The power of belief and expectation when facing a serious illness

When I was in the chemotherapy ward, I would often find myself quietly weeping—not for me, but for the others around me. My belief in my survival was unshakable, so my focus shifted to those who weren’t so sure. I noticed something profound: when I asked people how they were going to beat cancer, they all said the same thing—“With positive thinking.” But their eyes betrayed them. They wanted to believe, but deep down, they didn’t. And nothing truly changes unless you believe.

One day, I met Annie. She was in the bed beside me, looking as though her world had ended. We both had black, sunken eyes, no hair, and frail bodies that made us look like we had just returned from a concentration camp. I smiled at her and asked, "How are you?" Then, more importantly, "How are you going to beat this?"

She forced a smile and said, "With positive thinking, I guess." But her words rang hollow. She didn’t believe them, and I could see it.

I began to speak to her about the power of belief and expectation. As I did, tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” I asked gently.

“If you had told me this a few months ago, I would have believed you," she whispered. "I truly believed, with all my heart, that I was going to beat this. And for a while, I thought I was right. My doctors were baffled—most of my tumors had disappeared, and the remaining ones had shrunk significantly. I believed. I had to. Because all I ever wanted was a man to love me, children to hold, and a little home for us. I wanted it so much. I couldn’t have believed any more than I did."

“So what changed?” I asked.

She took a deep breath. "Three months ago, I was in the hospital for chemotherapy. A nurse came over, smiled, and asked me how I was doing. I told her I felt amazing, that I was going to beat this in no time."

Annie went quiet, fresh tears streaming down her face. "She cupped my hands in hers, looked at me with pity, and said, ‘Don’t get your hopes up, my love. You have a very aggressive form of cancer.’

"And within weeks, my tumors started returning."

I took her hands in mine. "Annie, it wasn’t because she was right. It was because you believed she was right. She was an authority figure to you, and her words carried immense power."

I began teaching her about visualization and the immense power of belief. As I spoke, something extraordinary happened. The nurse changing my drip began listening, and soon, she was walking around to every patient in the room, encouraging them to come closer. One by one, people stood up, dragging their IV poles along, gathering around me. And for the next few hours, I taught them all about the power of expectation.

As I was speaking, another nurse approached to change my medication. She took out six enormous syringes—what I jokingly called "horse syringes"—and two of them were filled with a bright red liquid. As she injected the first one into my line, she said with unsettling cheer, "This red one is the one that might damage your heart."

I saw the color drain from the faces around me. Fear spread like wildfire. Everything we had just built was at risk of crumbling.

So I acted fast. I smiled at her and said, "Only if I believe it to be true." Then I turned to the others and grinned. The room let out a collective sigh of relief so loud it startled the nurse. Realizing her mistake, she quickly apologized.

"Sorry, I’m just having a bad day," she mumbled.

An old lady in the back chuckled and called out, "You’re having a bad day?" The entire room erupted into laughter.

For that moment, time stood still. I watched their faces transform—smiles replacing fear, arms reaching out to reassure one another. For just a moment, everything they were going through disappeared. And in that moment, I remembered the words of Viktor Frankl:

'Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.'

I never saw Annie again after that day. But years later, one Christmas, my phone rang. It was her.

She sounded incredible. Her voice was full of life and excitement. "Guess what?" she said, barely able to contain herself. "I’m in remission! All but two of my tumors are gone, and the ones that remain are only 15% of their original size. And—I just got engaged! We’re getting married in July!"

At the time of writing this, Annie has been married for four years and has two beautiful little girls. And she is cancer-free.

I have no doubt that her unwavering belief and expectation made the difference. There isn’t a single form of cancer that hasn’t been beaten by someone, somewhere. So why not Annie?

And why not you?

I urge you, with a tear in my eye, to choose your own way. Choose an attitude of gratitude and expectation. Let this book guide you—not just for yourself, but for those you love. Because I truly believe I was meant to be here, so that you could use this book to create the life you deserve.

And you do deserve it. Please—believe that.

Mark Anthony Baker

Mindset Coach.

#cancer #mindset #resilience #humanresources #visualisation #gratitude