A PLUME BOOK
THE CANCER WHISPERER
Annabel Moeller
Sophie is a writer, speaker, and facilitator who has worked in the field of human development, mind-set transformation, and corporate culture change since 1994. Since being diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer in October 2014, Sophie has drawn on her wisdom, courage, and tenacity to create her life anew.
In addition to running her own businessesInteraction (www.interactionuk.com) and Sophie Sabbage Ltd (sophiesabbage.com)Sophie has been a senior trainer with the educational charity More To Life (moretolife.org .uk) since 2001.
An insatiable student who was crawling up bookshelves at the age of two, Sophie achieved a first-class BA in English literature and psychology before going on to study various approaches to human and organizational change over a number of years. She measures leadership not by how many followers one has but by how many other leaders one creates. Her British passport and right to vote are among her most prized possessions.
Sophie is very happily married to John Sabbage and is the proud mother of their daughter, Gabriella.
PLUME
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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New York, New York 10014
Originally published in Great Britain in 2016 by Coronet, an imprint of Hodder & Stoughton, a Hachette UK company
Copyright 2017 by Sophie Sabbage
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Ebook ISBN 9780735212381
PUBLISHERS NOTE: Neither the publisher nor the author is engaged in rendering professional advice or services to the individual reader. The ideas, procedures, and suggestions contained in this book are not intended as a substitute for consulting with your physician. All matters regarding your health require medical supervision. Neither the author nor the publisher shall be liable or responsible for any loss or damage allegedly arising from any information or suggestion in this book.
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DISCLAIMER
This book contains discussions about health issues and medical problems, especially diverse treatments I am trying for late-stage lung cancer. It is not intended as, and is not, a substitute for professional medical advice. Any books I recommend, or links to websites, are intended to share my research but are not intended as recommendations for your healthcare. I am not a physician. If you should have questions about a medical problem, please refer to your medical physician or primary healthcare consultant. In addition, be advised that neither I nor the publisher can be held responsible for medical decisions that you make as a result of reading this book. Please contact your physician before undertaking any of the recommendations I make.
The Principle of False Cause Model: Copyright K. Bradford Brown. PhD, 1984. All rights reserved.
The Purpose Process: Copyright K. Bradford Brown. PhD, 1990. All rights reserved.
The Clarity Process: Copyright K. Bradford Brown. PhD, 1984. All rights reserved.
The Compass Model: Copyright Sophie Sabbage, 2015. All rights reserved.
The Regret Process: Copyright Sophie Sabbage, 2015. All rights reserved.
To my soul mate, John Sabbage, and our life-drenched daughter, Gabriellathe best medicine.
And to the late Dr. K. Bradford Brown, who taught me to find unlikely gifts in unwanted happenings.
Exceptional patients refuse to be victims. They educate themselves and become specialists in their own care. They question the doctor because they want to understand their treatment and participate in it. They demand dignity, personhood, and control, no matter what the course of the disease.
Bernie S. Siegel, MD
Holy Land
Sophie Sabbage
There is a place on the map
where the map runs out.
No signposts or tour guides;
no language to translate
or towns with tidy names.
There is a place on the path
where the path runs out.
No presumptions or premises;
no philosophies to follow
or prophets to obey.
There is a place on the horizon
where the horizon runs out.
No sunsets to end days with;
no tides to tether time
or lines to stay inside.
There is a place on the planet
where the planet runs out.
No countries or covenants;
no laws to live by
or beliefs to become.
There is a place on the map
where the map runs out.
Its roads are made of light.
Its signs point true north.
Revelation rules.
Contents
Introduction
I remember sitting in the radiation waiting room at my local hospital six weeks after I had been diagnosed with stage four incurable metastatic lung cancer. I was about to start radiotherapy to a large tumor on the C3 vertebra in my neck, which was eating through the bone into my spinal column and causing me considerable pain. I had multiple tumors in several siteslungs, lymph nodes, bones and brainbut this one was selected for special attention because it was endangering my mobility and threatening my quality of life.
According to my doctors, saving my life was not an option, so preserving its quality was now their primary aimwhich pissed me off. They seemed to be consigning me to my statistical fate without giving me a chance to be one of the few inexplicable ones who beat the odds. They did their best not to use the d-word or put a date on it, but the subtext was ever present when they spoke to me: Whatever happens, Mrs. Sabbage, dont get your hopes up, because you are going to die. I hadnt even started treatment, but the water of possibility was already closing over my head.
As I waited for the radiation, I was still in shock. I had agreed to do this particular treatment first because turning over at night and standing up from a seated position had become very difficult. I couldnt pick up my four-year-old daughter anymore. I needed some respite from the pain to think, listen, inquire, intuit and somehow, anyhow, choose what the hell I was going to do.
I had lost my balance. My hands couldnt locate the banister that helped me find my way downstairs in the darkness. New protocols appeared slowly, like a procession of mourners behind my previous existence: scans, consultations, train rides to London to see specialists, blood tests, insurance forms, lines through pre-diagnosis appointments in my diary (like social events and business meetings), saying the news out loud to people to make it real.
Cancer gate-crashed my shipshape life in an instant. One day I felt normal, the next a single sharp pain in my back revealed itself to be a large tumor pressing on the pleura of my lung. Over the course of three weeks, my diagnosis unfolded in sublimely merciless freeze frames, each one exquisitely brutal in its precisionuntil finally, on hearing I had more tumors in my brain than they were able to count, the universe popped like a party balloon and lay shriveled in my shaking hand.