Childhood Cancer and the Power Of Placebo

Was it the power of the placebo that saved me?

I was 6 years old when the stems that carried me through this young life began to ache with a pain that crippled my being in a way I’d never felt before, and haven’t felt since.

On one seemingly normal day, treading the school halls, the pain gripped me so tight I couldn’t help but pierce the air with my screams, and my legs couldn’t carry me any further. I recall my mum being called for me, carrying my little body through the corridor with the kind of rigorous strength I’ve always seen in her.

After rushing to our closest hospital, I granted myself lucky that they spotted the signs and referred us straight to the main Royal Hospital in our closest city. My father was actually working on surveying some new building work on the same site at the time, which is another minor coincidence I feel happened for a reason. Although it was a complicated and disturbed relationship with my father from his abuse, as a child, and a mother who was in the dark about her child’s pain, this offered us some relief.

If you’d like some background on my childhood, my memoir of his narcissistic abuse and my conflictions with his death can be read here:

They began a plethora of tests to find out what was causing me to feel like my legs were being torn apart by a medieval torture device. I was faced with a dread in my mother’s eyes that I’d never seen before, and a word I’d heard so many times, yet couldn’t grasp the weight of. Cancer. To be precise, Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia. This form of Cancer attacks the body by making too many white blood cells. These are the blood cells that fight infections, and it affects the bones as well, especially bone marrow.

In those with Leukaemia, the bone marrow creates blood cells that don’t work for our bodies, which leads to the inability to protect us from germs. When they fill the bone marrow, they enter the bloodstream and can spread to the brain, liver and lymph nodes. I was touched with grace once more, as this is a very common form of Cancer found in children, meaning there’s a deeper understanding of how to treat it.

My childhood is a blur in my mind’s eye, due to the intense childhood trauma I was in the depths of, yet had no understanding of, as it had always been my life. Now, in the blink of an eye, my new home was created within the frigid walls of the hospital. I came to the hospital with such a phobia of needles and blood, that I would scream at the nurses for being ‘bad people’ who I was certain wanted to hurt me — so I’d run, lock myself in the toilets, and there was even a time I was so frightened that I managed to force open a second-floor window that was built to only open a quarter of the way, for safety.

One of the first things they did, was put in a Hickman line in my chest, so that it was a smoother and more gentle experience, as the concoctions I was soon to have were extraordinary. Rather than get used to the treatments, I grew more disturbed. The look of blood hanging there and flowing through my system, the scab which formed around the hole in my chest from my line, the thought of the bone marrow, even the look of my own veins, blood, the feel of my heart beating…

Any thought, conversation, attention or form of media that shows any of our organs or the intricate goings on of our bodies’ design, causes my limbs to go weak. My heart to palpitate. My skin to feel cold. My stomach forms a pit and I feel sick and lightheaded.

This is the first time I’ve ever even written this down, as I cannot feel my fingers. I must break in between these lines, as I melt into my surroundings, and vertigo becomes my best friend. I have a phobia of my own design. This phobia has plagued me with thoughts of being a freak in the past. It’s not a fear I’ve ever really heard about, beyond blood and needles. But now, as I carry myself as an adult, it makes so much sense. I was traumatised. Already scared of the world, this is how my PTSD manifested.

Platelet and blood transfusions, steroids, bone marrow transplantation, and of course, chemotherapy, nightmares, grief and terror. This was too much for a child, already born into a home of neglect and abuse. My mum speaks of the times she would speak to me endlessly, and for 3 months I wouldn’t say a word. When I finally spoke, I was certain I had been speaking to her the whole time. My body was so charged, that my mind couldn’t force the ability to move my words through my mouth.

My soft golden locks were falling to the floor, and my mind was cut off from the outside world. I was a drifter in between planes. I was so frightened, but I was safe here. I hadn’t felt that way before, apart from with mamma. Their voices were soft, their eyes were truthful, and their words were kind.

I thought I would die here. The only part of the word Cancer I really understood, was that it kills people. My heart stopped beating during an operation, but it was never my last breath. My mother wouldn’t allow this fear to reach me. She had to be certain. There was no other way. My childhood was already stolen, but she wouldn’t let my future be taken too. It was out of the question. She nurtured me with everything she had. She spoke daily of all the adventures we would have with her and my siblings after.

When I began to feel more like myself, we would go on mini trips and minus my father, we would pull all-nighters when the insomnia from the medication would take hold of me. She told me about all of the beautiful memories my siblings were having, and how dearly they wished I was there. I imagined myself right by their side. I visualised all of the play and wondered what was waiting for me on the other side. I knew it to be true because my mother knew it to be true.

Throughout my own journey to healing and receiving abundance in this life, I’ve been learning more about the power of Placebo, and am reading a book right now by an incredible master of the mind — Dr. Jo Dispenza, called ‘You are the Placebo’. He speaks of many lines of thought that I’ve experienced in my own life, which is how immense it is that when we are able to convince ourselves of a truth, with the whole of our being, it comes into actualisation. Believing, visualising and then acting as if this is your reality, literally changes the chemistry of your body, and can form your new reality. I’ve come to realise that whether we are talking about spiritual manifestation, visualisation meditations, dream boards, or whether we’re conversing about the science of placebo, we are all talking about the same thing.

These realisations are what inspired me to write this, as it was from here, that I knew that I had healed myself into living this life. As a child, I was even more susceptible to thought, as my mind hadn’t been conditioned yet to question or feel inhibited by such a powerful thought. I trusted so deeply in something bigger, that I believed it into my reality.

6 years later, I was in full remission, with a child that I was told I would struggle to have due to the chemotherapy, and a mind that is open to all of the endless possibilities available to me.

I believe I was saved from not only my father’s grip but a death too soon. My experience of childhood cancer amongst abuse, has formed me to be the unique person I am today, who has lived on the plane between worlds.

With each new day, I see that I’m safe to be in my body. To listen may make me feel weak, but against all odds, my heart is still beating.

©️ Rights Reserved, Bonnie Knapton, English writer

— If any of you kind souls would like to support my work ❤ https://ko-fi.com/wildlyrooted