The cancer wagon pulled in to the secured entrance of Hippocrates Health Institute in West Palm Beach (WPB). It was not anticipated that to enter the grounds, the driver’s identification would need to be shown. Our driver complied, but not before someone in the car said to the guard “We all have cancer.” Another voice was heard saying “This is the cancer wagon.” The car filled with laughter while the guard looked a little mortified. He ushered us in after seeing the license of the driver.
I was one of the lucky passengers in this vehicle. I was attending the annual Annie Appleseed Conference in WPB a few weeks ago, learning about the many pathways to health. I ran in to some people I had met last fall at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY at the Radical Remission conference, and another “friend” who they had hooked up with at this conference. The galaxies must have been perfectly aligned for all of us to come together. And although we all come from different areas of the country, different religions and backgrounds, and different cancers, we all had a couple of things in common. We all experienced or are experiencing what it’s like to live with a diagnosis of cancer, and we are resourceful and understand that our own health needs to be managed first and foremost by ourselves, while gathering knowledge, friends, and a diverse team of people who will support our endeavors in healing and living well.
My friends decided to go to Hippocrates for dinner one night and invited me to go along.
My friend John who writes and posts interesting things on his Blog, Raining Iguanas has launched a “mysterious” bottle program where he attaches clever notes, adds a flower, and drops them off at various locations around town. He happened to see a painting I did that had the words “Hope Grows Here” which I painted at our local American Cancer Society Hope Club, with our creative art teacher, Debbie. John pulled an interesting bottle out of his stash and made one for me with the message of “Hope Grows Here”. I brought it to the conference with me to remind me that Hope is everywhere. It went to Hippocrates that night to as a way of sharing the hope I have been cultivating since my diagnosis of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
As the conference ended and we all prepared to step through the doorway to continue our lives with new information and a sense of support from the many presenters, I left knowing that these people, my friends, who I hardly know, have my unwavering respect, my undying love, and my never-ending wishes for enduring hope and wellness.
My friends Francesca, Bud, and Violet.
*Hope * Grows * Here*