It’s been a week since my last round of chemo, and I’m officially in that weird limbo state where the chemicals have mostly run their course, but the cancer might not have.
On paper, I’m “off treatment.”
In my head? I’m already bracing for round two.
Because while I’ve loved the time off being home, sleeping in my own bed, not sweating through another hospital gown I want to make damn sure this APL is gone. Nuked. Exorcised. Erased from the fine print of my bone marrow.
To help with that, I had a little procedure this week to install a port-a-shiny, subdermal VIP entrance for my chemo. It’s cleaner, safer, and let’s be honest, way more cyberpunk.
Being home has also given me time to go down a few rabbit holes, exploring alternative and natural cancer treatments. In the last few years, we’ve watched a full-blown war unfold over what counts as “health.”
Mask fights in grocery stores.
Anti-vaxxers vs. pro-vaxxers like it’s the blood feud of our time.
And in the middle of it all?
Millions of people are just trying to feel better, however they define that.
Enter the Conflict: The Trap of Extremes
On one side: the scientific materialists: lab-coat loyalists who believe that if it can’t be measured, quantified, and published, it doesn’t exist.
On the other hand, the natural health crusaders who insist that your thoughts created your illness and that kale juice is the cure.
Both camps claim the moral high ground.
Both offer “truth.”
And both can make people like me, living in the vulnerable, mortal, gray area, feel like heretics, no matter what we choose.
Because here’s the thing: If I reject chemo, I’m reckless. If I reject supplements, I’m closed-minded. If I believe in both, I’m suddenly “confused.”
But maybe this isn’t confusion. Maybe it’s complexity.
I’ve read You Can Heal Your Life. I’ve underlined the passages. I’ve repeated the affirmations.
I do believe that my thoughts can influence healing.
But here’s the shadow side of that belief:
If the cancer doesn’t go away… is that on me?
Was I not positive enough?
Did I not forgive fast enough?
Did I not “do the work”?
It’s a seductive promise with a cruel edge:
You made yourself sick. And now you’re failing to heal.
That’s not healing. That’s shame shrouded in sage.
As the chemical fog clears from my system, I’m noticing what helps me feel human again—and surprise, it’s not in any textbook.
It’s in watching my kids laugh without realizing how much I’ve missed it. It’s in the sauna, reading something that has nothing to do with cancer. It’s in watching the dog nap like nothing bad could ever happen again.
I’m grateful for science. I’m curious about what science can’t measure.
Here’s What I Know:
My port is real.
My fear is real.
My hope is real.
And whatever gets me one step closer to remission, whether it’s chemo or cold plunges, is welcome at the table.
What about you?
What has helped you heal, even if it wouldn’t pass a clinical trial?
Given no quarter to APL
~Tyler
