A talk about cancer

Cancer.

I want to talk to you about cancer.

For most of my life, it was something I felt very detached from. I had never known anyone with cancer, let alone having it myself, and I had never heard a ‘cancer story’.

This all changed when I was about eleven, as it is bound to. An estimated 12.7 million people are diagnosed with cancer worldwide each year, with 7.6 million of them dying from it.

So as you can see, the chances of you having a run in with cancer, whether it is you, or someone you know, are high.

After several experiences that are better told separately, cancer felt like it was a thing in my life, a thing to be feared. I didn’t have it, and I still don’t, but I know people who did.

That’s the thing about cancer. Did. That makes all the difference.

Cancer has been on my mind quite a bit lately. I just finished reading a book, I’m sure a lot of you have heard of, called The Fault in Our Stars, where the three main characters live {and die} with/from the disease.

I would like to share some bits of that book with you, because it truly changed my perspective on the whole matter. I am doing so because I would like to speak for those who cannot, quite literally cannot, speak for themselves any longer. They are the 7.6 million.

There is one woman in particular that I think of. She was a dear friend to so many, perhaps some of you reading this knew her. She was an amazing soul, and even those who did not know her lost something when she died, because the world is not nearly as beautiful now that her stunning presence no longer graces it.

I never thanked her, for simply being her. I never got the chance.

So, I want to share this with you as a way to repay her, and all the others. Each one was a life, full of meaning, crafted and placed lovingly on this earth by our Heavenly Father. But their stories were cut short. No one deserves such a fate.

They can’t speak for themselves anymore. So I will do it as best I can, since I do not know what it is like, to live and die in such a way. But I watched her fade away, and I know that we agreed on many things. I will do it for her, that kind woman who inspired everyone she knew, and for all the others.

I hope you like them!

“Whenever you read a cancer booklet or website or whatever, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying. (Cancer is also a side effect of dying. Almost everything is, really.)”

“I wanted to know that he would be okay if I died. I wanted to not be a grenade, to not be a   malevolent force in the lives of people I loved.”

“Because there is no glory in illness. There is no meaning to it. There is no honor in dying of.”

“Some wars,” he said dismissively. “What am I at war with? My cancer. And what is my cancer? My cancer is me. The tumors are made of me. They’re made of me as surely as my brain and my heart is made of me. It is a civil war, Hazel Grace, with a predetermined winner.”

“You’re arguing that the fragile, rare thing is beautiful simply because it is fragile and rare. But that’s a lie, and you know it.”

“I told myself – as I’ve told myself before – that the body shuts down when the pain gets too bad, that consciousness is temporary, that this will pass. But just like always, I didn’t slip away. I was left on the shore with the waves washing over me, unable to drown.”

“I couldn’t see her very clearly amid all the tributes, but there didn’t seem to be much to hate – she seemed to be mostly a professional sick person, like me, which made me worry that when I died they’d have nothing to say about me except that I fought heroically, as if the only thing I’d ever done was Have Cancer.”

This last one made the biggest impact for me. I had never pondered before the reality of that, but it is, in fact, excruciatingly true. Think of someone you know – you knew, who had cancer. If you’re lucky, no one has bubbled up into your thoughts. I’ll try to explain what it’s saying. When someone dies of cancer, all the people they leave behind speak as if the only thing they did with their life was have cancer. They talk about how hard they fought. How much everyone misses them. How much everyone loves them. That’s the strange thing. After the person is gone, a lot more people love them then when they were alive.

So just think about it. If people use the cancer aspect of someone’s life as a way to remember them, what glory does that bring? Nothing. Yes, they fought hard. I know. This is going to sound absolutely heartless, but it is true. They fought hard, but not hard enough. Cancer won.

I don’t think people want to be honored that way. I think, at least I know if I got cancer and died, I wouldn’t want people to go on and on about my ‘fight’. To me, it seems to be glorifying defeat.

They had a whole life, and cancer wasn’t their life. It was part of their life, and it was the part that took their life.

Of course, I shouldn’t be the one to say all this, because I don’t know what it’s like, I can’t pretend I do, and I don’t want to come off as one of those people who think they know what they’re talking about, but is, in truth very annoying. But, it’s been on my mind, and I thought it was a rather interesting thing to think more on, so I figured I might as well share it.

Please let me know what you think, which was your favorite quote, and why!