I Hang My Monsters on the Door | Healing from Cancer Without Losing Yourself | by Sasha Frugone | Inspiring Story #236

I curled up in a tight fetal position. I rocked myself.

Cancer… fear
Cancer… alone
Cancer… helpless
Cancer… stillness
Cancer… darkness

I melted into the trauma response from my childhood.

The feeling of aloneness in response to a diagnosis of 4.5 cm metastatic T3 breast cancer, requiring a full mastectomy, is an eerie, fearful quiet wrapped in darkness.

I screamed. I breathed. I calmed.

And then I examined my fear. 

Separating Fear from Truth

It was not fear of dying.

What if I cannot tolerate the chemo?
What if I cannot provide care for those who depend on me?
What if I become so sick that I cannot take care of myself, and there is no one?
What if I become homeless?

I wrote 'fear' and 'fact' on individual pieces of paper. I sorted my racing thoughts and wrote them on the appropriate pages.

The ‘what ifs’ popped off the page, exposing fantasy, not truth, as the source of fear.  Every time the fear became loud, I replaced the inner child dialogue using this 'fear and fact' exercise.

Choosing Forgiveness and Acceptance

I sat in meditation, asking what I needed to do to successfully navigate this segue on my path to perfection. The first word that came forward was Forgiveness.

So, I printed the name of a person who had hurt me on a rock and said out loud:

(Name of person who hurt me) As I paint over your name, I forgive you for the hurt I feel. I am choosing to turn this moment of pain into something beautiful to pass forward. I release all thoughts of you to the universe to become a soothing breeze. I wish you healing, joy, and peace.

Then I painted something beautiful on the front of the rock, adding a message of strength on the back.

My partner and I now share this as a daily morning start.
We leave our completed rocks on the grounds of cancer treatment centers for a special person to discover.

The second word that came forward was Acceptance.
Wow. Who chooses cancer?

Then the illumination of truth exposed cancer to be a thing. Just like my bracelet. Something I could choose to keep or discard.

Instead of allowing cancer to become part of my identity, I made a decision.
I would never again refer to it as ‘my’ or ‘mine’.

Reclaiming Identity Through Creation

I expanded my creative energy by baking and crafting. I made a huge, beautiful, black, fluorescent-green, and purple deco mesh wreath featuring the cutest Frankenstein.

It reminded me that when I choose to face the ‘what ifs’ they vaporize, often with a giggle.

This proved I had the capability to create.
And this meant I had the power to self-heal.

As a child, I learned to fear the leviathans that walked through doors.

Today, I hang my monsters on the door.
No monsters cross my threshold.

Healing Without Becoming the Illness

In the infusion room, I visualized chemo as a neon purple liquid, flowing warmly through my veins, carrying tiny warriors who blasted the cancerous lump.

I felt my body begin to heal. Within one week, after one chemo treatment, the 4.5 cm lump was no longer visible.

At night, I played music tuned to Solfeggio frequencies, between 528 and 783 hertz. This is labeled as vibrational medicine. The Schumann Resonance, which is the atmospheric drumming between Earth’s surface and the ionosphere, slows heart rate, calms breathing, and lowers blood pressure, boosting energy for natural repair.

As the sound moved through me, I saw rebuilding. It felt warm and soothing as I drifted into a sleep of renewal.

I chose to speak of cancer only when medically necessary and to four incredibly special people. Apart from them, most family and friends had three responses to the sharing of the cancer diagnosis: constant conversation about cancer, sometimes becoming gossipy, avoidance of the topic, and complete distancing. 

Everyone brings their worst fear to trauma. What I witnessed in the people who withdrew and never asked how I was doing was not a lack of caring or a desire to abandon – it was fear.

Fear that I would no longer be there for them.

It was painful.

Our attention is a powerful force-where we direct it creates energy which we radiate to those around us.

By choosing not to let the illness dominate my words, I reclaimed my power towards healing rather than letting it become my story.

I was not fighting against cancer; I was fighting for healing.

Even my closest relationship was tested. My partner had knee replacement surgery at the same time my treatment began. After his first run away to friends, he returned and discovered courage.

One of the side effects of the chemo is emotional chaos, which revealed places where I needed restoration. For each of us, my illness was a guide for rebuilding. Our connection now has a foundation of honesty, vulnerability, courage, and commitment to living fully in each moment.

A technician reviewed the ultrasound results to assess the effects of chemo. She was agitated and flustered. I thought it meant there was evidence of more cancer.

Instead, she said, “In all my years of doing this job, I have never had two ultrasounds for a patient be so dramatically different. There is no indication you have ever had cancer.”

Even so, the medical team proceeded with the scheduled lumpectomy to remove any remaining root of the tumor and to examine the lymph nodes.

Cancer… healing
Cancer… freedom
Cancer… courage
Cancer… creativity
Cancer… light

Following surgery, the surgeon came to see me. He concurred with the scans.
“In all my years of practice,” he said, “I have never seen anything like this.”

There was no root or stray cells. He called it a miracle.