Cancer is War

Before getting into the topic of this entry, a brief update on my upcoming tests. I am scheduled to see the anesthesiologist on Thursday and then have the ultrasound / biopsies performed on Friday. They use the ultrasound to help guide where to take the biopsies. I will be under a general anesthetic, either partially or fully. My guess is more fully than partially due to what they have to do to perform this procedure. It is scheduled to last under an hour and will take place during the afternoon. I should have the results back by Tuesday next week.

I need to set the stage for you for this next part. I have been watching the 15 hour documentary on World War II on PBS. It is called “War” and I’ve learned a lot about history and humanity. Many times while watching this program, I begin to think (or drift) about how closely cancer parallels war. I’m not making any judgment that one is worse or better than the other. I can’t, I have never experienced war and therefore am not qualified to do so. The following paragraph is a letter written by Pilot Lt. Aanesnson on December 5 1944 to his fiancée, Jackie. He begins the letter by saying he has avoided her questions on what it’s like over there and has painted a somewhat rosier picture so as not to worry her. Following is an excerpt from his letter to correct this false impression. A brief warning, this is pretty graphic, so if you’re not up for it, I suggest not reading the rest of this entry.

Lt. Aanesnson writes, “…so let me correct that [the war environment] right now. I still doubt that you will be able to comprehend it; I don’t think anyone one can that has not been through it. I live in a world of death, I watch my friends die in a variety of violent ways. Sometimes it’s just an engine failure on take off resulting in a violent explosion, there’s not enough left to bury. Other times it’s the deadly flak that tears into the plane, if the pilot is lucky the flak kills him, but usually he isn’t and he burns to death as his plane spins in. Fire is the worst, in early September one of my good friends crashed on the edge of our field. As he was pulled from the burning plane the skin came off his arms, his face was almost burned away, he was still conscious and trying to talk, you can’t imagine the horror. So far I have done my duty in this war. I have never aborted a mission or failed to dive on a target, no matter how intense the flak. I have lived for my dreams for the future, but like everything else around me, my dreams are dying too. In spite of everything, I may live through this war and return to Baton Rouge, but I am not the same person you said goodbye to on May 3rd. No one can go through this and not change, we are all casualties. In the meantime, we just go on, someway, somehow this will all have an ending. Whatever it is, I am ready for it.”

The interesting thing about this is that he never sent the letter. He didn’t want to worry her. I debated about putting this in the blog. But, it did a pretty good job of describing how I currently feel about my cancer and situation. Lt. Aanesnson was one of the lucky ones. He is currently alive and read the letter as part of this current documentary. Maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones too.

Stay well and take care everyone.