How Did We Get Here?

soccerfreaks said:

"This ain't no disco! This ain't no party!"
(Talking Heads reference)

I join catcon and, I am sure, others in expressing condolensces for your loss. The question you ask, I think, is not so dissimilar to ones more familiar to me: Why me? Why us?

My answer, for what it is worth, is that it is what it is.

By that I mean that cancer, for all of its catastrophic results, seems to have one commonality among all of us: it has no bias. It takes the rich, the poor, black, white, male, female, all ages, all sexual preferences, all religious and a-religious, all nationalities, all professions. And it seems to have no regard for timing, as you point out.

It is what it is. As a biological event, as it were, it cannot be unfair or immoral. It does not think. It merely DOES. It takes us, it takes our loved ones, it takes our friends, it takes our co-workers it takes the relatives of those we care for, it takes our heroes and icons, and it takes people we never knew and never will know, but whose loved ones will be hurt as much as you have been hurt, nonetheless. Whether it is environmental, behavioral, or genetic (or some combination of these), it gets what it comes for, in general.

And it takes more than that, too often. If it does not take us, it sometimes takes our well-being, takes our happiness, takes our security, takes our very relationships at times. It takes our naivite, it takes our innocence, it takes our sense of immortality, it takes our very lives, in a sense, as they become so very different, whether survivor or caregiver.

If we let it.

This is the one aspect of the experience we CAN have control over, I think. We can insist that it NOT take our hope, our humor, our lives, our relationships from us. We can do whatever we need to do to ensure that there is at least one positive result of the cancer, that we RELISH in this new-found understanding of our mortality, and that we live in a way that celebrates our lost loved ones (or even the near loss of ourselves).

We can NOT let cancer have more than it is biologically designed to take.

This ain't no disco, this ain't no party, that's for sure. But if we can get through it, as survivors or as caregivers, with the ability to move on as NEW and IMPROVED human beings, we will have prevented it from taking what it is not designed to take, and we will be much better for it.

It is not easy: This ain't no fooling around. But with some personal and sincere effort, we can do it, hope. I see it in this joint every day, marvelous examples of people refusing to let cancer have what they insist it cannot have.

I wish you the best.

Take care,

Joe

soccerfreaks said:

"This ain't no disco! This ain't no party!"
(Talking Heads reference)

I join catcon and, I am sure, others in expressing condolensces for your loss. The question you ask, I think, is not so dissimilar to ones more familiar to me: Why me? Why us?

My answer, for what it is worth, is that it is what it is.

By that I mean that cancer, for all of its catastrophic results, seems to have one commonality among all of us: it has no bias. It takes the rich, the poor, black, white, male, female, all ages, all sexual preferences, all religious and a-religious, all nationalities, all professions. And it seems to have no regard for timing, as you point out.

It is what it is. As a biological event, as it were, it cannot be unfair or immoral. It does not think. It merely DOES. It takes us, it takes our loved ones, it takes our friends, it takes our co-workers it takes the relatives of those we care for, it takes our heroes and icons, and it takes people we never knew and never will know, but whose loved ones will be hurt as much as you have been hurt, nonetheless. Whether it is environmental, behavioral, or genetic (or some combination of these), it gets what it comes for, in general.

And it takes more than that, too often. If it does not take us, it sometimes takes our well-being, takes our happiness, takes our security, takes our very relationships at times. It takes our naivite, it takes our innocence, it takes our sense of immortality, it takes our very lives, in a sense, as they become so very different, whether survivor or caregiver.

If we let it.

This is the one aspect of the experience we CAN have control over, I think. We can insist that it NOT take our hope, our humor, our lives, our relationships from us. We can do whatever we need to do to ensure that there is at least one positive result of the cancer, that we RELISH in this new-found understanding of our mortality, and that we live in a way that celebrates our lost loved ones (or even the near loss of ourselves).

We can NOT let cancer have more than it is biologically designed to take.

This ain't no disco, this ain't no party, that's for sure. But if we can get through it, as survivors or as caregivers, with the ability to move on as NEW and IMPROVED human beings, we will have prevented it from taking what it is not designed to take, and we will be much better for it.

It is not easy: This ain't no fooling around. But with some personal and sincere effort, we can do it, hope. I see it in this joint every day, marvelous examples of people refusing to let cancer have what they insist it cannot have.

I wish you the best.

Take care,

Joe

soccerfreaks said:

"This ain't no disco! This ain't no party!"
(Talking Heads reference)

I join catcon and, I am sure, others in expressing condolensces for your loss. The question you ask, I think, is not so dissimilar to ones more familiar to me: Why me? Why us?

My answer, for what it is worth, is that it is what it is.

By that I mean that cancer, for all of its catastrophic results, seems to have one commonality among all of us: it has no bias. It takes the rich, the poor, black, white, male, female, all ages, all sexual preferences, all religious and a-religious, all nationalities, all professions. And it seems to have no regard for timing, as you point out.

It is what it is. As a biological event, as it were, it cannot be unfair or immoral. It does not think. It merely DOES. It takes us, it takes our loved ones, it takes our friends, it takes our co-workers it takes the relatives of those we care for, it takes our heroes and icons, and it takes people we never knew and never will know, but whose loved ones will be hurt as much as you have been hurt, nonetheless. Whether it is environmental, behavioral, or genetic (or some combination of these), it gets what it comes for, in general.

And it takes more than that, too often. If it does not take us, it sometimes takes our well-being, takes our happiness, takes our security, takes our very relationships at times. It takes our naivite, it takes our innocence, it takes our sense of immortality, it takes our very lives, in a sense, as they become so very different, whether survivor or caregiver.

If we let it.

This is the one aspect of the experience we CAN have control over, I think. We can insist that it NOT take our hope, our humor, our lives, our relationships from us. We can do whatever we need to do to ensure that there is at least one positive result of the cancer, that we RELISH in this new-found understanding of our mortality, and that we live in a way that celebrates our lost loved ones (or even the near loss of ourselves).

We can NOT let cancer have more than it is biologically designed to take.

This ain't no disco, this ain't no party, that's for sure. But if we can get through it, as survivors or as caregivers, with the ability to move on as NEW and IMPROVED human beings, we will have prevented it from taking what it is not designed to take, and we will be much better for it.

It is not easy: This ain't no fooling around. But with some personal and sincere effort, we can do it, hope. I see it in this joint every day, marvelous examples of people refusing to let cancer have what they insist it cannot have.

I wish you the best.

Take care,

Joe

soccerfreaks said:

"This ain't no disco! This ain't no party!"
(Talking Heads reference)

I join catcon and, I am sure, others in expressing condolensces for your loss. The question you ask, I think, is not so dissimilar to ones more familiar to me: Why me? Why us?

My answer, for what it is worth, is that it is what it is.

By that I mean that cancer, for all of its catastrophic results, seems to have one commonality among all of us: it has no bias. It takes the rich, the poor, black, white, male, female, all ages, all sexual preferences, all religious and a-religious, all nationalities, all professions. And it seems to have no regard for timing, as you point out.

It is what it is. As a biological event, as it were, it cannot be unfair or immoral. It does not think. It merely DOES. It takes us, it takes our loved ones, it takes our friends, it takes our co-workers it takes the relatives of those we care for, it takes our heroes and icons, and it takes people we never knew and never will know, but whose loved ones will be hurt as much as you have been hurt, nonetheless. Whether it is environmental, behavioral, or genetic (or some combination of these), it gets what it comes for, in general.

And it takes more than that, too often. If it does not take us, it sometimes takes our well-being, takes our happiness, takes our security, takes our very relationships at times. It takes our naivite, it takes our innocence, it takes our sense of immortality, it takes our very lives, in a sense, as they become so very different, whether survivor or caregiver.

If we let it.

This is the one aspect of the experience we CAN have control over, I think. We can insist that it NOT take our hope, our humor, our lives, our relationships from us. We can do whatever we need to do to ensure that there is at least one positive result of the cancer, that we RELISH in this new-found understanding of our mortality, and that we live in a way that celebrates our lost loved ones (or even the near loss of ourselves).

We can NOT let cancer have more than it is biologically designed to take.

This ain't no disco, this ain't no party, that's for sure. But if we can get through it, as survivors or as caregivers, with the ability to move on as NEW and IMPROVED human beings, we will have prevented it from taking what it is not designed to take, and we will be much better for it.

It is not easy: This ain't no fooling around. But with some personal and sincere effort, we can do it, hope. I see it in this joint every day, marvelous examples of people refusing to let cancer have what they insist it cannot have.

I wish you the best.

Take care,

Joe