My Relationship With My Cancer

In May 2007 one day in the bathroom, I noticed the light catch a shiny surface on my skin located on my upper chest area about the size of a dime, slightly raised and for some reason it reminded me of a tiny ice skating pond. I knew instinctively it was alien to my body and it was skin cancer.

I had a trip planned that I didn't want to miss, so I chose to wait to see my doctor when I got back. The funny thing is, that on the trip I showed the spot to a woman and she announced very confidently that it definitely wasn't skin cancer and that I shouldn't worry! That thought seemed to make me happy for the time being and it wasn't until months later when the light caught it again under the bathroom lights that I let the truth hit home.

Meanwhile at the start of the year I had returned part-time to a highly stressful and dysfunctional work environment, where a noticeable number of people were being diagnosed with a variety of cancers. I felt bad being there amongst the angst and felt that somehow the cancer was trying to tell us something, in particular me - as that is when mine came.

I have an aversion to needles so as soon as I was sent by my doctor to a skin specialist I was given a type of topical chemotherapy cream that works by destroying only cancer cells. As my spot was in a visible place, close to my face and neck area, this type of treatment is more popular due to less potential scarring. It all seemed to happen so fast and there I was, taping myself up religiously, every day for weeks applying this cream twice a day. But somehow I felt bad, rushed kind of , and sort of carried along - when normally I would have stopped and collected myself and searched out more kinder and natural means of self healing. Everything was just fast, fast, fast and people's reactions were clear CANCER =FEAR and Fear = Fight.

Although I didn't like what was happening and nor did I like the pain resulting from the use of this cream, it took me a full 7 weeks before I slowed down enough to begin to treat myself my way. It had been 3 weeks since the end of my last treatment and the specialist agreed with me that although some of it had been removed (a simple procedure by tweezers lifting the dead skin away) it appeared that there was maybe still some activity there. I knew that, because I could feel the cancer spot heat up, - but not all the time.

I was informed that the next step would be to have to cut some of it off for a specific diagnosis (to access cancer services etc..) and I knew that this could be dangerous because it only takes one cancer cell to be 'disturbed' and to move away and down into my body without anyone knowing. Also there would be scarring and it would show. I decided then to wait until I calmed down.

At that point I finally decided to talk to my cancer.

In my mind's eye or imagination I looked over and down to my right and I asked my spot what it was trying to say to me. And boy, a very pouty voice came rushing out. "I told you not to go back to that job!". I was stunned, it was a pouty voice and I never pouted...."Exactly!" my Higher Self informed me, "Why would you have ever tried to pout as a child when there were no parents around to hear or react to you ?" Oh! Good point, I thought to myself. This makes sense, the pouty voice must have been in the shadow side of myself.

So I said to the spot. " Holy Cow, that's it... You want me to quite my job?!" (yet, again, I thought to myself - as I had already left after 13 long years) "Yes!" "You had promised that you would never go back!" I gulped, the cancer spot was right.

I knew it was right, and there was more I knew, judging by the number of people I was currently working with who had been diagnosed with all kinds of serious cancers. Something was really wrong with this job... for me anyways.

My spot had been heating up a lot and when I promised it immediately I would quit my job, it cooled down !!!

I gave my notice and then I used my extra time to talk more with my cancer.

In my mind's eye I went as a male General to visit with the male General of the cancer community. I had read somewhere on the net, that cancer cells are nonaerobic, so my plan was to make friends with them and get them moving in the hopes of killing them off!

My General met with the Cancer General and we sat side by side on cloth sling back chairs on the desert landscape of my skin, as if we were sunning ourselves. We greeted each other respectfully whilst at the same time knowing that we were each on extreme guard.

We had a cool non alcoholic drink and sat and made small talk. All the while I could see his troops (the cancer cells busy back at their little community) we both pretended we had all the time in the world to sit and drink and chat.

We instinctively sensed strength in each other and we had an inherent respect for one another. We knew we wanted to find a solution without going to war.

My General sincerely apologized for the chemotherapy cream and after explaining about the fear in the world right now about cancer and the compounded effects of the reactions of those around me, he understood why I had gone along with it, even though it hadn't felt right. He brought over a few of his key people and they heard my General apologize and then we all knew we were now on an even playing field. (Luckily ! I had given my notice at my job and had listened to the cancer sore, or I think I would have been toast by then!). At the very least I would have lost respect.

We talked and visited daily and I tried to get his troops to run, swim, move etc.. but it didn't seem to do anything expect provide them with something to do, other than grow and spread. So I guess that was a good thing.....

And in the physical world I began to notice that when I did things that were not in my highest good, the cancer spot would heat up and when I made decisions that were in my best interests, it would cool down. This pattern became more apparent over time and I began to start to view my cancer as a kind of barometer of sorts and I started to feel friendlier towards it. The spot would also grow or shrink depending on the level of self care I aspired to and even my partner witnessed the changes in it's size and shape. I began to learn what improved self care looked like for me. And I began to really pay attention and listen.

My cancer had become my new friend and now I didn't want to get 'rid' of it. It would heat up at times which would cause me to look deeper into myself and my activities until I found the places I needed to change.

Occasionally when I would visit my family doctor she would admit that there were changes in the sore spot but she was stubborn in her stance to get rid of it saying, "Yes, BUT it is still there". And it seemed as if she and I were symbolically like the two generals. She with one opinion and me with another, yet both still respecting each other's position, while still staying watchful.

One day I went back and talked to my cancer again. General to General, we both admitted we could kill each other. He me, by going inside and me him, by cutting him out of this host body. Still neither of us, were ready to act.

My doctor had left me with this thought and this question? If I did as it asked and quit my job, why is it still here? I couldn't answer this and then I noticed the sore heating up and growing a bit. Why, why, why, I asked myself? And one day I admitted to myself, that I had been waiting until this September to decide about actually going back to my job on a very casual basis AND I HAD BEEN CAUGHT. My cancer had known of my secret plans and this is why it wasn't going anywhere!

It was small, it was stubborn, but it was honest brave and true. It had a whole body (and mind) to fight and it didn't budge. I couldn't believe the denial I had gone into, thinking that going back to that job was a solution. I didn't have one friend or family member (or answer to prayer) that thought it was a good idea, so why had I ? I had to go deep into myself to find the answer to that one. And again, I had to promise my cancer spot that I wouldn't go back.

I also had noticed that my sore looked different to me now in my mind's eye. Before it had been symbolically black, as if the cells were oil slicked and heavy but now it was looking like tall black reeds with small button tops, and they were actually swaying like reeds in a gentle current. So something was going on, but I wasn't sure what it was.

Then someone I loved began to have a horrible experience with this work place (although this took place in another city). It was awful to witness and it brought back many memories of injustices and heartbreak I had seen there, watching humans behave badly towards others. I had actually forgotten most of this stuff and I now saw this job had lost it's heart a long time ago and was like a dying system, due to impermeable boundaries. Hard on the outside and empty on the inside.

After supporting my loved ones through their trauma I rested and let go of that stress. Then my General went back this time contritely and humbly to my cancer spot with a big thank you for hanging in there. They were a small community, a small troop, were barely heard and yet they had hung in there waiting for me to come from my heart once again. They had known all along that I had forgotten so much and that because of that forgetting I was still vulnerable to going back. My General spoke for my whole self in saying that my cancer was my hero and my friend. I was (and am) very grateful.

I now began sensing that the cancer was looking different to me because it was telling me that it was ready to leave now. It's job is done. So, I made an appointment to see my doctor who quickly made an appointment with a specialist for next week, but to me, everything felt peaceful and done.

Postscript: I attended the specialist's office where I was perfunctorily informed that this was only a scar, (a scar from what? I thought, I had, had no injury). But he appeared too busy to talk, although he did look over my upper torso and away I went. My body the scene of a quiet adventure, one he would never know.