Still, the CT scan at my regular check up showed an olive-sized spot in my chest. The oncologist insisted I needed a stem cell transplant, a procedure that brings you near death before it cures you, supposedly.
I demanded a second opinion.
Meanwhile, I took my sister-in-law’s advice and consulted a medical intuitive. Why? Because my sister-in-law told me, simply, “She will blow your mind.”
And blow my mind she did.
August 6, 2003 was a hot day in L.A., where I was visiting my sister. I phoned the medical intuitive at precisely 7 a.m., as instructed. The intuitive – who diagnoses disease from a distance, on total strangers – was in Stowe, Vermont.
She had never met me. She didn’t know my last name. She knew only that I had suffered from cancer.
“So, underlying your cancer is your resentment towards your mother’s illness,” the intuitive said matter-of-factly. My heart raced. I had always had difficulty dealing with my mother being sick.
“You have one spot of cancer to cure. It’s on your left side, right above your diaphragm, and below your rib cage. You will be cured, but you must deal with your feelings toward your mother.”
My jaw dropped. Only two people in the world knew where that spot was: my doctor and my husband. How could she possibly know?
I was premed, a bio major, at Brown University and later, I worked as a reporter for one of the nation’s leading daily newspapers. I was trained to look at the world rather skeptically. I have always believed in a rational universe that operated according to logical rules that could be tested.
An hour after my intuitive reading, my husband called. The doctor in Boston had phoned: I did not need the stem cell transplant after all; that olive-sized spot was left over from the first treatment. He prescribed more chemo and radiation, and soon I was healed.
How I felt writing this essay:
It took me almost seven years to find the courage to tell this story, as the episode I am writing about here is part of a very, very difficult time in my life.
The reading by the intuitive changed my life, and reinforced my desire to take control of my own cancer treatment.
November 7, 2010
But then came the day that my "routine" CT scan showed an olive-sized spot in my chest. The oncologist insisted I needed a stem cell transplant, a procedure that brings you near death before it cures you, supposedly.
If you want to hear more, I would be happy to share it with The Moth.”