Let Food be Thy Medicine

If you read the last entry, you were given an idea of how a bad day looks in my world, but having cancer is not all gloom and despair. I have my moments when the sun shines through the clouds and I can see that what I am doing is probably the most courageous and transforming feat that I will encounter in my life. In order to attain the profound, encompassing healing that I seek, I must explore places of myself that I might not have found otherwise, many of which I have already uncovered in the past few months. I believe that having moments of despair are part of this journey and it is important to accept exactly where I am right now.

You may be wondering what exactly I am doing, since I am not doing chemotherapy. Whereas the majority of cancer patients try the conventional Western treatments first, then try the alternative treatments when the conventional ones don’t work, I am doing the opposite. This includes the things most people consider alternative, like acupuncture, herbs, Reiki, naturopathy, homeopathy, ayurvedic medicine, etc. But these things are just one layer of the onion when it comes to healing. I believe the foundation of wellness lies in our own lifestyle choices… So I said adios to late nights with my friends Tequila y Cerveza, and started changing my habits. All toxins had to go. This means no more coffee, alcohol, processed foods, additives, sugar, etc. Every single thing we put in our body contributes to our health now, and in years to come. If you ever question the impact of the food we put in our bodies, then go see one of the many documentaries about it (Forks Over Knives and Food Matters are a few good ones). It is said that food can be the fastest and most effective medicine, or the slowest and most painful poison. So I got serious about this medicinal nutrition. No more dairy, meat or gluten, and LOTS of fruit, vegetables, and water. Lots and lots of agua.

From this foundation, I began to build myself up with the use of spiritual practices such as study and meditation; reconstructing mental habits that no longer serve me; physical exercises, such as yoga and bike riding; and activities that feed my soul, such as singing, playing the guitar, and gardening. I quit my 9 to 5 job to start up a full time career in taking care of myself. I believe this is how healing works. 

Cancer is not just a physical problem. In fact, I think that when one has cancer, the physical body is the last place to show signs of illness. The first places are our emotional and spiritual bodies. This tumor in my throat is a symptom of a much greater problem that needs to be dealt with. It's like the idiot lights in you car; they go on only after the problem has developed. Sure, I could do the conventional slash and burn technique, and I don’t doubt that it will zap that lump right out of my body... but that only removes the tip of the iceberg, and it will come back. It will always come back until I can repair the place that truly needs healing—my spirit. So I made a vow to my body that I would pull this cancer from the roots, not just cut it at the stem. That is exactly what I am doing. 

The Move

The end of my time in Bellingham left a bitter sweet taste in my mouth. I knew I would leave that town eventually, but I thought it would be by my own accord, and not on these terms. After the diagnosis, I worked for a few exhausting weeks and decided I couldn’t do it any more. It’s hard to help customers complaining of petty retail issues when the weight of my own mortality was looming like a rain cloud over my head. After reluctantly walking away from my job and my beautiful sisterhood of co-workers, I spent my last few months soaking up every last drop of Bellingham and falling in love all over again. This made the move harder. When I finally left because I could no longer pay my rent, I felt a piece of my heart being torn off in longing to stay there.

I moved to Portland and pitched camp in a warm, feminine charged three-bedroom house with my lovely mother and sister. As wonderful as it is living with my two best friends and favorite women in the world, it is lonely here. I am usually very good at making friends, but being sick has made it hard for me to justify meeting people because eventually I will have to tell them that I have been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, and even though I know that I will survive and live a long happy life, it is hard to convince others of that after saying the word “cancer.”  I haven’t talked to many people from my old life and in a lot of ways I feel forgotten. Whether this is true or not, it is saddening going from being surrounded by a posse of loving friends, to being alone a lot of the time. Mom and Sam are wonderful and do their best to be my everything, but I know this is hard on them as well. This is a difficult time in our lives and these few weeks after the transition may be the hardest of all.

I am grieving right now; grieving the loss of the only way of life I have ever known. The loss of relationships, love, a home, a job, a sense of self, my freedom, happiness, and health. When life changes so drastically over night, it feels like it takes a little while for our conscious mind to catch up after the shock. Moving here has finally brought me up to speed on the reality of the cards I have been dealt. I love this city and I feel like it has everything I need to take my alternative health care to the next level, but with the weight of grief and despair that has consumed my past few weeks, sometimes getting out of bed to enjoy this city is like pushing a boulder up a hill. Many days I find myself staring into the very long road ahead of me; I think I chose the hard way.

However, life has taught me over and over again that taking the hard road leads to the greatest rewards. While it may not seem worth it some days, I know that the reward of pushing through hard times will be more beautiful than I can dream. I also know that even the longest journey begins with a single step.