I’ve Lost Nearly 40 Pounds — And I’m F***ing Terrified
By: Taryn Hillin
Tags: Health, Cancer, Weight Loss, Fasting, Chemotherapy

When I was diagnosed with Cancer back in 2019 I weighed around 150 pounds (I’m 5’5”). I always thought I was fat. In reality, I was muscular, like a non-famous Ronda Rousey. I did mixed martial arts, yoga, running, snowboarding, you name it — and I ate pretty healthy (or so I thought). But when The Big C came I went crazy on the restriction because I was fighting a cancer that kills 90% of its targets. I refused to be in that cohort. I fasted 2x a week during chemo and slowly switched to plant-based. After treatment, I was down to 130 pounds. My doctors didn’t love me losing weight, but they also knew how much I was focused on nutrition, exercise, and diet and since they didn’t have a “cure” they let me go after one. (It’s a misnomer that people “just lose weight on chemo”, some people actually gain weight and it’s very dependent on the primary site of your cancer and your side effects.)

So far I’ve had three clear PET scans and two clear brain MRIs (my fourth is coming up in January). But since May I’ve gotten more strict. I cut out all added sugar and alcohol. I eat around 1,000 to 1100 calories per day. I stopped fasting around September because I was losing too much weight, but I do put 12 to 14 hours in-between last and first meals to keep my IGF-1 levels low. Cancer is a very crazy genetic and metabolic disease. Blocking the pathways that feed cancer can become super overwhelming (and confusing). Cancer feeds on glucose, but it also feeds on fat and protein (which is why you shouldn’t just jump into a keto diet). With my no sugar regimen and attempt to keep my saturated fat and protein low, my overall food intake has simply gone down.

In November I reached 123, then 121, and today I clocked in at 113.5 pounds. That’s seven pounds in one month, gone.

If you asked me in early 2019 if I wanted to be 113 pounds I would have said FUCK YEAH. Clothes fit me better, everyone tells me I look great and I’m not ashamed of my body (though, I never should have been). But this teeny, tiny “weight” is no longer my idea of beauty and self-acceptance. In fact, seeing the number on the scale today sent me spiraling — as many things do — because it occurred to me that the cancer could be back.

Unexplained weight loss is often a sign of cancer. In my case, it’s not exactly “unexplained” (I’m also on a slew of supplements and Rx drugs that can cause weight loss) but it is happening quickly. I used to think my body was incapable of losing weight and now I’d love to put on ten pounds.

So I spent the morning crying and feeling — yet again — as if my life was over. Several people pointed out that my diet and exercise are probably causing a dramatic shift and eating more could solve my problem. But I’m also terrified to eat. Cancer can use anything against you and my cancer is nasty. I’m both trying to starve it while not starving myself. (And yes I’ve read Jane’s book “How to Starve Cancer Without Starving Yourself”, lol).

This entire ordeal has brought up mixed emotions for me. We often hate our bodies, we feel uncomfortable in swimwear and think everything “makes us look fat”. But truly, a healthy body is a beautiful body. When I tripped out on Ayahuasca back in 2016 one of my visions was that my body was “crying” because I was so mean to it. I spoke down to it. I called it ugly — and it heard me. I would give anything to have my old body back (which would include a uterus, ovaries, vagina, and functioning immune system).

In case you’ve forgotten, our bodies keep us alive. I’ve had to learn to love this new body of mine and it’s a bit of a struggle because it scares me. I’m now skinnier, but I’m also weaker. I have a smaller waist, but it carries a 7-inch scar from surgery. Even my hair has done a 180. My once blonde locks grew back dark brown and curly. I’m a completely new person. And every day I have to wonder if next month is the month I die. Is the weight loss a sign of cancer? Is the back pain a sign of cancer (or a result of snowboarding for three days)? Is that headache a sign of mets to the brain? Is that lymph node in my neck swollen or just leftover from my shingles outbreak (being #immunocompromised is fun)? The day is a minefield of possible death sentences and I’m fucking terrified. I’m scared that the stress of death will be the thing to cause my death.

So I’m taking this moment simply to say, love the body you’re in. I’m learning to love mine all over again. Take time to cherish it. It’s the only thing keeping you alive. And for me, I’m telling my body everyday that cancer no longer lives here so it should just go right ahead and fuck off!