From the day we’re born, we’re all playing a game of Old Maid with life. The way we live and the environment around us may increase the odds, but in the end, nobody gets to choose the cards they’re dealt.

Over the past few months, I’ve spent a lot of time reading, researching, and discussing cancer and health in general. Social media algorithms adapted almost overnight. Every fifth post now seems to be about cancer, chronic illness, or some form of human suffering.

Suddenly, I understood why friends kept messaging me asking whether I was dying and nervously wondering how much weight I’d lost. One person even drove across the country to see me, and it almost felt like they were coming to say goodbye.

They were quite surprised to find me running through the forest and eating an entire hamburger.

I share a lot of my journey on my private account, but I suppose people didn’t fully believe it until they saw me in person. Social media tends to amplify the more dramatic stories. Every day I see people who have lost limbs, lost an eye, been transformed beyond recognition, or are facing unimaginably complicated diagnoses and treatments. And then there are the accounts where nobody has posted anything new for months or even years. Even without seeing all of that, I know how lucky I am. But seeing it every day serves as a constant reminder not to feel sorry for myself.

At the same time, I don’t believe it’s only luck.

I was never an elite professional athlete. I didn’t have a six-pack, and pull-ups and I were never close friends. But years of martial arts training built me a strong and resilient body. And an equally resilient mind. I’ve never had any serious injuries or major illnesses. I wasn’t someone who spent nights in clubs drinking until sunrise. Daily training simply doesn’t allow for that. Besides, I’ve never really liked alcohol anyway—except for those overly sweet cocktails where you can barely taste it. Cigarettes smell awful to me. So does marijuana.

At some point, I realized that deep-fried food wasn’t doing much for me. Giving up sweets was harder, especially when I was tired or going through a difficult period. Most of the time, though, I managed because I was always moving. People who know me are often surprised that I got cancer after living such a healthy lifestyle.

But the truth is, it only looked healthy from the outside.

Ironically, when I was studying at the Shanghai University of Sport, health wasn’t always part of the equation. You’d think a university full of athletes would serve exceptional food.

Not quite.

There was plenty of fried food, overcooked food, and enough MSG to season an entire province. On the bright side, fresh fruit and vegetables at the local markets were cheap and abundant. The truly healthy meals were reserved for China’s professional athletes, and the rest of us weren’t allowed into that dining hall. Back then, food vendors could set up almost anywhere, and every morning and evening they gathered outside the university gates. I absolutely loved those meat dumplings and oily fried noodles swimming in enough oil to lubricate a small engine. They were delicious.

There was plastic everywhere. Air pollution. Mold that we could never completely get rid of in our dorm rooms. Which brings me to a discussion that appeared under my previous article: can we actually cause our own cancer? Assuming, of course, that it isn’t hereditary like mine. Yes, there are people who smoke a pack of cigarettes a day and never develop lung cancer. At the same time, Australia has one of the highest rates of skin cancer in the world. That’s not an opinion. That’s a statistic. Like many of my fellow cancer patients, I bought a copy of The Metabolic Approach to Cancer by Winters and Kelley. Why I don’t recommend spending money on that book is a topic for another day. One chapter focuses on carcinogens and detoxification. According to the authors, what causes cancer?

Cosmetics.

Clothing.

Air pollution.

Drinking water.

Prescription medications.

Supermarket meat.

X-rays.

Mammograms.

Nuclear power plants.

UV radiation.

Electronics.

Non-stick frying pans.

Plastic food containers.

Sugar.

And probably a few other things if you turn the page.

By the time I finished reading, I couldn’t help laughing. Although I can easily imagine that for some people, this kind of message becomes genuinely depressing. The average person simply doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re supposed to buy only organic food, preferably directly from local farmers. Cook everything from scratch. Avoid anything processed. Make your own cosmetics and cleaning products. Refuse plastic bags. Buy expensive bottled water—or better yet, install a machine that turns it into “living water.” Purchase air purifiers. Avoid regular clothing stores for your children, even though they outgrow their clothes every few months. Some things can certainly be improved. But what if the one thing you can’t change turns out to be the thing that causes your cancer?

It’s easy to see how some people end up developing orthorexia—an unhealthy obsession with eating perfectly and living perfectly. They become so focused on avoiding every possible risk that health itself turns into a source of chronic stress.

And who knows? Perhaps that constant stress contributes to illness in its own way. The pendulum swings from one extreme to the other. There are plenty of things worth changing because they cost little and may genuinely help. I was about to mention sunscreen. But then again, someone will tell you that most sunscreens are toxic too, and that the truly safe ones cost a fortune. Going for walks and exercising outdoors is free. Except then someone will remind you about air pollution and UV exposure.

So what do I do?

I do what I can.

I’m aware of the risks.

Many diseases can be prevented—or at least influenced—through healthier choices. But cancer doesn’t appear simply because I forgot sunscreen one afternoon or spent three nights a week drinking at the local pub. Cancer is usually the result of many factors coming together. Genetics. Mutations. Age. Environment. Chance. Circumstances we can control and many we can’t. In the end, we’re all playing a game of Old Maid with life. The world around us and the way we live may change the odds.

But sooner or later, each of us has to draw a card.