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The medieval times were in existence between the fifth and fifteenth century; therefore, the historical time period included inhabitants of which were inexperienced in certain skills—this included the skill of medical attention.

And cancer was a disease of which required medical attention.

 

500 AD

 The medieval town was small and self-sufficient but with a rapidly decreasing population as its residents began dying due to unknown causes. These were unknown causes of perplexity as the victim would develop pain within a tumor and result in a slow and painful death…cancer is what the doctor referred to it as.

The medieval town included a single doctor—unsanitary and unknowledgeable of modern medicine, but he was willing to help the town of which seemed to lie on the outskirts of the world itself. The doctor studied the cancer and began to rapidly produce information within the ancient medieval times.

The cancer within the village expanded and the doctor’s intentions of treating the cancer were triggered.

 

Victoria was a wife in addition to a mother of two children—but only seventy-five percent of this particular family was considered healthy. The mother began to develop reoccurring pains within her right breast and inspection revealed a darkened mass of flesh upon the breast…a tumor, and Victoria could only hope for a benign diagnosis.

“Cancer,” was the doctor’s contradiction, and Victoria’s heart shattered as she imagined the horrors of not being able to see her children grow up. Tears began to stream from her eyes and down her cheeks, and then the doctor continued: “But there is hope,” and Victoria’s head elevated and eye contact was achieved as the doctor explained his theory and hypothesis.

 

Surgery—the breast and its cancerous tumor will be removed entirely.

 

Therapy—poison will be induced and target the area of infection.

 

Radiation—extreme heat will be applied upon the treated skin tissue.

 

The idea of treating cancer was new and risky, but perhaps it was a premature breakthrough and the survival rate of cancer may become well above zero.

The mother was given gruesome details of the doctor’s desired procedure—surgeon was a crude pseudonym for the doctor but a chance of survival was worth gold to Victoria.  She agreed to the doctor’s terms and conditions and grasped an ink-dipped quill and applied her signature to a tattered piece of parchment as she signed the waiver.

 

Surgery—Victoria lied sprawled across a wooden workbench with her wrists and ankles secured with constricting rope. She remained stationary and awake with the absence of an anesthetic but with the perseverance of the future. The doctor browsed through his hardware and obtained a hacksaw—its frame was sturdy and its edge was sharp, ideal for medieval surgery (or torture).

The doctor applied the first incision and the blade began to devour Victoria’s breast. The rigid blades ran back and forth upon the base of the breast and the blood began to seep from the flesh.

Victoria screamed.

But her mind remained focused upon the hoped-for success of the treatment and she imagined her children growing up as she lied in agony staring at the candlelight fixture above. Her vision blurred with tears as a result of the excruciating pain and she gritted her teeth, biting her tongue in the process which drew blood as well. Victoria produced gasping sobs as blood spurted from her mouth and the doctor continued the surgery. The blade unevenly cut through the flesh with an absence of ease—the doctor’s arm had become sore and his hand struggled to remain its grip as the saw progressed in jaggedly removing the breast.

A woman’s breast consists of approximately eighty percent fat and excessive amounts of the fat had begun to splatter across the workbench in addition to the massive amounts of blood. Victoria’s vocal cords vibrated with the screeching of a banshee as she attempted to escape from the doctor’s procedure, but the tightened roping disapproved. Her blood supply was rapidly deteriorating and her flesh had transitioned into a pale tinge.

The hacksaw had grinded through the majority of the breast and it looked as if Victoria’s guts were spilling from the incision. The blood was uncontrollably gushing with spouts of the red liquid spewing across the chamber, and finally, Victoria’s breast had abandoned her body and lied as a deceased organ of which had been torn apart with grotesque mutilation.

The blood was overflowing from the workbench and bubbling from Victoria’s wound as the doctor situated several heaps of cloth to soak up the blood as he applied pressure.

Victoria could only describe the pain as caressing death itself.

 

Therapy—“I call it chemotherapy,” the doctor explained as he obtained a vial of thick and black liquid with an unappealing appearance of pure tar. Victoria remained fastened upon the workbench as the doctor approached her—the vial was uncorked and her chin was elevated as the doctor forced the substance down her throat.

It was literally a poison of which contained enough toxins to kill a healthy child, but not a fully grown woman. Victoria’s head shook vigorously as the chemotherapy sent a slow-flowing trail of poison into her oral cavity as it dyed her teeth and clotted within the back of her throat. She began coughing up mouthfuls of the poison along with excess blood from the surgery and the doctor promptly held her jaw shut.

The poison forced its way down Victoria’s throat as it left a stinging feeling of numbness within her mouth and esophagus. Her mouth felt blistered with a painful burning sensation of fire and she would have done any deed for a drink of cold water.

The chemotherapy progressed—the poison would choke her and she was forced to exhale violent coughs with her mouth clamped shut, forcing streams of the black liquid to eject from her nostrils. All areas of the poison’s contact created a red and peeling effect of dead skin with the feeling of a highly irritable itch beneath the muscle—it was as if enlarged dog fleas were gnawing on her bones.

Victoria suffered as the poison was swallowed and as the doctor released her jaw she began to vomit. Her moaning was followed by stomach acid flowing from her mouth with minor traces of the poison; the chemotherapy had already applied its medicine to her chest. Its existence was evident due to the poison flowing from the large and bloody cavity of which her breast had previously existed. The toxins within the poison had violently worked and Victoria’s vomiting continued in a failed attempt to vanquish the poison from her body.

But the chemotherapy was ruthless as she remained squirming upon the workbench with the poison annihilating her from the inside out.

In addition to her vomiting, her hair began to fall out—the distinguishing aspect of a beautiful woman had vanished upon her head and she could do nothing more than helplessly sob as the poison’s pain proceeded.

Victoria was minus a breast and her hair, but her cancer was confronted.

 

Radiation—Victoria remained possessed with the entity of medieval medical care as she lied with half of her blood supply spilled upon the ground.

The doctor obtained a bottle of rum with a faded label that read 151 Proof Rum and the alcoholic beverage was uncorked and applied upon Victoria’s wound. The entire bottle was emptied and the stinging feeling of alcohol within a severe wound was tormenting and excruciating. The alcohol seeped within her exposed body cavity and settled upon her organs with a bite of vicious vulgarity.

The doctor retrieved one of the candles of which was suspended above and admired the flame: its hue was vibrant and its heat was scorching. Once the alcohol content within rum or vodka reaches a proof of one hundred, it is flammable.

The doctor forced the flame to kiss Victoria’s alcohol-soaked wounds.

Victoria’s chest was set ablaze and she screamed as the inside of her body mutated into a furnace. The blood upon her flesh and within her chest began to dry into darkened brown splotches as the breast’s previous location was cauterized. The flesh was charred from the fire as it traveled amongst the trail of the rum; as it journeyed through the bloodstream the veins and vessels immediately melted into an obliterated blood-transportation system.

If Victoria’s cancer remained in existence within the core of the tumor it would be upon the brink of survival—the malignant cells would be torched with the heat of nearly eight hundred degrees Réaumur with the absence of a hyperbole.

The cauterization continued with a thin line creating the difference between radiation and cremation. As the time progressed the flames had traveled and were expanding beneath her entire chest and spouting from her mouth and it felt as though she was vomiting molten glass as a boiling substance disagreed with her stomach.

Victoria remained struggling to survive and the decibels of her cries and moans and screams were elevated. Her wrists and ankles began to bleed from the friction of the rope that restrained her from release of the doctor’s procedure.

Victoria’s wounds of a removed breast had transformed into a black and crumbling fourth-degree burn and the doctor eventually applied a blanket of thick cloth upon the fire. The flames were relieved of their oxygen and became extinguished with Victoria’s face smeared with sweat and tears in addition to relief.

The relief followed the existence of blood and poison and fire but also managed to be sensational as she realized that the treatment had finally concluded.

 

Victoria discovered that cancer treatment was a pure euphemism for hell and torture; however, her life progressed as her wounds healed and her long and flowing hair returned.

 

505 AD

 Five years later…

Victoria was considered cancer-free and advanced herself within the positive chronology of a life with an absence of cancer and remained legendary within her medieval village as the first cancer survivor.

Victoria’s journey through cancer treatment was so distant and remarkable within our world’s history that it is vastly unknown and is often referred to as legendary or mythological. But it was not, for Victoria lived to see her children grow up as she began to grow old and adored every second of her life of which had thankfully continued.

Victoria’s health was restored and her cancer was conquered.

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