I don’t know when cancer
reached it’s apotheosis. In the case of AIDS, I remember Freddy Mercury having
passed abruptly and the movie Philadelphia coming out in the early 90s, when I
grew up. These and other events impressed upon society the dangers of AIDS, and
cancer took a backseat as old news. Later in the new millennium, AIDS declined
in popularity as people noticed Magic Johnson’s ability to live with HIV.
Indeed, rumors still abound that he is cured. Once the fear factor diminishes
in our collective minds, so does the sexiness.
Recently, Charlie Sheen has tried to make up for a life of debauchery by attempting to garnish sympathy for AIDS. Unfortunately, AIDS could not have picked a less sympathetic plaintiff to champion its cause. The verdict is not yet out, but given his wanton recklessness for himself and others, he is unlikely to go far. AIDS must wait awhile to again be sexy—if ever again. Mr. Sheen, I am not here to harangue you; instead, I am here to say move over! I’m bringing cancer back!
There is no word to address certain atrocities that take on a being of their own. As someone of Jewish ethnicity, I understand that the word “holocaust” is almost undefinable in a concise manner. In order to accurately grasp the horrors of such a word, it is almost necessary to describe the events. Moreover, to those who read of the atrocities, they will never comprehend the true meaning with respect to someone who has lived in that era. Furthermore, that same person cannot understand the concept in relation to another who actually labored in a death camp. We could then continue almost ad infinitum until we find the extreme individual who experienced the quintessence of the holocaust—still that person could never hope to articulate the meaning with mere words or images. His experience is crucial, but it is unique and not exactly shared by future generations. Yet, it is enough to say the word “holocaust” and invoke a horror show that extends infinitely beyond the uncanny. Not to create a pissing contest of which is greater, cancer too is a word that creates an image of destruction and harm that is so invidious, an attempt at description is vanity and impudent.
Recently, Charlie Sheen has tried to make up for a life of debauchery by attempting to garnish sympathy for AIDS. Unfortunately, AIDS could not have picked a less sympathetic plaintiff to champion its cause. The verdict is not yet out, but given his wanton recklessness for himself and others, he is unlikely to go far. AIDS must wait awhile to again be sexy—if ever again. Mr. Sheen, I am not here to harangue you; instead, I am here to say move over! I’m bringing cancer back!
There is no word to address certain atrocities that take on a being of their own. As someone of Jewish ethnicity, I understand that the word “holocaust” is almost undefinable in a concise manner. In order to accurately grasp the horrors of such a word, it is almost necessary to describe the events. Moreover, to those who read of the atrocities, they will never comprehend the true meaning with respect to someone who has lived in that era. Furthermore, that same person cannot understand the concept in relation to another who actually labored in a death camp. We could then continue almost ad infinitum until we find the extreme individual who experienced the quintessence of the holocaust—still that person could never hope to articulate the meaning with mere words or images. His experience is crucial, but it is unique and not exactly shared by future generations. Yet, it is enough to say the word “holocaust” and invoke a horror show that extends infinitely beyond the uncanny. Not to create a pissing contest of which is greater, cancer too is a word that creates an image of destruction and harm that is so invidious, an attempt at description is vanity and impudent.
During my first diagnosis
of leukemia (AML), I was walking through the ward of a hospital after finally
being allowed to leave my bed. I spent a prolonged period in the intensive care
unit and awoke several weeks later as a shell of the former man I had been. At
first, I was delighted to simply be able to walk again. I remember passing an
inspirational sign that stated something along the lines of the fact that
cancer cannot take my hope, it cannot take my joy, it cannot take my family,
etc. I continued walking laps during my stay and passed that same sign
sometimes 20 or 30 times a day. The days turned to weeks and the weeks to
months. Fast forward to over a year later when I relapsed, and saw a similar
sign elsewhere. The once inspirational platitudes became a sick joke.
In its incipient stages, cancer might appear insidious whereby the victim believes he is experiencing a minor setback that is highly treatable (I hate that word “treatable”). Over the course of several weeks, months, and years, it will slowly begin to eat away at your body like a leprous infection. if the disease does not kill you, the cure will be ruinous. In the military mindset, that which does not kill you makes you stronger. Even if that is true for the cancer patient, it is usually a very long and devastating road to become stronger and emerging victorious.
As the body decays, the victims then exhaust their finances while trying to live; this is often exacerbated by being unable to work and earn an income. There might even be a tertiary effect of your spouse or loved one being forced to abandon their career and remain at your side.
Over the course of time, I have watched loved ones throw up their hands and abandon the situation. Regardless of who is at fault, cancer is a cause—either direct or not too attenuated—of failed marriages and the loss of earthly joy. Thankfully, my wife has never given me cause to doubt her willingness to remain at my side. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for others.
In its incipient stages, cancer might appear insidious whereby the victim believes he is experiencing a minor setback that is highly treatable (I hate that word “treatable”). Over the course of several weeks, months, and years, it will slowly begin to eat away at your body like a leprous infection. if the disease does not kill you, the cure will be ruinous. In the military mindset, that which does not kill you makes you stronger. Even if that is true for the cancer patient, it is usually a very long and devastating road to become stronger and emerging victorious.
As the body decays, the victims then exhaust their finances while trying to live; this is often exacerbated by being unable to work and earn an income. There might even be a tertiary effect of your spouse or loved one being forced to abandon their career and remain at your side.
Over the course of time, I have watched loved ones throw up their hands and abandon the situation. Regardless of who is at fault, cancer is a cause—either direct or not too attenuated—of failed marriages and the loss of earthly joy. Thankfully, my wife has never given me cause to doubt her willingness to remain at my side. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for others.
I have watched promising
careers vanish, bodybuilders become skeletal, and the intelligent lose control
of their faculties. I have witnessed men of faith curse the Almighty while a
sworn atheist prayed to “whoever” might be there. Fathers lose sons, daughters
bury mothers, infants die before they are young, and the dignified old agonize
in a humiliating cesspool of their own urine and feces. Some pass alone begging
for morphine while others die with their families, grieving for themselves and
those they love.
Cancer is not a romantic trial that produces hardened zealots determined to conquer life. Often times, it is a slow and painful death march that culminates in a ghastly end.
My attempt to articulate a definition for cancer falls short. Moreover, I have had it relatively easy compared to some. I once learned of a man slowly dying of colon cancer. Midway through his years of struggle, his wife was struck by a vehicle on her way to visit him in the hospital and slipped into a coma for several years. That man eventually obtained remission only to later die of another cancer. His brief period of respite was spent wondering if the love of his life was a dormant vegetable waiting to be revived or an empty corpse that died years earlier on the way to visit him. I cannot imaging how that man did not break down and give up on life. Cancer made him strong—until it later killed him prior to a deep and darkened sadness.
I am not a sympathetic plaintiff. Unlike Charlie, who gambled with the lives of others and failed to pass along the disease and effect those he knew, I have allowed my cancer to impact others. My wife and family continue to live with this ordeal. Nevertheless, through this blog, I intend to vent some frustrations, define cancer, invoke its being, and “bring it back.”
Cancer is not a romantic trial that produces hardened zealots determined to conquer life. Often times, it is a slow and painful death march that culminates in a ghastly end.
My attempt to articulate a definition for cancer falls short. Moreover, I have had it relatively easy compared to some. I once learned of a man slowly dying of colon cancer. Midway through his years of struggle, his wife was struck by a vehicle on her way to visit him in the hospital and slipped into a coma for several years. That man eventually obtained remission only to later die of another cancer. His brief period of respite was spent wondering if the love of his life was a dormant vegetable waiting to be revived or an empty corpse that died years earlier on the way to visit him. I cannot imaging how that man did not break down and give up on life. Cancer made him strong—until it later killed him prior to a deep and darkened sadness.
I am not a sympathetic plaintiff. Unlike Charlie, who gambled with the lives of others and failed to pass along the disease and effect those he knew, I have allowed my cancer to impact others. My wife and family continue to live with this ordeal. Nevertheless, through this blog, I intend to vent some frustrations, define cancer, invoke its being, and “bring it back.”
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