Reluctant Heroes

You might be the biggest soppy wimp ever but cancer will make a hero of you.

Suppose for example you are offered chemotherapy. Your oncologist explains it like this -

Chemotherapy is a terrifying strategy, where we pump litres of highly toxic chemicals straight into a vein. It will make you feel like hell and it's all a bit vague so we might accidentally kill you, please sign this waiver here and here. Unfortunately there's only a small chance that it will make the damnedest bit of difference, We propose to do this every 2 weeks, so when you're just feeling slightly human again, we'll knock you back down to barely alive. And your hair will fall out, your tastebuds will fry, you'll throw up lots, get the diabolical squitters, your hands and feet will get pins and needles and you may develop tinnitus, possibly on a permanent basis. Though of course permanent is not very long in your case. How about it?

Perhaps you are the kind of hero who rejects this dodgy offer. You have decided to face this alone. You may have the most loving family and the dearest friends, but they can't truly help. Can you imagine the courage it takes to step into that deathly void all alone? The doctors say you have a few months and you start to hate the word "few". Even "several" would be better. You are braver than you've ever had to be. You are squaring up to death and looking it straight in the eye. Respect, you are a hero.

Or if you are the gambling type, like me, you grab the chemo option. Bravado shines from you as you ask "How bad can it be?" with a mad high laugh. Can you imagine the courage it takes to agree to systematic poisoning in exchange for a chance of a few more months? And even then those few months might be so horrible that they weren't worth it. Maybe you are trashing your last precious weeks on the earth. The stakes are high, the odds are poor but you're doing it anyway. Respect, you are a hero.

There is no third option. The other decisions you've made in your life now seem babyish because they didn't involve death. There was always the wimp's option,  The do-nothing alternative. The "lets leave it a few months and see how we feel then" method. Cancer has taken away shilly-shallying and made you face a horrifying future where you have to choose between hideous paths and you don't even know if that choice will make a difference.

Terminal illness is full of these Hobson's Choices.

Should you make your children laugh by trying on wigs? Or go bald and shine your head all over town? Just one year ago, that decision  would have seemed like your worst nightmare.

Should you give your dog away because you can't walk him any more? Or let him get fat and keep him to cuddle in bed?

Should you guilt your children into spending every second they can with you? Or blow them kisses as they disappear over the horizon into a future that doesn't have you in it?

So, non-cancerous types, find a friend with a poor prognosis and let them know you've realised what a hero they are these days.