Recently, someone asked me about my choice to do chemotherapy, knowing all the brutal side effects that go along with it. I didn’t know how to respond – my overwhelming feeling was that it wasn’t a choice. Not one made after hours of careful contemplation and research and weighing up the options anyway.
My diagnosis came as a seismic shock, shattering my world and setting my body – the sanctuary that I call home – alight. I was stuck in the rubble of my life and had no idea how to get out.
Not that I had much time to think. Flames licked at the edges of my existence, spreading with alarming speed throughout the rooms of my house. By the time the firefighters were called, I was getting dangerously close to my whole house being engulfed.
A seasoned firefighter in a white coat said he could get me out. He said he’d rescued people from burning buildings before. He had drugs that could help me, but we needed to act quickly – the flames weren’t going to die down on their own. The drugs would blitz all of me, even the parts that weren’t alight, but that was by the by. The flames were gaining momentum and without swift action my house would become ashes.
An instinctual part of me screamed SURVIVE so I said Yes. Put the flames out. Stop the fire whatever the cost. Save my house.
The blaze was extinguished.
The kicker of remission is finding out what the cost of the firefighting was. The container remained, but my home had been gutted. As I started to rebuild from scratch, I saw that the cost of the firefighting was very large indeed; the scars from the blaze lifelong.
But I have a life, which wouldn’t be the case if the fire brigade hadn’t swept in.
As I regained strength, I questioned if there could’ve been an alternative to six months of harsh treatment. I read accounts of people who put out their fires, or at least controlled them, using diet and lifestyle and supplements and meditation. While proponents of medical treatment argue that cancer is beyond our control and drugs are the primary solution, advocates of natural remedies contend that complete control over a healthy body and overcoming cancer can be achieved through lifestyle changes alone.
I have a hunch that the solution is somewhere in the middle. If the fire is just a flicker in a corner of the kitchen, and time isn’t critical, they might be an argument for choosing to contain it with a variety of holistic methods. When the flames have spread throughout the house, as they had in my case, a supplement is akin to putting a fire blanket over an armchair in the living room.
And of course, you can do your best to keep your house in good condition, fortifying it against potential storms and making recovery from freak weather quicker. But the reality remains: despite our best efforts, a cancer hurricane could still strike, reducing our defences to rubble.
So no, chemo didn’t feel like a conscious choice. I didn’t have the luxury of time to think about what was happening, unlike those speculating about what they’d do in future scenarios. In crisis, deliberation gives way to instinct, and we act to survive, regardless of long-term consequences. I could dig out consent forms where I signed my life away, but if I hadn’t? Well maybe I wouldn’t be writing this right now.
Though much debris remained, the flames were extinguished, leaving me with the daunting task of rebuilding my house from the inside out. One decision at a time, in a bid to recreate strong foundations that can withstand fire or chemo or whatever else life throws my way.
And perhaps, amidst life’s uncertainties, prioritising our wellbeing and caring for ourselves are the most powerful choices that we can make anyway.
Laura writes... 