Tein Atkerson

First post: Nov 1, 2022 Latest post: Nov 14, 2022
A year ago, I was diagnosed with a pancreatic adenocarcinoma. Since then, the cancer has spread to my bones, to my liver, my abdominal lining, and more places than I can mention. At this point I’ve decided to forego further treatment and palliative care and have entered hospice.  

My body is tired. This is the body that ran hundreds of miles along the hilly Asilomar coast, delivered two magnificent babies, and faithfully executed on everything my mind asked of it for decades. My body now tells me it needs to rest. I can no longer eat, I have no energy, and I feel spent. I am listening to my body, and it’s time to let go. I may have days or weeks, I don’t know. One thing I’ve learned is I’m terrible at predicting the ravages of cancer. 

While I feel physically depleted, my heart feels full. One analogy I’ve been using in my mind is that I’m on a slow walk to the sea. You each have chosen, miraculously and inexplicably, to keep me company on this march. Your companionship and support have provided tremendous comfort. I feel I am not alone, and my heart burns with appreciation for each of you. I thank you for accompanying me on my walk to the sea, and when I leave you at the coast, may you be a deep source of solace for each other and my family.