Thursday, September 9, 2010

Put to the Test


I just found out that my Dad has prostate cancer, or as the country folks call it, "prostrate cancer". That knowledge was on my mind as I woke up, unable to return to sleep. I don't know what to think about this. I don't know what I should think about this.


Cancer these days is about death, not hope. All those license plates, all those bumper stickers, all those magnets and t-shirts, and what people think about when the topic of cancer comes up is death. That is because it is still the second biggest killer in America, just under heart disease. It also affects everyone, not just the elderly. Knowing this, when people hear the news that they have cancer, it is tantamount to a death sentence, and usually one not likely to experience parole.


I'm not afraid of death. I don't look forward to an unpleasant death, especially one that follows a lengthy illness, but I have no fear of the beyond. My only anxiety would be for what I leave behind: my family. I want to see them as far down the road as I can. I think my father feels the same way. My stepmother lost her youngest son to colon cancer a couple of years ago, at the young age of 27. Any anxiety at this point is mostly hers. If he has any, I'm guessing it is all on her behalf.


My mother died exactly ten years ago from a stroke. It was sudden and shocking, not prefaced by illness or obviously poor health. That's what most of us hope for: drifting off into eternity in our sleep, not wasting away in a bed, awaiting the knock of the Grim Reaper. Cancer usually offers only that:  your life ebbing away, your last days alive void of living. 


I'm thankful for hope in the life after this one. I'm thankful that the specter of The Big C cannot frighten me, yet I understand how people can be frightened about the arrival of the cancer into their lives. An unknown future of suffering a death of unknown proportions. The fear of an unknown future beyond the grave. Without hope, that would be a frightening prospect and a dark, long tunnel. Considering all of this, it's nice to know that if you're forced into that tunnel you won't be walking through the dark alone.