Although there is a lot to complain about in the New York Times lately <cough>US political coverage</cough>, they have been absolutely killing it in the cancer op-eds department. Monday had a fantastic piece about a dying daughter facing her mortality that is also a great critique of the culture of the US medical system. I want to write about that piece at some point, but today’s topic is a recent op-ed that spoke of the writer’s move from a more private to a more public self that allowed him to learn to receive the care and support he needed from those around him.
The author, David C. Roberts concludes with the following thought:
Before my diagnosis, if I was going to give [my son] one bit of advice, it would have been “Never miss an opportunity to be generous; they are rarer than you think.” I wish I had lived that more. But today I’d like to add a corollary, “don’t be afraid to allow others those opportunities too.”
This resonated for me except for the fact that I have no children and my cats do not accept advice.
There have been several points in this current round of cancer treatment where I have been more or less reduced to passivity. I couldn’t do much of anything, and I certainly couldn’t do anything about my situation. Though I have long ago accepted that many cancer is not something I control, it’s a whole other thing to just be and receive. A couple different friends wrote me with the advice that sometimes the point of exist is to be the object of others’ generosity. As one friend put it:
When a person is sick, they give a gift to the people who take care of them. It’s the gift of letting them practice their love for you and that really is a gift.
I certainly had not ever thought about it that way. But it makes a ton of sense: what is love when it is not given a chance to be expressed?
Unlike Roberts, I have been a more “public person” through my life on blogs and later social media, at least around my cancer experience. One of the great benefits of that has been to make myself available for expressions of love and support from others, and to make myself available for kindred souls. (This blog has also provided consolation to people, which brings me great satisfaction.)
This fall the expressions of support from friends and family have been frankly overwhelming. I’ve never been sicker in my life, and I’ve never been more cared for in my life. I’ve tried to write thankyous to everyone who wrote me and I’m still not caught up because so many people wrote! I’ve been floored by how many people have offered to drop everything and come visit, though mostly that’s not something we want or need right now (I may feel differently once Carrie leaves; we’ll see). The moral support has meant so much at a time when I didn’t–and still don’t fully–know what’s going on. It’s not just old friends. Some of the other fellows have really shown up, and others have offered help that I simply haven’t been able to accept (because I only need so much help).
Of course there’s plenty of other things to be grateful for: Radcliffe’s healthcare plan has given me access to world experts on my condition and a surprisingly pleasant hospital experience. My oncologist from home calls me almost weekly to check on me and provide his perspective on things. The nurses at both hospitals were truly incredible. It is mind-blowing to me that somehow they get paid less than professors given what they do and how they do it. My department at McGill came through to bail me out of a major bureaucratic task right as I was in the worst of it. The Radcliffe staff have been wonderfully supportive as well.
Like many modern holidays, Thanksgiving is made up (aren’t they all) and papers over a violent settler-colonial history. But it also is a vestige of the fall harvest festivals that are common in many cultures. And giving thanks for plenty is a common theme in many religions, including the Judaism in which I was raised. I don’t think we emphasized the gratitude part enough when I was growing up at home or in my religious education (I’m sure there were reasons) even though it’s spoken out loud in all the prayers they taught us.
I know a phrase like “practicing gratitude” is some kind of hokey cliche at this point, but like many cliches it has a bit of truth in it. Sometime shortly after my first cancer diagnosis I started doing a lot more of it than I had before. I now frequently look around and wonder at my good fortune in life. Good meeting with a student? How lucky am I to have such wonderful students? Time playing music? How fortunate am I to be able to commune with wonderful musicians and instruments? A gig at Radcliffe for the year? I can’t believe I get to be around all these amazing people and learn from them. And so on. Sure, I complain about things, but one can walk and also chew gum.
I honestly wonder if gratitude is the only moral reaction to good fortune. There’s probably much more to say about all this, but I’m getting tired, so I will leave it here.
So on this US Thanksgiving, I am grateful for all of you reading this, whatever your relation to me.