It is Time for Planetary Pilgrims to Venture out on the Road Again

Eight years ago, during this week, I was getting ready to embark on a solo pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. I was 59 years old, and wanted to so domething to mark the end of my fifties. I also wanted to support the Capital Campaign of the K-W Multicultural Centre with a pilgrimage that would gather sponsorships, so that the Centre could buy a new building.

The actual walk took one month of walking in Spain, during May of 2003. Mornings were cool, afternoons comfortable. There was sunshine almost every day. I travelled alone, though I was never alone. There were always other fellow pilgrims on the trail.

My preparation consisted mostly of walking around Kitchener Waterloo, to break in my boots, and to get used to my backpack. Since I intended to take no more than 11 pounds (including a bottle of water that would get lighter as the day wore on), the planning of what to take was almost as important as the actual walking preparation.

What to take with you, when you are going to be walking every day, and sleeping in a different shelter every night, with up to sixty other people? I took a hat. A strong hiking pole to hold on to. Very few light, easy wearing items of clothing that would dry quickly, a comfortable pair of sandals for evenings, a long dress that would serve both as sleepwear and relaxing tunic after a long day of walking. I also took a cotton shawl that served as a privacy curtain around my bunk, and as a quick-drying towel. I took no cosmetics, except for skin lotion, sun screen and a few other health products. I cut my hair very, very short, so that I would not need to carry a comb or a brush. I took my father's little Book of Common Prayer. A map. My bank card and passport. In total, I carried eleven pounds, including a full bottle of water. I packed and unpacked, wound and rewound the clothing; I added, took away, and packed again until I was ready.

Later this week I am embarking upon a more taxing pilgrimage - an internal pilgrimage through the land of Chemotherapy and Radiation. I expect that this trek will take me, sometime in the middle of autumn, to a healthy resolution of the breast cancer that I discovered this winter.

What shall I pack for this awesome journey? How to prepare? I am thinking about this today, and so my post today is written as a review of what I might need to "pack". I am taking out my bright yellow backpack to carry my things to the hospital for treatments. It will serve as a connection to the earlier journey. My hat and a hair piece or a scarf will protect my head once I shave off my grey curls. Easy clothing, some of it made of silk, to be comfortable and soft. Precious few cosmetics, though I hope to carry and apply my Burt's Bees colour lip gloss every day!

I am walking alone this time, but it is a different "alone" from my earlier pilgrimage. Then I was physically alone, away from my family and home, though always in the presence of other pilgrims. This time I am alone in the sense that I alone will receive the treatments. It is my own body that has been affected,it will be my body that will experience both the blessing of healing and the worrisome side effects of the chemotherapy.

My previous pilgrimage experience put me in contact with dozens of local residents who decided to support my project. My church friends supported me and my family walked in spirit with me every step of the way.

Again this time, I have been overwhelmed with the support of friends, acquaintances and family from near and far. My sister, daughter and her family are here spending this beautiful Easter weekend with David and me. I visited family in Toronto over the weekend, our friend John calls David from time to time to check in. Friends have prepared meals that will come in handy after the treatment starts. My daughter, son-in-law, my grand children and my sister are planting things in the garden. My children's friends come over to visit and share their experiences, books,and  music with me. They and many others are getting ready to set off with me on this amazing pilgrimage toward healing.

I was saying to David the other day that I imagine myself as a boxer, getting ready to go into the ring. The other people around are my trainers making sure that I make the right moves, protect myself, and get the job done. And by God, we shall get the job done, no question about that!

Why have I been keeping this blog journal? Why have I decided to make my encounter with cancer so open? Because I know how many people in our communities are shocked when they are diagnosed with cancer. It is still seen by many as a horrible curse, one that should not be talked about. And so, people suffer in silence until near the end. Even when friends know what is going on, they maintain a poignant silence: if it is not mentioned, then perhaps it is not happening. "If we don't tell the patient then she will not despair."

My decision to make my condition known stems from a desire to do whatever I can to stress that cancer can be beaten. It is an unfortunate thing to have happen, it is an unplanned interruption, it is frightening, but it is part of the human condition. And when these things happen, humans support one another, and visit each other, and bring a book, or send a card, or make a casserole or a prayer shawl, or a loaf of bread.  In so doing, we offer comfort and we join the great company of pilgrims who are journeying to health and to healing.

As I write this, my grandkids are having a gardening blitz in our back yard, together with their parents and my sister. They are planting strawberries, onions, garlic, calla lilies and sunflowers. 


It is time I joined them. I want to take some pictures of the kids, and gather more good thoughts and memories for the road ahead. And we will see you around, looking forward to sunflowers in the autumn, on the way to Santiago.