Honoring the Path A Lesson in Choice and Healing

There are moments in this work—moments so tender, so potent—they leave a permanent imprint on your spirit. One such moment came wrapped in the form of an eighty-something woman, soft-spoken and strong, living in California but seeking natural cancer treatments in the healing stillness of Arizona.

She and her husband welcomed me into their space as though I were family. The air between them was thick with love and time, laced with decades of shared laughter and loss. He doted on her with gentle hands and watchful eyes. She moved with grace, even as her lungs grew tired, even as cancer tried to pull her under.

She had chosen to forego conventional treatments—no chemotherapy, no radiation. Instead, she leaned into nourishment, herbs, and energy work. She believed in healing from within, and more importantly, she believed in her own right to choose how that healing looked. Her path defied the mainstream, but it pulsed with courage and self-honor.

At the time, I was still straddling a fault line in my own professional identity. I had one foot planted in the world of western medicine—trained to follow protocol, to measure healing in numbers and charts. The other foot had begun wandering into something far less defined, more intuitive. A space where healing wasn’t just about labs, but about light, choice, and spirit.

Doctors I worked with scoffed at Mobile IV services, writing them off as frivolous, even fraudulent. But I had seen another side. I had witnessed a softening in patients, a return of color to their cheeks, a moment of peace where panic once lived. With her especially, I saw dignity. Wholeness. A kind of sacred sovereignty.

And then one day, without warning, I learned she was gone.

It didn’t make sense. She had seemed so alive. So full of light. I was stunned. Grief hit me in the gut, followed quickly by doubt. Had we missed something? Was this the wrong path? Should she have done it differently?

But as I sat with those questions, clarity found me.

Her death wasn’t a failure of her choices. It wasn’t proof that one path is better than another. It was simply life—unpredictable, wild, and utterly outside our control. The truth is, the right path is the one we choose with intention. There is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to healing. And there never will be.

This experience carved a truth into my practice: I don’t have to agree with someone’s path to honor it. My role is not to push, prescribe, or persuade. My role is to walk beside—to listen, to offer, to witness with reverence.

She reminded me that honoring someone’s choice is the most healing thing we can do. Sometimes, that is the medicine.

When have you found yourself pulled between following rules or protocols and trusting your inner knowing? How do you navigate that space—especially when the stakes are high?