Excerpt

After the surgery to remove my cancerous kidney, I spent four miserable days in the hospital, stapled together like a cardboard box. Weak and debilitated, every move produced a lancing pain in my side. Just getting out of bed to use the bathroom was a major accomplishment. Food, usually a source of great enjoyment for me, had no appeal. It was humbling to lie helplessly in bed, following the doctors orders, when I was always the one giving the orders.

Following discharge, I went home and took only a week off because I was eager to get back to my practice. In retrospect, I should have taken more time off. My body was still recovering from the trauma of the surgery as it made the physiological adjustments necessary to working with only one kidney. Furthermore, I was still scarred from the recent passing of my father, a wound which my face to face confrontation with cancer had only deepened.

I was still searching for answers as to why I had developed this dreaded disease. Was it hereditary? There was a strong family history of cancer in my family: with my father it had involved his colon; my sister, the breast; and my mother, the lung. But in fact, none of these cancers increased my risk of developing kidney cancer. I knew that it wasnt my lifestyle habits, because for twenty years I had followed all of the recommendations given to reduce the risk of getting cancer. I needed to dig deeper.

In my studies, I had learned that most disease started from emotional, mental, or spiritual imbalances, so my search for an answer was directed in that direction. My therapist poignantly revealed to me that not only do the kidneys filter out poisons and toxins from the physical body, but on another level, they filter emotions as well. Along this line of reasoning she added that if emotional toxins such as hatred, anger, and resentment overload the kidneys then, over time, it was quite possible that they could coalesce into a cancerous tumor. This made sense to me because of my lifetime battle against self- hatred. Later on, in my study of acupuncture, I would also learn that the kidneys were particularly vulnerable to the destructive effects of fear. This emotion was another nemesis in my lifelong fight with depression.

Interestingly, I also learned in my studies of traditional chinese medicine that grief is stored in the lungs which helped me realize that my childhood history of chronic asthma could have been related to the grief I carried from not receiving the unconditional love from my mother, the sort of love that I so desperately needed while I was growing up. Also, Moms grief over the loss of her mother could have been another factor that contributed to the etiology of her lung cancer.

The connection between negative emotions and disease can not be understated. Studies have revealed that holding on to feelings of anger, not high cholesterol, high blood pressure, or even smoking, is the number one risk factor for developing heart disease. Most recently, it has been shown that one can actually die from a broken heart. Emotional trauma is what triggers the broken heart syndrome and it can unleash a cascade of physiological changes which directly stress the heart and produce symptoms similar to those experienced during an actual heart attack. Research has also revealed that those women who have felt emotionally stunted or suppressed by their husbands or significant other, were at a much higher risk of developing breast cancer than their counterparts who were in healthy relationships.

This knowledge, though important, did not stop me from sliding into a deep depression as fall turned into winter and the cumulative effect of many factors in my life were reaching a frenzied crescendo. The ongoing stress and strain from my battle with the medical board, the entangled legal dilemma with the corporations, the legal fees which were siphoning my financial reserves, the debilitating physical and emotional effects from my surgery, the deep grief that I still had from the loss of my father, and being in a marriage which was not bringing me any joy all combined to drain my emotional reserves. I felt as though despair and darkness were sucking the breath of Life from my soul.

My thoughts turned to suicide as the only way to escape this endless misery. Many see taking ones life as the ultimate act of cowardice, weakness and selfishness. But I can tell you from my personal experience, that the emotional pain that drives one to this final act of desperation is so intense, so unrelenting, so merciless and unforgiving, that death seems like the only option left to end the intolerable suffering. One Saturday morning in early January 2000, I made the preparations that would ensure my final exit from this life.

That day, Lisa would be away visiting her sister. She seemed concerned about my emotional disquietude and was worried about leaving me alone, but I had taken pains to hide the true depths of my anguish. After she left, I grabbed the two bottles of medication that would painlessly lead me out of this life. One contained eighty pills of the sedative Ativan, the other, fifty pills of the sleeping medication Ambien. I was in a quandary as to where to take this deadly combination of medication. Wanting to spare my wife the shock of finding me dead at home, I got into my car and began to search for a secluded location where I would not be found until after the medications reached the critical blood levels necessary to transport me to my ultimate destination.

I merged onto the highway with the two bottles within easy reach on the passenger seat. Each time I passed an exit, my eyes searched for a location that would serve my purposes. As each exit whizzed by, not even hinting of a place that would ensure my privacy, any remnants of sanity that I still possessed evaporated, and I swallowed the contents of both bottles while driving in the thick of traffic. The last thing I remember, before losing consciousness, was exiting the highway.