An Olive Branch to Cancer

Five days after my CML diagnosis I put up a picture on Instagram announcing what had happened. I wrapped up the caption with “I’m going to battle and fight this thing with all that I’ve got”. Looking back on that now, I part cringe, part laugh, and part want to bear hug that version of myself. He had no idea what those words even meant.

September is blood cancer awareness month. Who knew? So make sure to get your yearly physicals. Know the signs and symptoms. And if you’re unsure about something, it’s best to get it checked out. I believed I was the pinnacle of health right until the doctor said the words “you have leukemia”.

Anyway, now that my due diligence is over, I’d like to express my gratitude for the progression of cancer research over the years. This research has been able to develop in large part due to the generosity of people like you and me. I’m currently on a cutting edge treatment that is a direct result of fundraising dollars. My treatment wasn’t around 20 years ago and it’s currently saving my life, so, yeah, I’m about as grateful as one can be.

To turn this gratitude into action I decided to raise funds for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society by participating in their Light the Night event this year. Here is a link to join my team or donate. (I’d rather have people come participate with my family and I, but, if you can’t make it, a donation would be much appreciated!)

Clearly I’m all for raising money to further the research into treating cancer. But, the real reason I’m writing this post is to address the militaristic language, and overall battle mentality, that is so prevalent when talking about cancer.

I’m smacked in the face with this sign each time I go to my doctor’s office.

I can’t help but question myself when I walk underneath it, “is this what conquering cancer feels like?”. The answer, so far, has always been no. Because, well, I still have it. As someone with chronic leukemia, there’s a very good chance I’ll never fully “beat” my cancer. But, even those who are cured or in remission from cancer will tell you, it never fully goes away. That fear is always there.

Therein lies the psychological harm this militaristic language causes. If those of us living with cancer aren’t able to “beat” this disease we’re deemed failures, having “lost our battles”. We’re told to stay strong! Be positive! Keep your chin up! You’ll beat this thing! Everything will be alright! I know these things are said with the best of intentions, but what do these things even mean? And who is actually being helping by this language?

This “battle mentality” had me feeling like I boarded a one-way train to hating the world for putting me in this situation.

“First stop, Self-Hatred Heights. Next up is the pity party, everyone feeling sorry for themselves get off here! Please stand clear as the resistance and rejection doors are now closing. This train will not be stopping at Life is Easy Street or Self-Love Square. Remember, if you see something, say something, not smiling and showing any sign of weakness is strictly prohibited. Now approaching our final destination, an overall resentment for the world!”

Battle implies hate. Battle implies hostility. Battle implies denouncement. Battle implies there being a “right” and “wrong”. Battle implies there only being a “winner” and “loser”. Battle implies there being an enemy.

The part that gets missed in all of this is, who are we actually supposed to be fighting against? Last time I checked cancer develops from mutations of one’s own DNA. So this enemy we’re supposed to destroy and conquer is ourselves? We’re supposed to go to war with the very substance that makes us who we are?

Let me get this straight. We have to physically go through hell, learn how to cope mentally, emotionally and socially with probably the toughest thing ever, while hating ourselves and, oh yeah, our strength, hope and positivity can’t falter?… Okay, well, back here on Earth we call that a “big ask”.

Of course this is just my opinion. Some people rally behind this language and draw strength from it, that’s great! Keep focusing on what works for you.

Cancer is not glamorous in any way. What “battling cancer” really looks like is being sad, confused, frustrated, angry, shocked, worried and, most of all, down right terrified of what’s to come. It looks like tears streaming down faces, hands being held, blankets being pulled over heads, boredom, loneliness, paranoia, tough conversations, and facing our mortality on a day to day basis.

But the image of a confused, petrified young man, who has more questions than answers, wouldn’t exactly rake in the donations. So cancer gets glamorized into this enemy that we have to beat. Cancer is very much abstract, it’s difficult to conceptualize. This battle mentality is something for us to grasp on to. It’s something that we can digest and understand. I get it. And I know treating cancer is literally killing parts of ourselves. I just think the messaging could be done in a way that’s less detrimental to the psyche of us that actually have to deal with it.

This win or lose, “be positive or I’m a failure”, “don’t let cancer win” mentality programmed me even before my diagnosis. That’s why I thought I had to act tough, gut it out and beat this thing at all costs when I broke the news with my Instagram post. Right after I got diagnosed I was adamant about things not changing. My life would stay the same. I would stay the same. The things I do and want to do would stay the same. Because that’s what I thought “not letting cancer win” was all about. I thought I had to be Mr. Tough-Guy and make it seem like my life wasn’t falling apart. It was a noble effort but it was also a bit delusional.

In Greek mythology, the figure Sisyphus is punished for cheating death. He is stuck in the underworld eternally pushing this huge stone up a hill. And every time he gets to the top, the rock ends up tumbling back down the hill. Living with cancer and trying to get my old life back was kind of like that. For a while there, my rock was unbearably heavy and the hill was getting steeper by the day. I believed that I just had to get this thing over the top and my life would be back to what it was. I struggled, really struggled, doing that. So I eventually decided to do something different instead. I let the rock fall. I bottomed out. I started over. I realized that there were lighter rocks with less steep hills I could go up.

My CML is under control for now. But, if it ends up killing me don’t you dare say I “lost my battle”. In my opinion, there’s not an ounce of honor in that. And it’s no way to remember the tragic circumstances of one’s passing. Nobody dies of cancer because they didn’t try hard enough. But that’s what saying they “lost their battle” suggests. It implies they should have done something different.

If we follow this logic, that death is a loss and living is a win, which it’s not, but if it was, my record would be 561-0 as of this writing. And thousands of others have a better record and tougher matchup than I do. So why do we not say someone won their battle with cancer each and everyday they wake up in the morning? I mean, guys, come on, I’m undefeated so far. Shouldn’t there have been like a parade or something by now?

Life is not a win, lose scenario, it’s much more complex than that. But, we don’t have to wait until our loved ones are dead to honor them. We can tell them how much they mean to us and how much we love them right now! Let’s celebrate small victories together while we still have that chance. And to those living with cancer, try and give yourself credit for all the small things you do each day, because, as most of us know, cancer is truly an individual experience. So be sure to tell yourself “I love you” each chance you get.

I don’t mean to offend anyone who regards cancer as a fight or a battle. As there is no right or wrong way to go about this. Everyone needs to do what works for them. If channeling that warrior spirit is what keeps you going, awesome, keep going for it! I can only speak for myself.

The most perplexing part of cancer is that my body did this to itself. My body is attacking itself. Like, what? Excuse me? These cells I’m trying to destroy are my own, they’re me. They’re not some foreign object or enemy across the field from me. THEY ARE ME. At my very core. Does that mean I want them to grow and multiply. Hell no! I want these suckers out and gone forever. But making an enemy out of them, to me, means I’m making an enemy out of myself. And that’s something I will not do.

Cancer is a terrible thing. Probably the worst thing. The point of this post is not to argue otherwise. We should do everything we can to eradicate cancer from as many lives as possible. But the language we use, and the messages we push, in order to get that done should be given more thought. We should be more careful and purposeful with our language surrounding cancer. The battle mentality conditions everyone, diagnosed or not. I think it’s possible to raise these funds without needing to make cancer the enemy. Let’s be better than where we’re at right now. Let’s learn to accept these horrendous conditions without vilifying them.

I don’t need to go to war with my body. I’m not a fighter or a warrior. I’m sick, and I’m just trying to do the best that I can. I need to continually replenish my will to keep going, which is not the same as fighting for me. I actually need the antithesis of a fighter’s attitude to get this done. I do this by practicing compassion and love and understanding and acceptance of the thing that I already hate the most, being in this situation in the first place. And a battle mentality is a direct roadblock to this happening, at least it is for me.

If there is one thing cancer has taught me, it’s been to love myself unconditionally. Faulty stem cells and all. Of course I’m not successful at this all the time, but I’m trying. Before I leave my room each day, this reminder is the last thing I see.

Thanks for reading!