中It was unexpected that the ninja consisted of mostly malignant cells. My physical health was in a poorer state than I had initially thought.
Despite the repeated reassurance from my surgeon that the ninja was not caused by an unhealthy lifestyle, I still couldn’t help but speculate the possible causes. It’s just my “speculation”, since most tumours, mine included, come into being with no symptoms and hardly detectable signs, so we scientists often miss observing their early beginning and know very little about how they all started and proliferated.
The main question ringing in my head was what allowed the salivary gland cell with the fateful mutation(s) to evade my immune system’s surveillance and proliferate unrestrained? Was the “runaway” cell so smartly disguised as a normal cell and fooled my immune system completely? Or was it pure lucky that it dodged surveillance? Was my immune response against budding tumour cells too weak and missed it? Or perhaps all of the above were contributing factors?
If the immune system “defence” was an issue, then what has compromised it?
Looking back at my life as a “surfer” of numerous waves in the past few years, even I, as a born perfectionist, couldn’t find much fault in it. Everything was done properly or under control for my family, friends, colleagues, and myself. My home was well kept and I maintained a healthy diet. Sleepless nights were uncommon and my appetite was good most of the time. I hardly ever lost my temper and took great interest in my hobbies. Social life was normal. With the exception of some episodes of painful gum swelling near my left wisdom teeth, my physical and mental health weren’t suffering —— well, so I thought! My body seemed to be managing and dissipating the stress pretty well.
(Well, now I know that the ninja was to blame for all the so-called “dental” issues.)
But then, as I reviewed my schedules in greater detail, I noticed how I had set really high standards for most tasks and delegated very few of them, from something as grand as attending a business conference abroad, to something as detailed as remembering to clear my bin at home before setting off for that business trip. Having so much under fine control at all times means I was in a steady state of being mentally quite tense, which I got completely used to. It’s well known that hormones such as cortisol, which suppresses the immune system, are secreted when the body is under stress. It wouldn’t cause much harm, or in fact is protective, if the stress response is only temporary, but it’s a different story for chronic stress, which was my case. Perhaps this has led to weakened immunity in my body?
Of course, hindsight is a beautiful thing. I cannot turn back time to experiment with a less stressful life, nor do I have historical measurements of cortisol concentrations in my blood to analyse. But let’s say stress is one of the contributing factors to my cancer! I don’t have solid proof for this claim, but neither could I reject the possibility outright. After all, there is an agreement between western and traditional Chinese medicine that chronic stress leads to unfavourable health outcomes; I think I should take this risk seriously.
Therefore, since becoming an official cancer patient, along with organising the logistics around radiotherapy, I started thinking about how to reduce stress.
In my situation, de-stressing doesn’t mean picking up some hobbies as a distraction, since I was already fully engaged in some existing ones. Rather, I have to learn to lower my expectations of people or tasks where possible; where such compromises are not viable, then I would have to let go.
After some deliberations, I came to the conclusion that I had to let go of my job.
There are multiple reasons for it. First of all, the consultant oncologist responsible for my radiotherapy clearly said that most patients wouldn’t be able to continue working while receiving treatment due to the severity of the side effects, which would take months to recover from afterwards. The exact time needed for the recovery is highly variable and patient-specific, hence very hard to predict. The oncologist’s timeline projection threw my original plan to “gradually phase back into work by the autumn” completely out of the window, and gave no indication as for when I would be fit to return to work. The product I launched was still very “young” and needed proper attention for its success. It’s simply not viable and not fair for the company to wait for my indefinite return.
Next, I asked myself whether my physical health would be able to withstand the demand of this high-pace full-time job, assuming that the company is so kind that my role is there for me to pick up upon recovery? In the pre-ninja days, I always believed I could. Now? Once bitten, twice shy. I am a lot more acutely aware of my stress threshold.
How about lowering my expectations on my professional performance? Well, that’s not how I would like to set an example for those who work with me. Also, I don’t see much leeway in leading the product and the team properly —— you either do, or don’t. What’s the point of half-baked leadership or doing a professional job half-heartedly?
Right, how about going part-time? Cutting the hours is not hard, but to find a reliable person to job-share with me harmoniously while ensuring the team doesn’t lose direction and momentum? That’s easier said than done.
So...... it’s an easy decision to quit?
No. I treasured the talented colleagues who had stayed and believed in me during some difficult periods in the product journey. I felt it’s too early to leave the young product that I worked so hard on. I was also reluctant to abandon my great partner colleague who had relocated to the UK headquarters on my invitation. However, there wasn’t much of a choice between work and health. Or perhaps you could say the malignant ninja has chosen for me.
I broke the news of my resignation to my boss before radiotherapy began. There were no grumbles about my longer-than-expected sick leave, just tons of encouragement, support and best wishes, all of which I’m very grateful for. That gave me the peace of mind to just focus on my health without feeling guilty that I owed commitment or loyalty to the company.
I also took to Zoom to announce my decision to leave to the rest of the company. The decision inevitably disrupted my colleagues’ plans, with many of them shouldering ever more responsibilities until my replacement was hired. I felt bad that I had to let go of my team, but I knew that if for once in my life I needed to be selfish and protect my health, this is it.
Turned out it’s the right decision to speak to everyone while I could. Little did I know that radiotherapy would silence me by destroying my voice......