This was probably preventable. My Kahuna and I know what to do and how to do it to get through cancer. I’ve been more successful than more than 99% of people with cancer like mine or any metastasized cancer. Hell, I am a freaking miracle! I was “supposed” to die more than two years ago. So it’s not like we don’t know what to do. My beloved knows a TON of things to do for health — he helps people build their health professionally.
My trip to the hospital is not about not knowing what to do. It’s because of three reasons: wanting the marshmallow, needing more money, and my stress response to the hard life stuff.
Reason #1: Wanting the Marshmallow
Decades ago, a guy did a series of studies on delayed gratification that involved five-year old children and marshmallows. He put the children alone in a room with a marshmallow. You can have the marshmallow if you want, the man told the children, but if you wait fifteen minutes and don’t eat the marshmallow, you can have TWO.
Hmm. Two marshmallows if I wait, or one that I can have RIGHT NOW?
Some of the children stared at the marshmallow, trying not to eat it (they failed). Others busied themselves thinking about something else for fifteen minutes, anything but marshmallows. After all! TWO marshmallows!
After the test, the man followed the children’s lives for decades. The children who had held out for the two marshmallows did better than the ones who gobbled up the one marshmallows, across the board: got better grades, made more money, and reported a higher level of satisfaction. Whoa. That’s a lot of wisdom in a single marshmallow.
I’ve been on an evolving, difficult, comprehensive regimen to deal with the cancer in my brain and body for more than two years. I take 160+ pills a day, several 8-oz juices, three+ coffee enemas, hot power yoga, and MANY other things. Every day.
I got tired of this. Two years, right? I wanted to think of myself as a “regular” person. I wanted a break, a rest, a pass. I wanted my goddamn marshmallow.
So I cheated. I took fewer pills, conveniently “forgetting” half of them for days at a time (read: weeks). I ate gluten free cupcakes (and they were amazing). I drank fewer juices. I did less because I thought I could get away with it. I convinced myself I didn’t need all those things. I was fine! So fine! Look at how fine I was!
The little girl in me went into full rebellion mode. Ate the fricken marshmallow. I failed the Marshmallow Test.
All because I wanted a LIFE, what I thought was a life. Marshmallows = life, right?
I thought I had beaten this thing and could relax.
I was wrong. Once you have metastasized cancer, YOU CAN NEVER STOP THE HEALING. It goes on forever, or until you stop. So simple. But I did not want to understand this.
Giving in to my inner marshmallow-eating child is not life. Creating meaningful, connecting, enriching experiences and then enjoying them with every fiber of my being: that’s life, how I define it.
I ate my marshmallow and I am about to pay dearly for it. I could have held off. I could have resisted those delicious gluten free cupcakes. I could have taken all my damned pills. I could have kept TRYING. I could have let go of wanting my marshmallow NOW.
(This is me taking responsibility for my choices, not being “punished”.)
Reason #2: Moar Money!
If we had more money, we’d be doing more things. So simple. There are supplements and treatments we know would be highly beneficial but we simply do not have the money for them. We even had to cut some things out that I was taking because we could not afford them. The supplements I take are expensive. We search for the best deals on the highest quality products, but still. Things cost money. More money than we have.
Things that would help me that I can’t do now because of lack of fundage: expert bodywork, chiropractic, colonics, vacation, hiring help for mundane things like juicing/cleaning. But nope.
It sucks to have to choose: food and rent or drugs and treatments that help you live. Which?
Reason #3: Chill the Fuck Out.
Lack of money causes stress.
And our living situation, which for months was fraught with uncertainty because we didn’t know where we were living next or how and when we’d find the money to move, and even just moving in general (we’ve moved three times in the past 5.5 months), causes stress. And stress, any kind of stress, suppresses the immune system. I don’t need that. I need my immune system to work, thank you.
It’s shortly after noon Monday as I write this. We head to the ER in a couple of hours. I hope that we leave there with a clear brain scan. I hope we are wrong about the very possible negative outcome that my brain has tumors in it that require treatment, but right now all signs point to my cancer having returned in a bigger way.
And I am determined to get over my inner little girl, go for the TWO marshmallows I’m convinced are out there waiting for me, and work my ass off to live. We are entering full DEAL WITH CANCER mode. And we need help.
How you can help:
Prayers, thoughts, energy, healing: bring it on. So much appreciated. And money, either by buying my art or hiring my beloved Dave Donatiu to help with your own health, or by donation to firstname.lastname@example.org (paypal), will help too.
I love you all.