On July 2, I attended the afternoon session of the Red Cliff powwow. It was my second powwow of the year and my first powwow since my recurrence of cancer. Five days later, I would start chemotherapy for colon cancer mets to my liver. As many know, dancing is a great passion of my life. I’ve danced for over thirty-two years. Dancing has provided me with a base for my thirty-four years of sobriety and it is the fulfilment of a dream vision I had when I first began my sobriety. But this year has been different. In May 2013, I had my colon resection, and the prognosis was Stage I. By July of that year, I was ready to start dancing since the recovery period was short and there was no chemo involved. And that I did. But this summer I was running on low energy. When the summer began, something didn't quite feel right. My body was telling me something but the message wasn't clear. In June, I completed my annual C-scan with a follow up PET-scan. The scans revealed a recurrence of cancer. Of course, this didn’t mean that I had to stop dancing. But with a 6-7 hour surgery scheduled for September, I felt it best to not run my energy down before my operation. Then there’s my chemo regimen – three rounds before September…IV infusion of Oxaliplatin, followed 14 days of Capecitabine, an oral chemo, seven days off, then the next round of chemo. One of my side effects has been tiredness/fatigue. So again, it made sense to take the summer off. When my friend, Ivy Vainio, offered to take me to Red Cliff, I didn’t hesitate. Although I was still a few days away from starting chemo, Red Cliff offered the opportunity to get one last dance in. Late in the afternoon, a special honor dance was held for the Pink Shawl Project. “[T]he Pink Shawl Project…raise[s] awareness about breast cancer in Indian country. The project provides Native women with educational resources, a community forum for discussing health issues, access to free mammograms, and the opportunity to honor cancer survivors. "It not only involves healing from these women coming together to create shawls, but we're educating along the way. Then, when women in pink shawls come out during powwows, it creates awareness," said Kris Rhodes, Executive Director of American Indian Cancer Foundation (AICAF). "It's a visual reminder to everyone in these community gatherings that there are cancer survivors among us and it gives hope to people with a new cancer diagnosis. “The Pink Shawl Project began officially in April 2012 through a grant from the Minnesota Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure. According to Rhodes, this marks the first time the Minnesota Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure has ever awarded a grant to a Native-run organization in its ten years of funding provision.” (“Pink Shawls Help Fight Cancer,” The Circle, 12/16/2012). Until it was announced, I wasn’t aware that the Pink Shawls would be doing a special. I was not unfamiliar with them. I’ve danced with them before at the Powwow for Hope and other powwows. These women are Ogichidaa’kwe Amogowin, Cancer Warrior Women, who bring awareness and knowledge to our communities. “Data from the Centers for Disease Control Behavioral Risk Surveillance system revealed that in urban areas nationwide, 12.1% of American Indian women between the ages of 40 and 64 had never had a mammogram, compared to 8.4% of women of all other races. According to a press release issued by AICAF, the breast cancer survival rate is 98% if it is discovered and treated in earlier stages, making the disparity in screening especially important to reducing breast cancer deaths among American Indian women. “What happens a lot of times in the American Indian community is that cancer is seen as a death sentence, and unfortunately that's not too far from the truth," said Rhodes. "In our population, too often, cancer is found at later stages where it's harder to treat, so our women are less likely to survive.” “Breast cancer is the third leading cause among all cancer deaths in Indian Country, behind lung and colon cancers. According to figures released by the American Cancer Society in 2011, the incidence of cancer in the Native American population in Minnesota is about two times higher than the nationwide cancer rate. Rhodes emphasized that while cancer rates are either declining or staying the same for the majority of the population, cancer rates are actually on the rise for American Indians.” (ibid, The Circle.) As I danced in the circle, I realized this dance was different for me. I wasn’t dancing just as a cancer survivor. I was dancing because I had cancer inside me. I was dancing because a runaway cancer cell had broken away, traveled through my bloodstream, and like an invasive colonizer, had established a foothold on my liver. The Beast lurked within as I danced for life. As the LCO Badger Singers neared the end of the honor song, I hurried over to their drum and blew my migiziokan-gwiishkoshichigan (eagle whistle). Although I’ve used my migiziokan-gwiishkoshichigan many times for others at powwows, this was the most powerful experience that I’ve ever had. Perhaps it was because I was not only using my whistle for the Pink Shawl dancers, but also myself. Perhaps I had become a vessel for the manidoog (spirits) to pass through that I was calling down for healing. It felt as though I had one moccasin in this world, and the other in Gaagige-minawaanigoziwining (Land of Everlasting Happiness). My eyes were clouded with tears and my body shook each time I went in to the drum to blow my whistle. When I finished, another young man stepped in and used his whistle for the cancer victims in his family. Afterward, I was asked to speak for my migiziokan-gwiishkoshichigan. I briefly told the story of my whistle and explained why I used it that day. There are many powwows that I go to where I realize that I was intended to be there to witness something or participate in something. Such was the case for the Red Cliff powwow. I was meant to be there. Perhaps it was an alignment of manidoog that brought me there. But it was undoubtedly a spiritual experience for me. It was one of many that I’ve experienced on nin-manijooshiwaapine-babaamaadiziwin (my cancer journey). And one of many that have yet to come. Mii sa go. Pink Shawl Dancers preparing for their Honor/Healing Dance. Photo by Ivy Vainio. Pink Shawls Honor/Healing Dance. Photo by Ivy Vainio. Explaining why I used my whistle for the Pink Shawl Honor/Healing Dance (w/ Norman Crazy Thunder, Head Veteran dancer for the Red Cliff powwow). Photo by Ivy Vainio.
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Robert Desjarlait
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