinely upset.

This is the same cancer that claimed Liz’s mother. There is nothing doctors can do except offer surgery to remove the larger masses to make her more comfortable, give palliative chemotherapy, and provide pain relief. This may or may not extend her life or provide a better quality of life.

The doctor could not give a timeframe for the pathway of her illness. But he was clear in saying that her condition could only be managed now. He was very sorry.

This weekend Liz will weigh up her options and try to decide on a plan for the time she has left.

I’m devastated for her and her family.

She asked me to thank you for sending your love, energy and prayers, and asks if you can continue to do so. Especially for her husband and children. She knows it won’t change her outcome but Liz says that the thought of all of that support is making this easier for her.

And she kept thanking me. Which, for me, was probably the hardest part of our conversation. This truly was a call I wish I’d never had to make.

So, can you join me in remembering Liz and her family in your thoughts, prayers and meditations? Can you send them love and well wishes and positive energy?

Thank you. Bless you. Be kind to each other, today and always.

Nicole xx

 

PS – I also have one other thing to ask of you too. No matter how well-meaning, please do not bombard me with information for Liz about miracle cures for cancer, about alkaline diets or black salve or bicarb soda or cannabis oil or your awesome network marketing product or clinics in Mexico offering salvation or any other such things. Perhaps we might have that conversation some other day, but not right now.

 

 

31 thoughts on “The Phone Call I Hated to Make

  1. It’s not necessarily that I liked this post because it brings sad news for you and for Liz. But to know that you Nicole were able to make the call, be there for Liz and that you will hold her hand, makes me happy and relieved. Your gifts in connecting with others and your ‘knowing’ are blessings that make you so special and I love that you listen to yourself and that you help all in your life. God Bless Liz…and God Bless You. ♥ Healing hugs to all. And yes, Hawaii is a great choice for her ~ enjoy the experiences with her family which will last forever.

  2. I can’t imagine what an awful phone call this would have been to make, m’love. Bless you for having the courage to speak to Liz, and big love to you both. I can imagine how exhausted you are and can only imagine how Liz is feeling. Big love, hugs and bring on Hawaii – making memories with her loved ones is the most important thing Liz can do now XOXO

  3. I am in awe of your courage…… a lot of attention may be focused on Liz AND I would love to say a big THANK YOU to the messenger…

  4. None of my words can ease the pain and heartache I know, but I send you all my love, support and prayers. A truly sad time for all but I pray for Liz and her family to make memories that will last a lifetime. Blessings to all.

  5. Aaaaah, speechless in knowing what to say. Sending you both big hugs and love. Hawaii sounds like a great idea – a beautiful memory to create. xxx

  6. Sending much love to Liz, her family, and to you too Nicole. May she and her loved ones be wrapped up in loving light, may they make happy memories to be cherished now and in the future, and may she be as comfortable as possible in the coming days, weeks and months. Hawaii sounds like an excellent plan ❤️❤️

  7. Nicole you darling soul, you must be exhausted after the past 2 days. What a hard and so very brave thing to do to connect with this lady. When I read yesterdays post I felt ill thinking that the lady you had visions of would get this type of diagnosis. Sending love and prayers for Liz and her family. May she find a peace through her God as she travels this heartbreaking journey. I hope she can make many special memories for her and her family in the time she has left and that she is well enough to enjoy Hawaii at Easter. Lord wrap your arms around this family and give them strength and courage.

  8. Sending love and light to you and Liz and her family. What amazing women you both are. May peace be brought to you and your family, Liz. May your journey be how you want it to be. xoxoxoxoxo

  9. That must have been terribly hard, emotional and upsetting for you Nicole, what a wonderful lady you are. I’m so very sorry for Liz and her family, my heart goes out to them with love and hugs and support. Thinking of you all xxx

  10. Such compassion and commitment, Nicole you are indeed one of a kind, thank you for allowing the universe to use your talents! Many blessings!

  11. having walked this walk with friends, beloved relatives, co-workers – just too fucking many times to bear – that your message to Liz and her family was heeded by both of you is a gift beyond time and mortality itself. Liz can now choose how to spend her time and that home improvement money with her family. I pray that she not make the mistake so many make of trying to “keep everything normal for as long as possible.” Work does not matter, money does not matter, nothing but the time and the people you love matter right now. Love, all my energy and support to you all.

  12. Bless you Liz – I am very sorry for your hard news.
    May Angels surround you and your family as you sleep.
    May the sun warm your back as watch your children play in the afternoon light.
    May you and your husband feel our love through the universe as you try to comprehend all this change and unwanted loss.
    I pray for your strength as you come to terms with all that you so very much want to keep, hold and surrender.
    I pray that time wraps and gives you some golden moments.

    Much Love Sue Girl

  13. Pingback: The Things That Really Matter | Cauldrons and Cupcakes

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