My experience of 'battling' cancer – Robert's story

Robert was diagnosed with advanced rectal cancer in 2018.

I was 54 and went from working a 50 hour week with a long commute to a year and a half of chemotherapy, radiotherapy and surgery. I had the full works; the abdominoperineal resection (APR), which means I had my rectum and anus removed and a permanent stoma was formed.

I am now three years since surgery with no local or related recurrence. I recognise that I am in a good place while so many others are not. However, I would like to write about something that I was very conscious of while I was deep in it. Something that seemed at odds with what it seemed I ought to be feeling.

All around me were references to my 'battle' with cancer. People said I was putting up a good 'fight'. I was told to stay 'strong'. You can 'beat' this, friends encouraged. I can honestly say that none of this meant anything to me. It really didn't.

What was a battle with cancer meant to look like? How should it feel? Why could I not identify with the analogy? Was there something wrong with me because of how I perceived the disease?

What my body needed more than anything else at that time was love. The best way for me to provide love was to listen to my body. Not just to the pain or the discomfort but to every sensation. What was my body wanting from nutrition. When to rest and sleep. When to be busy and when to just sit. I became very sensitive to the needs of my body and how much it needed me. The last thing my damaged body needed was a fight!

I sensitively investigated my cancer. I had a tumour. It was out of control. Some of my body cells were malfunctioning. It needed to be dealt with. I felt compassion towards the cancer but the best and only thing to do was to bring it to an end.

How could I hate the cancer? The cancer was me. I was not separable from it. It was a part of me gone wrong. It was not me and my cancer. There were not two of us. By creating a separation I could have invented a conflict, I guess, picked the fight, put two fingers up… but for what benefit?

I went the other way. I cared for my body completely, including the damaged parts. I focussed my mind and the maelstrom of emotions on getting better. I had no time or energy for fighting. This generated a positive feeling which was noticed, particularly by the chemo nurses. For me, this is what got me through twelve cycles of chemotherapy. It is not enough just to be positive though. The positive feeling comes from much deeper. Maybe it comes from the knowing that whatever the outcome you did all you could for your body. This was my experience and I know that all of us deal with cancer in our own way. If your way seems to be different to what others expect from you, go with your intuition.

My message is when faced with a cancer diagnosis and the uphill struggle of the treatment, if you don't feel like a fight, that doesn't mean you are giving in. On the contrary, you might be saving that little bit of energy for when you really need it.