‘“Fighting cancer” is an expression that does not sit easily with me.’ Photo: by Olga Kononenko on Unsplash
Ill, at ease: Barrie Mahoney on dealing with terminal cancer
‘A cancer cell’s determination fascinates me.’
Following my ‘Travelling hopefully’ article (13 May), I have received a number of emails, enquiries and comments asking for more information about how I am dealing with my terminal illness. They usually ask if I am having counselling or other support. My answer is that I usually find what I need within my ‘reserve bank’ of Quaker wisdom and beliefs, together with the love and support of my partner, family and friends. Since my diagnosis in October 2021, I have experienced much the same rollercoaster of emotions as many other sufferers. I have no answers, but I hope that retelling my limited experiences will be of some help to others in my position.
A good friend of ours passed into the Light recently, after dealing with cancer bravely for many years. Although we had only corresponded spasmodically over the last thirty years or so, we counted Bob as a good friend. I recall his last letter to me – one that he had written shortly after hearing of my own cancer diagnosis. I remember one sentence with clarity because, at that time, I was a little puzzled by what he meant: ‘We each deal with cancer in our unique way.’ Several months into the cancer journey, I think I now know what he was getting at.
Following a medical diagnosis, particularly of the terminal kind, there comes a period of acute distress, followed by denial, and then often by anger. If we are fortunate, a kind of dull acceptance comes next, often coupled with a determination to fight on. I cannot speak for everyone, of course, but this is my experience so far. Much, of course, depends upon one’s personal faith (or maybe lack of it), the love and support from family and friends, and the individual circumstances in which we find ourselves. We all hope that, in time, we are given the strength to deal with whatever is finally waiting for us.
I have found that after a diagnosis of cancer has been given, many recipients are either in denial – and try to put the issue at the back of their minds until they are ready, or forced, to deal with it – or they gratefully accept advice and support from whoever is offering it. In my case, I am blessed with an oncologist who understands, and appreciates, my need to be told the unvarnished truth with as much clarity as possible. I am supported by a wonderful, caring group of nurses and ancillary staff. They all do their best to answer my endless questions, while retaining both humour, compassion and professionalism in their supportive words. The cancer charity Macmillan also supports patients brilliantly with excellent information and assistance whenever they can.
Following my own diagnosis, I did as much research as I could on the internet. I quickly realised that one cannot trust many websites or the information given on them. Spurious claims of wonder drugs and alternative therapies are freely available, and I quickly learned to rely only on the NHS and other reputable organisations like Macmillan. I also read a lot, particularly about the personal experiences of those living with cancer. Not all were helpful in my search for information, however, particularly about dealing with approaching death, which, as a society, we are very bad at acknowledging and facing realistically.
I recall one book in particular. About half way through, I became so irritated with the author that I could not bear to finish it. The writer’s unique way of dealing with her own advanced cancer was to unleash her anger and bitterness upon those who were trying to help. She claimed that only attending those appointments that fitted into her own busy diary, and demanding personal detailed explanations of all scans, tests and drugs (as well as being generally unreasonable to all those that she came into contact with), empowered her, and gave her the strength to fight her cancer. Some of her demands may not seem unreasonable to everyone, but within the scope of an exceptionally busy, overworked and underfunded NHS, they seemed so to me. The author was clearly very unhappy and troubled, and had yet to come to terms with the inevitable. I hope writing the book helped with her anger and eventually resulted in acceptance and peace.
One of the reasons that I objected to the author’s anger, so vehemently expressed, was that, as a Quaker, I try to avoid conflict whenever possible. ‘Fighting cancer’ is an expression that does not sit easily with me. This is not to say that I do not get angry and depressed. I do, but I try to channel it in a positive way, recognising that in some ways I am fortunate in knowing the approximate timing of my departure. I am able to plan and prepare in the best way that I can for my partner, making the choices and decisions that I want to make for myself, as well as hopefully avoiding the curse of dementia, or worse.
I also try to look at cancer as an organism in a positive way. Of course, I do not welcome its invasion into my body. But I also have to remember that it is a God-created organism, created in a similar way to ourselves. The organism lives with its main purpose of reproducing itself as quickly and efficiently as possible. As far as I am aware, cancer cells do not wittingly intend to create untold damage to other cells and kill off the host body; they are presumably unaware of the consequences of their invasion. In many ways, the lifecycle of a cancer cell has some similarity with all animal life. Its determination fascinates me, because, as one cancer expert recently told me, it ‘always finds its way around the treatments that we use to try to control it. As yet, it won’t be controlled, and it nearly always finds a way through’.
As I progress through my cancer journey, I have come to understand Bob’s words. In some ways, I am grateful for the clarity and understanding that an end-of-life situation can bring. Of course, I would prefer not to be in this position, but we have to deal with whatever circumstances that we find ourselves in. A Quaker perspective is both positive and helpful, which has added clarity and meaning to my life.
