I was having my very own Eat Pray Love moment. Lying on a yoga mat, listening to the sound of the sea, the warm frangipani scent that follows a monsoon downpour filling my nostrils and tears rolling down my face.
My yogi, Yani, touched my tummy as I lay in savasana and told me to envision a ball of green light energy entering my body, cleansing me. As I did, a tsunami of grief erupted. Having just celebrated my 48th birthday, I had traveled to the Oberoi beach resorts in Bali and Lombok for a spiritual retreat where I’d been promised my own “personal journey of self-discovery.” By way of the Indonesian coastline and my own five-star villa complete with outdoor pool and emperor-size hand-carved wooden bed, I was getting it.
Lest you think me indulgent, let me assure you: It had been a turbulent two years.
On Valentine’s Day 2023 I received the life-shattering call: I had cholangiocarcinoma, also known as bile duct cancer. I had been awaiting the results of a precautionary MRI following indigestion and mild heart palpitations. Not in my worst nightmares did I suspect I had a rare cancer with a terrible survival rate. I knew I was looking my mortality in the eye. I also knew I was determined to watch my seven-year-old son and 12-year-old daughter grow up. When my surgeon, Dora Pissanou, told me the tumor was operable, I made a pact with myself not only to make a full recovery but to live life to the full.
A year later, newly in remission and single (my marriage of 18 years, which had been hanging by a thread before my diagnosis, collapsed), I knew that having healed physically from surgery and chemotherapy, I needed to heal emotionally and spiritually. Then an email about the seven-day Oberoi program dropped in my inbox.
I arrived at the The Oberoi Beach Resort, Bali, in late March, just in time for the Balinese New Year. The festival, which includes Nyepi, a day of silence, is intended to cleanse the island and drive out malevolent spirits. My timing was auspicious. My bamboo-and-coconut-leaf villa became my sanctuary; a sunken bath overlooked a small garden and private pool. I booked regular massages (including a Balinese head massage that immediately soothed my stressed and flaky scalp). The service was first-class—a member of the staff polished sunglasses by the pool—and I had nothing to worry about but my own thoughts. Apart from speaking to my children, I switched off for the first time in months. This was my chance to replenish myself, and though I initially worried about traveling alone, I found great pleasure in my own company and dining solo.
