Thinking about cancer
14/01/14 05:40
Sometimes the language we commonly use doesn’t work for us. This seems to be especially true when we use battle language to speak of illness and its treatment. Cancer is often described as a battle. People talk about winning against cancer and losing the fight. Strategies in the war against cancer include surgery, chemotherapy and radiation treatments. The more I visit with those who live with cancer, however, the less appropriate that language seems.
Cancer is not an invasion by something that is foreign to the human body. Unlike an infection or a virus, which can be introduced from external sources, cancer is the body’s own cells. Through processes that are only partially understood, cells begin to divide and grow in an unregulated manner. Researchers can name many things that increase the risk of cancer, but they don’t know all of the dynamics of why some people develop cancer and others don’t. Most of us know the story of the person who smoked tobacco for a long period of time and lived a long life without contracting cancer. Although cancer occurs in people of all ages, the risk of cancer increases with age. And none of us can avoid getting older.
The problem with the battle language for this devastating disease is that the cancer is a part of the victim. Whenever we speak of cancer as the enemy, the distinction between the victim and the enemy doesn’t exist. To battle cancer is to battle oneself.
My experiences walking alongside those who have cancer have included many situations where the cancer was effectively treated and became a part of the story of a longer life. But I have also spent plenty of time with people whose cancers couldn’t be controlled and eventually became the cause of death. In both cases, the word “endure” comes to mind. People endure treatments with unpleasant side effects. They endure periods of nausea and discomfort. They endure loss of hair and changes in their physical appearance. They endure days of loss of energy and enthusiasm for the promise of the possibility of remission and in many cases cure.
I have been witness to great displays of human strength and power in the midst of dealing with disease. At the very moments when individuals feel the most powerless and the weakest, they can appear to be strong and inspirational to those of us who look on from the outside. Cancer may not be a battle, but it does bring out heroic behavior.
Another reason why war and battle language doesn’t work when talking about cancer is that those who die are not losers. It is my conviction that those whose lives are ended by the effects of cancer are often victors. They succeed in having lives that are not described by the word cancer. They discern meaning and leave an impact that reaches far beyond the particular disease with which they learned to live. Many cancer sufferers learn to accept and live with their cancers and continue to engage in meaningful living in the midst of the disease and its treatment.
It is hard not to think of cancer in our church community this year. We find ourselves in the presence of some people who have lived with the disease for long periods of time and whose bodies have become frail. We know that some with whom we just celebrated Christmas will not be physically present next Christmas.
Sunday morning when I placed my hand on the shoulder of a dear friend I could feel that he is just skin and bones. There simply isn’t much left of a man who was once muscular and powerful and could be intimidating. But make no mistake about it. I experience him as being as powerful as ever. His cheerful attitude and his caring presence demonstrate without a doubt that there is far more to his integrity and character than cancer. His best qualities are as clear and evident as they were a decade ago. In some ways they shine more brightly in the midst of the disease.
Yesterday afternoon we sat in the living room visiting with dear friends, one of whom has been told that there is no further treatment for cancer and that comfort care is the only medical intervention recommended. We were all aware that death is relatively close and will likely occur within the coming months. But cancer was hardly the focus of our visit. We had stories to tell and memories to share. We had pictures to share and the precious communion of food shared in love. As we got in our car to drive home I was thinking of the marvelous discussion in 1 Corinthians 15: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”
Paul’s letters and on-going conversation with the people at Corinth took place in a society where death at younger ages was more common than in our society. On average, we live much longer. But we do not go on forever. Each one of us will one day face our own death. We cannot escape the death of those whom we love.
Accepting that reality does not erase life. In fact, it enhances life. Knowing that our time together in this life is limited makes it more precious. Knowing that time is short keeps us from wasting the time that we do have. We might have delayed our visit to our friends yesterday had we not been experiencing a sense that the timing is short. And had we not visited, we would have missed the richness of conversation, the generosity of spirit and the warmth of hospitality that so enrich our lives. It can be very helpful to be reminded that our time is precious and the decisions about how we invest that time are important.
So I prefer not to think of cancer as the enemy. It is a condition that is a part of life - a reality that is present in a world that is far from perfect, yet nonetheless deeply meaningful and rich with genuine experiences of love and community. Life does not need to be free from cancer to be triumphant.
Cancer is not an invasion by something that is foreign to the human body. Unlike an infection or a virus, which can be introduced from external sources, cancer is the body’s own cells. Through processes that are only partially understood, cells begin to divide and grow in an unregulated manner. Researchers can name many things that increase the risk of cancer, but they don’t know all of the dynamics of why some people develop cancer and others don’t. Most of us know the story of the person who smoked tobacco for a long period of time and lived a long life without contracting cancer. Although cancer occurs in people of all ages, the risk of cancer increases with age. And none of us can avoid getting older.
The problem with the battle language for this devastating disease is that the cancer is a part of the victim. Whenever we speak of cancer as the enemy, the distinction between the victim and the enemy doesn’t exist. To battle cancer is to battle oneself.
My experiences walking alongside those who have cancer have included many situations where the cancer was effectively treated and became a part of the story of a longer life. But I have also spent plenty of time with people whose cancers couldn’t be controlled and eventually became the cause of death. In both cases, the word “endure” comes to mind. People endure treatments with unpleasant side effects. They endure periods of nausea and discomfort. They endure loss of hair and changes in their physical appearance. They endure days of loss of energy and enthusiasm for the promise of the possibility of remission and in many cases cure.
I have been witness to great displays of human strength and power in the midst of dealing with disease. At the very moments when individuals feel the most powerless and the weakest, they can appear to be strong and inspirational to those of us who look on from the outside. Cancer may not be a battle, but it does bring out heroic behavior.
Another reason why war and battle language doesn’t work when talking about cancer is that those who die are not losers. It is my conviction that those whose lives are ended by the effects of cancer are often victors. They succeed in having lives that are not described by the word cancer. They discern meaning and leave an impact that reaches far beyond the particular disease with which they learned to live. Many cancer sufferers learn to accept and live with their cancers and continue to engage in meaningful living in the midst of the disease and its treatment.
It is hard not to think of cancer in our church community this year. We find ourselves in the presence of some people who have lived with the disease for long periods of time and whose bodies have become frail. We know that some with whom we just celebrated Christmas will not be physically present next Christmas.
Sunday morning when I placed my hand on the shoulder of a dear friend I could feel that he is just skin and bones. There simply isn’t much left of a man who was once muscular and powerful and could be intimidating. But make no mistake about it. I experience him as being as powerful as ever. His cheerful attitude and his caring presence demonstrate without a doubt that there is far more to his integrity and character than cancer. His best qualities are as clear and evident as they were a decade ago. In some ways they shine more brightly in the midst of the disease.
Yesterday afternoon we sat in the living room visiting with dear friends, one of whom has been told that there is no further treatment for cancer and that comfort care is the only medical intervention recommended. We were all aware that death is relatively close and will likely occur within the coming months. But cancer was hardly the focus of our visit. We had stories to tell and memories to share. We had pictures to share and the precious communion of food shared in love. As we got in our car to drive home I was thinking of the marvelous discussion in 1 Corinthians 15: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”
Paul’s letters and on-going conversation with the people at Corinth took place in a society where death at younger ages was more common than in our society. On average, we live much longer. But we do not go on forever. Each one of us will one day face our own death. We cannot escape the death of those whom we love.
Accepting that reality does not erase life. In fact, it enhances life. Knowing that our time together in this life is limited makes it more precious. Knowing that time is short keeps us from wasting the time that we do have. We might have delayed our visit to our friends yesterday had we not been experiencing a sense that the timing is short. And had we not visited, we would have missed the richness of conversation, the generosity of spirit and the warmth of hospitality that so enrich our lives. It can be very helpful to be reminded that our time is precious and the decisions about how we invest that time are important.
So I prefer not to think of cancer as the enemy. It is a condition that is a part of life - a reality that is present in a world that is far from perfect, yet nonetheless deeply meaningful and rich with genuine experiences of love and community. Life does not need to be free from cancer to be triumphant.