The Visualization That Got Me Through Cancer’s Hardest Moments

Maybe it can help you too...

I remember very clearly sitting all alone in a small hospital room with peach-colored walls and no door. It was less than a month after my breast cancer diagnosis. I had already had a single mastectomy, and now I was waiting to have a PET scan to detect any lingering cancer cells.

Prior to a scan, you have to lie still for 45 minutes while an IV injects radioactive sugar throughout your body (cancer cells use more energy, so they absorb more of the sugar, lighting up on the scan). It’s an excruciatingly tedious process. You aren’t allowed to read, listen to music, talk, or even think too much, and you have to stay as still as possible.

My mastectomy scar was still fresh, and I was starting chemo within a matter of days. I felt painfully alone, lying at the mercy of all these needles, machines, drugs, and doctors.

I tried to ignore the IV in my arm and stared up at the ceiling, tracing a watermark with my eyes. I started to cry, tasting the saltiness of the tears on my lips, forgetting I wasn’t allowed to move. I took slow, gentle breaths, trying to calm myself.

That’s when, unbidden, I imagined my mother, who died nearly 10 years ago, standing next to me, holding my hand.

With my parents on my wedding day

I looked down and visualized her hand, every inch of which I could still recall so clearly, resting on mine. I sunk into the feeling of being somebody’s daughter again, something I hadn’t experienced for years. I told her I was scared.

“It’s okay, my darling, I’m here,” I imagined her saying.

My dad then entered the room, tall and distinguished in a suit. He had died two years after my mom. He took my other hand and simply said, “Ali” in that sweet, loving way only he could.

Next came my husband and our two kids, followed by my sisters. Then, my inlaws and nieces and nephews. And finally, one by one, my dearest friends. After five minutes, the room was full. Everyone that I loved, and who loved me, was there, surrounding me. And they were all cheering me on. I could see every one of their shining faces smiling with encouragement.

The hospital room was no longer a scary, empty place. I felt held and cherished.

It was a visualization I came back to throughout my cancer treatment, at subsequent scans, during chemo, and lying under the radiation machine.

It showed me that even when my body is in pain or discomfort, I’m not trapped inside of it. I can step back mentally and inhabit a place of love and light and tenderness.

If you’re going through something hard, imagine someone you love entering the room and standing beside you. Take your time. When it feels right, invite the next person in. And the next. No one has to say anything. They can simply be there with you.

You can stop when the room feels full enough and you’re reminded just how loved you truly are.

Who would you invite into the room with you? Do you have any visualizations or techniques to help you through difficult moments?