Monday Mourning

This morning a friend of mine learned some sad news. A long-time confidant of hers succumbed to cancer. When he was first diagnosed at the age of 19, he was given six months to live. Instead, he lived six years, another quarter of his short lifetime. While I never knew this young man, we have all known and loved people who have fought cancer. When the end comes it is always a shock – perhaps more so when the person in question has bravely defied the odds for so long.

When a revised lifetime of six months grows twelve-fold into six years, it’s tempting to declare a miracle of modern medicine. However, I think it’s more illustrative of some failures of our society. I don’t want to be overtly political, but let me run some numbers by you. On September 11, 2001 nearly 3,000 people were killed in the terrorist attacks on the United States. As result of those attacks, our government chose to go to war with Iraq (to be clear, the two events were connected only by fetid Federal fear mongering and not by fact). That war has cost us approximately $500 billion or $2 billion per week.

Meanwhile, cancer kills over 1,370 Americans every day, 500,000 every year, or 3,500,000 Americans since September 11, 2001. This doesn’t include the countless other cancer victims bravely suffering through their treatment. And so, what is our government’s reaction to nature’s attack on Americans? A paltry (and shrinking) $4.7 billion annual budget for the National Cancer Institute. WTF? Every three weeks, our government spends more treasure fighting in Iraq, than it spends in 52 weeks of fighting cancer. Predictably Irrational, one might say. Looking at these numbers it’s easy to imagine a world where, if our choices were different, a “six months to live” diagnosis could instead mean “cure.” We can do better.

No death occurs without shades of existentialism. And if we can do better, we should start by doing so in our daily lives. Remembering to wholly love those who are close to us and to tell them so. Exulting in both the joy and challenges of our lives. Being thankful for every day. Six months or six years is too short to live. A single day is too long to live with regret.

This weekend, I began reading George David Roberts beautiful book, Shantaram. Today, its opening paragraph has found special residence in my heart. Shantaram begins:

It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.

Best learned with a full lifetime ahead.

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