I don’t take ‘The Herald’ very often but some articles were flagged up for Saturday’s edition that I thought might be of interest. In the end, though, it was an article in the Magazine that engaged me most. It was written by Fidelma Cook who I believe has a regular column. In Saturday’s offering she mentions in passing her ‘cancer musings’. A wee bit of googling and I discover that last year she was diagnosed with ‘fast-acting metastatic lung cancer.’ In other words, it’s spreading fast.
It happens. You don’t want to be defined by your cancer. You don’t want to feel or be perceived as a ‘cancer victim’ and yet you hear of other people and their experience and you are drawn in.
A few weeks ago a member of the minister’s reading group I am a part of mentioned a book by an American theologian named Todd Billings about the importance of facing your own mortality. Again some googling and it seems this man has written another book called Rejoicing In Lament. My first thought is that this is a cheerful sort of chappie! But then I see the subtitle: ‘Wrestling with Incurable Cancer & Life In Christ.’ So I am hooked - and even more so when I discover that the cancer in question is Multiple Myeloma.
Todd was diagnosed at the age of 39 which is unusually young for a Myeloma sufferer. His was a more advanced case than mine but I could identify with his experience of chemotherapy, stem-cell transplantation and the continuing regular blood tests. It was also helpful to see him bring his wide theological learning to bear on his experience. I may write more about this in a future blog.
Again recently, I was brought into touch into touch with a Milngavie lady who was 6 months ahead of me in stem-cell transplant treatment. There was a long telephone conversation, sharing experiences, hopes, anxieties.
It’s like this when you have an experience in common with others. In the midst of all the things that you might share with others and define who you are - race, gender, class, education, faith - there is this experience of lives touching at a deep level.
It seems a long time ago but after my second chemo Gabrielle and I were in the Beatson Cafe and we met a Milngavie man and his wife. He was waiting for a rehabilitation place in St Margaret’s Hospice. Four people with different lives but bound together by cancer. It made me think of John Reid’s book later made into a movie, The Fault In Our Stars. It’s the story of two teenagers, Hazel and Augustus, who come together through their common experience of cancer. Hazel describes themselves as citizens in ‘the Republic of Cancervania.‘ It’s like that. When you are in the Beatson so many people pass you by. You don’t know them, perhaps will never see them again, but you have this disease in common.
It’s difficult to actually put it into words but there is a reassurance in this. You are not alone in your experience and talking and listening can bring strength. This points me to the ultimate assurance that we find in all our suffering which is that Jesus has gone before us into the dark valleys of human experience. I’ve often turned to these words:
‘Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.’ (Hebrews 4: 14-16.)
