Prologue
IMAGINE mosaic
Central Park - New York City
"Someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying”
~ Tim McGraw
Carey -
March 15, 2018. I finally had my visit to my new primary care physician, the first available after my insurance changed on January 1st. One year fully retired, I was in the best shape I’d been in for over 20 years, completing a 65 mile multi-day backpacking trip the previous August, riding over 500 miles a summer on road and mountain bikes, and trail running for up to 5 miles at 7:30 pace. Since the backpacking trip I had episodic mid-back pain that was very atypical. My doctor ordered a chest X-Ray and called me before I even got home. An abnormal mass in the right lung, and thoracic vertebrae lesions (chest level spine). I went on to be diagnosed with Stage 4 adenocarcinoma of the lung. This is an incurable (currently) cancer, so the focus from the beginning was on postponing my death without sacrificing the quality of my life.
This work explores the journey through the dying process after receiving such a diagnosis. While no one wishes their life cut short by a disease, we hope to provide a different lens with which to think about dying. This work examines the dying process as something of a gift. Since the diagnosis, I’ve had the opportunity to ponder life, the dying process and death from a different perspective. While there have been many moments of sadness along this journey, there have also been wonderful opportunities of introspection, connection to others, and even finding excitement in both the “mundane” as well as the journey ahead.
There are only two things that every human being on this planet share: birth and death. And while we celebrate births as a thing of happiness, there remain personal, cultural and societal barriers to thinking about one’s death and the dying process. Many of us, through denial, unease or social taboos fail to grasp the opportunities for personal growth – for them and for those we impact. Done correctly, the dying process can become one of the richest and most fulfilling events in one’s life. We’re all going to get there. Why not explore to the fullest extent what the dying process provides? Receiving a terminal diagnosis doesn’t have to be a “death sentence” if you can open your heart and mind to the remainder of your journey.
Everyone’s dying process and death is unique. There are many variables – your age at diagnosis, your domestic situation with children, spouse and other family, who is dependent on you, who you will ultimately become dependent upon, and the anticipated challenges of treatment induced side-effects and natural history of your diagnosis. One size doesn’t fit all. Our hope is to provide you with ideas and potential questions you may wish to consider that may make this journey as rich and rewarding as possible – for you, and for those you love.
Nicole -
In 1998, I was a young and terrified new intern in a large hospital in Indianapolis. I was not used to being called “Dr.” and felt I had no useful knowledge of what to do in real life and death situations. The rotations in the Emergency Department were fierce and filled with unknowns. At the helm of this ever changing place was Dr. Carey Chisholm. I remember him as a “captain of the ship” and when he was in charge everything felt better. He didn’t know me well then, but I knew him from afar while doing required rotations in the emergency department. A legend. One of those mentors that young, scared doctors never forget. Fast forward through many years to 2018, I am now a mid career palliative care physician and his name appears on my schedule. First, the shock and then the awe of how our paths were crossing again 20 years later. In my bones, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. From shaking his hand and introducing myself as someone who already knew him (even though we were half a country away in totally new circumstances), there was a feeling that we were supposed to be meeting again. And a sense that we were embarking on a journey together, teacher and student with blurring and ever changing roles. Long ago, my father (also a physician) taught me to never take care of a friend or family member because it can cloud your objectivity. I’ve followed that advice until moving to a small town where people I know became my patients. Sometimes, we have to trust that physicians who know us can be both objective on medical topics and wise in what matters to the soul. In medicine, we often say “Train the residents well because someday they will take care of you.” I would change these words to say “Inspire people to learn so that you will want them to accompany you on your journey.”
Eric Ferraris -
"The Beginning" was a piece I wrote with a Native American flute and guitar shortly after my diagnosis of Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma in 2005. I wrote "The Beginning" to mark my journey post-cancer and how I would live my life henceforth. I am honored that Carey decided to use this song and to mark "The Beginning" of the end of his journey. At the time I found out about this project my wife and I also experienced a loss. Our 3rd child died in utero and the last two weeks have been especially difficult. After talking with friends and family, I was surprised to hear how unfamiliar some were with the stages of grief. For me, shock turned to sadness which turned to anger, albeit briefly. For us, the waves are getting further apart. What lies ahead shows how others have reacted to their own grief and shows that we're all a little unique in our experience of grief and that's okay. Carey continues to teach and inspire despite what's been thrown at him and his family. Like he has done for many others, he will continue to inspire me in my own journey.