I Know Someone With Cancer
Cancer Success Story... This essay is inspired by the story of a Mr. James “Rhio” O’Connor, a man who was diagnosed with mesothelioma and, although he was expected to pass within a year, managed to live for another six years with the help of alternative treatments. If you would like to learn more about Mr. O’Connor and the specific cancer he had, go to http://www.survivingmesothelioma.com/ What follows is a personal account of my life relevant to the subject of cancer.
I cannot say I would know what it is like to be diagnosed with any kind of cancer. However, just his past year I came as close to knowing as I hope I ever will. I am currently twenty and I was nineteen when this had happened. I was at my mother’s house spending time with my nephew when my father showed up (both he and my mother had been separated since I was a year old). It was unexpected and my mother and father asked me to go into a different room to talk to me. I left my nephew alone to play a game by himself, but I knew something was wrong. I sat down and my parents sat on either side of me. I did not know what was going on and I did not expect what I heard. Trying to pass it off as not being too serious, my father told me he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He said it was rather serious, such that going untreated could lead to it metastasizing and it would be fatal. I was genuinely frightened of the thought of losing my father, but my parents told me I took it well. I try to have a positive outlook on things, and sometimes that means justifying not wanting to think about something by pretending to be calm about it.
It was a short time of uncertainty until I learned that there was a surgery that could be done to remove the prostate before the cancer spread and, thus (hopefully), get rid of the cancer. I was all for it; if it worked it was worth losing parts instead of a whole. However, I soon found out that my brother did not feel the same. As a firm Christian, my brother did not trust many scientific processes because they went against nature. And though I share that perspective as well, there is a limit. I try to be as natural as possible, but I will not deny the scalpel when I have been shot and a bullet needs to come out in order for me to survive. My brother, having the best intentions, told our father that he thought the surgery was a big mistake. He felt that there were other ways that could work and offered multiple books full of health and diet ba<x>sed changes that could potentially treat the cancer. My father, of course loving my brother, considered the suggestion. Meanwhile, I felt so angry that about what had been done. I understood my brother’s feelings, but telling our father that his decision to have surgery was a big mistake had kept our father awake at night. He felt like it was a questioning of his judgment and it made him feel hurt. One of the most important things to have in that kind of situation is a positive attitude. I know that, even with small problems, having a good attitude helps more than having a bad one. Now, not only was the decision by our father halted because of my brother’s feelings, but we were considering for even the slightest second that we gamble with more natural treatments instead of surgery, which had a pretty good rate of success. And, with my father being in his mid-50’s and in-shape, his chances of making it through surgery were even greater. Luckily, even with that little detour, my father chose to have the surgery. Not only did that work, the doctors described it as very easy due to my father’s low body-fat. We saw him afterward, and I drove him home after he had stayed in the hospital for a few days. He had a catheter for a little while and missed work, but now he’s just fine and even back to playing tennis just about every week. He is another success story for cancer, and I am glad that everything worked out. We even laugh on occasion that the machine which operated on him was called a Da Vinci, a man we both have studied and can relate to.
Again, I do not know what it is like to receive such a diagnosis, either the one of my father or the one of Mr. O’Connor. However, I can imagine in my mind not only the sudden slap of mortality but also a sense of fearful optimism that you can and should live your life to the fullest. Even if it seems unrealistic, you don’t exactly have time to argue with yourself about logic and reason. And if you have as much of an accepting attitude as possible, that optimism just might get you through to a healthier state. Or, if nothing else, better to die with a smile on your face and happiness in your mind than with sadness and fear clouding your thoughts. I do know the cost of “professional” treatments, and the course taken by Mr. O’Connor sounds more natural. I cannot say which I would choose were I in such a situation, but I suppose it would depend upon the severity. And then, of course, there is the question of what is truly natural. Perhaps cancer appears as a natural process of growth. Some, sadly, experience it at young ages, but many at older ages. Humans are not designed to last long after the age of 40 or 50. So, if we are going to cheat nature by living longer than we normally would, should we adhere to what is “natural” in the face of death or continue to cheat it? As a scientist, an aspiring Anthropologist, and a naturalist, I find myself asking similar questions all the time. I suppose, because most people do not desire death, why not try any methods that might work? If surgery is not possible or logical, why not try other methods? Even if you fail, your chances of success are much better when you actually try. I certainly feel that alternative methods should be available to cancer patients because it is their life, not the doctor’s; they have the right to choose.
I cannot say I would know what it is like to be diagnosed with any kind of cancer. However, just his past year I came as close to knowing as I hope I ever will. I am currently twenty and I was nineteen when this had happened. I was at my mother’s house spending time with my nephew when my father showed up (both he and my mother had been separated since I was a year old). It was unexpected and my mother and father asked me to go into a different room to talk to me. I left my nephew alone to play a game by himself, but I knew something was wrong. I sat down and my parents sat on either side of me. I did not know what was going on and I did not expect what I heard. Trying to pass it off as not being too serious, my father told me he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He said it was rather serious, such that going untreated could lead to it metastasizing and it would be fatal. I was genuinely frightened of the thought of losing my father, but my parents told me I took it well. I try to have a positive outlook on things, and sometimes that means justifying not wanting to think about something by pretending to be calm about it.
It was a short time of uncertainty until I learned that there was a surgery that could be done to remove the prostate before the cancer spread and, thus (hopefully), get rid of the cancer. I was all for it; if it worked it was worth losing parts instead of a whole. However, I soon found out that my brother did not feel the same. As a firm Christian, my brother did not trust many scientific processes because they went against nature. And though I share that perspective as well, there is a limit. I try to be as natural as possible, but I will not deny the scalpel when I have been shot and a bullet needs to come out in order for me to survive. My brother, having the best intentions, told our father that he thought the surgery was a big mistake. He felt that there were other ways that could work and offered multiple books full of health and diet ba<x>sed changes that could potentially treat the cancer. My father, of course loving my brother, considered the suggestion. Meanwhile, I felt so angry that about what had been done. I understood my brother’s feelings, but telling our father that his decision to have surgery was a big mistake had kept our father awake at night. He felt like it was a questioning of his judgment and it made him feel hurt. One of the most important things to have in that kind of situation is a positive attitude. I know that, even with small problems, having a good attitude helps more than having a bad one. Now, not only was the decision by our father halted because of my brother’s feelings, but we were considering for even the slightest second that we gamble with more natural treatments instead of surgery, which had a pretty good rate of success. And, with my father being in his mid-50’s and in-shape, his chances of making it through surgery were even greater. Luckily, even with that little detour, my father chose to have the surgery. Not only did that work, the doctors described it as very easy due to my father’s low body-fat. We saw him afterward, and I drove him home after he had stayed in the hospital for a few days. He had a catheter for a little while and missed work, but now he’s just fine and even back to playing tennis just about every week. He is another success story for cancer, and I am glad that everything worked out. We even laugh on occasion that the machine which operated on him was called a Da Vinci, a man we both have studied and can relate to.
Again, I do not know what it is like to receive such a diagnosis, either the one of my father or the one of Mr. O’Connor. However, I can imagine in my mind not only the sudden slap of mortality but also a sense of fearful optimism that you can and should live your life to the fullest. Even if it seems unrealistic, you don’t exactly have time to argue with yourself about logic and reason. And if you have as much of an accepting attitude as possible, that optimism just might get you through to a healthier state. Or, if nothing else, better to die with a smile on your face and happiness in your mind than with sadness and fear clouding your thoughts. I do know the cost of “professional” treatments, and the course taken by Mr. O’Connor sounds more natural. I cannot say which I would choose were I in such a situation, but I suppose it would depend upon the severity. And then, of course, there is the question of what is truly natural. Perhaps cancer appears as a natural process of growth. Some, sadly, experience it at young ages, but many at older ages. Humans are not designed to last long after the age of 40 or 50. So, if we are going to cheat nature by living longer than we normally would, should we adhere to what is “natural” in the face of death or continue to cheat it? As a scientist, an aspiring Anthropologist, and a naturalist, I find myself asking similar questions all the time. I suppose, because most people do not desire death, why not try any methods that might work? If surgery is not possible or logical, why not try other methods? Even if you fail, your chances of success are much better when you actually try. I certainly feel that alternative methods should be available to cancer patients because it is their life, not the doctor’s; they have the right to choose.
31-35, M
