Strong as a lion

I have reflected on the fact that Chip did not choose to shift to hospice many times since May 31st. Chip’s death was not the “peaceful” hospice death. It was very medical and very messy. It wasn’t beautiful. The ER room where his soul left the earth looked like a trauma scene through which a tornado had blown.

I thought we both thought his cancer death would be a slow decline with him receiving hospice care, but the more I reflect on his decline and death, I don’t think he ever really envisioned hospice at all. When he began weakening in early May, I was the one who suggested looking into home palliative care and hospice care (the former is administered while you are a patient on a medical caseload, while the latter is when you are no longer receiving any medical interventions). He accommodated me as I googled, researched and made phone calls to hospice providers. I checked with our insurance. But, even after receiving chemo on May 19th (his fourth treatment with the older, less nuanced chemo drug), he was planning to receive chemo again the next week on May 26th. It was only after the call from Dr. Lee at 5:00pm on May 22nd, when she revealed that his CT scan showed that his cancer was spreading and growing despite the chemo and she said “no more chemo,” did he seriously begin to entertain hospice or other methods of living with cancer.

Over the Memorial Day weekend following that May 22nd call from Dr. Lee, we watched a documentary called “Heal” recommended by Calli. We listened to a scientist named Dr Bengsten speak about Rapid Image Cycling, which he describes as a “playful technique” in which one chooses around 20 mental images of things you would like (selfishly based), or situations that you would like to be in, in the future. In addition to the documentary and learning about Rapid Image Cycling, Chip and I looked into meditation apps. He ordered a high-quality pair of noise-canceling headphones for meditation purposes (the headphones arrived via UPS 3 days after his death). We were emboldened by and feeling positive about the information we found that weekend regarding non-Western interventions that could help him manage pain, heal old emotional wounds, live as stress-free as possible, and continue strengthening his resolve and will to live.

After creating our long list of non-western methods of living with cancer without chemotherapy, Chip shared his decision with his oncologist that he wanted to remain on her caseload, rather than shift to hospice care, during the phone conference with Dr. Lee on May 27th. He explained that he wanted to remain on her caseload just in case he needed a blood transfusion (he had already had many of those, and they had helped) or a new prescription, all while he used non-Western healing techniques to supplement whatever she could offer him. She accepted his decision and, since she was going on maternity leave in 2 days, we ended the call with “See you in September.”

In the wee hours of the Monday morning after he died, I woke up and my first thought was “Chip’s death wasn’t the beautiful death it was supposed to be” and I felt I was the one to blame. I wondered if I hadn’t pushed him hard enough to enter hospice care. I questioned why I hadn’t been more honest about how chemo was damaging his body and shouldn’t have kept telling him “You look good. You’re eating. You will get stronger as you eat more.” I beat myself up for not discouraging him from remaining on Dr. Lee’s caseload.

The only person I knew who would be awake at such an early hour was Calli, who was still in France. I called to tell her how I had contributed to Chip’s medical, non-peaceful death and that it was all my fault that he died the way he did. I will never forget her words:

“No, Mom, no. He fought right up until the end. He didn’t want to go out like a lamb, he wanted to go out like a lion.”

With those words, she immediately brought me back to reality. The lion had been Chip’s symbol for how he wanted to live with cancer. He had seen the phrase “Nguvu kama simba,” which is Swahili for “Strong as a lion”, in an outdoor/mountaineering catalog shortly after he was diagnosed in November 2016. I still remember the look on his face and the fortitude in his voice when he said that the concept really resonated with him. Taking the cue, I had t-shirts made for the 8 children, as well as for him and myself, with an image of a strong lion and the phrase “Nguvu kama simba” on them for Christmas 2016. Also taking the cue, his childhood friend, Rick Altergott, designed and painted a piece of artwork (pictured here in this post) with a lion and the phrase for Chip’s 56th birthday party that we threw for him in February 2017.

I was reminded by Calli’s words that Chip didn’t want to go out like lamb sent to the slaughter. He wanted to fight, like one of the fiercest, big predators on the African savanna. Cancer might have had Chip in his clutches and mouth, with its deep claws and teeth sunken into him, but he was not going to roll over and give in to cancer. He was going to fight to the death. And, that’s just what he did.