Intimate Confessions
Podcast, Photos, and Tips
2021 to 2025
Caption: Photo for the podcast produced in Marseille at the Paoli Calmets Institute. Photo credit: Julie Lagier. “Memories” of my treatment tips: a psycho-magical act: with little rainbow hearts of paper.
Why talk about it here?
Firstly, because I want to, and that’s the best reason. I like to talk about everything, without taboos, telling things as they are, as I feel them, as I go through them… And to give hope and strength! Cheh cancer!
And then this subject has turned my last four years of life upside down, made me put everything on the back burner from a professional point of view. And so: OFF, Mademoiselle Maurice, no more Instagram, no more Facebook, no more projects, no more traveling, no more work: not physically AND psychologically possible… (A necessary break. Among other things, because of the toxicity of social media)
I was already almost burned out because of the amount of work I had to manage alone and the numerous projects that were happening all over France and the world. In creative work, there’s also a lot of administrative work to manage. I was already almost at the end of my rope… Especially after a major period of depression, COVID, life, death: there you go…
And then for the first time, at the time of my diagnosis, I really questioned who I was, where my place was, what I wanted, to be in the right place, neither nice nor mean: just me. Not caring about others (especially those who said I was too much, too loud, too smiley, too proud, too energetic, too theatrical, too loving: FUCK you: all that is me, if not only), stop wanting to be loved at all costs, to please, to take care of others, to take too much care, to recognize that I too want to be cared for and above all, FINALLY! listen to and respect my body… And take responsibility for getting out of toxic relationships that were making me go around in circles.
And then from the point of view of creation and the messages that drive me: while I question a consumerist and excessive system, I found myself becoming a super production machine, responding to demands, doing more and more, again and again: entering a whirlwind of ever bigger, crazier projects, more budget… No more time for anything other than work.
And then cancer. It was a wake-up call. I had no choice. And then, even though I was having some very dark thoughts at that time, I saw this as an opportunity to choose life, a new challenge for ME… Am I responsible for this cancer? An actor? A victim? I don’t know. I am me and I do what I can, as best I can.
I also know that I’ve always denigrated my body, my being, and made it suffer. It was time for that to change.
I understood why I couldn’t get back on my feet, find my joy in life, my energy, my sociability: because I was exhausted, because the metastases were multiplying, and my body was fighting again and again, for survival, to keep from dying too quickly, and it seemed to have been doing so for over a year.
Part of me was almost relieved to have identified this “illness.” Given my fighting spirit, I said to myself, “Okay, one surgery, a few chemos, and YOLO, it’s gone again, it’s gone in a year.” I’m staying focused on that, 100 percent.
Yes, except it didn’t happen like that.
I always have to be outside the box. In the end, that’s how it is.
The cancer that was detected is a very aggressive type of Metastatic Melanoma (skin cancer). It all started with a lesion on my back: a nasty mole. And this jerk found nothing better to do than spread to my axillary lymph nodes (armpit, breast, back, etc.).
A tumor over 5 cm in size formed, and this bitch was growing. In my case, there was one direction I had trouble accepting: conventional chemo only gave me 3 months more life expectancy. So I was offered new treatments: immunotherapies.
Yes, except that in my case, given my history of Crohn’s disease and polyarthritis; (aside from these 3 diseases: mega good general health, I should add ;) There was a strong chance I’d experience joint and digestive flare-ups again… and having experienced it before, never again… Not being able to walk and have 10 bowel movements a day, no thank you (and I’ll spare you the details).
Moreover, in my opinion and according to doctors, the anti-TNF treatments I was taking at the time probably had something to do with the onset of this cancer. The craziest thing about all this: if I started having another attack while on immunotherapy, they’d put me back on anti-TNF… that’s two contradictory treatments: on the one hand, strengthening the immune system, on the other, destroying it… strange, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s logical.
Fortunately, thanks to my hippie practices: yoga, diet, and all that, for years I’ve managed to put these two chronic autoimmune diseases on hold.
Fortunately, thanks to my hippie practices, yoga, diet, and all that, for years I’ve managed to put these two chronic autoimmune diseases on hold.
But then I was scared, very scared: I’d die of cancer, finding myself with a stoma and in a wheelchair beforehand (which was what I’d been told I’d be in my 40s).
Anyway…
So I had to have surgery first… and having the entire axillary lymph node chain removed is crazy… you come out of that situation, you can’t even lift your hand 5 cm… and that’s after appointments with a biopsy, an oncologist, anesthesiologist, etc. Then came endless rounds of physiotherapy… my goal was simple: to be able to spin my hands again. And very quickly, they wanted me to start the treatments: an intravenous injection every 3 weeks: there were supposed to be 13, but I ended up with 20. But I wasn’t ready, nor was my body, nor my mind. And there too, I needed to go through stages, which is why I explored the world of alternative and shamanic medicine, including fasting, kambo, ayahuasca, etc. (Be careful, despite my status as an artist and the clichés that go with it, this kind of psychoactive delirium: I don’t really like it, I feel I absolutely don’t need it for recreational purposes.)
I was above all in a healing process.
I absolutely don’t encourage anyone to do as I did; I speak from my experience, and each person, journey, and cancer are different.
However, I encourage you to be in line with the protocol and its timelines.
Cancer is serious; But the protocols aren’t right for everyone; there’s no time, no money. I think you have to feel ready, active, willing, and positive.
It’s hard, very hard, but I believe that in life, with love, an open heart, and good thoughts, anything is possible. Especially if you listen to yourself.
Well, afterward, I tell myself that often nothing happens by chance: I had things to understand, and that took time.
During the treatments, I was and felt on a tangent with Crohn’s and polyarthritis: I was afraid of going into crisis again, and above all, since 2021, the year of my diagnosis, the metastases after the surgery rarely diminished… They only did what they wanted.
I didn’t really let go of my mind, ready to get back to the creative grind, like before, to produce, again and again.
It took me almost four years to understand that STOP. I’m not a doer, I’m a being.
I’ve been in creative, learning, tinkering, and lifestyle directions I’d always dreamed of but didn’t dare: because I didn’t have the time, because of work, because it’s too late, because of judgments. And at 40, here I am, embarking on a series of things I considered therapeutic. Listening to myself, being myself, and above all, having fun. Knowing how to say no.
Well, inevitably, along the way, this whole process means you lose “so-called” friends along the way who decide to ghost you, reject you, or judge you, without knowing, without waiting for you, without understanding. Too bad for them, too bad for them! They wanted to close the door just as I closed it on others; each to their own. It was also hard for me because I was hundreds of miles away from my family and I felt very alone and isolated during this treatment process. (I was living alone.)
It was also hard because, again and again, that word: Cancer.
Using it sometimes makes people retreat into silence, and I’ve even been criticized for it: why talk about it?
As a cancer patient, I didn’t have the right to say that I was one, to allow this very real thing that ruled my life, my hopes, my weeks to exist.
I had to keep quiet, sweep it under the rug, not talk about it (especially with many members of my family).
But for me, talking about it was minimizing it, making it seem less dangerous, making it vulnerable, like a louse, a tic, or a “fasho-mophobe.”
This cancer is a toxic and destructive knowledge that I want to remove from my life… Because in society, when people ask you: What do you do? Do you work? Are you creating right now? My answer was: uh, well… I know it’s not obvious, but I just had surgery… or… well, this week it’s treatment… and for the past few years, it’s been a string of medical appointments…
That’s why I’m talking about it.
To minimize it. Yes, you can die from cancer. You also die from life. You just die, and it’s not a big deal.
I’m not afraid of death.
Those around me are more afraid of it for me! (And I realized that many people really loved me for who I was: loudmouth, ultra-sensitive, bubbly, provocative, funny, activist, loudmouth, courageous, whiny, passionate, intense, whole, and above all, authentic! Thank you, first and foremost, my friends and my sister, for seeing me as I am and learning to communicate with each other.
I didn’t choose to be like this. But too bad for the haters, the fearful, the jealous, the judgmental; I waste too much time pleasing you for your own comfort.
Wow, it feels good to say it, to write it, to dare to be. And above all, this desire to share love, hope: it hasn’t left me, it’s come back even stronger!
Well, the thing that’s so annoying about this cancer thing is that it sticks around… They say you’re cured after 5 years of remission (when no more cancer cells are visible on imaging: a full-body PET scan in my case)… and then there are the side effects of the chemicals. Mama mia, it’s not ecstasy. But hey: almost whole and alive: here and now!
Cancer, however, being the disease of the century, unfortunately (serves us poor destructive humans), I find it talked about far too much: in many films, books, and advertisements, it’s the same phrase that comes up:
“I hate him, but not enough to wish he had cancer”
“His mother died of cancer”
“He spent years in agony fighting cancer”
“Every year, cancer kills more than…”
We talk about it too much, but because the truth is that it’s all too present.
Come on, even if I wanted to forget it: impossible.
So I decide to talk about it, to laugh about it. To tell myself how lucky I am to be experiencing it in France, in this country that offers, in addition to a minimum wage, paid vacation, pensions, benefits, and sick leave: full coverage of all healthcare! Thank you, France (be a little more social, protective, and environmentally friendly, spiritual, less consumerist, and egalitarian, and everything will be perfect!)
Okay, I’m going to be honest. Yes, of course, sometimes I grumble, I’m sad, I ask myself “why me?” It’s not fair, shitty life, all of you idiots: blah blah blah… I cry, I yell, I’m fed up, and then it passes. And I don’t want to feel sorry for myself. Because everything passes. And it’s cool to be alive today, in France. And I accept being afraid before each battery of tests. I don’t want to repress it, but embrace it, get through it, and come out stronger.
In concrete terms, I had to have another operation in July 2024… and I refused further treatment. But it was last November that I learned for the first time in three and a half years that I was in remission! Cancer, take that in your stride!
Now I’m crossing my fingers that it’ll be manageable, that it won’t come back, and that I can move on,
even if the trauma will remain. And that I still haven’t managed to completely get “back on track.” Shit, but why? Let me frolic, you stupid ass, in the fields after all!
Conclusion: METASTASES, SHUT UP!
Practice psychomagic, be an actor in my healing, Alignment of body, heart, and mind. Balance! Enjoy life without a crisis of faith! The body in motion: walking, swimming, sliding, climbing.
And above all: CREATE! SHARE!
Thank you, therapists, thank you, my favorite oncologist, thank you, tantra, thank you, my true and wonderful friends, thank you, my sister, but above all, thank you, ME!
Last year, I finally managed to emerge from my anxious urban torpor to rediscover my mountains, my family, and my partner: my grandmother.
I don’t really have a home of my own at the moment, but I feel FREE, A WARRIOR, and I want to hug everyone. Yes, I mean everyone. That’s where it’s important!
YOLO! I had some little magic ingredients: enjoy, enjoy, sleep, rest, enjoy, learn, create without pressure, become addicted to puzzles, rest, eat the divine things of nature, sleep… feel like I’m on a wire…
And for each of my treatments: little paper hearts that I stuck on my pipes. No chemo-immunotherapy session escaped it: I was in the waiting room with my colored sheets: green, yellow, orange, red, pink, blue. I cut out little hearts from them and affixed them to my IV: to avoid the side effects and make the product full of love!
Am I completely crazy? Yes, absolutely, and I believe it. I’m glowing, baby.
Colors, cutting, assembly.
Because yes, it’s been in my head since I learned to hold a pencil and scissors in my hand.
I’ve had in mind for a while what I want to do, to create, to make. For that, I’m giving myself the means to learn new techniques, but soon, I’ll be back. But differently. More calmly. Less flying, less shopping, more recycling. Create less but create better.
I really hope to live a long, healthy life, with vitality, humor, and love, but you never know what life has in store for you. A cancer patient can survive, while a healthy person can be stupidly hit by a car tomorrow. Life.
So: live: here and now.
See you soon, reader,
I’m back with lots of new things in my baskets!
Thank you to those who follow me and to the many emails inviting me to create that I’ve continued to receive despite a four-year absence!
I haven’t been forgotten, and I don’t intend to be forgotten either. My ego is still there, even if I try to silence it, my visceral desire to create, my hopes for another world, my freedom.
I love you, reader, and I hope I can say the same thing to you, with an apostrophe M instead of a T.
Magic and utopia.