War and Peace

"I've spent too many years at war with myself,
The doctor has told me, it's no good for my health."
Sting

Cancer is war, or so I thought. I was a boxer, in the ring, blocking body blows, going to the mat, and standing up for the next round, angry, defiant, in a deathmatch with a threatening rival. But then I met Jim at lunch in the cafeteria of Cancer Treatment Centers of America and he says: Cancer is not a fight; it is a surrender. And I realized that cancer is also a surrender, a letting go, a love for your entire body, your entire life, cancer and all.

Although there may be a time for it, war is the failure of diplomacy. Fight is one half of the stress-producing response of fight for flight. Stress breaks the immune system, encouraging cancer. Cancer asks us to make peace, to forgive, to relax, to let go, to surrender, to change.

Cancer is not war or peace. It is a knife's edge between life and death, pain and serenity, good and evil. All of this is inside ourselves. We are a mix of black and white plumage like the magpie. We are tresspassers and tresspassed upon. Tresspass often leads to war, and cancer with its squatters city setting up camp in a healthy body appears to be itching for a fight. But we learn to say, "Forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive the tresspasses of others."

I will show courage, strength, fortitude. I will stand firm in the face of the oncoming hatred, like Martin Luther King, Jr., but I will not go to war. And, deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome some day.

Fasting and Cancer

Since I am on a bit of an enforced juice fast, I thought I'd see if it might have some beneficial effect. Part of me thinks that perhaps starving the body could starve the cancer, and I've long had an intuition that it might help. It seems logical but not everything about cancer follows logic, as you know. The results are mixed on whether fasting (water or juice) helps or hurts. The official word from the American Cancer Society is that fasting could be dangerous to your health, and can actually promote the growth of some tumors. This is based on available medical evidence, which I don't think is extensive.

Now that the official word is out of the way, there are some interesting research studies and anecdotal evidence. First, a fascinating study reported in WebMD found that fasting for a few days before chemotherapy may improve its effect while shielding healthy cells. Published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, the research speculated that "starved healthy cells to go into a hibernation-like mode that produces extreme resistance to stress. But cancerous cells don't obey those cues and remain stuck in growth mode." This protects healthy cells and might allow for higher doses of chemo against the cancerous cells. These results are still preliminary but quite interesting because the starvation appears to target healthy and cancerous cells in different ways.

Moving further afield, there are some anecdotal reports of success with fasting, including a story by Sammy Hoffard who claims to have been cured of stage 4 ovarian cancer as a result of a 10-day juice fast, as well as prayer. Three of four tumors disappeared and the fourth was then surgically removed, and Sammy remained cancer free, although it is uncertain how long. This information is on a site by Ron Laquerquist who has a book Fasting to Freedom on the beneficial effects of fasting, and claims that "fasting will break down tumors." This statement is completely unverified, as far as I know, but I have not read the book. Laquerquist recommends a specific approach to fasting combining water and juice fasting for up to 40 days, something many medical experts would consider dangerous. But certainly Gandhi went for as long as three weeks, and others have done long fasts for spiritual reasons, and survived. Chemotherapy, surgery and radiation are not particularly good for your health. Among the other claims about fasting are that it alkalizes the body. More to come as I find it, or feel free to comment if you know anything about this.

In the meantime, I am going to assume that my body in its infinite wisdom does not want me to eat now for some reason, perhaps physical and perhaps only to purify my soul in the time-honored tradition of fasting. And, of course, now I am an experiment of one so I'll keep track of how my "fast" progresses.

It Takes a Lot More Than That To Kill A Bull Moose!

It is a fight. For the past week, food goes down and it comes up again, violently, knocking me to the bathroom floor like a boxer slumped in the corner, bucket by his side, panting. All night, off and on. It only stops when I don't eat.

The trainer slaps my face. The bell rings again. Round Two. Out again, into the fight. I didn't ask for this fight, but here I am, and I intend to win -- or at least go the distance and face my judgment.

And when my shuffling feet slow, I think about a story of Teddy Roosevelt. Before a speech to a packed hall, he was shot by an assassin in the audience. The bullet went through his folded remarks in his breast pocket, grazed his metal glasses case and entered his chest. He sat down for a moment, urged to quit the stage and seek medical treatment. Then he stood, blood on his shirt, a bullet inside him, unfolded his remarks, with two bullet holes through the sheets, and started his speech to the stunned audience with the comment: It takes more than that to kill a bull moose!

Roosevelt shouldn't have been standing there at all. He was a sickly child, told by his father when he was 11 that he had a strong mind but a weak body. His father said, "You have to make your body." The young TR said: I will make my body. And he did. He engaged in the strenuous life. As an undergraduate at Harvard, a doctor told Roosevelt that he had a weak heart and unless he lived a very quiet life, he would only have a couple years to live. He lived to be 60 and rode with the Rough Riders, served as president, spent a year hunting in Africa, launched one of the most successful third party bids for the

Publish Post

White House, and discovered an unexplored river in South America. Quiet life indeed! His experience shows that it is truly possible to "make your body" with determination and will.

Up off the floor, out of the corner, back into the fight. It takes a lot more than that to kill a bull moose!

Playing for Keeps

If cancer is playing for keeps, so am I. None of this half-ass, tepid, partway change. No more dabbling at diets, sipping Essiac tea, listening to tapes, playing at meditation, pretending to change. Less time reading about diets; more time eating better. Less time in superficial smiles; more time in deep bellylaughs. Less dying; more living. Less worry; more prayer.

In her song, "Change," Tracy Chapman asks:

If you knew that you would die today,
Saw the face of God and love,
Would you change?
. . .
How bad, how good does it need to get?
How many losses? How much regret?

Don't make her ask again. Cancer is a message to change. It is not a message to think about change. I don't know what the outcome will be, not of this, not of any of it. Those decisions are way above my pay grade. All I can do is put my heart into it, play for keeps.

Like a dog, cancer can sense your fear. I hear the growl, feel the hot breath and see bared teeth. But do you see my teeth, now? I am not smiling. I am laughing. I am not afraid. Fear is a distraction from the work, the real work of living, here and now, the real work of playing for keeps.

No retreat, no surrender, no regrets.