The Yellow World (4 page)

With time, after they had given us forty or fifty envelopes, we discovered the perfect method. There’s no doubt that you can become a professional even when it comes to reading medical diagnoses: All you need to do is repeat the action over and over again until it doesn’t seem like you’re repeating it.

The perfect method:

I know this might seem strange. Why half an hour and not an hour? Why not ten minutes? Are these thirty minutes that important? Yes, they are. I think that through receiving so many pieces of important news, I’ve discovered that there’s something in us that wants to know the news immediately, and this something blinds us. It’s like a passion that vanishes after exactly thirty minutes and activates other energies in us, energies that also want to know what’s happened but that are capable of looking for solutions. These energies are a form of anxiety but a form with a different aim, anxiety that fights, that resolves problems.

When I stopped going to the hospital I thought that I would never be faced with dilemmas as powerful as the ones I had about the X-rays. And that’s how it was, but I’ve found a way of adapting my thirty-minute theory to real life.

I often receive an email that I know is important; I see it pop up in my inbox but I don’t open it. I look at it, still up there with its title in bold, but I don’t open it. I wait for thirty minutes. I relax, I let my anxiety change, and then I open it.

It’s great, and it works. And whether it’s good or bad news that you’re getting, you’ve let half an hour pass and your response isn’t hasty, the result of an immediate reaction. It’s as if you’ve spent half an hour deciding what to write. You can do the same with text messages, and lots of other things as well.

This is also useful for when you need to discuss something
with someone, especially when it comes to choosing the time and the place you speak to them.

I always follow the thirty-minute rule and sometimes, I must admit, I stretch it as far as forty or even as many as forty-three minutes. It’s a way of stretching time, of being the lord and master of your anxieties and your responses.

This was the first piece of advice my doctor gave me when I got to the hospital. In fact, what he did was give me an exercise book and tell me to write down everything I didn’t understand.

Then he explained to me everything that would happen to me, cancerously speaking, over the next five years. It was amazing; he got it almost all right. Sometimes I dream about this moment and imagine what would have happened if, instead of talking to me about cancer, he had spoken about my life. He could have predicted my life for the next five or ten years. Who I would fall in love with, what I would end up studying. That would have been even more amazing.

But I don’t want to minimize the importance of what he said, because it turned out as he predicted. He spoke to me about biopsies, tumors, osteosarcomas, relapses. My parents listened to him and I took notes; I kept on taking notes. It was weird, but I even felt better as I was writing things down. It was as if, by getting my questions out into the open, by writing them down, I was stripping them of their mystery, their fear, their terror.

When he’d finished, he looked at me and said: “Any questions?” I replied that I had forty-two of them. That was all I’d had time to write down. That day he answered my forty-two questions, but I came up with twenty more. The more he explained, the more questions I had, but the more of those he answered the more peaceful I felt. It was a circle, good for both him and me.

I’ve never doubted the fact that possessing information is fundamental for everything in life. You can’t fight against cancer if you don’t know what you’re up against. First know who your enemy is, then find out everything about him and only then fight against him.

I think that the best thing about the time I had cancer was that they always gave me answers. Answers cure you; answers help you. Asking questions makes you feel alive. When they give you answers it means that they trust you’ll know what to do with the information.

But you don’t just have questions when you feel ill. Life itself generates a huge number of questions. When I left the hospital I started to ask myself questions. I’d left school at the age of fifteen and didn’t get back to my education until I went to college. I had hundreds of questions. This was when
I decided to buy myself a yellow notebook (I didn’t know why I chose that color, but I realize now). I started to write down questions and to decide who to ask about them.

It was easy in the hospital:

But in life itself not everything is so clear. So I would write down the question, the problem I wanted to solve, and the person I should ask about it. I really recommend you do this; you’ll start off by thinking that it’s ridiculous to write down silly questions and the people who you think might have the answers. But as you start to get answers you’ll realize that the method is very effective, and you’ll become an addict of your little notebook.

I’ve used this method in every aspect of my life: my love life, my family life, my friendships, my yellow life (in a bit, I’ll explain what the yellow life is). And it has always made me feel better.

So, it’s easy:

In the hospital they told us that it is good to drink two liters of water a day. And my doctor always added: “And ask five good questions.” Don’t forget it, five questions a day and two liters of water.

We are born lacking things, lots of things, lots of very different things. With time we manage to cover this up in some way or another. Sometimes we do it well; sometimes we just do it as best we can. We even end up not knowing that we’re missing things. The brain is so clever that sometimes it hides very basic things about us from ourselves.

We don’t know how to walk, but we find out bit by bit how to walk. I’ve been lucky enough to have four kinds of walk:

There is something fundamental about walking. People don’t really think about walking: “I walk like this, I’ve always walked like this.” They think it’s not going to change: If they’ve walked that way for thirty, forty years, why should they change now?

But what they don’t realize is that change is possible. Everything depends on finding the right way to breathe, finding the most suitable way for you to breathe. Devoting a bit
of time to feeling the air coming in and out of you. Once you find your way of breathing, you need to think about how this breathing can move your legs. Breathing and movement are completely related.

Little by little you’ll find a way to walk. It’ll be different from the one you have at the moment. It’ll be a walk that’s brought into existence by the way that you breathe in and out. In lots of cases it will be a walk that’s so different that you won’t recognize yourself in a mirror, so different that you won’t think it’s you walking but someone else. Little by little, if you want, you can turn this new way of walking into a new way of running. But that’s something for the true initiates.

In the end you’ll notice that finding a different walk, a different way of bringing your feet into contact with the ground, will cause something to be born within you. A feeling a little like happiness. This is the seed of laughter. This feeling, this sentiment, is what will transform into laughter.

Little by little, without hurrying, extract and liquefy the laughter that has arisen from this way of walking. Try out the laugh that suits you best. Listen to it, first of all in your own home, in intimate surroundings. When you’ve decided on one, show it to your friends, laugh with them, without being scared, without being ashamed. Let yourself go.

This is your laugh. All you have to do is exploit it to its maximum potential and, almost without your knowing it, this laugh will change who you are and how you enjoy life.

We spend minutes deciding what we want to buy in a shop, hours choosing a car, months hunting for a house. But for something that is as intimate as a laugh, something that
defines our character, our essence, our being, we are usually happy with the one that comes as a default.

Remember, the list goes like this:

Breathe, walk, laugh, enjoy yourself. It’s that easy. This was the advice that the nurse gave me as he took me to surgery when they were going to cut off my leg. I was thinking about the leg I was going to lose and he spoke to me about breathing, about walking, about laughing. Remember that he ended up by asking if he was boring me. Actually, I wasn’t bored at all. Sometimes we are so focused on ourselves, on our own problems, that we forget that we are right at that moment on the edge of making the greatest discovery of our lives.