Does Cancer Have a Soul?

Cancer doesn’t have a soul, it doesn’t have a goal or a master plan.  It is nothing more than a group of duplicating cells that have somehow become exempt from destruction from their host immune system.  I know that cancer doesn’t have a desire to hurt, in fact it has no desires whatsoever, but if you talk to someone who has had cancer, the chances are they look at cancer as an entity.  In my case, it’s easier to understand and fight if I give my cancer autonomy as a living being within myself.  It has a plan, it fights with strategy and it even has a very dark and ruthless soul.

My battle with cancer has lasted for over a year now.  Agony has been handed out on both sides.  Cancer and the side effects of the medications have inflicted countless hours of sickness and pain directed at me.  In return, I have killed millions of the cancer cells.  The last hold out for my adversary is the tumor in my right shoulder.  Now, that the tumor is receiving an aggressive dose of radiation, the only remaining cancer cells will soon be a small handful of random cells, trying to restart something while my new immune system is working to eliminate them.  At this stage, it would be incorrect to say that I am still “fighting cancer.”  It’s more like a clean-up phase, searching for remaining cancer cells and taking them out before they can duplicate and cause other problems.

Thinking of this disease as a single autonomous entity with an agenda for destruction just makes sense.  It allows me to focus on a foe that I can understand and despise.  It also helps to explain actions by my deadly adversary, actions that would otherwise be explained with scientific terminology that doesn’t have the same motivational effect of fighting an enemy with such an evil and darkened soul.

So now that my cancer is perceived as an enemy with a plan, the agenda for my cancer becomes very clear.  The past eight months of treatment in Seattle have included major attacks against the cancer.  The first transplant killed the majority of cancer cells, the second transplant helped to continue the fight for as long as is needed.  The cancer has been forced to retreat to a virtual defeat.  However, the cancer and medications have also inflicted pain with countless bouts of sickness, fever and weird side effects.  Both sides of this prolonged battle have tasted victory and defeat. 

After a few months of enduring pain caused by my evil adversary, I realized the plan for my cancer was no longer to just cause temporary sickness through various side effects and complications.  My cancer may have even abandoned the original goal of causing death or permanent debilitation.  The over-all agenda was much more elaborate and drawn out.  My cancer was trying to wear me down and eventually break my spirit. It was trying to destroy my soul, my inner strength, my self-identity. 

Now, I’m at the end of my treatment plan.  I survived two transplants, several evenings of shaking chills, episodes of vomiting, fevers, etc.  The list of successful attacks from my cancer goes on and on and on.  The accumulation of these episodes of illness gave me the worst sickness of all, temporary depression and moments of overwhelming loneliness.  But that would all end on February 15th at the latest.  That’s when I can go home and resume a normal, cancer free life.  At least, that’s what I was expecting.  My end date was my light at the end of the tunnel.  It gave me strength to know the end was in sight.  All I had to do was get through the sickness until then.

When I found out my end date was in jeopardy, I thought another end date would soon surface.  My departure would just be delayed by a certain number of days.  However, the genius of my disease was to inflict me with an “unknown” pain in my abdomen.  The fact that it is unknown means I can’t leave Seattle until the cause is “known”.  The end result is an indefinite delay in my departure.  I no longer have an end date.  My light at the end of the tunnel, the same light that has carried me for the past month has been sadly extinguished.

As depressing as this sounds, I am still the overwhelming winner here.  Fortunately, I’m a patient person and I care much more about the overall outcome than an artificial schedule.  I no longer need that light.  As I prepare to leave, whenever that happens, I’m as cheerful as always.  I came here to get rid of this disease and I’ll be leaving Seattle without it.