I thought I was leading the “right life”—prestigious college, fancy job in New York City, kind husband, happy child, good friends, nice house…then I got incurable cancer.
The doctor thought I had 15 months to get my affairs in order.
When bad stuff happens to us, even the most enlightened can’t help but ask, “Why me?” I just wanted to understand—why did I get cancer? I needed to believe the cancer was happening for a reason.
Now, two years later—after a no-holds-barred healing journey that blended conventional, alternative, and woo-woo treatments—I was beginning to understand the “why me” part.
One reason I got sick was I was living the wrong life.