Thought Picnic: Between fight and plight

In the flight of fight

I have always been ambivalent about the idea of battling cancer, especially when it is said that someone lost their battle to cancer as if they were not fighting enough to defeat the enemy that has both violated and invaded their bodies.

On completing my treatment course of radiotherapy yesterday, I received many congratulations, and this is not because I have passed a test or navigated some difficult terrain to emerge the winner of some prize, I was taking treatment that seemed harmless, but the side effects are quite unpleasant.

Thinking back to fifteen years ago when the consultant offered the prospect of just five weeks to live or thrive if I could tolerate the treatment, I learnt something about dealing with infirmity and cancer, in particular.

All contribute to it

Advances in medical science learnt by experts taught to students, and with patients in the centre of the whole situation have contributed to the body of knowledge that informs how cancer is treated. Both those who survived and those who died in the record of their experiences redound to this compendium of knowledge that is delivered as expertise when we consult with medical experts.

In my view, there are no winners or losers, no soldiers or deserters, some like me, who have been fortunate, others not as much, and that is a sad story in the human narrative. Advances in science seek to reduce the number of the less fortunate and everything we can do to eradicate all forms of cancer by prevention or treatment must have us all in that endeavour.

I take the congratulations with gratitude because they are wishing me well. Sometimes, the fight with cancer is more one of a mindset about it, rather than of some pugilistic fight to exhaustion without rules to the bout.

Just as being fortunate

The greater fighting chance we have with cancer is to have caught it early and be presented with a menu of options for treatment leading to good outcomes without too much pain, suffering, or discomfort.

Having encountered cancer twice and been given the best medical science can offer to treat it is indeed fortunate, in the Netherlands fifteen years ago and in the United Kingdom now. Our model of social medicine which is free and accessible to everyone at the point of need, is the epitome of human civilisation that could pass for a human right.

I am fortunate to be European because anywhere else would have cost a fortune to diagnose and treat cancer, some running out of money before anything effective could be done. Sometimes, we do not realise how precious health is until it is touched by infirmity, there but for the grace of God go I.

Thought Picnic: Beyond conscientious objection to fighting needless wars

The summary of my views

I was asked what my position was about the Russia and Ukraine crisis by a mentor of mine, and it allowed me to find the opportunity to transcribe from the notes I took down in anger on Friday night but was unsure of how to convey in a blog.

My answer was “We need to get to a point in human civilisation when young men can refuse to battle for recalcitrant old men who cannot settle their scores with some maturity. I hope Ukraine survives the onslaught.”

Before my viewpoint was taken as uncommitted to apparent indifference, I went on to say, “In fact, my stand is it is an unnecessary war for which Vladimir Putin who has a warped idea of national sovereignty and areas of influence should be taught an unforgettable lesson.” Obviously, it goes without saying that, If Ukraine has no self-determination on what alliances it can have, is it a sovereign state or a satellite of Russia?”

Between sacrifice and slaughter

Having spent 4 years in secondary boarding school, the prospect of a regimented life has never since appealed to me. There is indeed a high calling to serve and the discipline that it entails along with the purpose that defines it, but where do you draw the line between being ready to take the sacrifice and being sent to the slaughter?

In January 1983, in a conversation with my father, he said these words, “There was a time Nigeria was worth dying for, that time has passed.” It so happens my parents were in the UK during the Nigerian Civil War and once it was over, they could not wait to get back to Nigeria to contribute to rebuilding the nation.

To my mind, all war is at its heart totally unreasonable, the inability of leaders and / or older and apparently mature men to have a meeting of minds that they are ready to send the sons of others to battlefields whilst they play war games in genteel surroundings totally oblivious of the depth of suffering on the populace is an atrocity at best.

Keeping our men from bad men

The result of this is we are called upon to honour the war dead as some greater cause of humanity has been achieved and unstoppable progress has been bequeathed to civilisation never to go to war again. It is a lie, for lives are needlessly wasted as cannon fodder with war ending at exhaustion of will, men, or ammunition. We are in terms the most uncivilised in war, like animals you have only found more sophisticated ways to kill each other to a standstill.

I would hope we would reach a point where the men who disagree should sort it amongst themselves and the young men whose blood, they are ready to exsanguinate in the remote battlefields, should say no. This is not conscientious objection but a call to common sense or order, exhaust diplomacy and continue to talk to any agreement that you can reach without having to shed blood.

Beyond conscientious objection

For I desire a time when they, the valiant and strong would say, no, we are not going to fight your dirty, senseless, needless, and unnecessary wars. Our lives matter more than to become sacrificial lambs on the altars of your maniacal devilish egos.

Keep your medals, we do not need the glory, stuff your patriotic rhetoric, your folded national flags, and grand memorials to soldiers unknown. With no men going to war, what would men do given no other option than to talk and resolve things?

Too many men have with the power to send others to their deaths not exhausted the possibilities that the maturation of human civilisation and discourse can offer. Maybe something of the idealist and pacifist in me has taken a long trek from realism, it is however not to be wished away as impossible.

We suffer as grass in fighting cancer

In the scheme of things, cancer

An African proverb says, “When elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” The meaning from The Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs suggests, ‘The weak get hurt in conflicts between the powerful.’ [TODOP]

This was the thought that came up in discussion with my boyfriend on the shocking and sudden death of his uncle from cancer. I reflected once again on how battling cancer rarely involves the person as there is hardly any natural means of defeating it.

Rather, we are the battleground on which the cancer is tackled by chemotherapy, radiotherapy, therapeutics, and/or surgery. For we are the hosts for the onslaught that is raised against cancer, with the caveat that we might or not have the physiological capacity to tolerate the treatment.

Tolerance in intolerance

When I had 7 sessions of chemotherapy, each session progressively attacked cancer and left me weaker with a totally compromised immune system that was already immunodeficient because of HIV and full-blown AIDS that my consultant was beginning to worry about doing something for the cytotoxicity of the treatment.

Meanwhile, one the day of my 7^th session, early that morning I had attended the funeral service of a friend who passed on after 2 sessions of chemotherapy. It had exhausted him totally that friends who attended his PhD viva voce just 13 days before he passed on said, they can hear the strength drain out of him in his voice, he was barely there.

Our mortal frame

I do not subscribe to the idea of battling cancer as something you can overcome by the force of the will or any kind of determination, you can only aim to trust in the medical expertise brought to bear and hope that you can tolerate whatever is thrown at your body and that there is just sufficient in your system to carry you through to the other end where you have just been fortunate to have survived.

For He knows our frame;
He remembers that we are dust.
As for man, his days are like grass;
As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
For the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
And its place remembers it no more.
[Bible Gateway Psalm 103:14-16 (NKJV)]