The house is on fire

A few years ago, I was talking with my brother about diet changes I'd been working on with my naturopathic doctor.  I think we were talking about sugars, and he rather conclusively said, "Oh, it's like the house is already on fire, why pour gasoline on it?"  I don't think I had anything to say other than some sort of noise to acknowledge that, dammit, he was right.  

Nasha Winters has a new book called Mistletoe and the Emerging Future of Integrative Oncology.  I just got it last week and my nose has been in it ever since.   The metaphorical fire came back as she writes:

When someone has cancer, it is like a house is on fire.  You wouldn't go after a massive house fire with a handheld extinguisher.  Instead, you call professionals who come in, and then it gets ugly.  The firefighters break the windows, and they flood the house, and they get the job done.  They are effective.  Mission accomplished.  The fire is out, but the house is not livable anymore!  Now, you wouldn't call the firefighters the next day and ask them to rebuild your house.  They would say, "This is not in our job description!"  

The frustration I have towards western medicine comes and goes.  One of the first things any oncologist says in the cancer conversation is, "this isn't your fault, there's nothing you could have done to prevent it."  It's even backed up by genetic tests to show that I have *one* gene that is abnormal, so that's the scape goat and certainly the only cause possible.  Just dealt some bad cards, I guess.  "Fixing" the physical self isn't always enough.

When I went to my naturopath after my 2019 diagnosis, she asked me enough questions she could likely write my biography, then her calculated response was, we can do better.  This was the first time I heard about cancer as "a cancering process" and that my body is a terrain either suitable or unsuitable for that process.  She asked me to read The Metabolic Approach To Cancer by Nasha Winters, and she referred me to a naturopath in Seattle who had significantly more experience with cancer and changing the body's terrain to being less hospitable to cancering processes.  In short, I had WAY more control over having cancer than anyone had ever suggested.  

In 2019, I essentially stumbled across anthroposophic medicine, which integrates modern medicine with alternative, nature-based treatments and therapies.  What is missing entirely from modern western medicine is that we are more than a physical body--more than a house on fire.  Anthroposophic medicine doesn't ignore the mind, spirit, and soul of a patient--the lifestyle we have, the traumas or significant events we've endured, our passions and fears.  It all contributes to the cancering process, so it all needs to be considered.  

Cancer doesn't have to be a death sentence.  Cancer is a revolution.  A time for radical change.  A gentle, persistent message from the body or soul or spirit (quite likely all 3) when it's stuck and needs more help to optimize and thrive.