JANUARY 15 — There is only one person that I will let send me ridiculous forwards or dodgy herbal supplements.
That person is my mother and I understand it is her love language.
She is very determined to do whatever she thinks is in my best interests and not even me, her oldest, will be allowed to be an obstacle in her path.
If I somehow end up in Hell, I am very sure my mother would storm the gates of Heaven’s Administration Office until they rectify what she is sure is a clerical error.
That is why I will pretend I do not see her WhatsApp forwards and keep that special bark from Pontianak on a shelf where I can see it even if I won’t boil and drink the water.
Anyone else, though? Some people I know are on thin ice for sending me unverified WhatsApp forwards about “cheap” chemotherapy or Lazada links to purchase soursop leaves.
Another friend said he felt justified about not sharing his relative’s cancer diagnosis seeing the nonsense I had to put up with on Facebook.
It has gotten to the point that I have had to write a very long social media post telling people (politely) to not attempt to advise me about my health decisions unless one, they have my specific kind of cancer and two, they are in remission.
No cancer, no talk.
That hasn’t stopped random strangers from trying to persuade me that ivermectin is a legitimate cancer cure.
People keep yelling at me to do my research but they also keep forgetting that I am a journalist, with an honours thesis on search engines, so if there’s anyone who knows how to dig for information online, it’s me.
I have had to learn about my specific kind of cancer, look up current treatment regimes, prepare myself for the nearly two years ahead of me for my cancer treatment and now I still have to yell at people to stop giving me unasked for advice.
Stop telling me to avoid sugar when there is no proof that it “feeds” cancer.
The notion that you can starve cancer is ridiculous because the cancer, like it or not, is part of you.
Cancer cells are not foreign invaders — they were once perfectly healthy cells, like you were once healthy-ish until you got told you had cancer.
Trying to starve cancer cells will also mean starving your other cells and it is not a medical miracle to kill off the host while trying to cure the disease.
My doctors and nurses tell me over and over there is no pantang (dietary restrictions) for me apart from grapefruit.
Fun fact: grapefruit messes with many medications, rendering some ineffective or overly potent and scientists still haven’t figured out exactly why but yeah, stick to oranges and lemons.
Pomelos apparently are also a bad idea as it has similar properties to grapefruit, as well as the hybrid citrus fruit tangelo so I guess watermelon will be my safe, and hydrating BFF (best fruit friend).
My healthcare professionals are more concerned that I eat, that I maintain a healthy weight and that I have support when there are days the treatments get rough or while recovering from surgery.
In the past few weeks I have done my best to keep eating, even on the days where I don’t feel particularly hungry, because I was brought up to treat food as fuel — you would never try to drive a car on an empty tank now would you?
The good news is that my very aggressive cancer is also aggressively responding to the treatment — my lump is now no longer swollen and has softened to the point that it almost feels like part of my very dense breast tissue.
It was probably how it had stayed hidden for a few months until it finally got too obvious to hide.
I now have a spattering of new moles on my chest and my scalp is tender, as though someone had pulled on my hair, hard.
Some days I feel a little winded and have to spend a few minutes doing breathing exercises, until the tightness in my chest goes away and I don’t feel like I’m running out of air.
I have started knitting and crocheting again so I’ll have something to keep my mind and hands busy during all my future hospital visits.
This business of trying to live while part of your body is trying to kill you is hard enough without needing to deal with armchair oncologists and nutritionists.
A fundraising update: the good news is thanks to kind support from more people than I expected, I have enough for either all my Herceptin cycles or four cycles of Perjeta but not both, sadly.
Hopefully my Herceptin will be mostly subsidised so I can put the money towards the second targeted treatment so, reluctantly, I will still be accepting Ko-fi contributions.
I truthfully expected nothing more than money for the occasional trip to the cafe to cry into a cup of mocha.
At the same time I feel guilty, because I never wanted to be an Amanda Palmer-type relying on goodwill, especially after the recent allegations against her and ex-husband Neil Gaiman.
News of a friend’s loved one also dying from cancer recently also made my heart crumble a little.
I was rooting for them and it just feels painfully unfair to me that cancer takes as many people as it does.
The day that cancer treatment is accessible, affordable and available for every single type that exists or will exist is not here yet but I hold out hope that it comes.
If hope is “the thing with feathers”, as Emily Dickinson calls it, all I can do is hold onto it as tightly as I can, no matter what else awaits me in 2025.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
