So here I am. Ready to write down the experience and insights that I have gained on the path I am currently walking. And it's a path that I believe I've chosen at some point – either in this life or before. Because this path feels right – and to some extent familiar.
But maybe I'd better start from the beginning. From the moment the diagnosis "breast cancer" fluttered into the house. That was a bit strange, I thought, because our family has nothing to do with breast cancer. Cysts, yes, at least two of my sisters had had them, but breast cancer? At least not in the female line, and that's the side that matters when it comes to breast cancer.
The initial shock was overcome pretty quickly, and soon an insight set in: body, mind and soul are a team - with all three parts being equally important. Of course, I was already aware of this because of my hypnosis practice, but somehow more as a 'theory' – something I believed, but from a distance. Given my own present situation, the significance of this realisation became crystal clear. And suddenly, I knew I loved my body — oh yes, I had been moaning and whining that I couldn't lose the right amount of weight to be "happy," and I'd been worried whether my new hairstyle and grey hair would make me look old... Suddenly, none of that mattered, and I appreciated and wondered how my body had effortlessly coped with everything I wanted, and how my faithful heart had been beating for over 64 years without ever faltering, and how my lungs had always soaked up and enjoyed the fresh air on the Matterhorn... My wonderful, faithful body. And now something had gone wrong. Something hadn't gone according to plan... or was that exactly the plan?
That was at the end of July 2023, and this first diagnosis was followed by several more examinations before the final diagnosis was made at the end of August 2023: primary metastatic breast cancer on the right 1-2 o'clock, ED 07/2023 - and some other strange information about where exactly these metastases were to be found. In understandable terms, this meant that I had gone from curable to palliative care...
That was another shock. But this shock also subsided. The universe sent me masses of 11:11's, 13:13's, 12:34's and so on – but also another number, one I didn’t like so much: 911 – or 9/11, as Americans call the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. For me, 911 was associated with terror, death, chaos, rubble and bewilderment. So it was time to take a closer look at this number. And lo and behold, the angel number 911 stands for the path of life, and the mission of the soul. The number has a high spiritual vibration, and its message is to live as a positive example in order to light the way for others and to raise one's consciousness. Sounds much better than terror, death and chaos, doesn't it?
The conversation with the oncologist gave me food for thought. Much food for thought. OK. An anti-hormone therapy made sense: if there is too much oestrogen, then it makes sense to reduce the female hormones and deprive the tumours of what they feed on. And the side effects were manageable.
But these other drugs – the tumour-reducing drugs... The European Medicines Agency writes: "In a main study involving 668 postmenopausal women with advanced breast cancer who had not previously received treatment, patients received either Kisqali with letrozole (an aromatase inhibitor) or placebo (a dummy treatment) with letrozole. For women taking Kisqali and letrozole, the period in which the disease did not worsen was an average of 25.3 months, compared to 16.0 months for women taking placebo and letrozole." Other studies showed similar results.
Side effects: The most common side effects with Kisqali (which may affect more than 1 in 5 people) are infections, low white blood cell count, headache, coughing, nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, constipation, tiredness, hair loss and skin rashes.
Regarding the duration of treatment, the following: "In women with metastatic breast cancer, treatment should be continued as long as the patient benefits from it and the side effects are tolerable. » Great prospects.
Now the question: Is it worth it? Is it worth taking the risk of numerous side effects in order to – perhaps – live up to a year longer? Really? But is there an alternative?
The oncologist was unwilling to see a positive effect in the natural and well-documented mistletoe therapy to support and strengthen the immune system. She also wanted me to sign a document confirming that the patient information had been explained to me, that I had time to read it and ask questions, and that I agreed to the treatment. However, the only therapy explained in the document was anti-hormone therapy, not tumour-reducing therapy – and any agreement with that is shrinking rapidly.
The thought that this drug destroys not only the cancer cells, but also just about everything else, is frightening. And here's another realisation: I'm not afraid of cancer. It’s a part of me now, and I've accepted it. I'm talking to it. I work with hypnosis to reduce it. But I am very afraid of the drugs and the irreparable damage they could do to my body!
Oh dear, my dear soul, what am I supposed to do with all this? I feel like I'm at a fork in the road. Medication or not? Are there any other options? Is radiation a possibility? That's supposed to reduce tumours, isn't it? And hyperthermia? My research on radiation gives me new hope. It's certainly not a pleasant treatment – but at least it's limited to 4 or 5 weeks, and I feel like the body could recover from it more easily. The problem is that the only answer I get to my question about radiation is, "only if you're in pain." No explanation. No discussion. I need another oncologist.
I'm still waiting to hear from another oncologist. But there are 6 more oncologists listed on the hospital's website, so it should be possible, I think.
My soul has sent me another image. It's not a fork in the road I'm facing, it's a river. I'm standing with my feet in the water, and I have to get to the other side somehow. The sunlight plays with the gentle movements of the water. The river is not very wide and doesn't seem to be very deep either - but there is no way around it - the only way to get to the other side is to swim. And I have no idea what's on the other side.
Insight of the day: I can only win! Either I get to go home – and, let's face it, we'll all go there one day. I'm just very lucky that I can now approach this a little more consciously – or, I have the opportunity to work on my health and awareness, to get healthy again, and maybe to support other people through my experiences... Win-win!
To be continued...