Fighting the Fight.

I heard someone speak at one of the Relays recently about “the fight.” This person had fought breast cancer and come out, with God’s strength, a survivor. She told of a relative who lost a similar battle with breast cancer because of fear. Fear of the side effects; fear to fight. The survivor encouraged everyone to never give up, always fight the cancer. It was a hard thing to hear. Please don’t misunderstand, I am all for fighting the battles that exist to fight. I am a huge proponent of early detection and would NEVER encourage anyone to not seek every option. There are some cancers that have tremendous resources available; treatment options are abundant, outcomes are hopeful. The more common cancers that see both survivors and succumbers will absolutely have more funding and research. I will never bemoan that there was not more information or more options for Nathan’s condition, though I would give everything to have him back by my side, happy and healthy.

But with cancer, there is not always a fight to be had. Sometimes, there is not battle to wage. Sometimes, we cannot rage against the dying of the light. However, that does not mean we go gentle into that good night. It means our fight, our battle, looks a bit different. As I mentioned earlier, one night while still at the hospital, after the diagnosis and prognosis, Nathan asked if I thought he was giving up by not trying treatment, not trying to fight. He has always had in him a warrior’s heart. It’s how God shaped and molded him and I love that. For such a man to ask if he is being perceived as surrendering must have heartbroken him. No, I did not think he was giving up. There was just no fight to be had against the cancer. That doesn’t mean he gave up and went gently. He still fought. But his fight was not against that which attacked his body. His fight during his illness was still physical, though. He fought to get well enough to get out of the house. He fought to stay ambulatory and mobile. He fought to stay out of the confines of one room in the house. He fought to stay mentally sharp and acute, which he did. He fought to stay awake. No, he did not rage nor did he go gently. He went as he should – a compassionate man more concerned that as long as there was breath in his body, there was kingdom work to be done. A good man who puts others’ needs ahead of his own. A man that knew God can use the strangest and oddest of circumstances to still affect the hearts of others, even when we aren’t awake. A warrior heart sailing on the seas to the next grand adventure.
I know the woman at the Relay meant only to encourage people. And I heard from other kind, well-intending people immediately after the prognosis tell me “if I were told I was terminal, I would try anything and everything to fight it.” Nathan and I would both have said the exact same thing before our journey through this. But I caution – until you have walked someone’s path (and who of us can do that?) please be careful in absolute statements. There isn’t always a fight against the cancer to be had. A terminal diagnosis is devastating. That doesn’t always mean you can rage against the dying of the light. But not fighting is NOT the same as surrender.