One day in the month before she became less able to carry on her usual work, I saw my mother rush into the bathroom. I suspected something was wrong with her and thought she was vomiting in there. I still remember the unpleasant premonition I felt at that moment and when she came out I asked her if she had been vomiting. She said yes and went back to her patients as if nothing unusual had happened. Nobody seemed to have noticed it except myself. This reflected my mother’s determination not to cause any anxiety to her patients.
It was quite rare for her to vomit, no matter how tired she was. In fact, it had never happened before. Maybe something was wrong with her digestive system, I began to suspect. It was six months later that she passed away because of pancreatic cancer.

(“Cruel” words of a doctor)
In most cases, cancer that affects digestive organs makes it difficult or impossible to eat. Suffering from pancreatic cancer, my mother was no exception. I asked her doctor if even sipping a little soup was inadvisable. He said that the fragrance of food induces secretion of bile and may cause vomiting. What a cruel opinion, I thought!
One day she asked me what would happen if we stopped eating for a month. I could only say in response, “Nothing very serious would happen.” When she said, “How cruel!” I could say nothing more. The chit-chat with my mother still remains in my mind and agonizes me.

(What does eating mean?)
Today, I saw a special program on TV entitled “Disintegrating eating rules.” On the program it was reported that no small number of women were eating simply to fill their stomachs. These people eat sweet buns for breakfast, cookies for lunch, and only some hamburgers for supper. A university professor said he was satisfied only if his stomach was filled, and his main food was cup noodles, cookies plus 300 tablets of supplement a day.
A psychosomatic specialist was saying that our psychology was much influenced by what we eat. All the 20 young sufferers of depressive psychosis mentioned they had never enjoyed meals together with family members. When they got together at the table, which was quite seldom, all that they did was loud quarreling, they said. It was also mentioned the lack of communication at eating times in their childhood prevented them from developing normal communicative skills.

(Evidence of being alive)
A scene at another hospital was being introduced. Here a man who had lost use of his
limbs due to a stroke was being trained in eating rice porridge. He was not able to speak, but according to his wife, he always insisted that eating proved he was still much alive. Another patient who had suffered an apoplexy began to smile and talk when he completed one-year training to eat, saying “How delicious! I’ve finished eating. Three cheers for me, ha ha!” His recovery was amazing. To those who take three meals for granted everyday may not be able to believe this. Eating, indeed, is firm evidence of being alive and gives us power to sustain life. This is an unfathomable truth.

(Becoming able to love and be loved through eating)
Once I heard Ms. Fusako Tatsumi, a gastronomic specialist I respect, say something very important about food. Let me summarize her talk: She said, “Each time we eat, we are ceaselessly renovating ourselves.” Being able to eat helps us realize the power of our life, and thus create confidence in ourselves. Being able to believe in ourselves, we keep growing to believe in the existence of people and things around us. This belief leads us to hopes for the future. And the hopes will be the foundation of the mutual love and compassion among us.

(My mother’s last wish to taste polished rice)
The words of a man who had lost use of his limbs made me think very seriously. …”Being confined to bed unable to eat takes away from us all the hopes for the future.” This TV program brought back to me the words of my mother in the final stage of her illness. People in normal health may not be able to understand this feeling. Eating, like breathing, is an indispensable act in life. When my mother was no longer able to eat, she honestly yearned for some polished rice (hakumai), which is a staple food of the Japanese. “How I want to eat some polished rice!” As I thought of her last words, I could not help offering a heaped bowl of boiled hakumai at her altar. I feel grateful to my mother who taught me how I should address patients who are not able or allowed to eat.

(Beginning of a struggle)
Chinatsu first came to my acupuncture therapeutic office on February 18th of this year.
She had nervous gastritis at the age of 13. It persisted on and off before she came to my acupuncture office. When she saw me for the first time, she said she had met me somewhere before, and she was much pleased with the encounter. She was a very pretty woman in every respect, but something that gave me a negative thought about her facial expression. It was some wrinkles between her brows, which made me suspect that she easily got frightened and often worried about anything she experienced and was not able to get rid of anxiety about anything that caught her. She had little appetite and complained about a backache.
It was diagnosed as gallbladder cancer. Moreover, the case was much advanced and the doctor declared she had only thee months to live. It was the beginning of her all-out battle with the cancer.
Soon later, I had an opportunity to visit her and met with her husband for the first time.
There I saw thousands of dietary supplements, expensive Chinese medicines, lots of therapeutic drugs including anticancer materials. Her husband was doing everything to stop the cancer and even took repeated leaves from his workplace for this. I took the liberty of eliminating many of the medicines that were not absolutely needed. She said, “Thank you indeed because I had too many things to take!” Naturally her husband looked worried and irresolute. But eventually he listened to me and declared courageously that he would stop using the anticancer drugs. His “courage” was enormous, because he had spent most of his precious time and energy trying to fight against his wife’s cancer passionately. My mentor says our life power helps us resist
cancer successfully.

(Life power cannot be expressed in numerical values)
She turned 45 years of age this year and has a nice high school student daughter and a lovable son in elementary school. As requested by her husband and herself, I agreed to
help her take care of herself as an outpatient of the hospital. I am quite aware what an onerous task it is to attend to a cancer patient at home. The husband was the only person taking care of her. Neither of the couple wanted to have the kids see their parents struggling. And of course she hoped to be spared the cancer pain and was not yielding to the enemy so simply. They knew the truth about life power. She “overturned” her doctors words and lived a fullest life until the very end. She proved that life power cannot be expressed in numerical values.

(A bag on the front door)
One day I saw a bag on the front door which was full of empty bottles of alcohol, telling us about how much he was doing for his wife. Although he was always behaving undauntedly, the fact was he was much more worried than his children about the condition of his wife. Sometimes he was so much worried that courage failed him to take a look at her medical report. His only help was sedative and sleeping pills. This tells us how hard it is to watch and look after our loved ones suffering from cancer. It is not only the patient but the people around him/her who suffers from cancer.

(Unfathomable power of life)
Chinatsu’s power of life surprised me and her husband. Repeated blood discharges were overcome; swollen legs regained their normal shape; the cancerous belly pain disappeared. Occasional states of delirium soon disappeared, and she never forgot to ask her children if they had done their homework. Once she smiled and mentioned the
most delicious melon she had ever eaten. When I was talking with her husband in whispers while she seemed asleep, she suddenly opened her eyes, smiled and said, “I heard all that you said, sensei.”
On September 30th, about a week before her death when her urination had stopped,
she was still able to apply ointment to her lips by herself, drank tea by herself with a smile on her face, and to communicate with others. When she looked at her husband and asked, “Honey, are you OK?” he could not help bursting out into tears. Her reaction to it was just saying, “Thanks honey, but stop crying. I am OK.”

(Accepting death)
I do not remember on which visit it was, but anyway, I remember her peaceful and happy look on that day. The usual wrinkles on her face were gone. When I saw her, I
intuitively knew that she had accepted her end. She had been talking with her husband about their first meeting, happiness about the encounter, or the sadness of parting from each other in this world. But I tried to continue to do my best to let her live as much as possible. She muttered, “Acupuncture is marvelous.” I felt strong-mindedness in her words.

(October 3rd, the day she went)
I visited her in the evening after finishing my work. The moment I went to her room, she woke up and opened her eyes. Until the day before, she was complaining about the heat of the weather, but now she lay quiet and peaceful. Her limbs became increasingly cold. I told her children to warm their mother’s hands and feet.” Despite
the approaching death, the room was filled with peaceful atmosphere. Now it was not possible to check her blood pressure. The pulse rate was 24, which rose to about 40 as
we rubbed her hands and legs. Soon she stopped breathing and closed her eyes peacefully. It was 11:30 p.m. It was an extremely impressive departure. All her family was watching her. She victoriously conquered the cancer. It was not only her victory but victories of her husband and all the family members! Her husband said, “She was waiting for you to come.” This time he was not crying.

Thank you Chinatsu for the past eight months I was with you. Have a little rest until we meet again sometime somewhere. Thank you for teaching me so many things. Your departure was just wonderful. Lastly I wish to commend her husband and their children, Momo-chan and Ken-chan, for their continued fight, too.
Please remember Chinatsu will always be watching you all somewhere.