I’ve written a lot about the power of positive thinking over the last three years. Both my own experiences and all of the research I’ve seen have convinced me that my state of mind plays a major part in my health. Focusing on staying calm and happy during treatment helped me to minimise the side effects and to recover quickly.
Not that I didn’t have my moments. I’m always quick to add that. I’ve had tears and black days too. I get concerned about some people getting caught in a kind of downward spiral, where they notice that they’re not feeling happy and then get anxious about not feeling happy and then anxious about being anxious…………You get the idea.
My understanding of being positive isn’t about pretending to be happy when I’m not, or denying my very normal, very human reactions to cancer and the treatment for it. I’ve had experiences that were shocking, frightening, disgusting, saddening and frustrating. In every case I made room for whatever I was feeling. I didn’t try to push it down behind a facade of cheerfulness.
It’s interesting to me that some people divide their emotions into the ‘good’ ones and the ‘bad’ ones. I think all emotions are human, and normal, and that we should expect to experience the entire spectrum of emotions when we’re dealing with trauma. The trouble starts when we try to fight with our own emotions, particularly if we dry to drown them in alcohol, bury them with food or distract them with some other unhealthy habit.
I breathe into my emotions. I experience them as they happen. I don’t try to push them away or to wallow in them. Sometimes making room for them helps them to dissipate and sometimes they hang around for a while. It’s all good. This is life.
I think of being happy as my default setting. I am capable of feeling the whole range of human emotions, and I do, but the emotion I feel more than any other is contentment. Life is good. Being alive is good! My two main practices for achieving this are mindfulness and gratefulness.
Being mindful is really just about being in the present moment rather than worrying about the past or the future. Today has all kinds of opportunities for me to do the things I enjoy. I know my mind will drift off into ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ but I gently bring it back to what’s in front of me. Sometimes this is as simple as just looking around me, paying attention to what I can see and hear and smell and feel and taste.
Being grateful has become a habit since I started recording seven things that I’m grateful for every Sunday. It’s surprised me how much this very simple practice has shifted my thinking. I’m much more inclined to focus on what I have and to appreciate the people around me.
All of this matters because we can think ourselves sick. There’s some fascinating research into this phenomenon, known as the “nocebo” effect because it’s the opposite of the placebo effect, where we have a therapeutic response to something just because we believe we will. Here’s a couple of examples:
- Research has found that when many people who claim to have adverse effects to gluten are given it without their knowledge they do not experience any symptoms. Their ‘intolerance’ is a consequence of the nocebo effect, where they have a reaction to gluten because the expect to have one.
- Doctors face a dilemma when conducting drug trials. They know that if they warn patients about possible negative side effects, patients are much more likely to report experiencing those side effects. They have an ethical obligation to warn patients but also very understandable reservations about the warning being the CAUSE of the symptoms.
- The nocebo effect is so powerful that in one study of a drug used to treat prostate cancer only 15% of patients reported erectile dysfunction if they weren’t warned it was a side effect. If they were told it might be a side effect, 40% experienced erectile dysfunction.
I find this phenomenon amazing! One of the single greatest determining factors in our medical treatment is our own expectations!
I remember commenting to one of the nurses during chemotherapy that I was one of the lucky ones. I hadn’t had any vomiting. She asked me who my oncologist was and replied when I told her, “Oh yes, most of her patients don’t have any problems.” It was over a year later that it occurred to me that everyone was essentially getting the same drugs. So why were this doctor’s patients less likely to experience nausea?
I think it’s because she told me before I started treatment NOT to expect to feel nauseated. She told me that the new drugs were much better, to forget anything I’d seen on television about cancer treatment and to let her know if I felt unwell so that they could adjust my treatment. I was confident that I wouldn’t vomit. She seemed so certain.
The nocebo effect raises some very interesting issues in a climate where doctors are terrified of being sued for malpractice and where there seems to be an insistence on warning us repeatedly of the side effects of treatment. It’s possible that the worst thing to tell a patient is that their treatment might not go well.
Whenever I’m in a medical situation and I have to hear a list of risks I remind myself that ‘might’ also means ‘might not’ and that the criteria for reporting side effects in this country mean that even if one person experiences something it gets recorded. A treatment or a medication might have been taken by thousands of people with no side effects at all but one bad reaction and now everyone needs warning.
I wonder how often the rate of bad reactions starts to increase once the warnings are given.
Of course it’s not just medical professionals we need to be careful with. There’s friends and family too. I routinely (and probably rudely) interrupt people when they try to tell me about someone dying of cancer or some treatment that’s gone horribly wrong.
My own self talk gets a regular spring clean too, because how I think and what I think is every bit as important as eating well and getting regular exercise.
We can think ourselves sick.
I choose well.
(For another great blog post on this subject pleas see When Words Hurt by the inspirational Shannon Harvey)