Acceptance does not imply that the individual is happy with his health disorder; however, it does allow him to live in peace and embrace those facets of life which he holds meaningful. Once enabled to accept reality, the individual is secure within himself and can similarly project that ease upon those who are close to him.
Unfortunately there is no prescribed method of gaining acceptance; while some individuals can grasp their difficulty outright and begin to redefine their lives, others require time to work through the various stumbling blocks which often accompany trauma. Still others are never able to attain acceptance and die in turmoil.
Two factors which I feel can greatly serve toward the goal of acceptance are awareness and communication. One's reactions cannot be altered unless he is aware of them; once able to note irrational behavior (such as anger directed toward a wife rather than at cancer) he can with time change his actions. Communication's effect on adversity is that of purification, for conversation purges minds of fear and lonliness and gradually filters irrationality from one's thoughts into non-existence. In the following pages I hope to illustrate the importance of communication and ironically, perhaps, the few instances wherein communication should be squelched.
"It's cancer again!" A mere three words, and yet the impact is great, and the repercussions greater still. It is strange, somehow, to think so few words could alter the course of a life, and profoundly affect countless others; yet once imparted, dreams give way to reality, and agony can filter deep. Plans once one's own must be fulfilled by another, and the future in which one had pictured himself, shall be clipped short and uncertain. Losing all that one holds dear is rarely a kind image, for despite religion or a lack thereof, death is life's greatest mystery, as it ever shall be.
The initial reaction to a terminal illness is often that of undiluted shock, especially cases wherein the patient had demonstrated no drastic changes in health or felt no persistent pain. Perhaps the dismal news was revealed after a slight, but disconcerting health symptom; the doctor was visited with hesitant anticipation, with the hope that the abdominal protrusion was only persistent gas, or the cough was merely the stubborn remnants of last winter's cold. Although some poor souls cannot release themselves from the notion that it is "only a mistake," or "a dream," most individual's stupification will subside, allowing them to face up to the situation and deal with it as a factual absolute.
Because I had sought an appointment with the doctors at Mayo Clinic of my own accord, I was prepared for any diagnosis which the test results would uncover. Noting that my stomach region appeared lop-sided I knew there was something amiss despite my seemingly good health; thus the result of the exploratory surgery was disappointing, but I cannot say it was a shock.
I felt no need to question the test results or wildly seek second and third opinions. Viewing the pictures taken by the CAT Scan of my liver, I had nonchalantly asked, "Are there supposed to be spots on it like that?" Before the doctor had given an answer, something within my mind yelled, "Of course not, you idiot!" The doctor responded likewise, although considerably less profound.
That which helped me deal with my verdict, coupled with my suspicion that life, for me, had been sailing along a bit too smoothly and the fact that I had cancer previously, was an unusual strength to adapt to adverse situations. From early in my childhood I was able to have the objectiveness to realize that things don't always happen to "the other guy"; actually, if something could go wrong, it probably would. If there was a log poised between two opposing banks of the creek, the odds were that I would fall off of it in crossing. In a world of "other guys" I was just one, yet that in itself proved I was immune to no adversity. Thus, instead of "why me?" my question was generally, "why not me?" I happened to be one of the cancer statistics, and I was far from alone in my plight.
Mine was no easy burden, yet it was mine to deal with as best I could; wallowing in a murky pool of self-pity would accomplish nothing. When I felt a wave of pity tempting me with its utter worthlessness, I would accommodate it for a brief period and then cast it away to pause and reflect upon those whose health involved more horrid complications than my own.
In keeping with some individual's idea that everything happens to the other guy, often the same people will feel that they are alone in their suffering. The person who cannot empty his mind of envious jealousies toward the healthy only further torments himself, and subtracts from his capacity for peacefulness. Although those who yet possess their health should appreciate it, they should not be made to feel guilty for their fortune. Every mortal being will one day find himself confronted by life's ultimate reality, death.