Seeing The Light

The disease progressed rapidly, developing into fully-blown Multiple Myeloma in July 2019. What started off with a couple of fractured ribs, resulted in six vertebral compression fractures, a fractured sternum, and a further four fractured ribs within a few weeks.

In all, I spent 3 months in and out of hospital. I could barely breathe, and what little sleep I got was broken every three hours for blood draws and countless drugs. I found myself on the verge of being sent to hospice in December 2019. It was a hopeless situation. I was trapped, very afraid, hardly lucid, and with someone else’s blood in my veins.

One morning, the pain mysteriously vanished. Within an instant I felt comfort and warmth. The fear went. All I could feel was love around me. The room went dark, save for a warm yellow glow that appeared a few feet in front of me. As the glow began to envelope me, I had a millisecond to choose between allowing my life to end and for the pain to be over, or to fight back.

It was in that peaceful moment that I knew my work on this earth hadn’t finished. I felt ashamed that I hadn’t put my knowledge and privilege to good use. In this moment, the fragments of my life’s happy experiences, and the recent revelations in Montana came together as a magnificent collage before my eyes. Vast landscapes appeared. The sun shone brightly through a few cracks in the clouds, showering the landscape with a golden light. Great bison roamed and indigenous tribes gathered to share stories, dance and trade supplies. It was the most beautiful vibrant picture I’d set my eyes upon.

The collage began to fade, and the warm glow vanished. I shivered and the pain returned. I wondered if I could do something creative with my photography to influence others to connect with the land, and to serve Indigenous America in some way.

The following day the light appeared again. It was just as welcoming, and again, I felt no pain. But the collage didn’t appear. It seemed as though I was being given a chance to reconsider. I closed my eyes, gave thanks and pushed back with everything I had.

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Confronting Terminal Illness

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Getting Back On My Feet