Today is Cancer Awareness Day, which makes it a sad day for many. All of us have been touched by this devastating disease in one way or another. Years ago, lung cancer took my grandmother, Betty. Quick, I might add. But I guess that’s better than suffering for decades. A few years back, colon cancer tried its damnedest to take my best friend’s life. I’m happy to report that it failed, and Michael has been cancer-free for some time now.
I remember receiving the news of both my grandmother’s diagnosis and Michael’s. I remember where I was, what I was doing, and what it felt like for the new normal to sink in. When it came to Betty, I knew the situation was beyond dire. Stage IV. And she wasn’t going to go through treatment, that was for damn sure. I don’t think it would have done any good; nevertheless, she wasn’t going to go out like that. She was a proud, Sicilian-American woman who wanted to look good going to bed, just in case she didn’t wake up in the morning. She wasn’t going to suffer through months and months of treatment, only to give her a puncher’s chance of survival. I’ve never blamed her for that, but I do miss her. She, along with my now deceased grandfather, helped raise me when my own home life went sideways in the late 80s/early 90s. So, losing one to cancer at a relatively young age was tough.
I thought I was going to lose Michael, too. His cancer was Stage III, and a less aggressive form of the disease than Betty’s. But things were touch and go for far too long. He had to endure multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, and two attempts to hook him back together after he had to wear a bag for over a year. Needless to say, it was a long process for him, and recovering (both in body and mind) took time.
In moments like these, I often wonder where God is. Or, is God even there? Because, if he is, then I have some questions. I’m sure we all have the same ones. How about we start with: If You are all-powerful, then can’t You cure cancer? But maybe God is not all-powerful. Or, maybe he is, but he’s not so good. But since I can’t affirm the latter clause without suffering an existential and epistemological meltdown, I’ll lean toward the former at least being a possibility. Not to mention, it seems experientially true. After my grandmother’s diagnosis, I knew she was going to die, that God wasn’t going to be able to save her. Her decline was fast, obvious, and inevitable. And in the end, God did not save her; so either A) he couldn’t, or B) chose not to. It’s not B, therefore it’s A. Overly simplistic? Maybe.
At the same time, however, families and friends were brought together during these trying times. Empathy and compassion were found in buckets. When it came to Michael’s bout with cancer, he and I grew so close that he has since called me his “non-sexual soul mate.” That wouldn’t have happened in the same way had trials and tribulations not been faced. Does that mean I’m calling cancer good? Absolutely not! Human suffering such as this cannot be called good without us devolving to complete linguistic nihilism (something Calvinism has long since done). But what I am saying is that if there is a God (and I believe there is), and if God is good (I believe God is), then perhaps God has some power to bring about some semblance of good even in the midst of suffering. But that power is limited, and relies heavily upon us being God’s hands and feet.
So, can we say that God saved Michael’s life? In one way. But there’s also this business of dual causation. God is the ultimate cause, in the metaphysical sense, but humans saved Michael. Surgeons took out the tumor. Oncologists zapped the rest of the disease. And his friends and families stood by him and helped ease the whole process by letting him know he was never going to be alone.
This is the power of God working through people, but again points to a God who is not all-powerful. All he can do is work in tandem with people who are willing to exert energy for the betterment of their fellow human being. Perhaps God can also suffer with us, which might be a comforting thing. Mimetically-speaking, it could also be something that models for us how to suffer with others. If all God can do is co-suffer, we can at least follow suit. When Betty got diagnosed, I suffered with her. We all did. And though it didn’t save her life, it comforted her during the last weeks of it. And when Michael struggled for years to be made whole again, many of us co-suffered with him, because that’s what we do for the ones we love. He wouldn’t think twice about doing the same for me, should the roles ever be reversed.
So, on this most poignant of days, remember that sometimes, the only thing to be done in the midst of suffering is to stand alongside the afflicted and lend an ear and a shoulder. And if you are going through cancer treatment, or know someone who is, just know that you are not alone. And while such knowledge won’t cure your cancer, sometimes it’s enough to tolerate the otherwise intolerable. Be well, until we chat again.
Also, if you’ve been digging my work on here, and want to see me be able to continue writing as close to full-time as humanly possible, please take a look at my Patreon page at www.patreon.com/mjdistefano. Even $1 a month helps bigly!
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