Page 70 of That Birthday in Barbados
I glance out at the ocean, set my gaze on the horizon. “I went the traditional route at first. Chemo. That’s the primary treatment for leukemia. From the beginning, I hated the idea. It never made sense to me. Using poison to kill something in my body when everything else would have to be subjected to it as well.”
“I can understand that,” she says softly, and I can feel that she wants to touch me, but she waits, letting me go on.
“But until you’ve had a cancer diagnosis, you can’t quite imagine the panic that takes you under like a riptide current when the doctor drops those words on you. You fight it, trying to get your head above water long enough to breathe, to think straight, but it’s relentless, and you quickly figure out you have to ride whatever wave you can catch to safety. That’s the one my doctor told me was my only hope to live. So I said okay. Booked the appointment. Walked into a room full of people so sick that on the first day I joined them in my designated chair, I sat with my face to the wall because if I looked at them, I couldn’t stop myself from crying.”
A sob escapes her throat, and I do look at her now, not bothering to hide the remembered anguish in my eyes. She slips her arm through mine, slides close so that we are touching, shoulder to hip. It’s as if she wants to anchor herself to me, seal our connection so that I don’t slip off into the memories I am sharing with her.
“I went there as long as I could,” I finally say, my gaze again on the ocean before us. “And then one day, I knew I wasn’t going to live if I went back even one more time. So I got up, pulled the needle out of my arm and left.”
She’s quiet for a bit, absorbing what I have said. When she speaks, her voice is raspy. “I can’t imagine how much courage that took.”
“I’m pretty sure it takes more courage to stay,” I admit.
“What did you do then?”
“Wallowed in pity for a few days. And then at some point, realizing I had nothing to lose, I got online and started searching for other options. This place in Mexico called Sanoviv popped up in my Facebook feed. I started reading about it, about the people who had posted their experiences, andI had to go. I didn’t care if I died there. At least I would know I tried.”
I see the effect my words have on her, and I regret not softening them.
“What was it like?” she asks.
“The only way I can describe it was that it felt like a place of healing. I felt it as soon as I walked through the doors. Their approach is about giving the body whatever tools they have found capable of helping the immune system mount its own attack. My treatment plan was based on giving my body the things it needed to fight the cancer. I’m embarrassed to say my diet was crap before I got diagnosed. They taught me how to eat for healing, for disease prevention.”
“That’s why you juice.”
I nod. “I’ll never stop. I actually feel guilty for all the junk I put in my body throughout my life.”
“When we know better, we do better.”
“Hopefully before it’s too late.”
“What else did they do for you?”
“A detox program. My blood work showed that I had a high level of toxins. From living in the city, I guess. We breathe in all sorts of fumes from vehicles and when we’re pumping gas in our cars. Airplanes going over. I had no idea. I don’t think most people have any idea. But they helped lower my levels significantly.”
“That is amazing. And terrifying. What else did they do?”
“Something called Hyperthermia which aims to raise the body’s core temperature for a period of time to mimic fever. When we get a fever, it’s the body’s way of trying to kill whatever is making ussick.”
“But I’ve always heard you should take something to lower a fever.”
“If it gets above a certain point, my understanding is yes. Lower fevers are one of our body’s weapons.”
“I had no idea.”
“Me either before I went there.”
She looks at me then, and says, “I’m so grateful you found that place.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. I do know that much.”
She reaches for my hand, laces her fingers through mine. We sit for a while, the waves making the only sound around us until she finally says, “And I have no idea how I found you. But I’m glad I did.”
Chapter Thirty-four
“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.”
?F. Scott Fitzgerald
