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Eva Naihaiplová: Thank you, my dear Cancer, for meeting me.

marie887

Not every story ends the way we want it to. Perhaps some of you who have read the book Cancer Stories will remember the story of brave Eva, who is sadly no longer with us. Her determination to live, positive attitude and peace of mind were breathtaking. Despite the great blows of fate that Eve had to face, she never lost the smile on her face and found so much strength in herself that she motivated others and was also part of several awareness projects. That is also why we decided to share her whole story, which until now was only available to read in the book. May she continue to motivate at least in this way.


Evi, we are so sorry your story could not continue.

———

You brought this illness on yourself. A sentence that will echo in my ears for a lifetime.

August 19, 2020. I'm sitting in the doctor's office and I don't believe the doctor's words.

"You have breast cancer. You need to start treatment as soon as possible."

Me? Cancer? I'm 33 years old. I can't believe it. The lab must have gotten the results wrong. I'm sure the doctor will call tomorrow and say it's all a big mistake.

"If you don't have cancer genetically, you're responsible for your own disease. It's time to think of yourself, Mrs. Naihaipl. You can't save the world. You need to save yourself now. Think of yourself and believe. Believe in a cure. We will do our best to heal you. We can't do it alone. We need you to heal."

I'm crying.

I'm leaving the office. Different. Sick. Desperate. Scared. What's going to happen now? Why me? Why me? The role of the victim was claiming her word. It was okay. We need to experience the role of victim in order to become the creators of our lives. It's also okay to stay in the role of victim if we feel that way inside. Everything is okay. We are only responsible for our own choices.

Eight months. That's how long the chemotherapy treatment lasted. Eight months of observing my inner world. As time passed and chemotherapy ran its course. My inner world stopped. I felt an increasing need to do something different in my life. To do something different in my approach to life. And so began a time of observation. Observing my emotions and thoughts. Just being. Just being myself.

Emotions were flying up and down. Fear was rising. What if it's all for nothing? What if I don't get cured? What if my sons' mother dies of cancer? What if I want to give up now? Evi, just do it. Nothing in life is right or wrong. Everything is okay. You're responsible for your life now

I want to live. And so after all the attempts and mistakes. My erratic moods. I've come to understand. Accepted. Myself. The way I am. Smiling, crying, angry, screaming, quiet, loud, determined, scared, loving. That's me.

It's time to learn how to say no without feeling guilty. It's time to accept that one is not one to please everyone. It's time to let go of control. To accept trust. In life. It knows what it's doing. Why it always loads us up as much as we need. To understand. To forgiveness. To acceptance. To oneself.

Today, as I write this story, is May 26, 2021. I am two weeks post- surgery. Breast ablation. Fear can be a bastard. I was so scared. What will I look like with one breast? Will I like myself? Will I ever get naked again? What if it's ugly, disgusting? What if the surgery goes wrong? What if I don't wake up? What if I....

I woke up. With great relief. I left the biggest weight of my life in the operating room. Guilt.

Yes, guilt. Cancer backs off. Cancer is a symbol of retreat, suppression. What I had repressed in my life needed to be let out. Otherwise. I will die. So I let it out. GUILT.

My whole life I've blamed myself for something. For being born. That's what my dad said. You ruined my life, you shouldn't have been born. I blame my dad for not liking me. Guilt for my parents fighting over me.I blame my uncle for sexually abusing me when I was 10. Guilt for being my own fault. Guilt for leaving my parents when I was 19 and getting married. Guilt for being the one to initiate a divorce after eight years. Guilt that I could have found a therapist for the partner I lived with after the divorce and he wouldn't have hung himself. Guilt that I could have asked for help sooner and not ended up in Bohnice (psychiatric hospital) . Guilt for not being the perfect mother. Guilt for making mistakes. A lot of mistakes. Guilt that I could have done a lot of things differently in my life.

I surrendered this huge weight called GUILT, though with great fear, but with that much more love. I surrendered control. I accepted trust.

I'm learning. I'm learning to say no without guilt. I'm learning to stand up for myself. If I have to make a decision, I don't answer right away and I ask myself first:Am I doing this for me? Or for others? I'm learning not to evaluate or judge myself. I'm learning that nothing will ever be perfect. By being in control, it won't be perfect.

I'm enjoying the colorfulness of life. I trust. I trust that it will always send me the lesson I need at that moment to wake up. To discover. To find myself. I trust that I don't want to lose the most important person in my life anymore. Myself. I believe that what I look for in others (love, loyalty, attention, a sense of security) I need to give to myself. I believe that I understood what CANCER was trying to tell me, and that it won't come back. I believe. I believe everything is okay.

Thank you, my dear Cancer, for being with me. Thank you for showing me a whole new way of viewing life. Thank you for showing me what I didn't see I already had within me. Courage and inner strength. Thank you for showing me the lightness of being. Thank you for dividing my life into pre-cancer and post-cancer.




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