The Body as Battlefield
BY JUDITH J. PETRY, MD, FACS
Dr. Petry was a surgeon for many years and is currently medical director of Vermont Healing Tools Project in Brattleboro, VT (802-254-1250) and a consultant in complementary and alternative medicine in Westminster, VT. (Dr. Petry is also the author of a wonderful article called The Wonderful Gift of Resting in our Take-a-Break section.)
This kind and talented surgeon suggests that waging a battle against illness isan exhausting way to spend the last day, weeks or months on one's life.
I am always saddened by the line that I read so often in obituaries: "....died after waging a brave battle against cancer (AIDS, etc.)." Waging a battle sounds like such an exhausting way to spend the last days or weeks or months of ones life. There must be another way for us to perceive our illnesses. Certainly, the medical system encourages this war mentality with the language of battle. Physicians talk about the "weapons against cancer," the "fight against heart disease," the "crusade against AIDS." However, this language is not limited to life-threatening illness. We even talk of fighting off a cold, or the flu, or battling allergies.
Patients are asked to fight to stay alive, to keep up their strength so they can beat the invader. And then our bodies become the battlefield, the amazing weapons of mainstream medicine employed in our defense. Poisons are poured into us in the form of medicines and chemotherapeutic agents. We are assaulted with deadly radiation. Deforming and debilitating surgical procedures are performed in an effort to cut out the disease. Patients are asked to visualize the invading tumor being killed off by the chemotherapy, or the radiation, in an effort to enlist the aid of the mind in the strategy. Living is put on hold in order to wage the war. But, what is the war against? Death, it seems. How odd to spend our lives battling the inevitable. Birth is the ultimate terminal condition. We are all born, therefore, we all die. I am not suggesting that we should not try to live as long and as well as possible, using whatever means are available to us. But, the operative words here are "live" and "well".
Perhaps some find vitality in the wages of war, a camaraderie with their fellow oppressed, fighting the evil invaders, illness and death, together. Perhaps they find a kind of purpose in an otherwise aimless life. Ah, perhaps there is the crux of the matter. Are our lives so lacking in meaning and purpose, that it takes a life-threatening illness to marshal our will to live, to take action, even if we define this form of living, as a war against death? A war that can be prolonged, but never won.
Maybe there is another way to live, another way to face illness and death. Let us assume, for instance, that death is not a failure, but a transition. Let us assume that everything that happens in our lives has some instructional value, some meaning. Let us assume that life is a journey through a physical form of existence, a classroom of sorts, where we have the opportunity to learn lessons that we will need in our next existence, whatever that may be. Let us assume that being alive is all about facing our challenges with curiosity, and excitement, and non-judgment, knowing we cannot fail. I see no proof that any of these assumptions are false, though they may be. If we choose to accept these assumptions as one possible reality, how then will we live differently?
When it comes to illness, we will recognize it as a lesson with something to be learned. We know from brain research, that the brain does not learn when there is a feeling of helplessness, but it does learn in the face of challenge. What could make us feel more helpless than the fight against death? What better challenge than the opportunity to find meaning in our lives? My lesson from an illness may be very different from someone else's lesson from the same illness. We have the opportunity to explore the illness for the meaning it may hold for us as individuals, and perhaps, in the case of epidemics, for us as a society, or a species.
The case of laryngitis that I suffer just before an important lecture may mean that I have been working too hard and not taking care of my body, or that the lecture I am about to give is not in harmony with my beliefs, or that the timing is not right for the audience to hear what I have to say, or all of those, or none of those. My food allergies may be a result of poor nutrition, or unnoticed pollutants in my environment, or an early belief about food forged by the relationship with my mother, or all, or none of those. My neighbors terminal brain tumor may be a way out of her tired and lonely life, or a lesson about her dependence on intellectual perceptions in living her life, or the result of an old damaging belief that has manifest itself as a destructive physical force, or all, or none. The current epidemic of AIDS may be a lesson for our culture in morality, or a call for compassion for all humans, or an opportunity to explore and rebalance our relationship to our environment, or all, or none of these.
I remember many patients during my career as a physician who fought against their diseases to the last moment, trying everything and anything to stay alive one more day, one more year, their lives filled with pain and suffering and anger at their illness. One patient stands out as different from all those I have known. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, a 56 year old African- American woman who was in the hospital because her metastatic breast cancer had spread to her bones and made it impossible for her to walk. The recurrent, open tumor on her radiated chest wall was more than her family could manage at home. I had been called to see her for advice on managing the wound. When I walked into the room, I expected to find the usual depressing and empty feel of a place where someone was dying a horrible death.
Instead, I walked into a room filled with light and life. I was surprised by the energy around this woman who physically, at least, appeared to be close to death. I asked to see her wound, and uncovered a messy tumor that was obviously painful. I said " This must be very hard for you," as I redressed the wound. She shook her head slightly and said "I have time to read now. And my children bring me chocolates." And then she smiled what can only be described as the smile of God. She radiated life and peace, expanding the meaning of the word 'peace', until it exploded into infinity, like a massive show of fireworks. Her smile penetrated into my soul, and I did not want to leave her presence. I wanted to ask her how she came to this place of serenity, of joy, of radiant life, but no words came out. The questions would not form. Her presence was the only answer that I needed. I came back the next day ostensibly to bring her a book. Not really sure why I had returned, I knew I needed to be near her again. I wanted somehow to thank her for touching my soul on a level that changed me forever.
Some would have said that this woman's cancer had won, it had beaten her. There was nothing beaten about this woman. She was enriched, she was overabundant in life, even as she lay in what would most likely be her death bed. If there had ever been a battle here, between her and her cancer, she had clearly won. She had won life. The fear of death held no power over her. I knew she would be fully alive until her last breath.
Whatever we uncover as we explore the illnesses with which we are confronted, our new assumptions about reality allow us to let go of the need to fight the illness, to wage a battle against death, using our bodies as the battlefield. The illness can be engaged in a new way. We can ask our bodies what kind of help we can provide to rebalance in the face of this dis-ease, this disharmony; volunteering all the parts of ourselves, our bodies, our minds, emotions, spirit and community, in this opportunity to reach a higher level of vitality. We can joyfully utilize whatever methods feel life-enhancing and healing to us, including surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, acupuncture, psychotherapy, homeopathy, imagery, nutrition, or any of the other myriad of options available to facilitate our return to wholeness.
Once we understand that this is an opportunity for life, rather than a sentence of death, we can expand our consciousness to include the possibility of healing even in the face of death. Healing may mean curing our bodies of a disease, or it may mean rebalancing, reharmonizing the out-of-tune parts of our being. It may mean healing relationships with family, friends, environment; healing damaging emotions and beliefs; healing our estrangement from spirit. Learning to be alive in a different way. Learning to face death as a phase of life, as an inevitable transition to a new and exciting existence. Learning to live well, to be alive.
© Healing Images, 1998, Judith J. Petry, MD, FACS. Reprinted with permission. |
and co-author of 
. I like this because it represents the way in which it's easy to forget how we intend to live with greater awareness and joy after a serious physical challenge has passed. In fact, we might call this BIG AWARENESS, little awareness.
