Seeing the light
Artist impression by @canyonmoongal
My condition deteriorated rapidly, progressing to full-blown Multiple Myeloma by July 2019. What began with a couple of fractured ribs soon cascaded into a series of devastating injuries: six vertebral compression fractures, a fractured sternum, and four more fractured ribs, all within a matter of weeks.
The next three months became a blur of hospital stays. Breathing was a struggle, and my fitful sleep was constantly interrupted by blood draws and medication schedules. By December 2019, I teetered on the brink of hospice care. Trapped in a seemingly hopeless situation, I was barely lucid, gripped by fear, and sustained by transfusions of strangers' blood.
Then, one morning, something inexplicable happened. The pain that had been my constant companion suddenly vanished. In its place came an overwhelming sense of comfort and warmth. Fear melted away, replaced by an all-encompassing feeling of love. The room dimmed, save for a warm yellow glow that appeared a few feet in front of me. As this radiance began to envelop me, time seemed to slow. In that fleeting moment, I faced a profound choice: surrender to the peace that beckoned, ending my pain forever, or summon the strength to fight on.
In a split second, a profound realization struck me: my earthly purpose remained unfulfilled. A wave of shame washed over me as I recognized how I had squandered my knowledge and privilege. Suddenly, fragments of joyful memories and recent Montana revelations coalesced into a breathtaking mental tableau.
Vast landscapes materialized before me. Sunlight pierced through cloud breaks, bathing the scene in golden radiance. Majestic bison roamed freely while indigenous tribes gathered, sharing stories, dancing, and trading. It was a vision of unparalleled beauty and vibrancy.
As the collage began to fade and the comforting warmth dissipated, I felt a chill and the return of pain. A new idea took root: perhaps I could use my photography to inspire others to connect with the land and serve Indigenous America.
The following day, the light reappeared, equally inviting and pain-free. This time, however, the vivid collage didn't materialize. It felt like I was being offered a chance to reconsider my decision. Closing my eyes, I expressed gratitude and then summoned every ounce of strength to push back against the allure of letting go.