Dear Friends,

This is Mike’s wife, Joan, posting this last post. Mike died in his beloved Hilo town on February 3, 2026, three days before his 76th birthday. This site was a joy for him to post and the comments he received back fed his spirit. In Hawaii when one dies, many say, “A hui hou”, (until we meet again) rather than a final goodbye. Those would be Mike’s words to each of you.

For those interested, we will be having two Celebration of Life events, one in Hilo, Hawaii and one in Sacramento, California in the coming months. If you are interested in knowing when those will be held, you can email me at joan@hrtassociates.com.

Everywhere I look, I see what I’m looking for.
Rev Beverley Strutt, Center for Spiritual Living East Hawaii

14 January 2026

The last few weeks have been somewhat problematic for me. My energy level has been extremely low…many things that I had no trouble accomplishing a few months ago have been simply impossible for me. A five minute walk up the road to the ocean now often requires an act of will, and there have been days when I haven’t felt I could even attempt it. In addition, I have some weird numbness in my face that my doctor is really puzzling over, as well as (I’ve determined) a sinus infection that’s been with me for several months. As I said, problematic. My main concern, however, is that I’ve begun to focus on the notion of weakness, and that’s a dangerous place to go, which relates to the quote above from my dear friend Rev Bev Strutt. If I’m looking for weakness, I’m sure to find it and magnify it. So I’m working on realigning my focus and attention.

At this point, I want to let you know that I’ve been doing a good deal of investigation into Near Death Experiences (NDEs) and the accounts of physicians, nurses and hospice workers who often observe the dying process with their patients. I’ve discovered an enormous body of research and narratives that point almost universally to one conclusion. Death is not to be feared at all. It’s most often described as a blissful coming home. And our current experience as physical beings exists as a type of school, a learning ground, and a very tough one at that. (If you’re interested in looking into this subject, just Google “NDE” or go to YouTube with the same query and you’ll find dozens of first-hand accounts and valid scientific studies.)

This brings me to a conviction I’ve developed as a result of my studies and my own experience (and this is quite an accomplishment for a dedicated skeptic and agnostic). The Universe is a vast field of consciousness and energy that operates on a quantum level and links everything together. Everything. Everything is conscious in some way, and every sliver of consciousness touches and impacts every other sliver of consciousness. In fact, there are no slivers…we are all one. I say “we” because each of us, though we live in the illusion of separateness, is fully integrated into this marvelous whole. (Some call this reality “God.”) Now this is not a new idea. I’m blatantly plagiarizing a realization that has been repeated many times by many, many great thinkers. The Buddha, St Thomas Aquinas, Hildegard of Bingen, the Hindu Vedas, Ernest Holmes, and the list could go into the hundreds. The challenge (my challenge) is to fully accept this reality, because the ego wishes for me to remain apart. But I am not apart. We are all, at base, infinite energy and infinite love.

This brings me back to Beverley’s quote. I’ve been focusing on my perceived weakness, and so what do you figure has happened? I’ve felt myself as having grown weaker. It’s vital to know that we get to CHOOSE what we want to focus on. We’re not victims of our minds, but their directors. So I’ve now begun to focus on the fact that I partake of the infinitude of the Universe, that I have access to unlimited energy. Is it easy to shift this awareness? Hell no. It takes effort and will to battle and subdue decades of old conditioning. But I’m motivated to move out of the frump. Yeah, there’s cancer in my body (I guess it’s still there). So? I’ve made it almost six years with this stuff, so why not stick around a little longer? I’ve been thinking about what is my motivation to shift focus. Well, to feel better physically, of course. Very importantly, though, I want my energy back so I can be serviceful again. Joan works so hard, and it pains me that I’ve been so physically useless as she takes care of so many things that deserve shared responsibility. I also want to be in service so I can focus on others rather than on myself, because that’s the best way to heal and to be at peace. Now all this might be a bit too woo-woo for some of you, but hey, it’s my thing and I’m just sharing openly. What harm can it do? In any event, it can infuse some optimism into a situation that a lot of people would call “suffering.” (Not my word at all…I don’t believe in choosing that interpretation.)

One thing that I’m convinced is NOT woo-woo, however, is my main theme. Wherever we look, we see what we’re looking for. If we choose to look for kindness, we see kindness. If we’re looking for cruelty, we’ll see lots of it. I’m weaning myself from looking at the news, which happens to be the greatest mental poison that exists today. Our news is curated to present only the worst. We are led to believe that the world is in deep trouble, that violence and hunger pervade. In fact, however, statistics show that there is less war in the world than ever before. Fewer people are going hungry now than at any time in history. Across the world, we are in better shape now than we have ever been. And I’m not making that up. The data supports these statements. I don’t like having my mind manipulated so harmfully, and, I hope, neither do you. So please join me in finding other sources of information besides the “news” so we can quit getting our heads filled with depressing shit.

That brings me to another thought. Recently, I was discussing with Pekka Nykänen, my dear friend and Finnish AFS-brother of more than fifty years, my alarm at what’s happening in the US these days, and how the current administration is beset with cruelty, incessant pathological lying, blatant corruption and a desire to replace our democracy with authoritarian rule. (If you disagree with me, I BEG you to explore and consider with an open mind information sources beyond Fox News and Newsmax.) So I asked my friend “Is this what human nature is about?” Are we human beings, at base, cruel and selfish? In response, he recommended a book that has me captivated. It’s Humankind, A Hopeful History by Rutger Bregman, a brilliant young Dutch historian who has done extensive research on studies of human nature. For centuries, the dominant belief has been that human nature is inherently evil, that only civilization holds our evil tendencies in check. A prominent outlier to this theory was the French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who developed the notion of the Noble Savage. This alternate approach posits that we as human beings have evolved to be kind, compassionate, cooperative and empathetic, and Bregman offers 400 pages of hard data to support this assumption. “But Mike, how naïve can you get? What about war, Lord of the Flies, the Holocaust, Ukraine, the Holy Inquisition, etc.?” Bregman’s supporting counter-evidence is too voluminous for me to share here, but before you get too wound up in the harmful dominant assumption that we’ve been fed since infancy, read the book. The author artfully addresses all these objections.

So that’s where I am right now, and I ask your support. Since, in my belief, we’re all intimately connected, your thoughts and emotions touch me deeply, so I ask that you see me in health, joy and strength. Your helpful energy supports mine. By the same token, I send you all my love and a wish for fullness and joy in all you do.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Happy New Year
Feliz Año Nuevo
Gott Nytt År
Onnelista Uutta Vuotta
Hauʻoli Makahiki Hou
สุขสันต์วันปีใหม่

1 January 2026

For me, I don’t believe in New Year resolutions. Dedicated as I am to living in the moment, there’s no way I’ll make a promise to myself and the Universe that I know will create stress and that I’m certain I won’t keep. In regard to the theme of resolutions, Joan just shared with me a poem that I LOVED, and I want very much to share it with you:

I hope with all my heart that 2026 will be a year of joy, health, love and prosperity for all of us. And may the many places in the world that are suffering begin, at least, to have peace.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

My religion is kindness.
Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama

27 November 2025

Today is Thanksgiving Day in the United States, a most appropriate day for me finally to publish another blog post: I’m still around and functioning (mostly), 5-1/2 years after my doctor first uttered the words “stage IV cancer.” So it’s been over six months since I last communicated with all of you, and several friends have strongly encouraged me to write. I’ve thought often about doing so, and I don’t understand why I’ve been so resistant. But here I am again, and I apologize for having gone incommunicado for so long.

You might like to know of an interesting adventure I had at the end of September. As I was driving home from a fun treatment at the local Radiation Oncology clinic, I was struck with serious chest pains. The long and the short of it is that I got to ride in an ambulance to a major hospital in Sacramento. That evening, in the Emergency Department, a doctor came in and said “You have pancreatitis, and we’re looking at multiple organ failure.” Holy shit! So I spent that night in Emergency, soon to be moved into the Intensive Care Unit, where I spent the next four days. OK, let me tell you…if you have to spend time in a hospital, try to find a way to get into the ICU…the care was wonderful. In the end, they stabilized my situation and I was discharged after having spent almost a week in the hospital. I was fortunate in that, once the chest pains were quickly resolved, I had no more pain. At the outset I thought “Wow, its this it?” and even dictated to Joan a message I wanted to leave all my friends and family. But, thankfully, the drama was unnecessary. In fact, for me, there was no drama. At no point was I afraid: I was just grateful for the incredible care I was getting and for the presence of my family, especially my wife Joan. Really.

Of course. there were a couple of downsides…it was certainly stressful for Joan and the family, which troubled me. The worst thing, though, was the puréed crap they tried to feed me. My God! This stuff redefined the notion of inedible. In my post-treatment evaluation, I suggested that the people who devised that dreck should be forced to eat it for a week before they would be allowed to collect their pay.

I mentioned above that my main challenge is that I tire so easily, but there is another, less physical challenge. Since COVID and cancer forced me to retire in 2020, my world has shrunk somewhat. I have many fewer opportunities to interact closely with people. Part of that has to do with my physical limitations, part with my rather strong preference for introversion and part, perhaps, with the fact that I’ve moved into the geriatric set. In any case, since I am less in contact with people, I have fewer opportunities to be actively kind. That might sound a bit like I-want-you-to-believe-that-I’m-a-nice-person, but it’s true. Kindness nourishes me. In fact, if people are to remember me at all, I just want to be remembered as kind. And as I look back on my life, I’m troubled by the times, in my younger years, when I might have been less than kind. But regret is debilitating, so I just accept, forgive myself and stay in the moment.

Actually, staying in the moment is the key to how I approach the conditions of my life. The past is gone (and I don’t trust my memories of it anyway), and the future resides in a fog of unknowing, so I’m grateful for the now. And in this now I’m functioning rather well, I’m surrounded by people I can love and who love me in return, and my situation is prosperous beyond belief: who else do you know who has a lovely home and loving friends in both California and Hawai’i, where palm trees grow and flowers bloom throughout the year?

So that’s it for now, friends. Blessings to you all, and a heartfelt wish for a wonderful holiday season, be it Thanksgiving, Finnish Independence Day, Luciadagen, Bodhi Day, Sinterklaas Dag, la Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Hanukkah, Christmas, Boxing Day, Kwanzaa, Yule and/or New Year.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

The universe is a complete unique entity. Everything and everyone is bound together with some invisible strings. Do not break anyone’s heart; do not look down on weaker than you. One’s sorrow at the other side of the world can make the entire world suffer; one’s happiness can make the entire world smile.
Shams Tabrizi

27 May 2025

So it’s time to write another post. I’m touched by and grateful for those of you who have sent me messages of support after my last post. Thank you! However, there seems to be an assumption among some of you that is rather concerning. Some messages have indicated the assumption that I’m suffering, I’m in pain, I’m struggling, which, I guess, is what folks with my diagnosis are supposed to do. I hate to disappoint, but the fact is that I’m neither suffering nor struggling. Really. As for pain, this 75-year-old body has more than earned its stiffness and aches. An effect of the health condition? Maybe, but I prefer to believe it’s just natural aging, and, in any event, there’s nothing severe going on.

For the last couple of years, Joan and I have been hanging out with a Science of Mind community about a half hour away from home. In fact, during the last month, Joan and I were asked to give the 20-minute Sunday message to the community, which was kinda fun. If you’d like, you can view videos of the talks on YouTube (I strongly recommend Joan’s talk…it was a lot better than mine). This link goes to Joan’s talk. And this link takes you to mine. I’m also facilitating a four-week class on Buddhism, which, it turns out, is as much for my benefit as it is (hopefully) for the folks who are in the class. Reliving this material has reminded me of the vital importance of mindfulness and of practicing healthy, life-affirming thoughts, speech and action. In Buddhist thought, Karma, you know, is not a cosmic reward and punishment system. It’s simply a process of cause and effect: what we think, say and do bring about effects. So I ask the folks in the class (and myself), “What effects do you want your choices to bring about?” and “What effects are your thoughts, words and actions actually creating?”

So that’s what I got to say. Our living room has a wall of windows that fronts upon a mass of verdant jungle foliage. At this moment, the sun bathes huge tropical leaves in warmth and an ocean breeze riffles them into an elaborate dance. As I look out upon all this vibrating greenness, the word that echoes in my mind is “LIFE!” May your whole experience be full of it.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Sometimes the future changes quickly and completely, and we’re left with only the choice of what to do next. We can choose to be afraid of it. Just stand there trembling, not moving. Assuming the worst that can happen. Or we step forward into the unknown, and assume it will be brilliant.
Sandra Oh

15 May 2025

Itʻs been several months now and itʻs time to write another blog post. A lot has happened. In my last post, I talked of going into a new chemotherapy regimen with a drug called Enhertu, which I associated with the ancient hero Enkidu, hopefully as his kind younger brother. Enhertu, however, turned out to be a monster who robbed me of my energy and had me awakening many nights with unfortunate surprises in my diapers. It was also totally ineffective in treating the tumors. So after six weeks and three infusions, my doctor called a halt, much to my relief.

I have yet to fully recover from the onslaught, as my energy level is dismal. The fact is that this was the last card that medical science could play from its deck, so Iʻm now receiving no active cancer treatment and the crud is (hopefully very slowly) spreading through my body. They talk of palliative care. Beyond pain management, Iʻm not sure what that is. Pain. Not much. A tinge in various places in my back…it moves around. But nothing serious. Iʻm told they can use targeted radiation to relieve the pain…not necessary at this point.

My (wonderful) oncologist in Sacramento has hooked me up with a Kaiser oncologist here in Hawaiʻi (Weʻre here until September.), and I like her. I just talked with her and weʻre checking into the lack of energy and into getting scan images to see what can be done with radiation if it becomes desirable. During our conversation, she said two things that rattled me a bit: (1) “Weʻll check for anemia or thyroid issues, but the low energy might just be the cancer making you feel yucky.” and (2) “The scan I saw shows the disease in a lot of places, and we just canʻt irradiate them all.” Iʻll let you figure out why these statements might have rattled me.

So here we are. Iʻm laying out the situation for you many loving people who have been supporting me…I figure you deserve to know whatʻs going on, and it makes no sense to sugar-coat it. In a sense, writing this is therapy for me, because it also gives me an opportunity to be real about it. And the most real thing I can say is “Hey, this is life.” Those of you who know me well know that Iʻm not collapsing in despair and fear. Iʻm taking it as I always have, one day at a time. Sure, visions of horribleness emerge in my imagination, but years of mental training enable me to say “Hey, bucko, you donʻt know, so donʻt be stupid by going there and dragging yourself into a hole of depression.” One day at a time. Yes, just one day at a time.

Some of my earlier posts have included some smart-ass comments that I hope were entertaining. Iʻm not in a smart-ass mood right now, as you can see, but Iʻm also not in a down mood. To be honest, Iʻm not quite sure what kind of mood Iʻm in. Gratitude, for sure, and curiosity regarding whatʻs coming. Some people have called me brave. Not really. I donʻt see that courage is a big factor, because it seems that for courage to emerge, you need to start with fear. I admit to having some fear, but not enough to require a lot of courage. To be honest, my main concern is about my wife and my family and what challenges my situation might bring to their lives. Which reminds me…I have to get moving on getting all our vital documents and information together and organized. Iʻve done some of that, but thereʻs a lot more to do.

Allow me to remind you of the Lovingkindness Meditation, as I brazenly ask that you practice it on my behalf, as well as, most importantly, on your own.

So thatʻs the deal, folks. Thank you for reading this and for sticking with me. I send you a stream of aloha from my lovely home on the Big island of Hawaiʻi, and I wish you every bit of joy, love, health and prosperity that your system can handle.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

In doubt, fear is the worst of prophets.
Statius, First Century Latin poet

30 January 2025

Two days ago, I had my first infusion of a new cancer drug, Enhertu, which I discussed in my previous post, Also, in my earlier post, I admitted to having some apprehension about side effects, particularly nausea, a concern brought on partly because my health care team had loaded me up with a supply of anti-nausea medications. The assumption was that I’d experience some very bad stuff. Let’s face it. It’s chemotherapy, and everyone KNOWS that chemotherapy is awful, despite its potential benefits.

Apprehension. Concern. Hmmm. Those are just a euphemisms for fear, aren’t they? I’m so attached to doing this cancer thing coolly, calmly and gracefully that I avoid admitting any fears I have about it. But fear of the unknown is something we humans learn from birth, and it DOES serve an important purpose in helping us to protect ourselves in a world that isn’t always friendly. Nevertheless, fear is often overdone and counterproductive.

When I was doing professional training sessions for various organizations, I did a bit about the word fear as an interesting acronym:
False
Expectations
Appearing
Real
The fact is that fear is all about fantasy. We make up stories of horribleness about future events and think those stories are real. BUT WE DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN. How many times have you lain awake at night worrying about something that never happened, or even if it did happen it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Of course unfortunate things happen, but they’re almost always unanticipated. This idea sits at the foundation of my approach to my cancer experience. I’m always making up stories, but I tell myself that they’re not real and I do all I can not to let the “bad” stories take over my awareness. I do slip sometimes, but I then remind myself not to believe my stories. That helps a great deal.

One more thing…I made a request in my last post that you join me in practicing the Lovingkindness Meditation. I had been sporadic in my own practice, but since I was asking you all to join me, It was important for me to resume the practice on a regular basis as well. So most days I spend ten or fifteen minutes thinking of the many people I care about around the world…in Canada, Finland, Sweden, Australia, Thailand, New Zealand. Hawai’i and across the USA. I strive to include you all in the blessing I broadcast to the Universe. It’s difficult to describe the joy and peace this brings me, sometimes to the point of tears. The list of people that I love is so long that I always run out of time before I can finish the list. So I gently recommend the practice again, more for you than for me. I invite you to open your heart in this way…it can be a marvelous experience.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Freedom and happiness are found in the flexibility and ease with which we move through change.
Gautama Buddha

18 January 2025

So here I am again, surprised by the frequency with which I’m publishing these posts. The fact is that stuff is happening, and people have asked me to share it. I’m back in Sacramento from my healing trip to Hawai’i, with attitude readjusted.

A lot of changes have taken place in the five years since this cancer adventure began. Retirement. The emergence of a loving community in Hawai’i in addition to our community on the mainland. Crepey, wrinkled skin and age spots. White hair (but more of it, thanks to hormone treatments). A contact list full of phone numbers for at least half of Kaiser Medical Foundation’s departments. The opportunity to work with some very fine medical personnel. Crud spreading gleefully through my bones. The ability to speak authoritatively about the many joys of radiation and chemotherapy. The unwavering and loving support of my wife, my friends and my family. (I guess that’s not a change, but it’s important to mention it.) Gratitude for the fact that at least half of my face still works (better than having the whole thing go numb). Having a lot less energy after having been a guy who used to have lots. And now, unlike previous times, when I bend down to tie my shoes, I think about what else I can accomplish while I’m down there.

And more changes are soon to come. On 28 January, I begin a new chemotherapy regimen. My last PET scan showed that the medication I’d been taking was ineffective, so my oncologist has identified yet another possibility. It involves an infusion every three weeks, and if it works, it will be, as the doctor says, “ongoing.” Oh goody. I get to spin the chemo roulette wheel to see what the side effects will be. Fun stuff like nausea, vomiting, muscle pain, hair loss, constipation and diarrhea. (It’ll definitely be interesting to see if those last two can happen simultaneously.) I’ve been given a pile of anti-nausea tablets, which I regard as somewhat unpromising. AT LEAST man-boobs are not on the list of possible side effects, something I gratefully avoided the last time around.

It turns out that it will be possible to receive the treatment at the Kaiser clinic in Hilo, for the time when I’m able to travel back there. But right now, the doctor wants me to stay in Sacramento for a while so he can monitor my response to the treatment, probably at least into April. So the date of my return to Hawai’i is totally uncertain at present, and you know how much I love being there. But I’ve pretty much come to terms with that reality, and I’m getting to be at peace with it.

So yes. More changes coming. Physical stuff to adapt to, maybe a different relationship with my beloved home in Hawai’i, readapting to spending more time on the mainland. Or maybe not. That’s the thing: I don’t really know. In regard to change, the theme of this post, and how any of us respond to it, it seems to me that there are two possible paths to follow. The first is to whine, moan and resist. The second is to accept changes over which we have no control, to adapt, maybe to embrace, and certainly to look for opportunities in the change. For me, the first path leads to unhappiness. The second path leads to peace. This brings to mind the very well known Serenity Prayer first composed by the theologian Reinhold Niebuhr:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Changes coming. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m a bit apprehensive. But I also know that I don’t know. Some folks get very uncomfortable about not knowing what’s coming and about their inability to control. For me, I find not knowing a comfort, because it keeps my from constructing scenarios of horribleness. Yeah, it might be awful, but then it might not be. I prefer to remind myself of the possibility of might-not-be. I’d rather be happy.

One other thing…it’s been a long time since I’ve built a request around the Lovingkindness Meditation. When I first introduced it and people told me that they were practicing it on my behalf (and on their own behalf), the first medication made the cancer disappear for two years, and perhaps all that focused Lovingkindness consciousness had a helpful impact. So now I’m asking a favor of you again, that you include the meditation in a daily practice, first, very importantly, to see yourself in health, love, peace and joy, then extending that energy to others, including (I hope) me. Thank you!
Here’s a link to a description of the practice.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

Whenever sorrow comes, be kind to it.
For God has placed a pearl in sorrow’s hand.
Rumi

8 January 2025

In my last post, I told how my loving wife kicked me out of the house in cold, gray Sacramento and sent me to our home in Hawai’i to help me get over my weather-induced depression. Well, tomorrow I fly back to the mainland after two weeks of sun, warmth, greenness and flowers, and I’m determined to keep my spirits up this time. It’s simply not fair to my wife and others around me for me to wallow in sadness.

So this morning, before I am to leave this magical place for a few weeks, I took a 20-minute walk to the end of the beach road where we live to Richardson Beach Park, a famous snorkeling site, to gaze across the bay at Mauna Kea. There were several vans full of visitors off a cruise ship that’s in port here for the day, and I had fun welcoming them to Hilo and finding out where they were from.

As the visitors headed back to their vans, I sat on a rock to watch three or four surfers grab some waves, and as I took in the whole gentle scene, I found myself to be weeping just a little. As I pondered what that was about, it became clear to me that the weeping was about everything.
I wept because I have to leave this place, my heart’s home, but also out of gratitude for my ability to come here anytime I want or need to, and also that I have another lovely home in California.
I wept about the existence of cancer in my body, but also for the fact that I feel almost no effect from it right now.
I wept about the uncertainty of how long I have yet to live, but also about how full my life is and has been.
I wept that I am so prosperous and so blessed in my life, but also for the fact that so many are NOT so prosperous and blessed.
I wept about the limitations I and others are feeling as we age, but also for the fact that I am still able to walk 20 minutes unassisted from my home to gaze upon the ocean.
I simply wept a little out of sorrow and joy, grateful that I am able to recognize and acknowledge how fully intertwined the two are.

And I just felt like sharing that with you.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

I have a distribution list to notify folks when I publish a new post (which, I’m afraid, is rather infrequent). If you’re not already on the notification list, please just send an e-mail message to atpeacewithcancer@gmail.com with “Subscribe” in the subject line, and I’ll gladly put you on the list.

What would our lives be if we saw everything as an opportunity?
Antoni Porowski, Queer Eye

1 January 2025

Once again, itʻs been some time since I chose to share my thoughts and experience here. Iʻll admit that Iʻve been waiting for a more comfortable state of mind, though I’m not quite there. Iʻm working on that, and I hope that writing this post will support that effort.

I suspect that few of you have experienced a PET (Positron Emission Tomography) scan. Itʻs actually kind of relaxing: getting shot up with radioactive glucose, lying still for 45 minutes, then traveling s-l-o-w-l-y for about 20 minutes through a high tech tube, again, just lying still. Easy. I realized, however, that my life is a little bizarre in that Iʻm such a regular at the Kaiser radiology center that the prep nurse greeted me during my last visit with “Hi Mike. Nice to see you. Howʻs Hawaiʻi?” And I got to respond with “Wonderful, as always, Antwinette. How was your trip to Europe?” I doubt that many folks are on such friendly and familiar terms with their PET scan prep nurse. Gee, yet another advantage of Stage IV carcinoma.

So I had a scan on 27 November, and the results were less than encouraging. The strong medication I was taking appears to have been ineffective and the crap continues to grow and spread in my bones. My doctor told me to drop that medication, and weʻre looking at one more possibility: an infusion every three weeks that might be effective in controlling the tumors. It also means a longer stay in Sacramento…my doctor says to count on staying at least until the end of February (we had planned to return to Hilo on 9 January). Heʻs also checking if I can get the treatment at the Kaiser clinic in Hilo.

So there I was in cold, gray Sacramento, surrounded by winter-dead trees and driving past tents where the unhoused have to somehow deal with the cold, a situation that pains my heart deeply. In that environment, I was unable to get warm. Iʻd spend hours in bed, huddling between fleece sheets, dreading having to go outdoors. So one morning, in the midst of my depression, my wise and loving wife Joan said “Youʻre going to Hawaiʻi for a week. Iʻve already checked on flights. You have to get out of here to recharge, and, to be honest, Iʻm sick of seeing you like this.” After resisting out of guilt, I got online and arranged for a two-week stay. Joan was less than thrilled that I was taking extra time, but one week is over before it begins, and two weeks is still just a snippet of time.

So blah, blah, blah. Me, me, me. I look at the quote at the top of this post and think “OK, little mister miserable, what are you gonna do about it? Find the opportunity here.” A couple days ago, I got together with Beverly Strutt, a very special friend who is the spiritual director of a Science of Mind community near Hilo that Joan and I are involved with. As we were talking, I told her “Well, this thing has a pretty predictable trajectory…” She interrupted me and said “STOP IT! I never want to hear words like that come out of your mouth again!” She then said something that I know but had forgotten: “YOU DONʻT KNOW whatʻs going to happen, so quit telling the universe you want your life to be awful. Stay away from the statistics and donʻt believe what ʻpeople who knowʻ are telling you. They donʻt know what your path is.” Of course! So the opportunity is in realigning my mind and my attitude to a point of hopeful unknowing.

I donʻt yet know how to fully move past the depression, but Iʻm at least opening up to possibilities by meditating, spending time with people I love and expressing gratitude, love and kindness whenever and however I can.

Some of you have said in the past that you see me as brave. Nah, not really. I respectfully offer that that assessment is really a projection: I think youʻre comparing my response to all this with how you think you might react in a similar situation, and youʻre assuming it would be very difficult and would require a lot of courage. In my case, I donʻt think thatʻs true. Iʻm just being as practical as I can. I donʻt want to be unhappy and I donʻt want to burden those around me, so Iʻm doing my best to avoid those conditions by working on how I approach all this. Look, I know Iʻm going to die at some point, possibly earlier than I had expected and possibly not. At this point, perhaps Iʻm being naïve in not fearing that. And I donʻt know what happens between now and then. My job is simply to be as aware, as loving and as productive as possible, and my tendency to move into depression is my greatest challenge in that effort. You might think of that as courage, but to me, itʻs just practicality. Thank you, however, for accusing me of possessing such a positive quality.

I really appreciate your sticking with me on this journey. I’m deeply humbled by how many people continue to express their love and support. And yet there are old tapes (which I’m sure none of you have) that take me into self-loathing and questioning whether or not I deserve such love. Those old thoughts are logically absurd, but they’re so deeply ingrained that they refuse to go away. When we speak of opportunities, eradicating those beliefs has been my lifelong opportunity.

Whoever you are, I wish you health, love, peace and joy in abundance.

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