It’s terrifying to face the realization that options are running out, and what remains is what I’ve desperately avoided. The expansive realm of possibilities suddenly funnels into an ominous direction-pushing me towards where I thought I would never go.
The integrative private clinics that I’ve researched hold great promise, offering targeted treatment plans that I can at least align with my understanding. They all claim a gentler and more assured approach with an emphasis on extensive testing before formulating a treatment plan. I spent 20 minutes on the phone today nodding my head and feeling my optimism blossom until she smashed that possibility with a $200,000 US estimate for my “personalized plan” and wished me luck before she hung up.
Every potential avenue for assistance, particularly those I see as a middle ground, seems out of reach unless finances are not a concern. It’s disheartening but unsurprising that the realm of cancer treatment operates as a lucrative industry. Access to effective treatments with minimal harm to the body appears to be a privilege reserved for those with significant financial resources.
The long-awaited callback for my initial appointment with an oncologist finally arrived, scheduled in a few weeks. Anticipating this moment filled me with dread, as it signifies confronting what I’ve fiercely resisted for years. While friends and family impatiently awaited this call, seeing it as a positive step, I secretly viewed it as a window for a last-ditch effort to execute alternative cures.
My kitchen now doubles as my apothecary, where I diligently consume an array of concoctions every hour. At night I take it the other way and shove a suppository of potent cannabis in hopes of taming my lump. I’m pummelling my body with anti cancer agents that are accessible to me, resulting in a pristinely alkaline body and less twenty pounds of weight. Living with cancer for over four years has gifted me with a reservoir of knowledge empowering me to assist my body during this “space in between”.
I’ve acquired the wisdom to attend to every aspect of my being, not just my physical but recognizing the crucial role of nurturing my mental and spiritual well-being. The irony lies in the current situation, where day by day I’m moving into alien territory. I know I must confront my fears and make space for what is beginning to feel like the inevitable which is a system where I will have to poison and burn my body to cure it. How can I make sense of it and accept it? That is the work that I must do now.
Remarkably in the mean time my body has shown significant changes with my homemade protocol. Just a month ago, my condition was dire—my breast inflamed, angry, purplish-red, and only opioids provided relief at the cost of depression and endless sleep. Drugging myself was an easy escape and one that could have taken hold of me. Climbing stairs left me breathless, and my skin was covered in ugly, itchy rashes.
I’ve always gauged my health by how I feel, my optimism, inspiration, and physical abilities. Since committing to my extensive healing protocol, I’ve ceased pain meds, reduced napping, and managed to calm my angry breast which has allowed me to reclaim my precious energy. If I can keep going with patience and perseverance will it eventually heal me? Do I have the time to keep going?
I continue to consistently be saved by my unyielding spirit, tirelessly determined to keep shining. No matter how many times I end up in a puddle of despair somehow I am given the opportunity for a different perspective that forces me to yield what I can not control. It an ongoing dance between acceptance and resistance. I know this yet I still continue to get trapped until I have the wits to know that I hold the key for my release.
Time is ticking, and there’s a discrepancy between my actual feelings and what the doctors are conveying about the state of my health. I am being informed of something that contradicts my own experience. Am I now to distrust my own experience and trade it in for what’s seen on a piece of paper and relayed over a phone call? It’s like walking up to a stranger and asking “hello, please tell me how am I feeling?”
Ultimately, the fact remains that this lump must be addressed one way or another. Additionally, there is a concern about potential metastasis amid conflicting scan results that requires confirmation. I have exhausted my resources and continue steadfastly in my commitment to do all that I can to support my body. I have approximately three weeks until my meeting with the oncologist, where an entirely different treatment plan will be recommended to me. I pray every day to be shown the way, to not hinder my progress, to avoid making assumptions, and to discern the difference between valid guidance and fear-driven beliefs.
LESSON: “If we can’t change our fate, at least we can accept it, adapt, and possibly undergo inner growth even in the midst of of troubles” – From Daniel Goleman’s introduction of Viktor Frankl’s book “Yes To Life”.
LESSONS FROM MY LUMP 