The Enemy Within

A brief message to all those who are living with a serious disease:

When you awakened today something was in the room with you. It sat patiently by the window, waiting for you to arise. It dearly wants to harm you. Are you aware of the danger?

If it sees you smile it slaps you in the face, to persuade you that happiness is no longer a part of your life.

If it hears you talking to a friend it poisons your words, to drive away those who love you.

If it finds out you're on the way to the doctor it chokes you, to weaken your spirit at the time it most needs boosting.

If it sees you sitting quietly it drills into your mind, to infect it with foul thoughts.

If you let it into your heart it will slowly corrode it, leaving you wandering alone and frightened.

There is only one defense against this enemy, and that is this: it cannot defeat you by itself. It must feed off of you in order to thrive. Like the parasite it is, it cannot harm those who refuse to nurture it. Fight the urge to give in to its siren song. Fight it hard. Refuse to give it any shelter. Start today, and soon you will be rid of it for the rest of your life, and the rest of your life will be a celebration of, as the poet e.e. cummings said, "everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes."

What is this baneful something that lives to watch you suffer? What is this obstacle to steadfast tranquility that can be defeated by refusing to accept its authority? Click below for the answer, and may you all sleep peacefully tonight - and every night.

It is despair.

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Sometimes when you are so sick, when your hair is gone and the chemo is making you nauseated and fatigued, and there are sores in your mouth and you can no longer swallow solid foods and your hands and feet are swollen and raw and tingling unmercifully; when your bones ache, it is more than enough to just be. It is too much to ask to take on the task of keeping oneself cheered, much less cheering those around you. You need the permission to cry for what you've lost even when you may shortly get it back, or it may be gone forever. You need to be able to grieve for a moment so that you can move on.

Oh please. This is offensive.

Yes, it is offensive. I only recently found this blog, and liked several things I read, but this post put me close to never reading it again.

I didn't find it offensive at all - but I am 6 years removed from chemo and 1 from follow-up studies.

I see nothing here which bans sadness or grief. I see only encouragement to stand up to despair -- which is neither of those.

Despair I have known. I knew it when I was diagnosed with cancer and thought I would never live to see my 5 year old grow up. My oncologist beat it off then by daring to suggest that a cure might be possible.

I felt it again from time to time while waiting for test results which I was certain would bring only bad news. Each time, someone reached down into the dark depths and dragged me back. Most often it was my very good friend who suffers from depression and who truly knows despair - and how best to conquer it for today.

No, we cannot always cheer ourselves nor those around us. We can turn to those who love us to share our grief and to help us face whatever life brings.

Well, so much for that attempt to put a thought into words. What I meant was that although cancer is associated with horrible symptoms, cancer itself can be humiliated by the patient who refuses to stop living, who is able to fight off feelings of despair and deny the disease the pleasure of watching someone "die" before death actually comes. Perhaps I'm trying to find a connection to this quote from Churchill:

Never give in--never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
Sir Winston Churchill, Speech, 1941, Harrow School

Oh good grief, now you're anthropomorphising cancer as well? No. It doesn't have feelings, it isn't a sentient being, it's a disease. A process. A bunch of cells, a state of the body. You can't humiliate it. It isn't an enemy. (That's important, IMHO. It's still my body, even if it isn't quite working the way I'd like. I don't hate my three year old when he behaves badly.)

And telling people to think of it as an enemy to be fought reinforces the guilt: the subtext is that if only one thought positively enough one could "win" and conversely, that if one does not it is one's own fault.

Moreover, what Churchhill said to a bunch of adolescent boys last century... does not seem very relevant.

I know the fear of not knowing if your next test result is going to tell you that you will likely die. I know how much I hated getting chemo, knowing that it was going to make me feel like hammered cow patties. Fear can consume a person and cause despair.

I see this blog entry as encouragement but then, I always try to see the positives in even the worst situation. If I gave up, then I may lose my life. At some point it may be reasonable to give up and die with dignity but that is where Churchill's quote comes in. I may want to yield to an honorable decision.

Maybe this type of encouragement is not for everyone, but I like it.

This post doesn't offend me. What offends me is that Elizabeth Edwards had to stand out on a public platform and say "Stage 4 is treatable and my doctors are optimistic." To anything else would have been the mistake of the century. Why couldn't she have said "Frankly I'm reeling. I fought so hard, and now it can't be cured." Why is it so offensive for the seriously ill to say "ya know, this sucks." especially when it is so obvious that it does. Why are we burdened with making others feel better about our disease? How often do you go into your exam room and have a very sick person tell you that they are fine? Honestly, if I'd never despared of my disease, turning 50 this year would not be so sweet.

I agree, this disease sucks. We are all supposed to act like we're going to fight and win a battle. The pressure to act a certain way, so everyone else can feel good about the situation, is tremendous. If you don't act like a little hero, you feel like a wimp and a failure. The world can't handle the truth.
However, for me, encouragement is welcome in whatever form it comes in. It means that someone is trying.

To "deny the disease the pleasure of watching someone "die" before death actually comes" are the relevant words.
My greatest fear and despair was the possiblity that cancer would destroy the essence of who I was - to extinguish my ability to feel happiness and joy and to participate in a normal life again.
My defence against cancer is a continued endeavour to take more from it than it takes from me. Not easy, but something I work on every single day of my life - That is my victory.
I know it may eventually take my body, but I am damned if I will allow it to take my spirit.

I think that I can say with certainty that cancer changes the essence of who we are in the same way that any life event like marriage and childbirth changes us. From what I see, it adds the component of true suffering and justified despair. That doesn't mean that it immediately robs all joy and life from a person. However, having watched my grandparents and mother progress through and die of this disease, in the end, yes it does rob the patient of the essence of who they are. That is the truly terrifying aspect of this disease.

I have never personally experienced a serious disease, so perhaps my comments don't have merit, but in my opinion this piece treads the murky waters of such mystical thought put forth by the likes of Christian Scientists (something I wouldn't expect in a science blog!) and comes perilously close to blaming the victim for their troubles.

This post re despair is so true! I've had cancer twice in the past 6 years and have gone through chemo, radiation, and everything that entails. The worst part of the experience was absolutely the despair of the spirit. I could stand having cancer again--I'm an old hand at it now--but I don't ever want to fall down into that black hole again because it is just so hard to climb out. I do, however, understand writers who did not like this post. On more than one occasion, I was tempted to shout a hearty "bugger off" to well-wishers who told me to "keep your spirits up"!

No where do I see where it says you cannot grieve what you have lost. No where do I see where it says you must be cheerful all of the time. All I see is encouragement in a time of darkness...a light at the end of the tunnel so to speak. I know I needed to se that light many times during my treatments even if I did not feel like joining in and singing Kum-Bah-Yah. Even today, 6 years post diagnosis I still need to see that light and still need time to grieve what I lost. I also need time to be joyful for what I have and what I gained. Sorry if this is offensive but it is how I feel.