It all began in the early morning of 8^th of June 2021, a day I will never forget.  

I woke up to the sound of my alarm and sleepily wondered what day it was and what my itinerary looked like.  I realized it was Wednesday, the day I walk with my friend Helen.  “I better get up” I told myself and I made my way to the bathroom for my morning pee.  As I was sitting there half asleep, I got the shock of my life as this liquid poured from my bottom without any warning whatsoever!  “What the hell was that?” I asked out loud. It turned out to be blood, lots and lots of blood.

I was the first patient at my doctor’s rooms. Terrified about what had just happened.  Although he assured me that it could be a result of several things, he did not hesitate to refer me to a specialist for a colonoscopy.  For those of you who don’t know what a colonoscopy is, it is a procedure done whereby they send a camera up through your anal passage to examine the inside of your large intestine.  It isn’t a painful procedure, but they do put you under.  However, I would like to add at this point that the prep the previous day was not fun!!

For two days I waited for my results. I eventually received a call from the specialist’s office asking me to please come for a consult.  Something had to be horribly wrong for him to want to see me.  As Richard and I sat waiting in the reception the following morning, I had to keep reminding myself to breathe.  My heart was beating loudly in my chest, and I felt stuck in a state of sheer panic. 

The specialist did not mince his words, he came right out with it, “Evelyn you have colon cancer, and I don’t have to wait for the results to come back from the laboratory, I know exactly what it is”. He then proceeded to show me the photographs he had taken and give me all the details, but I didn’t hear a word.  In fact, I raised my hand in a gesture that meant “STOP TALKING”.  I had been watching his lips move but I was totally numb and felt myself starting to faint.  I got up and quickly made my way to his examination bed and lay down before I fell.  He reassured me that he was going to do everything he could to get it out.  He explained that during the colonoscopy he had tattooed my colon so that when he operated to remove the tumor he would know where to cut.  I thought that was an extremely clever thing to do.  Eventually I was able to sit opposite him at his desk and listen to the prognosis.  He asked me if I wanted to write down what I had and all I could hear was this voice in my head scream loudly the word ‘NO’.  He looked at me in shock.  I had enough information to absorb for one day, and, in my mind, if I put a label on it, I was giving this horrible thing some sort of permanency in my life. Knowing the details also meant that I would be tempted to use “Dr Google”, and we all know how dangerous that can be.  All I was interested in was ‘what happens now.’  He told me his plan of how he would remove it and that I would be in hospital for 3-4 days.  He lied.  Or maybe he didn’t lie, he was being gentle.  During our discussion, he kept repeating that being diagnosed with cancer is a ‘journey’.  I wasn’t sure what he was on about, but it became clear further down the line.

We drove home in silence, trying to comprehend what had just happened.  “Breathe Evelyn, breathe”, I repeated to myself in an attempt to keep my shit together.  On top of my diagnosis, we were going home to break the news to our 20 year old daughter! 

For three days Richard, Gabriella and I sat and came to terms with the fact that our world had been turned upside down.  We cried, we questioned, we shared our deepest fears and concerns.  What if I died?  The question at the top of a list of many.  We had our little “pity party” as I like to call it, and when we felt like we’d covered everything and could face this chapter with a positive mindset, we agreed on the following:

1. We would make ALL decisions as a family unit. Afterall, my cancer journey was part of their life journey too.  This allowed Richard and Gabriella to feel like they were contributing and me to feel less alone. 
2. We would take one day at a time, one step at a time. No stressing about the future. Just by focusing on today, I could feel my stress levels drop.  
3. And my most important decision…. Although I had no idea of what was about to come my way, I knew that I was not going to make a decision when I felt fearful.  

By allowing ourselves time to absorb the news and process the overwhelm, we had moved from feeling and acting like victims to a determined family unit ready to embrace the journey.  It made me think of the book I had just read: The Gift, by Edith Eger, a Holocaust survivor, who said: “You don’t ask ‘Why me?’ when life gets tough, you ask ‘What now?’”

Thank you Edith, you have helped me to embrace this challenge in my life as part of the lessons I have to learn on my journey.  

Time for step 1: Have tumour cut out. 

I was dropped off at hospital early one morning the following week.

Thanks to Covid, Richard could not hold my hand until I was taken to theatre as would normally be the case.  Instead, I was dropped at the hospital doors. This made Richard sad as he couldn’t be there for me.  The poor man sat outside the hospital for hours, waiting, praying and I feeling totally helpless.   I guess he didn’t want to leave because at least by sitting in the parking lot he felt close to me. 

Thankfully he didn’t drive off because when the nurse saw that I had an ‘overnight bag’, she asked if I could give it to someone, because I wouldn’t need it for a week!

“What?” I asked with a look of absolute horror on my face.  Then I stuttered something like “The doctor said I’m going to be here for 3-4 days; I need my pajamas”.  She glanced at me with this gentle look on her face and said softly “You’re going to be here for at least a week dearest, and the only things you need are your phone, your toothbrush and toothpaste.”

My heart sank, shit just got real.

Calling Richard to come back in and get my bag made him panic.  “What’s going on?” he asked and as I broke the news to him, I saw him move from feeling terrified to being my rock.  In an instant he knew that now was not the time to show his true feelings.  I felt this wave of pure love for this man standing in front of me and thanked God for such a wonderful angel to walk through life with.  He made me feel strong.  “You’ve got this” were his parting words as he was ushered out of the hospital.

I remember being wheeled into the theatre waiting room and meeting my anesthetist for the first time.  He explained how there would be more than one surgeon, that the operation would take hours and that they would cut me open from above my belly button to just above my pelvic bone.  I felt overwhelmed by all the information he was giving me.  But he continued with the plan of what was about to unfold.  I was told that I would have two ports for the anesthetic, one on my right wrist and one at my ankle.  However, if he was struggling to keep me sedated safely, he would insert a yellow port on my left hand.  When I eventually regained consciousness, the first thing I did was look for the yellow port, thankfully there wasn’t one.

Lying there I felt frightened and alone.  Finally, I was wheeled into theatre where I was greeted with massive lights, TV screens and a room full of doctors and nurses, who insisted on introducing themselves to me, one by one, which just added to my already vulnerable state. All I wanted to do was cry, and just as I felt I was about to lose it, my self-talk jumped in to save the day.  The voice in my head became my friend by constantly reassuring me with positive self-talk.  Statements like: “you are so brave; you’ll get through this; soon you’ll be asleep and when you wake up, it will all be over; this is just another step”. And so, the internal babble continued until the lights went out.

Waking up in ICU & High care was a bit of a blur as I was heavily sedated. 

For the first couple of days, I was watched over by a handful of nurses who were totally focused on their role at this critical stage of my recovery. There were tubes and pipes everywhere. I eventually got to facetime my family which did wonders for my spirit, but it was hard to see the faces looking back at me trying to be strong and feeling totally helpless.

Initially, the nurses and physio team concentrated on the recovery of my lungs because during the operation they were collapsed to carry out the surgery.  Sounds rather scary if I think about it.  Best I don’t!

I was given a device that looked like a kid’s toy and several times a day I had to blow into it and make the balls rise.  The first time, they hardly moved, but as I got the balls higher and higher I felt so proud of my progress.  My lungs were returning to normal.

On the first morning I woke up and I was aware of a new patient in the bed opposite me.  An elderly lady who seemed to be in a lot of pain. Before I had too much time to think about her, she went into cardiac arrest, and the nurses and doctors could not resuscitate her.   I was shocked, it happened right there before my eyes!  “Could it be a sign?” “Was I also going to die?” Horrible, negative questions that entered my mind, but I knew from that moment on that it was her journey, not mine. I took the episode as a reminder to check-in with my mindset and keep focused on my own journey and the baby steps of progress I was making.  I wanted to get well, and I wanted to get out of hospital.  When the physio came, as hard as it was, I got up out of bed, was unplugged from all the drips and drains, I did my few steps, took deep breaths to blow the balls and then patiently waited to be hooked up again and put back to bed.  It was exhausting but I was determined.  I fought hard to physically recover, doing exactly what I was told by my medical team.  Some days I just wanted to cry, it was difficult not to feel sorry for myself, but I knew that self-pity was not going to help me.  Baby steps, one day at a time, I reminded myself.

I had my own morphine syringe attached to my forearm which allowed me to administer morphine as often as I liked.  It was good for the pain, but it made me drowsy, and I needed a clear mind to help myself get well.  At my request, the doctor took it out.  After 4 days, I became extremely agitated with the huge tube in my nose. It was there to clear the liquid from my lungs, but it gave me a sore throat, it made swallowing difficult, it meant all I could eat was ice! I begged them to take it out, and eventually they did.  What a relief.  That first bowl of jelly was a welcome treat.  

I was entertained in the ward by the comings and goings of the people around me, and I even managed to laugh at myself occasionally.  Especially when I got to experience my first bed bath.  I was looking forward to feeling fresh and clean, and I smiled when I watched two amazing nurses’ approach with my clean bedding and “sexy night dress”.  You know the one, light blue with open ties at the back.  Very sexy indeed!  Then the realization set in that I was going to have a top to toe bed bath.  They would be washing my vagina!  I can’t help but chuckle to myself because I can clearly remember the look on my face as the realization set in.  I must have looked like a deer in the head lights. The tension was broken when one of the nurses leaned forward and told me she was now going to wash my butterfly.  I laughed out loud.  I had never heard that expression before.  Just being able to laugh at myself allowed the tension to leave my body.  Sometimes you’ve just got to embrace the uncomfortable with a light heart. I was amazed at the professionalism of moving me from side to side, without putting any strain on my abdomen.  Before I knew it, I was all clean and the happy nurses moved on to the next patient.

I became an observer of human behavior as I lay in my bed, day after day.  The one thing I noticed was that none of the other ladies in ICU did anything to help themselves.  They were victims in their own eyes.  How sad.  The lady next to me had been there for 6 weeks with pneumonia.  She was desperately unhappy but did nothing to help herself.  She refused the physio on most days, she didn’t eat when they wanted her to, and she wouldn’t get up and walk at their request.  I was surprised by her behavior and lack of action.  The same went for the other ladies, lying there feel sorry for themselves. Had these ladies handed over their lives to medicine?  Had they given away their hope and their power, choosing not to be positive and take action to help their recovery?  It made me more determined than ever to continue with my work of inspiring as many as people as possible to take ownership of their lives, and to make better choices and take the action they need to improve their circumstance.  If they don’t, who will? This is where the idea of my Choosing positivity cards came into my mind and 10 months later….. voila!  

When I finally walked out of the hospital 7 days later, I cried.  I ugly cried.  Was it the relief that I had survived and got through step 1?  Probably.  But then, there they were, my family, waiting to take me home.  As I write this now, I feel the tears well up at the emotion I felt on that day. 

The next step was to see my surgeon for my checkup.  It was here that the “journey” was explained to me.  He had removed the tumor, which meant cutting out 35cm of my large intestine.  I was diagnosed with Stage Three Colon Cancer, (which meant it had spread and was found in my lymph nodes) and because of that, it was essential I have chemotherapy.  I was to meet with an Oncologist to discuss and start my treatment.  The Oncologist gave me the full diagnosis of what had been removed from my colon.  He then asked me how much I weighed and how tall I was.  I gave him the answers and I was quite taken aback as he immediately launched into the details of his treatment programme.  I was trying to wrap my brain around the fact that it seem he was basing his programme on my weight and height! Surely that could not be true!  He continued to explained that I would have chemo once a week, where I would sit for 4 hours and then go home with a port which would feed the rest of the chemotherapy into my system overnight.  This would happen for a period of 4 months.  Richard and I sat there speechless.  The way he had spoken to us made me feel like I was one of his hamsters about to get onto the spinning wheel like all the other hamsters.  I could tell that Richard was not impressed, his tone changed, his body language became more edgy and all I heard was him muttering about it being a “bloody money-making racket”!  He too felt like we were just a number in an automatic generation of chemotherapy patients. My thoughts wondered to the fact that I cannot even take a Panado (pain killer) without eating something first, how would my body withstand such harsh treatment?    Much to the Oncologist’s horror, I told him I would contact him if I needed his services. I would not be following his program until I had given it a lot of thought. 

For over a decade I have relied on homeopathic and alternative forms of treatment for our family ailments.  I believe in healers and holistic healthcare methods like BodyTalk, Reiki, chakra balancing, energy healing and sound therapy, to name a few.  Why would I throw all of that to the wind and go against my beliefs by becoming a victim of my own fear and going the chemo route?  This was the time for me to ‘practice what I preach’. As a life coach and healer I have encouraged my clients for years to look at more holistic options.  With that in the forefront of my mind, and the fact that every time someone mentioned the word ‘chemotherapy’ the hairs on my arms would stand on end, I knew there was a different plan for me.

I clearly remember standing at my bedroom window looking out over our garden, with my arms wide open and saying “Universe, I am listening now.  I know I am going through this to learn lessons, and that’s ok, I trust you and I ask you to guide me with each step”.  Instantly I felt a sense of calm come over my body. It was like the angels had wrapped me in their wings and I knew I was being protected. I also knew that my biggest battle was going to be with my mind.  In fact, they call it a “mind fuck” and that is exactly what it is.  Dealing with cancer is a huge battle of the mind and one that needs to be taken seriously.  Our mind is so powerful and if we let it, it creates a whole story that isn’t even real.  Being aware of this I knew the best way to start was to focus on my breathing to keep my nervous system calm.  For hours, I would sit quietly and focus only on my breathing to clear my mind of fear and quieten the chattering voice in my head so that I could get clarity with my path and plan.  I think the most important realization at this stage was that I had to be comfortable with whatever decision I made.  Afterall, the outcome would be mine. A reminder that we are on our own journey.  Think about that for a moment.  I was surrounded by my loving family and friends who were great listeners, and some had fantastic advice, but, at the end of it all, whatever decision I made was only mine, because the outcome would be mine.  Yes, it would affect those around me, but we’re talking about my life here.  This was another profound moment of awareness for me. 

As news spread of my cancer, many people sent messages, phoned, or visited, offering help and support, and there was lots of advice of who I could or should talk to. I was apprehensive about filling my head with the experiences of others.  I was picky about who I would allow to influence my thoughts.  I stuck with the advice from people I knew and trusted.  Richard and I researched methods of treatment and what resonated with us we delved into in more detail.  What occupied my thinking in the early days was a basic concept; we have healthy cells, and we have cancerous cells, surely it was in my best interest to increase the strength of the healthy cells to remove what I called “the rogues”?!  I spent time researching ways in which I could do this. 

One of the most valuable pieces of advice I received was from a friend who had gone through breast cancer.  She said: “Evelyn, the cancer has been in your body for longer than you think, take your time making your decisions, there is no rush.”  Hearing this allowed me to relax and take the time needed to come up with a plan that felt right for me.   One day, while sitting quietly with my breath I became aware of this great inner wisdom that stepped forward and handed me my plan.  It sounds weird, but I don’t know how else to explain it.  All I can say is that we have this inner wisdom that knows what is best for us.  If you take time to quieten all the noise in your head and life, it will step forward and guide you.  I call it ‘the magic lies within’ (another idea that has come from my journey and that now forms part of the retreats and workshops I run.)

“What was my plan?” I hear you ask.

Evelyn’s healing from cancer PLAN and what I refer to as my team of Angels:

• As a person who believes in holistic methods of healing, I wanted to have a weekly session with some form of energy healer. I chose four healers to work with and their modalities are: Angel Reiki, BodyTalk, Sound therapy and energy healing.   
• To find a homeopath, who would nurture my body and soul by giving me the supplements I needed.
• To have some form of treatment that would fight the ‘rogue’ cells in my body. I found an alternative doctor with a Rife (Spooky Two) frequency machine.
• To have an oncologist who would support me in my quest to do my own thing and to monitor my progress. I found the most amazing lady who I admire and trust.

The Oncologist I found was professional and understanding.  She listened to me and didn’t disregard my idea of choosing to heal naturally. We decided that I could have 6 months, and she would support me with whatever I decided and if it didn’t work out, we would discuss a plan B.  She carried out further tests, so that she was clear on exactly what it was the surgeon had cut out of me and where it had spread.  It turns out that my form of cancer is rare and that there is no specific chemo drug for it.  I would have been given a cocktail of drugs and they would hope for the best. This was another sign that my decision was the right one for me.  I hate to admit it, but I did feel proud of myself when she told me my cancer was rare.  How crazy is that?  Since then, I’ve heard the phrase a lot from the people I help.  “My cancer is rare” they say, and I know it’s because there is no sure-thing treatment for them.  It’s at times like this when I believe in the importance of investigating options instead of being overruled by fear.

Gabriella, my daughter, was concerned when I told her about my plan.  She was worried I was making a mistake.  What if it didn’t work?  We discussed this at length, until she was more convinced, and I was more confident that I had her full support, without the fear.  This also helped me to be clear about my journey.

It wasn’t an easy road.  I had to travel for 3 hours a day to my Alternative Doctor for treatment on his machine.  We did this every day for 6 weeks, and in total for 4 months. 

I stopped working and focused only on my healing.

As I write this, that was three years ago, and I’m delighted to say, I am cancer free.

I am aware that my journey will continue for years to come where I stress myself stupid as I go through scans, blood tests and x-rays to make sure it hasn’t come back.  I get to experience SCANXIETY – the panic and overwhelm that you feel because what if they find something? I panic when I get a pain in my abdomen, or a slight cough, the first thing that springs to mind is that it has spread.  I gasp only for a second, because my powerful positive mind is having none of it.  I AM CANCER FREE.

I am often asked for the details of my doctors and healers, and I gladly hand them over, but in my heart, I know that if the person’s mind is not right, the battle is not won.

Of course, when I visited my GP and surgeon a year or so later, they were horrified by my “reckless decision”. But I didn’t buy into the FEAR that was being fed back at me, I stayed true to myself, my choices, and my own unique journey.  I heard “you’re crazy” more than once.  How remarkable to see them lost-for-words when I told them I was cancer free!

I now believe, more than ever, that it’s not what happens to you in life, but how you react that really matters.  I am no hero, I’m no different from you. What I did do that makes me feel like a hero is avoid being ruled by FEAR.  I chose instead to find peace and do what was best for me. At all times we have the freedom of choice and whatever you choose for you is ok, as long as you believe that what you have chosen is the right thing for YOU.

These are some of the things I did to help myself.  I use them now in my everyday life.  Please feel free to use them and to share them with anyone you feel needs a little inspiration.

• I gave myself time to absorb the diagnosis and then I talked it through.
• I found time to be still and just breathe so I could feel what was right for me.
• I decided on a game plan and got on with it, with no doubt or second guessing.
• I formed a team of angels who I trusted with my healing process.
• I surrounded myself with people who love and support me.
• I checked-in regularly with my state of mind.
• When I felt stressed, anxious or overwhelm I journaled to clear my head.
• I avoided jargon and Google.
• I kept my mind clear of fear.
• I faced forward every day, taking one small step at a time.
• And lastly, the most important thing was I showed gratitude every day to the people who were making a difference in my life and with my recovery. This kept my mind positive, and my spirit lifted.

Receiving a CANCER DIAGNOSIS CAN TURN YOUR WORLD UPSIDE DOWN.

It made me reevaluate my life.  Up until the point of the diagnosis I was a do-er of epic proportions.  I was coaching, speaking, teaching, mentoring, running a successful social media campaign, running a B&B on the side, being a mom and helping my hubby with his business.  What was I trying to be?  Superwoman?  I woke up to the fact that putting so much stress and pressure on myself to constantly achieve was not worth it.  I stopped 80% of what I was doing.  I moved away from the city to a quiet village on the south coast where I get to look at the sea every day and walk on the beach and feel the sand between my toes.  I get to do less and live more.  I beg you, if you feel like you’re on a treadmill right now, STOP, and take a breath and ask yourself ‘what is important in your life?’  I’m not proud of the fact that all too often I put my family last.  I remember Gabriella sitting opposite me at my desk and saying “mom, I want to talk to you” and the reply was “not now, I’m busy”.  My priorities where all mixed up.  It took a shock for me to make changes.  Now, I check in regularly with myself to make sure that I am putting the most important people in my life first, because life can change in a second, without any warning.

If you would like any of the following, please email me:

• A list of which supplements I took to promote my healing.
• If you have any questions for me.
• If you would you like to sign up for my help with your cancer journey.

I would love to hear from you.  My email address is evelyn@evelynalessandri.com

Thank you for your interest in my journey.

With love & gratitude,