The Destroyer and the Divers
Elliott’s Journey with Cancer
Meeting Elliott
In October 1976, I was returning to the Upper Connecticut River Valley from a rally in support 18 members of the Clamshell Alliance who planned to occupy the Seabrook nuclear power plant in protest to its planned construction. In the car, on the return trip, I met a young man who was strongly committed to the cause.
Elliott had recently returned from a year-long motor scooter pilgrimage which had taken him from his parent’s home in Florida through Central and South America on a Vespa motor scooter. On his journey he had visited and lived among the native tribes, gypsies and other indigenous people along his route, which took him to Southern Chile and back. He had been robbed in Columbia. He had spent time in jail at one juncture and learned to identify with the homeless and disenfranchised along his route. I was deeply moved by his story and touched by his deep commitment to understand these people. He had recently graduated from Dartmouth College with a degree in Anthropology.
I had recently moved to New Hampshire to help found an intentional community, dedicated to a vision of healing, on a rural farm with friends I had made in Washington, D.C. Elliott and I shared our hopes and our concerns during that ride from Seabrook back to the “Upper Valley.”
At the time, I was commuting to New Hampshire on weekends from a graduate program at Andover Newton Theological School in Newton Center, Massachusetts. My intention was to complete a Masters degree as a prerequisite to entering a program to become a Jungian Analyst at the Jung Institute in Zurich, Switzerland.
My base in the United States was at the community forming at True farm, in Meriden, N.H. When at the farm, I met with a group of people from the larger community who were seeking alternatives to the current health care system in our community. The group, consisting of many members of the health care sector along with community members, was called the Upper valley Center for Health. The task of envisioning changes to the health care system became bogged down in the complex issues and attempts to envision meaningful and constructive ways to begin such a mammoth task.
One of the group’s members presented a concern for a personal friend who was then in the hospital with cancer. Her friend was a 26 year old young man who was being treated with chemotherapy and radiation for a case of tereto-carcinoma, a rare and volatile form of cancer. He needed to find a place to live after his hospitalization where he could have his basic needs met, such as regular showers, meals, etc. Many of his friends wanted to help him find alternative methods of treatment to chemotherapy, radiation and surgery.
I suggested that the group might make more progress by focusing its attention on learning to respond concretely to the specific needs of this one patient, rather than by trying to construct a generalized alternative system of health care. I returned to school and learned soon after, that arrangements had been made for him to move to True Farm. He would be living with a community of caring people which included registered nurses and a physical therapist. He would be arriving at the farm following a massive bout with chemotherapy. It was said that he had been subjected to the most massive dose of chemotherapy agents used to date at the cancer center.
When I returned to the farm I faced a person devoid of hair. His skin was pale grey and his countenance was shriveled like an old man close to death. A large tumor protruded from the left side of his neck. He was constantly bent over with pain and exhaustion from a journeywhere he had traveled to the very edge of death by the poisons intended to save his life. I then saw in his eyes and heard in his voice what seemed like a distant recognition. There was an underlying spirit of determination and life shining through this body that I recognized as the same Elliott I had met in the car returning from Seabrook a few months before.
Two Tasks
Elliott was dauntless in his commitment to two callings:
The first was his investment in the struggle to eliminate what he saw as the cancer of nuclear weapons and nuclear power in world he valued so dearly. He had chosen to dedicate his life to be harmony with the Native American principle that the Earth is our mother and that in everything we should consider the effect of our actions on the seventh generation to follow.
The second was his personal struggle to fight against the cancer that was consuming his body. He was meticulous in his determination to gather all the evidence and to weigh his alternatives before taking action. Journalism was in his blood as his upbringing had been in the shadow of his grandfather who was a recognized publisher.
His determination was often frustrating to both his doctors and his friends who were committed to their own, often contradictory philosophies and modalities of treatment. Elliott was model forall of us of the value of free choice and examining the full range of options in the midst of seemingly contradictory alternatives while maintaining courage, dignity and integrity in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds.
On his concern for the dangers of nuclear power, Elliott set up educational displays at the entrance to nearly every public gathering he was able to identify in the local area, in order to educate citizens on the dangers of nuclear power and weapons of mass destruction. He organized public meetings, and challenged public institutions to face up to their role in issues effecting the public health and welfare. He wrote letters to politicians and corresponded with leading scientists.
Out of his own experience of fighting cancer, Elliott modeled to patients, doctors, nurses, staff and friends alike a gentle but firm value of personal authority that preserved each ones dignity and freedom to choose in the face of complex institutional pressures which easily eroded the value of individual responsibility and choice. Though he had few material resources he earned the respect of all who knew him. Elliott was relentless in pursuing both of his chosen tasks.
The Turmoi1
Elliott was faced with a terrible dilemma. His deepest beliefs and values moved him not to trust fully in the chemicals and radiation treatments which were recommended by his doctors and the institutions they served. On the other hand, the alternatives presented by his friends, which were more consistent with his own instincts, did not fully satisfy his meticulous investigative character. Elliott did not have the luxury of time to build his case for the alternative treatments and chose to accept, if reluctantly, the hospital protocols.
When, in fact, the chemotherapy and radiation did not produce the results he looked for and when the doctors simply recommended a second and intense round of aggressive experimental treatments, the odds did not satisfy Elliott. By this time, Elliott had built up what to him was a more convincing case to try alternative modes of therapy based, in part on building up and restoring his own bodie’s immunity to fight the cancer. He was a lover of warm weather and sunshine. He found the prospect of spending a long cold winter in New England depressing to his spirit and health prospects. At that time, his research pointed him to some of the more prominsing alternative therapies. The programs he identified were located in California. By the holiday season, Elliott was preparing to spend the winter months with friends in southern California who had access to these programs.
Exploring Elliott’s Dreams
From the time Elliott moved to True Farm until he left for California I had encouraged him to pay attention his dreams for possible clues to his health and to approaches to his situation. In general, he was skeptical about the value and efficacy of dreams. More specifically, he was a very private person concerning accessing and exposing his inner life.
On one occasion, as we were driving in the country in his VM van, he felt comfortable enough to share a dream that he had had.
The First Dream: “Catching a Fawn over the Stream”
"I was walking in the woods and came upon a house. To the right and just beyond the house were a few deer. I decided to proceed quietly around the house to see the deer more closely. The deer ran leaped into the air to cross a nearby stream. I leaped into the air as well and caught a fawn in mid air. We both fell into the water and were tumbled head over heels until I could regain my footing. I was then able to stand up in the middle of the stream with the fawn in my arms."
Elliott’s Associations
"The Spanish word for fawn is the same as poison. It reminds me that poison itself is often the antidote."
Elliott did not seem too interested in pursuing the meaning of this dream. However,on a separate occasion, I asked him if he could see the scene. He could see himself in the middle of the stream with the fawn on the shore. As time went on the fawn moved further and further away.
On the eve of his departure to California, Elliott agreed to spend some time working on a recent dream.
The Second Dream: “Destroyer and the Divers”
"I am walking through the woods along a path. I look up in the sky and see a ball of fire falling to the earth. I believe it is a plane crashing. I continue along the path and come out at a place overlooking a small body of water. On the other side of the body of water there is a naval destroyer. There could be a passage to the ocean but it is not visible because the ship is blocking the view. The body of water appears to be a harbor or passage to the sea."
"I walk out of the woods and take up a position next to a guard rail. Alarms have gone off and the ship is on alert. The plane has now crashed right next to the ship. Women divers have gone down to attempt to rescue any possible survivors. I don't see why they are making the effort. It is obvious that there are no survivors."
The Dream Work
Elliott, upon reflection, was unable to imagine why they were making such an effort to save the plane. With my encouragement, Elliott walked down along the shore and reluctantly boarded the ship. He felt very uncomfortable on the deck of the ship because he didn't believe that he had a right to be there. Reluctantly, he approached the ships railing, where he could see the divers swimming in the water below. From his vantage point he could now see the ocean beyond the ship.
The divers waved and called up to him and asked him to help them recover a piece of metal they had brought up to the surface from the crash. I asked him what the piece of metal reminded him of. He responded that it looked like part of a wood stove. I then asked him what a wood stove was. His response was that it is a source of warmth.
When I encouraged him to listen to the divers and give them a hand he refused. Beside him, on the deck, a hoist appeared. If he was willing to operate the controls they would be able to hoist the piece of metal onto the deck of the ship. He refused and, to my chagrin, retired from the ship and returned to his vantage point behind the guard rail above the harbor.
A former Nightmare Recovered: “Stuck on a Record.”
At this point, Elliott recalled a recurring nightmare from childhood. "I am standing on a record player. I’m standing at the center of the disc. I am very small. The record has reached the end of play, but the arm fails to eject and it continues endlessly to go round and round with a swishing sound."
F: “Notice yourself there. What do you want to do?"
E: "I want to get off the record player."
F: "What is stopping you?"
E: "I am afraid."
F: "What are you afraid of?"
E: "There is a very big monster standing over me?"
F: "Where are you?"
E: "In my bedroom where I grew up as a child?"
F: "What does the monster remind you of?"
E: "My mother. She used to lock me in my room. I don't feel safe.”
F: “Was there a time when you felt safe?”
E: “Only one way. I used to dream of a light. As the light got smaller and smaller I felt a feeling of peace. When the light became only a point and disappeared, I felt safe and at peace.”
Note: By this time in the dream work, Elliott had drifted into a deep trance state. I felt in myself an ominous sense of dread and doom. To me diminishment of the light felt like a move toward death, as opposed to expansion of light as a move toward life. I didn’t share this concern with Elliott. I simply noted it in my own memory. When Elliott returned from the trance, I encouraged him to seek out someone in California to work with him on his dreams and inner images. The next day I returned to graduate school in Massachusetts and Elliott flew to California to take up the next phase of his battle against cancer.
Elliott’s Return
The following spring, 1414 activists gathered and marched onto the Seabrook nuclear power plant in Seabrook, New Hampshire. Rumors had it that Elliott was planning to join us at the occupation. Four columns of protesters marched onto the site from the four directions. During the march I saw Elliott in the march. I was immediately struck by the changes in his appearance. He radiated a vibrant aura of healthfulness. He sported a dark California tan. He had a shiny black crop of hair that had gown back during his absence. Except for a patch of gauze covering the left side of his neck, he appeared to be at the pinnacle of health and fitness.
Following the drama and the aftermath of the occupation, we returned to the “Upper Valley.” Elliott returned to the farm where Elliott pitched in on farm activities which include construction of a split rail fence.
Elliott’s physician examined him at the hospital and was impressed by his progress. His abdominal tumors showed no further advance with possible shrinking. The tumor on his neck was now isolated sufficiently from his arteries and nerves to support surgery that was impossible before his trip to California.
On the day of his surgery, I snapped a before picture of his tumor. When he returned to the farm I also snapped an after picture to document the success. Our spirits were elated by his progress.
Road to the End
By the time we had planted half a dozen cedar fence posts Elliott began to feel pain in his shoulder. The first thoughts were that he had suffered a strain from digging fence posts. Soon after, Elliott began to experience a new source of pain in his hip, which did not recede, but grew in intensity. An examination revealed that new tumors had appeared and taken hold in his hip and shoulder.
On one particular day, as Elliott was considering his options for moving forward, which included a choice to return to another intense protocol of chemotherapy and radiation, I inquired about the images and dreams we had explored before his departure for California in December. The thought of returning to these memories triggered a cold sweat and withdrawal from the subject.
I dropped the subject while feeling in my own body a dreaded sense of doom.
As the summer passed, Elliott increasingly confronted deepening pain. He started using a cane to move around. Paradoxically, as his body deteriorated, his stature grew. The community of support also grew in numbers.
As he faced the possibility that he might not win his battle against cancer, Elliott confronted a paradoxical choice. Was it better to fight on or let go as the most effective strategy. Which attitude would serve him best to increase his chances of survival? My reflection was that each attitude might serve him in its own way. It was not necessarily a choice of holding on or letting go, but of embracing both at the same time.
Elliott reentered the hospital for his final round of chemotherapy. Following his treatment he returned again to the farm and his community. Within a week, Elliott participated in a demonstration at the Vermont Yankee nuclear plant and was arrested. His sign displayed a bold message. “I HAVE CANCER, NUKES CAUSE CANCER, STOP THE NUKES.” The trial judge was faced with a dilemma and ultimately released Elliott.
Soon after his release, Elliott was back in the hospital. From his hospital bed, Elliott wrote letters, including one to the hospital pointing out that they did not have an emergency plan in the event of an accident at Vermont Yankee. He made a tape for fellow cancer patients encouraging them to take charge of their own disease. It was still a time when cancer was hidden in the closet in society.
Elliott had a steady and growing stream of visitors. On Sundays a group would gather to hang out and sing songs in his room. An around the clock vigil formed at his bedside.
Inner Images and Synchronicity
One evening at school after dinner, I received a request to visit Sue in her dorm room. It was a few nights before my planned return to New Hampshire where I planned to visit Elliott in the hospital. Sue was experiencing a devastating headache. I invited her to “go to” the headache and to tell me what she saw there.
She related that it was as if her head was pressed hard against a stone wall. Then, she gained some distance and saw a crossroad with a stone bridge carrying one path crossing over another at right angles to each other. A young man wearing khaki pants and a plaid flannel shirt was leaning against the wall under the bridge. He was agitated and smoking a cigarette.
Sue looked into the distance and saw three steep purple mountain peaks. The sun was shining from behind the peaks.
At this very moment another student knocked on the door with a message that I had an urgent telephone call waiting on the pay phone.
I excused myself and took the call. It was Elliott’s sister calling from New Hampshire. She was distraught. Tests had indicated that Elliott showed evidence of a possible brain tumor. They had just run tests, the results of which would come out the next day.
The hospital informed her that they had notified Elliott’s mother of his condition. This was contrary to Elliott’s instructions and wishes. The concern was how this new development might affect his ability to maintain his mental faculties, his judgment and his autonomy. The hospital’s independently contacting his mother felt like a betrayal f his explicit instructions to his sister.
I calmed her down and suggested we wait for the test results before taking further steps.
I returned to the hospital on my return visit on Friday evening. The tests came up negative for a brain tumor.
Returning Home to Die
Elliott’s last wish was to die at True Farm and to have his ashes spread at the farm. His mother had other ideas. She wanted his remains to be returned with her to Florida. Elliott had made it clear to the hospital officials that they inform him of all changes in his condition so that, as long as he was mentally competent, he would make all decisions regarding his care and would be able to move to the farm when all options for reversing the cancer were exhausted. They had agreed. He had explicitly declared his wishes regarding his independence, especially with respect to communication with his mother.
assed. El 11 oft. was in severe pain and using a cane to get around. As his body deteriorated his stature grew. So also did the community that gathered around him both giving and receiving support and love.
As he began to face the possibility that he might not win his battle against cancer he came face to face with a second parado;. He was unsure whether fighting or letting go would be the best approach to take to increase his options for survival. Which attitude would serve him best? I suggested that maybe each served him in its own way. It was not an issue of either one or the other but of preserving the relationship of both the one and the other at once.
Elliott entered the hospital for the final round of chemotherapy. He returned once more to the community and within a week was arrested at the Vermont Yankee nuclear power plant with a sign stating his final plea--NUKES CAUSE CANCER' I HAVE CANCER* STOP THE NUKES!
Shortly after his arrest, Elliott returned to the hospital for his final treatment. Elliott had challenged the cancer center and the hospital administration with a carefully worded letter to examine the fact that they did not have an emergency action plan in the event of an accident at the Vermont Yankee power plant.
Elliott had a constant flow of visitors in the hospital. On Sundays a group of friends would gather to share support and sing songs. Toward the end, an around the clock vigil was maintained at his bedside.
Going Home to Die
Elliott's last wish was to die at True Farm and to have his ashes spread at the farm. His mother wanted him returned to Florida to be buried. He had been clear with the hospital that any change in his condition or treatment would be brought to his attention so that he could decide his fate. He wanted to be guaranteed that he would be the one to direct any news to his family.
I asked the doctor on duty of his condition. He told me that he might only have a few days to live, and that his mother had been notified without his knowledge, either of his condition, or that his mother had been notified that the end was near and the family should come soon. Elliott was unaware of any of these facts. His own physicians had not visited him in more than a week. The next day asked Elliott what he knew about the status of his treatment. He told me that the hospital had said that they were pursuing a plan that had some slight chance of helping him continue to fight his cancer. He was unaware that the doctors had notified his family and that they had already run out of options. I encouraged Elliott to request a meeting of his physicians in order to bring him up to date so that he could exercise his free choice.
The physicians, nurses and social worker gathered in the hall for an emergency conference. They shared their concern that they did not want to upset Elliott with the fact of his impending death. They wanted his mother to have the chance to see him alive. I reminded them that the most important thing to Elliott was that he would have the freedom of choice in his life. He was less afraid of dying than of being stripped of his choices and his individuality. The doctors were also afraid that we would be unable to give him adequate care at the farm in his final days. Elliott had been explicit in his wish to die at True Farm. He would stay in the hospital only so long as they offered medical treatments that had some chance of stopping the cancer. Beyond that point Elliott had no use for the hospital environment.
The lead physicians finally agreed to present the case to Elliott in order to hear his choice. The resident, who had been in Elliott’s class at Dartmouth, was given the responsibility to talk to Elliott. He carefully explained to Elliott that the hospital was doing everything in its power to make him comfortable and to provide him the best possible care. Elliott leaned back satisfied that they still had protocols they could offer him. I asked the resident to clarify his statement. I thought Elliott might be confused by the resident’s message. Was he saying that he had a plan that might have even the smallest chance to help Elliott stay alive, or, was he saying that he felt the hospital could provide comfort to help Elliott meet his end?
The resident swallowed hard, thought a moment, leaned close to Elliott and finally spoke in a quiet, broken voice. He told Elliott that they had exhausted every possible protocol and that they had nothing else they could do to stop the cancer. He was deeply concerned that Elliott have the best care and comfort to the end. He thought the hospital was able to provide that care.
Elliott sat bolt upright in his bed and said "LET'S GO! He reached for his IV and his catheter and would have walked out at that moment if we had failed to intervene. We assured him that we would get him home as soon as possible and that he should just relax.
The physicians waiting in the hall were still not convinced that this was a good idea. I asked them what they needed to assure them that Elliott's needs would be met to their satisfaction. As they listed off the items such as oxygen, morphine injections, and so forth, I simply stated who in our support group would provide the necessary care. We had three or four nurses, a physical therapist and a range of skilled and motivated supporters who were willing and ready to provide any support required. The only item that they could not provide was his intravenous injections. They figured that that would make little difference at this point in any case.
Within a couple of hours, Elliott was in his bed at True Farm hooked up to oxygen and surrounded by his friends. A meeting of twenty-eight supporters was in process to coordinate the administration of his care.
The Vigil
We had prepared ourselves, if necessary, to defend Elliott’s wishes in the event that his mother sought to exert her agenda. She arrived at the farm with Elliott’s stepfather during our meeting. His mother requested an opportunity to speak to the group. She told us that they had talked earlier with Elliott. He had made his wishes clear to her and she had agreed to go along with him on his desires.
The tension dissolved with her sharing. A schedule was set up for his care and assignments were agreed upon to maintain shifts around the clock. Throughout the three day vigil there was a strong sense of community, love and support.
Tall Paul led us in song. We shared meals, tears, joy and Elliott's few words. We shared our dreams and expressions of our hopes and fears. The seeds of a new Hospice of the Upper Valley were planted that later flourished.
At one point, on the first night, Elliott told those by his bedside that he would die. It might be a day, or two, or three but he would choose the time. He planned to leave on a beautiful sunny day at the farm.
Elliott faded with each hour and his breathing grew dry and horse. He drifted in and out of consciousness in our presence. On the second morning of the vigil Elliott sat up, turned to those at his bedside and said "I want you all to remember how good you have been to me." Elliott then lay back and drifted off again.
he third night of the vigil we celebrated Kirk's birthday in the farm house. Someonenoted that Elliott’s extremities were cooling. We gathered in his room and sang songs that were close to our hearts. Connie, a local healer, held his feet to ground his energy. We took turns at his side, holding his hands. There was a period of silence when Connie spoke to us quietly. "Elliott just communicated to me." "I have been to the light and I have returned. There are those of you who are holding onto me and I want to go clean."
I felt a pull to leave the room. I immediately thought of his mother who was outside the farmhouse smoking and talking with her husband. They were just enterin the front door as I approached them. I told them what had been said. His mother responded "We were just talking about that." I asked if she would like to talk to Elliott. She said that she would. She pushed through the crowd to his bedside, leaned close to his ear, and said "Go Elliott, go in peace, but go."
She then left the room, retreated the nearby bathroom and wept. I followed her in. She shared how difficult it had been to raise this independent boy and how she had had to lock him in his room to control him. "Now at least he is free,” she said.
The vigil continued throughout the night. At nine the following morning, Elliott stopped breathing. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning. It was a bright clear day in November. We gathered. Elliott had slipped away at a moment when no one was looking. Starting with a deep ohm, we moved to sing When The Saints Go Marching In. We raised our voices in grief and Joy. We covered his head with his signature wool cap. We pinned his NO NUKES arm band across his chest. He seemed to have a knowing twinkle in his eyes. We formed a motley caravan with Elliott in the back of Kirk’s covered pickup truck and headed to the hospital morgue. We loaded his body onto a gurney, rolled him in procession into the morgue, circled around his body, sang a few songs about love and said our goodbyes to our special friend.
Sister’s Departure Dream
As we assembled the caravan, the only vacant seat was in Elliott’s sister’s Volkswagen. On the way to town she shared a dream she had in front of the hearth in the farm house about the time Elliott was departing that morning.
“I was in the bedroom with Elliott and mother. It was the same as the one Elliott was in at the farm. We were the only ones in the room. I was on Elliott’s right and mother on his left. Elliott sat up in bed and said that he had something to give to each of us. He reached into the air and grabbed a plastic toy and handed it to mother. Immediately she disappeared.
Then, Elliott climbed out of bed. He was his former healthy, vibrant self wearing his khaki pants and flannel shirt. He signaled me to follow him.
We climbed into his VW van and he drove into the foothills. In the distance there were three purple peaks, with the setting sun shining from behind them. We stood on a grassy knoll. He instructed me to fold my hands and put them together with my forefingers pointed out and touching. He took my hands and placed my forefingers in his mouth. He bit down hard on my fingers. I felt excruciating pain as he bit down. As he bit down, I heard his telepathic message. “I have reconciled myself to mother. It is now your turn to do the same.”
He turned and walked across the fields toward the distant purple peaks.
I awoke from the dream as someone came out and announced that Elliott had died.
A Synchronicity
As she shared this dream, I was immediately struck by the image of the three purple mountain peaks. It was only a week before that she had called me about the possible brain tumors that had showed up in Elliott’s MRI scans.
That very night before she called I had been working with a fellow student at graduate school. I was guiding her through a visualization for her intense headache. I had asked if I might try something to help relieve her headache. She agreed to try anything. I asked her to close her eyes and to allow herself to go into the headache with her attention. I asked her to tell me what she saw.
She told me that she experienced her head pressed against a brick wall. Then she saw herself looking at two stone paths crossing. One path went under a stone bridge. A young man in a plaid shirt was leaning against a wall of a tunnel under the stone bridge. The man was smoking a cigarette restlessly. Then she saw a scene of three steep purple mountain peaks in the distance with sunlight shining from behind them at dusk.
Subsequent medical tests revealed that the tumor was not present.
The coincidence of these images of the purple mountain peaks and the man wearing khakis and a plaid flannel shirt coming from the images of two unrelated persons felt uncanny to me. The images both coincided with a connection to Elliott’s sister and a resemblance between Elliott and the man standing restlessly under the bridge at a crossroad. Sue’s headache and the suspected brain tumor each pointed to uncanny resemblances.
A Tree Planted
A tree was planted during a ceremony for Elliott the following spring in the ashes of a vigil fire we kept for Elliott near his favorite meditation rock which overlooked the valley below the farm. His ashes were sprinkled in a circle around the base of the fire which would then feed the tree we planted there in his memory. The tree continues to grow as a living memorial was to the spirit of Elliott. He was a friend who touched so many of us with his vision of a world free of the cancer of tyranny and of the products that poison the soil of future generations. This his cause, his legacy, to fight the NUKES.
