Working for one of the UK’s largest cancer charities I am, on a regular basis, moved to tears by some of the stories I hear. In the past my partner has criticized me for being overly concerned with suffering and sadness. My defense to this is that I am not overly concerned with it, but rather that I simply refuse to pretend that it doesn’t exist. Furthermore, just because one understands suffering, it doesn’t mean ones needs to suffer oneself – i.e. if I tell you a sad story, you do not own that sadness, you’ve merely borne witness to it. My contemplation of suffering is my way of helping my soul to evolve from a state of individualistic self-centeredness, to universal compassion. Knowing that life is not always easy and carefree is what drives me to try and make sure I do my part in reducing the suffering of others. So many people live in a state of incredible ignorance about just how much human beings suffer. We are constantly bombarded with images telling us that we need this, or that we should do that, or strive for what many would refer to as ‘success’. But to me success is not a large house and a fast car, success is not a lot of money and high profile friends, success is not material wealth. Indeed many of the people who achieve these things, in my view, are ultimately utter failures as human beings. Success as a human being is compassion. It is feeling your brother and your sisters’ pain as though it were your own. Success as a human being is realizing that reality is an ‘illusion’ and that our only real experience is not what we possess physically, but rather what we cultivate spiritually.
With this in mind I would like to share with you a story of my friend’s recent suffering. I am travelling to India with her this September, and I am so grateful to have her in my life. She has helped me to understand the nature of suffering and how ALL of us as members of the human race have a duty to carry one another through it when our time comes.
Nathalie’s Story.
'You’ve got cancer.'
It was the one time in my life when all stood still. Not in a mystical or spiritual manner. The stillness was pure terror. The words felt like thunder. I sat there dumbstruck, with tears running down my eyes. It was a Monday morning sometime in January last year.
The doctor continued, ‘ it’s cervical cancer, we’re not sure how advanced the cancer is, but it’s advanced.’
‘Is this how I die ?’ I thought. It may sound dramatic but over the previous 3 years I had seen my father, uncle, grandfather and stepfather all die of cancer… Was I going to be the next in the family to keel over from this agonising illness?
I was 39 years old and my boyfriend had called it quits the week before. My life was crumbling before my eyes. Up until that moment, however, I had felt invincible. I had been an ambitious artist who travelled the world constantly for work and exhibitions. I had always been incredibly healthy and approached life with a courageous and free-spirited attitude. I had shown myself again and again that, if I set my mind to it, I could do anything. Life was an extraordinary playground which I took both seriously and lightly. Everything was possible.
However, cancer pulled the rug out from under my feet. Within weeks, I was in treatment, and I was physically and emotionally brought to my knees. I went through hell. For a week I received radiotherapy in form of brachitherapy which meant direct radiation on the tumor found in my cervix. I was alone in a radiation chamber, strapped to a bed, lying on my back for 6 days and received radiation for 30 minutes every hour, 24 hours a day. I couldn’t move as it would have endangered the placement of the radiation apparatus in my vagina.
After the radiation, I experienced chronic fatigue, depression and my body was greatly weakened from the treatment. A month later I had my 4th and final surgery: a radical hysterectomy which meant I lost my uterus and ovaries. Overnight I was a woman in menopause and I was only 39 years old. The chronic fatigue and depression continued. I was a far cry from the independent, free-spirited and loving person I had been a few months before.
When I was strong enough, I travelled to South India to recuperate. I stayed in a guest house in the village where the living saint, Sri Sakthi Amma lives. At only 35 years of age, he has entirely devoted his life to humanitarian service through poverty alleviation, health, education and environmental programmes. There was a modern hospital next to the guest house and it was a place where I knew I could heal in MY OWN time. This was essential. I spent the first months sleeping and crying. I felt physically and emotionally shattered and fractured. I meditated and did yoga to strengthen my body. I began to learn to bake bread, which was the greatest step for me as it was tangible, and got me into being present in the moment. And it was uplifting to see the joy on people's faces when they ate my bread !
The road of recovery was slower than I could have ever imagined. I had thought I’d be back into work within months of treatment. However, my recovery was complex : the trauma of treatment had awoken suppressed traumas of childhood, so I was dealing with a totally foreign psychological landscape. It took me months to find the correct hormonal treatment for my menopause. The chronic fatigue took six months to dissipate. The depression was tricky. I was grief-stricken by my new menopausal body.
It’s now been a year since I ended treatment and I see life in a totally different manner. I know that I am no longer invincible. I am grateful for each day. I am no longer interested in climbing the success ladder that society has put in place. My wish is to bring gentleness and kindness into this world. Why? Because it was the kindness and gentleness of others that REALLY made the difference to each day when I was going through treatment and the recovery period. Money, fame and making a name for myself no longer do it for me. Professionally I am now contributing my talents towards poverty alleviation, so that less people suffer in this world. I had always been interested in this work before, but now I want, what I have left of my life, to be entirely devoted to poverty alleviation.
Each day I thank Mother Nature for keeping me alive so that I can see each new day and so that I can make a difference in someone else’s life, however small. I want each day to count and to be lived with whole-hearted kindness.
Nathalie Latham JUNE 2010.
Click here to read Nathalie Latham's blog
Click here to read about the living saint Amma
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