Reflections after Chemotherapy

by Fiona McGovern, Isle of Arran, Scotland

I have just finished 18 weeks of weekly chemotherapy treatments for metastatic breast cancer.  (My breast cancer story is also on this blog under “Breast Cancer: knowing what I know now I would definitely do things differently”.) For me this means four hours travelling, part by boat and part by car, and so it all takes a full day. I now have time off and time to reflect.

For these 18 weeks I have sat in a day ward full of other women receiving their treatment. As soon as one seat is vacated another woman fills it. In the oncology waiting room it can be standing room only and you may have to allow hours to be seen.

I have felt how pressured the medics, the receptionists and the nurses are. I have also felt the anxiety of families, the anger of many of the women, the fear in some, the denial, the hoping, and the coping on the surface and in some the complete self-pitying and identification with the illness. I also sense in some there’s the attitude that life begins after chemo…. that we can get back to how things were before cancer and chemo….. 

I have learnt so much.

For me, life will not return to how it was.

With the support of Universal Medicine I have chosen another way to be, a natural way, a deeply nurturing and self-honouring way – one where I am committed to life here and now, including the chemotherapy.  So I am me when I wait to see the oncologist and when the nurse administers the medication, and as I am me, I feel the presence of love between myself and the oncologist, the nurse, the receptionist and the other patients.

I see each treatment as a date with divinity, where I have learnt to lovingly accept what the tumour and the medicine are doing to heal the lovelessness that was in my body.  It seems to say to me “Fiona, keep going, accept nothing less than true love”.  From believing Western Medicine had no role to play in healing, I have now learnt how essential it is if used alongside the esoteric, not as a way to numb out or not take responsibility for the choices I made, but as a true support for me to truly heal. From feeling a failure for having a tumour, I now see how much I am learning and enriching my life when I embrace it as divinity at work.

I now can feel the beauty of the support Western Medicine gives me to clear the ill energy I allowed in because I was afraid to express the true me. I have been blessed by the doctors I have met. They have been amazing in their support for this healing. I have also learnt to let people in without taking on board their stuff or trying to rescue them, which in itself is a miracle.  Also I am able to truly listen to those with and around me and to accept their choices and to offer them a different reflection by expressing with and from love. Having the tumour has slowed me down, made me say no to others and yes to me, made my relationships more fun, given me time to explore sides of my expression I had never made time for. It has cleared the arrogance of beliefs and ideals I held about health and healing and allowed me to find my own natural rhythm through life. It has reconnected me to me as a woman and a self-nurturing way of life. It has shown me how many emotions I had chosen to hold on to and how damaging that was and so much more – I am constantly learning.

So that’s why I smile when I have the chemotherapy and the other women comment –  “after six years you still smile, how inspiring.”

The latest scan shows all the lesions in the liver, lungs, axillary nodes, breast and chest wall are reducing and the bones are healing. The wound on the breast is dry now and almost healed over. The oncologist’s comment was two wows!  He felt I responded so well because of the deep care I take of myself and my body and because I had no other illnesses to complicate the picture.

For me it’s not about the latest cure for cancer or getting back to normal life, but about discovering the beauty of me just being, not trying to be better or fix anything.

What has made this change possible is having the support to be me, the true me. That support has come from Serge Benhayon and all the practitioners at Universal Medicine whom I have chosen to work with, allowing me to make true choices, and also the amazing support of the doctors and nurses.

During this latest chemotherapy I had a ritual of walking in nature, often by the shore and was inspired to draw this. For me, these walks are a way to feel the joy of simply living and a reminder that although sometimes life is not easy, the truth is always simple, beauty-full and there is always stillness if we choose to feel it. Nature reflects that for me.
During this latest chemotherapy I had a ritual of walking in nature, often by the shore and was inspired to draw this. For me, these walks are a way to feel the joy of simply living and a reminder that although sometimes life is not easy, the truth is always simple, beauty-full and there is always stillness if we choose to feel it. Nature reflects that for me.

361 thoughts on “Reflections after Chemotherapy

  1. I can totally recognise that waiting – waiting for something to happen before I commit to making changes, like, being me. We are so used to trying even being ourselves feels like a trying. There’s nothing to do but be, but we try hard nonetheless. It is very empowering when we can accept illnesses and diseases as opportunity for true healing.

  2. These words inspire me to ask – why don’t we treat each and every day as a date with divinity? Is it possible we could see every moment as an opportunity to live Love, not an obligation or irritation put on us from us from above? If we see life this way, isn’t it possible that we might be healthy finally, regardless if we have a disease or not. The greatest illness is seeing life as a humdrum ordeal.

  3. “I see each treatment as a date with divinity, where I have learnt to lovingly accept what the tumour and the medicine are doing to heal the lovelessness that was in my body.” When I read this sentence this morning it made me sit up straighter in my chair at the shear beauty of what is being described here which is the beauty of someone taking responsibility for their own healing. This to me is true medicine, the medicine of seeing that the way we are living is harming us and then taking responsibility for our choices when the harm we have done comes as a correction in the form of a tumour, broken bone, flu or whatever it is.

  4. I had a friend who passed away many years ago having had Leukaemia. Whilst she was undergoing treatment she had a wonderful attitude to life and there was a sense of joy in her that was hard to fathom. I was left with absolute certainty that there is more to life. She knew without doubt she was more than the body that was going through cancer and had clearly made a connection to this deeper aspect of herself. I have heard many people appreciate what they have learned from going through such a process – and be clearly thankful of the expanded level of awareness they have as a result.

  5. Wow Fiona you inspire me anew each time, and your sharing moved me to tears .. the humbleness, the openness to learn and the willingness to see the beauty and the grace in the journey. You remind me that no matter what is going on out there, I am here, and I can choose to be me in the midst of it all. I can’t express how much support and inspiration I get reading this and how it brings me back to the simplicity of the truth, that we are simply here to be ourselves.

  6. The greatest art or teaching we can learn in life is to surrender and heal. No matter our age, or stage of life it’s never too late to stop the momentum of ceaseless motion. If we don’t choose it, our body will let us know in no uncertain terms to stop. Appreciate these words shared by Fiona.

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