MSI Press Blog

  Just released: the audiobook edition of Passing On: Preparing for the Afterlife  by Joanna Romer. Book description: Existence makes sense only if we include the afterlife as part of our history. Scientists are exploring the concept that life, including what is called the afterlife, may not be as we perceive it. New discoveries having to do with the simultaneous nature of time and the relativity of space coincide dramatically with the testimony of Near-Death Experience (NDE) survivors. The question is, where does our energy go and how much of our identity goes with it? Passing On: How to Prepare Ourselves for the Afterlife attempts to shed light on these questions and many others, such as: Do we meet up with loved ones after we pass on? Do we take form as a physical entity or are we pure essence? Do time and space exist in the afterlife, and: What are the characteristics of the afterlife---is it as joyful, loving and forgiving as those who have undergone a Near-Death Experience claim?

  I recently read a great blog post from Barbara Karnes, a hospice guru, who has done much to help dying patients and their families travel the path to death with equanimity. Her most recent blog post, " When our emotions blind us from what is happening ," rings true for cancer and any other fatal illness and is well worth reading. For other Cancer Diary posts, click  HERE . Blog editor's note: As a memorial to Carl, and simply because it is truly needed, MSI Press is now hosting a web page,  Carl's Cancer Compendium , as a one-stop starting point for all things cancer, to make it easier for those with cancer to find answers to questions that can otherwise take hours to track down on the Internet and/or from professionals. The CCC is expanded and updated weekly. As part of this effort, each week, on Monday, this blog will carry an informative, cancer-related story -- and be open to guest posts:  Cancer Diary .   Sign up for the MSI Press LLC newsletter Follow MSI Pres

  I have raised two children who were not supposed to live because of the type of birth defects they have. Today, both are in their 40s. I know how to care for someone whom I honestly believe will -- and who does have a hope to -- get better. There was always the struggle of making sure they got the meds they needed, that they did the kinds of activities they needed to do, that their father, Carl, and I researched everything that was going on in medical research about their defects and brought it up to their doctors, and that we interacted actively with all specialists working with them, asking for clarification for us at time and for them at times, ensuring that they knew as much or more than we did. It was purposeful care that had an expected point of diminishing need, with the reins turned over to the children as time passed. Time, then, was a positive. It allowed us to build a brighter future than an initial diagnosis proposed. Things got better over time. The kids gained skills an

  In March, Carl was diagnosed with advanced stage 4 (metastatic) cancer of unknown primary. In August, he died.  When we got the diagnosis, we had to choose a detour from our normal life. There was no way to move straight ahead with life as usual because, you see, there was this big obstacle, called cancer, straight ahead. So, the question was to detour to the left and choose a treatment option, hope, and focus on the living or detour to the right and let nature takes its course, choose to accept the situation at face value, letting nature take its course, and focus on the dying. To fight or to surrender? There was no logical superiority of either path, not knowing what lay behind the cancer tree and how long was the path for it  continued out of sight. We decided not through reasoning but through conditioned reaction to fight. That is what we had done all our adult lives, as we successfully navigated life for four children, two with rare birth defects, and three grandchildren, two wi