The First Evil

Re-bingeing Buffy recently, I was reminded of one of my favorite articles about cancer:  The Most Powerful Carcinogen is Entropy, which is another way of saying what I always say: "That's what happens when you stay alive."

Keeping in mind that I am not a scientist and don't play one on TV, it seems to me that cancer is practically built into the biological model.  It's a consequence of numbers.  Some cells are bound to fail and when they do they will become cancerous.  Then, cancer, the next in succession, will take over and grow.   Cancer is practically built into the gene code of life on earth.  There are exceptions, like elephants.  But elephants should be the exception because they are so awesome (I  did say NON-scientist).

At this point I want to issue a warning:  DO NOT LISTEN TO ANTI-CANCER EVANGELISTS.  They are selling something, even if it's just their own fear.  "Staying active" will not defeat cancer.  I've always been very active.  "Staying away from sugar" is not a magic solution, either, although it will give you prettier teeth.  Staying in tree pose and eating bundles of kale will not cure or prevent cancer, although it could give you a wicked case of the runs.  People are afraid and want simple solutions.  Scientists know better.  And cancer doesn't come from plastic.  Dinosaurs had cancer.

In this way, cancer is like Buffy's First Evil.  It's as old as life itself, it works against life, and especially like mine, glio blastoma, with a 100% recurrence rate, it always comes back.  Thing is, that's not important.  It's not important how you fight the First Evil.  The important thing is to not let it steal the good from life.

(spoiler ahead, if you've been "saving" Buffy's finale...)

Buffy gets to this conclusion in a brilliant way: creating community through the sharing of power.  In this way, she essentially becomes immortal, being the only Slayer to think of sharing her power with all the world's potential Slayers, and thus changing the rules forever(side note: she  does this with her best friend, sending Willow the witch on a journey where, Gandalf-like, she becomes Willow the White rather than Dark Willow, and they together break all the rules in a magical-power move).

Anyone who gets a horrible diagnosis and refuses to let it steal their joy is changing the rules.  It's the true "battle" people talk about.  I admonish people who say, "She lost her battle with cancer", because you don't lose  battle with a tsunami.  As much as any other natural disaster, cancer is just nature doing what nature does.  It's indefatigable, it's eternal, and it never goes away.  You can kick its ass now and then, send it scurrying back to the shadows, but it will amass its forces and return-that you can count on.  But again, that doesn't matter.  

What matters is life.  The real "battle" is about keeping your joy.

And it's tricky.  For me, it's a balance of radical acceptance and a radical renegotiation with life on my own terms.  I accept that my life expectancy is reduced, but I also now have very stringent boundaries about my time.  I do not spend too much time doing bureaucrat's paperwork for them, for instance.  If a doctor's office tells me to call someone, I find a polite way to tell them to do it.  There are few people I won't listen to, but the ones I won't lend an ear to I escape from promptly even if I try to be polite about it. But I have unlimited time for beloved friends.    

I've found I need a balance of courage and realism combined with a kind of cavalier attitude toward what other people consider serious concerns that used to oppress me; I carry a secret ambition to free other people from their own unrelenting standards in the gentlest possible way..  I have had to release myself from the clock(now that I don't have to work, I refuse to work) and the spreadsheet and the grim standards of the fashion/lifestyle  magazines.  I've decided to be willing to dress sometimes clownishly on purpose, to laugh loudly, to eat ice cream when I damn well want it, although I also eat a lot of healthy food because it makes me generally feel better.  I talk to everybody as if they matter, because everyone does, and I love the way that makes me feel.  I have always felt this way, but now I am much more intentional and deliberate about it.  What matters to me is people.  Not money, not standards, not any other bullshit, but people, and of course animals, and the earth, the sky, the water, the sacred world that holds us.

This balance helps me stay mostly within my joy, even if the shadows do move across my day at times, and I still stop to cry at times and grieve my life PT (pre-tumor).  There's a loss of innocence I grieve there, not only in the knowledge of the impending loss of my own mind and freedom and health and self-determination, but the innocence of living without that shadow over my shoulder.  This is absolutely worth grieving.  

I faulted myself for this at first, had shame for my weeping.  I never will again..  It's a grievous loss, and I no longer need anyone else to help me justify that. I truly understand the scope of it now, and I can truly lay a compassionate hand on my own shoulder without any embarrassment.

Buffy wouldn't be embarrassed.