It all began in late August, 2018. I was twenty two and on a cross country road trip, making my way from BC to Montreal for school after summer break, when suddenly I felt this deep pain. I couldn’t even pinpoint where it was coming from - it felt so foreign, so I chalked it up to a miscellaneous “digestive problem”. I brushed off my boyfriend’s suggestions to go to the hospital because a) we where in the middle of nowhere northern Ontario, and b) I had never been to a hospital before, save for my birth, and couldn’t possibly need to go now? The next day, still experiencing sharp pain in my lower left abdomen, we stopped for laxatives (my bf’s bright idea..) which I took and promptly regretted. We made it to Montreal a day later and I admitted defeat. Off to the ER we went.

This is how the years of vague health issues started - or at least when my body finally decided to speak up for itself. That first trip to the hospital soon became one of many. I was told that I had an ovarian cyst - the size of a grapefruit, I may add - and that it had caused my left ovary to twist, cutting off the blood supply. I had never even thought about my ovaries before this point. I don’t even know if I had considered that I had ovaries or had a clue what they did. Being blessed with an easy and mostly pain-free cycle had me a tad naive. I ended up dropping out of school and moving back home to deal with my new-found health problem, giving my life a good ol’ plot twist. In the following three intense years, I would end up having two emergency surgeries and three planned.

Now I want to add that I had always prided myself on being “healthy”. I had never taken birth control, because even as a fourteen year old, when it was first suggested to me for acne, I just had a feeling that messing with my hormones couldn’t be a good thing. I had found nutrition and exercise at a young age and was even dabbling in herbalism. I’d been practicing yoga since I was thirteen and thought I was ~perfectly in tune and in harmony with my body~. Boy, did I have a lot to learn. The flip side of all that was that I was obsessive and often stressed about how my body looked, what I ate, and how much exercise I was getting. I struggled with some form of disordered eating on and off throughout my teen years (anyone remember Freelee the Banana Girl? lol yikes), and at one point lost my cycle for a year, likely due to being very underweight.

This newsletter isn’t about why one gets sick, or how to get healthy. It’s about how uniquely personal that experience is and how it can be the ultimate catalyst for growth. I’m writing this to share how one person’s “tragedy” can be another’s clarity. Ok - stick with me.

In 2021, I had my fourth surgery to remove yet another cyst that was growing on my left ovary. It went smoothly, or so I thought, until I got a call from my gynaecologic oncologist. It was a surreal moment when she told me that the cyst came back as cancerous, and that I was now the proud owner of an ovarian cancer diagnosis (stage 1C2, if we’re counting). What. the. hell.

I felt out of body and simply stunned. Me? Anika? Has cancer? Of course we all know that life is unpredictable, yadda yadda, but it is still so wild when something completely unexpected happens and rewrites the story you thought you were in control of writing. It’s like you have a script of your life in your mind and when something like that happens it feels like surely someone else added that in and it must be a mistake. The proverbial rug just gets yanked out from under your feet.

But here’s the thing. Once the shock wore off, I felt good. Like really good.

Life suddenly felt simple - all I had to do was stay alive and care for my body. All those silly unimportant stressors just suddenly vanished. Future plans? Don’t need ‘em. Career goals? Nah. The quote unquote tragedy of being sick brought an immense clarity to me which was almost euphoric at times. Everything that truly mattered came into focus.

The doctors had a full panel meeting about my case to decide how to proceed, and concluded that I needed a full hysterectomy. Me, a 25 year old who hadn’t really thought much about having children because hellllo, I was still so young! This one felt like a bit of a punch to the gut, and I began to mull over what my fertility desires really were, now that they were in jeopardy. A hysterectomy didn’t feel at all right for me, in a number of ways, so I voiced that to the the doctors and told them that I was not going to heed their advice. A surgery would happen, but only on my terms.

I was quickly scheduled for another surgery a few weeks later. In that window between surgeries I was in a limbo zone. I had just embarked on my second year of herbalism school and was having a hard time focusing on things like work and studying. In class, we were diving deep into the practices of vitalism, which greatly informed how I dealt with my new diagnosis. I became serious about increasing my vitality, which meant prioritizing sunrises, small amounts of cold exposure (I liked to run cold water over my feet after a shower), basking in sunlight, and eating meat after eleven years as a vegetarian.

The morning of my scheduled surgery arrived. I went for a walk to watch the sunrise, and then got delivered to the hospital to prep. I passed the time waiting by listening to healing affirmations on repeat. I had a sweet and half-dazed chat with my charming anesthesiologist, and with that I was under. Hospitals aren’t my favourite place, don’t get me wrong, but there is a certain sense of peace I have always felt there and I think it comes down to the surrendering that takes place. It feels great to give up control sometimes and just pass the baton, so to speak. It’s a fine dance in health: control and surrender. To surrender in trust, and not give in from a place of fear, feels paramount.

I awoke from surgery down one ovary, one fallopian tube, and a number of lymph nodes - but I can’t say I felt much lighter. I had to wait a week or two to get my results, as they also took swabs from various other places to check for cancer. The waiting sometimes felt unbearable, but for the most part I felt positive and at peace. Just riding the waves of life, one at a time.

When they finally arrived, it was all good news. The cancer had been removed, and in fact hadn’t even made its way out of the cyst. I was relieved, of course, but also felt a sense of whiplash. I had been feeling such clarity within my new reality and didn’t like that suddenly it would end, and I’d have to jump back into the rat race of life. Being “sick” (which is a word I never identified with) granted me the gift of a perspective shift, and now that everything was moving smoothly again, how was I to maintain that feeling of clarity?

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Well here I am now, four and a half years later, and continuing to grapple with that question. I am still *knock on wood* cancer free, but that’s not to say I have washed my hands of the whole ordeal. Vague and self diagnosed insulin resistant pcos symptoms continue to plague me. I still go for frequent ultrasounds and check ups. In the months that followed that last surgery I had consultations with fertility clinics and meetings with various doctors, including one chemo doctor that asked me, “do you like your hair? ‘Cause the only downside to chemo is that you’re gonna have to lose it”. I’ve had more experiences within the western medicine realm that make my head shake than I can count, but on the flip side I’ve also had some incredibly caring doctors. I’ve remained strong in my convictions, declining the various suggestions for birth control pills, spironolactone, and yes, chemo. Were these the right choices? Who knows, but they felt right for me and that, I believe, is where the magic is.

There are a lot of strong opinions in the cancer world - and I don’t intend to add to that. I have my opinions for myself, but they are by no means opinions that I want to place on you, your mom, your sister, or whoever may have a cancer story.

My take on cancer is that it is the body creating. Our very own cells begin to grow and spread uncontrollably. In essence, we make it. The approach that resonated with me was to unpack why my body was choosing to express itself in this way. I’ve never connected with the whole “fuck cancer” movement. I didn’t hate my cancer - how could I? After all, it was me who created it. My focus was to send it love. I’d literally talk to it like, “I see you and I thank you for the lesson. You are welcome to go”. I would visualize it like a little ball of light in my left ovary that I would imagine shrinking as I sent warm, healing thoughts to it. I tried to nurse it to health with care and compassion, like you would a sick child. No need for anger or hate as that obviously has never helped anyone to heal.

The ovaries represent creation and creative output, and a cyst indicates a block there. The left side speaks to the feminine energy and the concept of motherhood, or relationships revolving around women. Since I’ll likely have a vulnerability hangover from this newsletter anyways I may as well get into it. For the longest time I’ve felt blocked in terms of expression, and have struggled with having open and expressive relationships with women in my life. In fact, the main driver for starting the Healing Arts Press was to work on my hang ups around expression and creativity. Finding the spiritual & emotional root to my health issues has been the most profound part of my healing journey.

There’s not really a clean and simple end to this story, or a moral conclusion, because to be honest, I haven’t come to one yet. It’s crazy to me how close I came to having my whole future change because of a doctor’s opinion, and how common that reality is for so many. I emphasize increasing vitality in times of turmoil because it is so, so important to tackle these big decisions coming from a place of strength and vitality, and not fear and weakness. We are all just trying our best out here, doctors included, but no one can know what it best for you more than, you guessed it, you. Trust yourself, listen to your heart, live, laugh, love, and all those other cringe cliches because they’re not wrong!! Healing is deeply personal and needs to resonate with your body. I say body because sometimes our minds try to get in the way of our healing. The better we understand our own bodies, the better we can navigate times of dis-ease.

These are the tools and practices that felt like they were making a difference in my health when I was in the thick of it:

• Louise Hay affirmations and root causes

• This book by Bernie Siegel

• This healing affirmations youtube video that I listened to daily for months

• Laying on the bio mat that my friend lent me morning and night

• Picking up a big order of bison from a local farm after years of not eating meat!

• The book Woman Code

• Nutritive herbs including red clover, nettle, oat straw, and tulsi

• Hitting the sauna to get sweating!

• Essiac tea

• Reconnecting with my ancestral lineage

• GRATITUDE

My hope is that this will be relevant to other young people - or any people - when health problems or scares uproot your life. You certainly can’t control what will happen but you can control how you respond and feel towards the unexpected, and that makes all the difference. My experience helped me to grow so much stronger in myself and my relationship with my body. It was empowering - much like herbalism is. Take your health into your hands and listen to your body. It has things to say! And it’s a hell of a lot smarter than we as a society give it credit for. But it’s really up to the individual to listen for themselves. We can and dare I say, should, all be our own healers, first and foremost.

This strange and special experience acted as a spring board for me into the realm of healing, and for that I am incredibly grateful! It feels so good to release this as I come out of my winter cave, into the fresh newness of spring, beginning anew. Please pass this along to anyone who you think might benefit and know that my inbox is open 24/7 if you ever want to chat.

With love from little me, who always wanted to write her own story.