Alternative therapies weren’t the first line of defense when our five-and-a-half month old was diagnosed with cancer. We opted for what was proven; we put Madison’s life in the hands of exceptional pediatric oncologists, surgeons, radiologists, nurses and anesthesiologists.

If untreated, the cancer was sure to kill her, but so could the treatment. We threw every recommended treatment at the cancer. Her quality of life was the point off which we navigated the maze of medicine hashing out benefits vs. burden.  We sought alternative therapies in an effort to support our daughters system throughout the rigors of treatment.

Lavender wafted through our daughter’s hospital room as we desperately tried to keep her nausea under control when the Zofran wasn’t cutting it. Not only did it help Madison, it also relieved our anxiety.  We wrapped ourselves in colors that were thought to heal: teddy bears, balloons, blankets and clothing in all various hues of orange. We got wind of a woman who “energetically operated” on the sick; removing tumors, healing ulcers. After talking with several of her clients, I held Madison in my lap, while this woman with hands of warm bread put them on my daughter.

The Healer offered us hope without cuts, burns or poisons. Madison drained both my breasts and slept for hours after her first session. We saw this healer several times before the spell was broken: I found her with a cigarette in one hand and a sixty-four ounce Coke in the other.

We dusted ourselves off, getting a bright and shiny new “healer.” This one did Reiki, training both me and my brother in the tradition.   Before working with this healer, Madison was admitted into the hospital with fever every time her counts were low; after receiving regular Reiki sessions, I think she only got a fever once out of her last seven chemos.

The healer told us she could use the Reiki energy remotely, touch wasn’t necessary for the energy to work. We laughed out loud when she told us she had worked on Maddy remotely but sure enough those were the times Madison slept soundly or had a marked increase in appetite, reminding me yet again that we don’t have to believe for it to work.

The surgery was set to remove Madison’s tumor. The hospital allowed the healer to be in the operating room. We hedged our bets, taping a rose quartz to the bottom of Maddy’s foot before handing our groggy child over to the anesthesiologist.  Meanwhile , my brother organized family and friends in a drum ceremony on the rooftop garden of the hospital. The surgeon was astonished to find no visible signs of tumor in Maddy’s pelvis.

During our daughter’s all-too-brief life, she received multiple therapies: massage, sound, Chiquong, aroma and water therapy. We charged ahead with traditional treatments even though each chemotherapy assaulted our psyche as much as it did Maddy’s cancer cells. We violated our daughter with the shots that pierced her skin, tubes that were shoved down her throat, ports that hung out of her chest, robbing her of her innocence and us of our piece of mind.

Alternative therapies empowered us through the tensions of treatment. Cutting sugar, milk and wheat from my diet, drinking elixirs, hoping to infuse my breast milk with health, helped to support Madison’s immune system and give me a sense of purpose.

While traditional therapies are proven to help extend life, alternative therapies help us appreciate life’s magic.  Maddy had the energy to explore the beach, allowed play in the surf, run at the park, slide down tall metal slides, swim in warm pools, dance in the kitchen with her purple dress swaying. They also enabled me to be a calm, safe, loving mother because I knew I was providing my daughter what she needed to experience her childhood.

Maddy relapsed at the end of her treatment.  The doctors were able to get a good sample of the tumor; it turned out that Maddy’s type of cancer usually didn’t respond to treatment, typically killing its victims within a few short months.  We were lucky enough to have Maddy for two-and-a-half years.

Did complementary therapies give her that extra time? I don’t know, but balancing eastern and western medicine enabled us to fully appreciate and participate in the life we had with our child.