THE MYTH OF CANCER
William M. Buchholz, MD
(THE FOLLOWING STORY IS A LIE.)
In a dark cave, high on the side of a great stone mountain, there
lives an evil wizard. Dressed in long black robes he gazes into
a crystal ball and sees into peoples' lives.
He chooses an unsuspecting victim and flings a dark seed flying
into their bodies. Sometimes it lodges in their breasts, or their
bowels or their lungs. The accursed seed begins to grow within them
spreading its tendrils throughout their bodies and taking control
over their minds.
They hear voices whispering in their ears, "You will die. When
you are cursed with cancer you will always die." Whenever there
is some hopeful news, these voices change it to yet another message
of doom. "You cannot believe good news," they seem to say, "once
you are cursed all you will ever hear is bad news."
As the cancer seed continues to grow, it spreads its branches
and a dark shadow falls over its victims, identifying them as guilty
of some heinous crime, deserving of perpetual punishment. Others,
not yet cursed, can readily see their shame and avoid them, fearful
that the curse will spread by contact. Whenever the victims look
into mirrors their eyes see only guilt and the poisonous voices
cry out they have brought this curse upon themselves, it is their
own fault for becoming ill.
In despair they turn to shamen of all sorts, seeking to know how
long they will be cursed. Again the voices whisper, "Doctors have
the power to lift the curse or confirm it. Whatever number they
speak has special meaning. Heed it well for this is how long you
will live." Sometimes the voices feed the victims' deepest fears
and stir up even greater confusion by calling out, "Don't trust
him, he doesn't know, continue your search for the Great Healer
who will promise the Cure."
As the cancer seed releases its poison into their bodies, the
victims become ashen, their flesh begins to wither, and they drown
in a sea of decay as wave after wave of uncontrollable pain overcomes
them.
THE END
We live in a world shaped by myths. Joseph Campbell has pointed
out how myths make our lives more understandable. "Primitive" man
believed that the gods ruled the winds and seas, the sun and the
stars, the earth and the harvest. "Modern" man has more sophisticated
myths which he accepts, as primitive man did before him, as truth.
These stories, i.e. scientific explanations, explain not just how
things have come to be but give an answer to why things are the
way they are.
"America is the Land of Opportunity; if you work hard you will
be successful." "If you can play the guitar and can get a group
together, with a few breaks you can be a rock star and make lots
of money." "Successful business people work hard for long hours
and reach the top when they get a corner office and a Mercedes or
BMW."
So also our culture has a myth about cancer, and as one patient
pointed out, "Cancer has a bad reputation." The story above illustrates
many of the principle characteristics of that myth. Cancer is dark
and evil, mysterious and malevolent. It is always fatal. Somehow
the person, however innocent, feels as if he did something wrong
to deserve or create the cancer. The doctor knows just how long
the person will live and he alone has the power to cure it. Cancer
has replaced the devil as a dark force in our culture and doctors
have replaced priests as agents of hope. Although we may scoff at
such stories, at some level we accept them as true. Either consciously
or unconsciously we accept the myth and it shapes our behaviors.
Patients describe their lives in the past tense, "I have had such
a good life..." as if their lives cease at the moment of diagnosis.
A wife cautions her mate, "You'd better not over exert yourself,
dear," as if suddenly her husband who was playing 3 sets of tennis
last week had become brittle and would shatter if he got out of
bed.
Such myths convince patients that it is futile even to try to
overcome the cancer. The will to live is drained of any vital juice.
For doctors these myths shape their approach to cancer as an enemy
force to be fought. The only defence against cancer becomes an omnipotent
or omniscient doctor, a white magician to overcome the black wizard.
Both patient and physician are trapped in the lie.
The treacherous part of this myth is the element of truth hidden
among the fearful fantasies. People do die of cancer. Its cause
is not well known. The body may become quite frail and bones do
break. Doctors do cure patients, sometimes miraculously. The deceit
rests in seeing only these facts and not the other equally valid
ones. Many cancers are preventable. Half of all serious cancers
are cured. Over one third of people with cancer have no significant
pain. Patients are not helpless but can play a significant role
in their recovery.
We do live in a culture that believes in the Myth of Cancer. It
is difficult if not impossible to divorce ourselves from that fact.
Myths are a necessary part of our lives. Rather than try to live
without them it is better to develop a new one, a story that will
serve to create a new consciousness. Several thousand years ago
the Mother Gods of fertility which dominated early cultures gave
way to male gods which made the development of city states possible.
Zeus replaced Hera. I propose the following story as a counter myth
that might free all of us from the hopelessness and despair which
the diagnosis of cancer elicits.
THE HERO AND THE WOUND THAT HEALS
Once upon a time there was a Hero. Although there were no portents
at his birth, nor outward signs of his future deeds, he was nevertheless
a genuine Hero. He lived an ordinary life, growing up, working,
having a wife and family. Nothing set him apart as being destined
for greatness.
One summer's day, while walking in the forest with his dog, he
scratched himself on a thorn bush. He thought nothing of it until
the cut refused to heal. He and his wife went together to the Doctor
who said, "We must do tests."
When the tests were done, they were called into a small room and
the Chief Doctor spoke to them. "The cancer thorn has pierced your
skin and a bit of it has broken off and lodged inside. We must operate
to remove it." The Hero and his family considered this and agreed.
Moreover, a resolve began to form in his heart. "Yes," he said,
"I will enter the Temple of Medicine and make use of all the Doctors'
Wisdom. They are truly powerful. But I will not rest there. I must
accept some responsibility for my return to health. I vow to purify
my body and eliminate any vestiges of the poison the thorn might
have left. Furthermore I will learn to walk in the forest again
safely and without fear."
The Hero gathered his council around him and created a Community.
He listened to their words and felt their support, thanking them
for their love. He took what was useful and put aside the rest,
knowing that it too might have some use later. Knowing that his
doctors were human and subject to error he sought confirmation of
their proposed treatment. He began to reflect on the events that
had led to the thorn lodging in his flesh.
He prepared for the Operation, trusting the Gods to watch over
him and his Doctors. Feeling strengthened by his trust and their
love, he recovered from surgery and began to make plans. He knew
there was much to be done and began to develop his Strategy to deal
with it all.
He sought Healers throughout the land. Though they often were
in conflict, again he took what seemed useful and put aside the
rest. His body grew strong as he ate only pure foods and drank only
pure waters. Each day he sat in quiet, silencing the chattering
voices in his head. He waited until his courage grew to enter the
forest again.
Each day he walked to the edge of the wood, but could not bring
himself to enter because he feared what lay ahead. One day as he
stood looking into the forest, a shiny black raven called out to
him, "Hero, what do you fear? I will guide you. You will not be
alone for others have passed this way before." So, taking a deep
breath, the Hero entered the Forest.
On he walked, ever farther into the shadows of the tall trees.
The trail began to climb. Seeing the raven fly from branch to branch
above his head drew him onwards though the path grew ever steeper
and in some parts quite difficult. He began to hear voices calling
out to him, questioning his right to enter this domain. Although
at times his heart beat quickly and his breath came in gasps, he
remembered his vow to walk the woods fearlessly and he kept on.
The trail brought him to the entrance of a cave. While he debated
whether to go on or turn back, the raven flew down and lit beside
him, a shimmering white crystal in his beak. Again the black bird
said, "Hero, what do you fear? I will guide you. You will not be
alone for others have passed this way before." So with a silent
chuckle he thought, "I've come this far, I might as well go all
the way; at least it's downhill from here," and entered the cave.
The light from the crystal shone the way as the Hero and his guide
went deeper into the mountain. Thru twisty tunnels and into great
caverns they walked silently until their way was blocked by an underground
lake whose width and depth could not be fathomed. With only a moment's
hesitation he shed his clothes and plunged in. He began to swim
calmly and with great strength (for he had grown quite powerful
during his climb thru the woods.) Guided by the shining crystal
that seemed to float above him he came to the opposite shore and
stood upon the bank. Miraculously he found there dry clothes, folded
neatly, as if he had been expected. Putting on the fur-lined boots
and drawing his woolen cloak around him he continued on. Soon he
saw a light ahead and he strode towards it, emerging from the cave
into the forest again.
Now he was different. He felt different. He walked nimbly amongst
the bushes. He saw clearly the thorns as well as the flowers. He
respected the thorns but did not fear them. He looked back and noted
where he had come from. And then he looked forward to where he was
going.
Not THE END, but THE BEGINNING
Buchholz 1997 All rights Reserved
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