Physical activity, even just walking 30 minutes six times a week, confers a
very important protection against cancer, before we get the disease, or during
its treatment. Jacqueline discovered this for herself. To her astonishment.
Physical activity acts on many of the
biological factors that can slow down cancer growth. It reduces blood sugar and
insulin peaks. It reduces fat stores from which common chemicals leak into our
body. It reduces estrogen stimulation. And it even stimulates our immune
system's ability to fight disease.
Some hospitals now systematically
prescribe exercise along with chemotherapy. Not only to combat cancer directly,
but also to reduce the common fatigue that affects most patients under
treatment.
Jacqueline was fifty-four when she found out she had a rare
cancer of the fallopian tube. Her physician told her frankly that her chances
for survival were slim, but that they would try every possible treatment. After
surgery she started six months of chemotherapy to limit the risk of metastases.
But her oncologist didn't stop there.
Though some of his colleagues
didn't fully "believe" in it, the scientific data about the importance of
exercise seemed compelling to him. "Jacqueline," he said, "This may be a little
hard, but when you begin chemotherapy, you'll also have to exercise." He
recommended a karate club that specialized in looking after cancer
patients.
In the class, the young master pointed out that she was standing bent over,
looking down at the floor. Jacqueline examined herself in the mirror and saw
that she had taken on the look of a "little old woman." Standing at her side,
the master then demonstrated the striking motions and the traditional shout, the
"kai," rising from the inner reaches of his body. Jacqueline thought "this isn't
for me!" She had never fought in her life, not even to say "no" to her family or
friends, who had long taken advantage of her. But, by the end of the first
session, she had pushed and pulled on her body in ways she hadn't known were
possible. She had struck the air with her hands and her feet. She had shouted.
She had sensed her strength. The most surprising was that thanks to this
physically grueling session, she felt herself perk up.
She persisted
through the six cycles of chemotherapy, attending classes twice a week. Her
exhaustion was sometimes so great that she had visions of death. On the way to
the club, in the subway, she was often nauseated. Or she would have trouble
standing up straight. But she didn't give up. In the end, after each session she
was less tired than before it began.
Four and a half years after her
initial diagnosis, her oncologist told her she was free of disease. Surviving
her type of cancer was extremely rare and meant that the disease had been
vanquished. But her new physical relationship to her body had become a way of
keeping the disease at bay. Twice a week, in her white kimono, she takes up the
posture of combat. She stands straight, her gaze steady. She hears herself
saying firmly to the ghost of her cancer, "Let's have it out," in case it should
have the vaguest thought of returning.
Copyright 2008 David Servan-Schreiber, MD,
PhD
Author Bio
David Servan-Schreiber, MD, PhD, is a clinical professor of psychiatry at the
University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine and cofounder of the Center for
Integrative Medicine. He lives in Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania, and Paris, France. He has been a cancer survivor
for 16 years, and is the author of the International Best-Seller Anticancer: A New Way of Life
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