Happiness Is Not a Bowl of Cancer Cells
I came down with some bizarre, transitory illness last night—fever, headache, and chills, cured with a single Extra Strength Tylenol—and therefore didn't have a chance to read most of yesterday's newspaper, so I missed Jane Brody's "Personal Health" column in The New York Times.
It's called "Thriving After Life's Bum Rap," and it opens with a very provocative question:
Can getting cancer make you happy?
Brody goes on to cite many cancer veterans who answer with a resounding "Yes!"—people who found perspective or peace or purpose after their diagnoses.
I am not one of those people.
Cancer did not make me happy.
Cancer did not make Zach or my family or any of my friends happy.
Cancer sucked the first time and sucked even more the second time.
Has cancer been a character-building experience?
Maybe. But I think my character was pretty solid before, and I wasn't exactly in the market for a renovation.
I get that people find silver linings where they can and that sometimes a life-threatening (or at least -altering) experience can reshuffle priorities that might have been out of whack. I realize that there are life lessons to be learned from the trials we endure.
But it has always rankled me to hear someone say, "Cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me."
I do not mean to be unkind, but really? The best thing?
Do people just not get out enough?
To me, that line sounds like something a screenwriter inserted into a third-rate melodrama, to be shot in extreme close-up through a Vaseline-coated lens. I have to wonder how it escaped the screen and made its way—unchallenged—into popular culture.
Think about the words people dream of hearing:
"I love you!"
"You're hired!
"You've won!"
"It's a girl!" or "It's a boy!"
But not "You have cancer!"
Not for one second.
So while I salute anyone who has found a way to salvage something positive from a visit to Cancerland, I cannot accept the proposition that a rational person would actually choose to make the trip.
Take it from me: the terrain is rocky, the food is lousy, and the souvenirs suck.
It's called "Thriving After Life's Bum Rap," and it opens with a very provocative question:
Can getting cancer make you happy?
Brody goes on to cite many cancer veterans who answer with a resounding "Yes!"—people who found perspective or peace or purpose after their diagnoses.
I am not one of those people.
Cancer did not make me happy.
Cancer did not make Zach or my family or any of my friends happy.
Cancer sucked the first time and sucked even more the second time.
Has cancer been a character-building experience?
Maybe. But I think my character was pretty solid before, and I wasn't exactly in the market for a renovation.
I get that people find silver linings where they can and that sometimes a life-threatening (or at least -altering) experience can reshuffle priorities that might have been out of whack. I realize that there are life lessons to be learned from the trials we endure.
But it has always rankled me to hear someone say, "Cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me."
I do not mean to be unkind, but really? The best thing?
Do people just not get out enough?
To me, that line sounds like something a screenwriter inserted into a third-rate melodrama, to be shot in extreme close-up through a Vaseline-coated lens. I have to wonder how it escaped the screen and made its way—unchallenged—into popular culture.
Think about the words people dream of hearing:
"I love you!"
"You're hired!
"You've won!"
"It's a girl!" or "It's a boy!"
But not "You have cancer!"
Not for one second.
So while I salute anyone who has found a way to salvage something positive from a visit to Cancerland, I cannot accept the proposition that a rational person would actually choose to make the trip.
Take it from me: the terrain is rocky, the food is lousy, and the souvenirs suck.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 7:20 PM
6 Comments:
Amen!!!
Cousin Janie
Dear Jodi-
I'm going to try to send you a copy of an editorial I wrote after a recent "Cancer as a Turning Point" conference here in Greenville. I hope that the thoughts expressed there help you to understand what I will call the spiritual perspective behind this comment.
As I wrote there the human body is not big enough to absorb the impact of cancer and its treatments without damage. But the human soul is large enough to do so and even to triumph.
Best of luck,
Hope Murtaugh
Apologies for misspelling your name in the post above! Brain glitch . . . .
Hope
Cannot imagine anyone said having cancer is the best thing. My mum had breast cancer 2 years ago. Though she was definitely the one who suffered physically, mentally and emotionally, I wasn't spared as her main caregiver. Lots of things I knew from the doctors were kept from her. I desperately wanted to shield her from more pain. I was crying inside but putting a bold front for her. Every follow-up is a silent prayer that she is clear.
Recently, she couldn't move from waist down and her doctor found 2 growths at the spinal cord. The doctor suspected the cancer cells had spread. I kept from her and cried my heart out that very night. Fortunately those were found to be benign after the surgery report. Until then, I did not have a moment of peace.
I can empathize with cancer patients and their love ones for all the pains they have to go through. Even at the darkest moment, I told myself there has to be silver lining behind a dark cloud because when the Lord closes a door, he opens a window somewhere.
Stay strong, stay optimistic.
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Well said.
Cancer may do many things (and, granted, not all of them bad), but the best thing ever to happen? Purlease.
LL
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