Feeling the Energy

I sat staring at two names on a piece of paper. It is hard to believe that little black lines on a piece of white paper can create such a physical sensation in my body. They are the names of the oncologist and radiologist.

I’ve been doing energy work for over 15 years. I recognize the power of energy and the interaction with our physical body and have experienced firsthand how emotions can affect health and well-being.

What has surprised me is the underlying energy of cancer. I feel it as more than just me, it is a collective energy created by everyone that is touched by this disease. A mixture of fear and urgency that sweeps you away like a flooding river.

And it is easily triggered.

I have to gather up my courage to make the calls. I will see the oncologist in just a week and the radiologist the week after. The handwriting is shaky as I write the dates and times on the same piece of paper.

But I refuse to let the energy sweep me away.

I was the first appointment in the oncologist’s office and my husband and I had the waiting room all to ourselves. I was grateful for the empty room as I got up to walk around and settle my nerves. There was artwork hanging on the walls that had been done by cancer survivors. We talked softly about different pieces while we waited.

A pleasant nurse came to get us and as we followed behind her I was surprised at how big the place was. I saw several exam rooms and many doctors and nurses gearing up to start their day. In that moment I felt the enormity of cancer.

I felt it trying to take away my power.

I took a deep breath and followed the nurse into an exam room. Blood pressure, temperature and questions about my paperwork kept me focused and allowed me to concentrate on things within my control. She left and we waited for the doctor.

He came into the room with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a firm handshake. He looked through my paperwork for a moment, confirmed my diagnosis as DCIS then asked when I had surgery.

“I haven’t had surgery”, I replied. “You haven’t had surgery yet?” he asked with a very perplexed look on his face. I confirmed that I has spoken with the surgeon but had not had surgery.

He put his pen away in his pocket, leaned back in his chair and said, “Then why are you here?”

I was taken aback. I thought this was how it worked. Everyone gives me their expert opinion and I make my decision.

“I want to know what my options are and what you recommend”, I blurted out, not feeling as confident as I had when I arrived.

He regained his composure and told me that I was not a candidate for chemotherapy and that because the cancer was estrogen receptive I would be on hormone therapy for 5 years to reduce my chances of reoccurrence. He examined me briefly, ordered some blood work, shook our hands and was off to see his next patient. Maybe that person was doing it the way he expected.

It was a one stop shop and the blood draw was done in the same office. As we waited in the hall for the phlebotomist I could see that the place had gotten busy. There was a constant flurry of nurses calling names and patients following them down the hall. The wait was longer than I expected and in that time I began to worry.

Inhale.Butterfly Love


Let go of the worry.

One of the phlebotomists calls my name. As I follow her my worry gives way to my training and I watch as she uses a butterfly needle to take blood from my arm. I worked as a phlebotomist many years ago before getting into holistic health. I didn’t miss the irony of her using a butterfly needle.

She wraps a purple bandage tightly around my arm and sends me out to my husband. He reaches past me and pushes open the door marked exit for me to go through. As I brush past him I catch the emotion in his eyes. My heart responds just as I look out into a waiting room full of people.

I was caught off guard. I had entered that room with my heart fully open and was immediately hit with the energy of fear and uncertainty.

What came through me was not of me. I felt a huge rush of love go out and to all the people in that room. It was bigger than me and made me unsteady on my feet. He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me out to the hall.

I leaned against the wall as we waited for the elevator and tried to believe what had just happened. I was softly crying as he held my hand. His heart had also been a part of the wave that had just swept that room. Neither of us said a word.

The ding of the elevator brought me back to reality.


15 replies
  1. Anonymous
    Anonymous says:

    Such feeling in this post. I appreciate you sharing this with your readers and supporters. Though it may be a long journey ahead, you will always have the support from those who have been through, or are going through, this.

  2. Anonymous
    Anonymous says:

    Melanie thank you so very much for your beautifully written account! I too have experienced the same exact sensation. My heart is w/ you and you will be just fine. It takes time to get used to the sensations and energies in an oncology office. Personally I have to psych myself up two days prior to an appointment. You will get through this stronger than ever! Sharing your experience is truly helping me and I’m sure many, many others. Blessings and health to you!

  3. Barbara South
    Barbara South says:

    Hi Melanie… I have been following your posts and want you to know I send love and light to you! I know you have been researching options etc and I’m sure you have been very thorough in your actions.. so please don’t think I’m telling you what to do… You may not even be aware of this fact, but in a “previous life” ( LOL ) I was a Radiologic Technologist and specialized in Mammography and Stereotactic Biopsy for quite a few years… I feel I would be remiss if I did not throw in my 2 cents. I am hopeful you will understand. 😉 Your diagnosis is so very hopeful!! Carcinoma in situ is a group of cells that have not yet had the chance to go crazy throughout your body.. For people with this diagnosis, surgery is absolutely the best option, followed by the 5 yr plan to allow you to be one of those true survivors. Being told you are NOT a candidate for chemotherapy means you have not developed a situation that would be very worrisome… However, an in situ diagnosis is an “interim” type thing. It is one of those diagnosis’ that add to the importance of catching things early enough… *This is just information I have learned from my career… * That’s all.. honest…. Much love to you!

  4. Pam McCoy
    Pam McCoy says:

    Dear Melanie: I visited your wonderful center as a guest of Barbara South a few years ago. I get things from you in my E-mail that I enjoy. But I have never sent anything before. I was facing my second hip replacement (total) when I was there. I walked the labyrinth and drew out a stone your husband had blessed with the painted word “courage”. If I were there I would give it back to you. Long before my surgeries I struggled with the strange dual paths of being a healer(MT) and my own issues. I have learned to embrace the wounded healer archetype. I have a client who is an oncologist who has had to face her own cancer issues. She has made a you tube video talking about her experiences and some of the reasons that she feels some people recover so much better than others. Her name is Dr. Nancy DiMartino. I think that you can find it under Lafayette Cancer Care “Cancer as a Door For Healing”. (sorry, I don’t know how to provide links! ). May you be blessed on your important path

  5. Luckie
    Luckie says:

    Dear one Melanie, I so enjoy all your postings and feel blessed to receive them. Such great wisdom and advice from the above people that have had challenges to their physical bodies and the dance we do with the western medical community and the skills our own innate knowing of real healing provides. For 10 years I have been a care giver and advocate for my husband in the land of his Cancer journey. Your description of your first visit to the Oncologist brought back so many memories of his first time and my reaction to the energy, smells, fear in the air and people in many stages of physical discomfort. It was an overwhelming and disturbing experience. I applaud your courageous and bare bones sharing of your emotions. Please know that probably everyone reacts in similar ways to that first visit. I am so grateful the Universe has spared you of the Chemo experience. Even thought this journey is yours alone and will probably feel lonely, you are not alone, you are among a great tribe of women and men who face this with will, courage and lots of love, support and prayers. Early on I was told by a wise doctor, when one person in the family gets Cancer the whole family has it. The meaning was that each person will be affected by this. Please remember that your husband ( as caregiver) will need your love and compassion. Caregivers are the last to eat, sleep, and be asked how they are doing. Most think they are invincible, can do it all, always be there and need no help. Ten years down that road I wish I had learned that lesson sooner, everyone needs help. Reach out, get help and learn all you can about the diagnosis, learn their medical language you will need to, and remember you have a vast community out here willing to help, share and love you through this. Hugs and love


Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.