As you've probably worked out by now, words are my thing. So I'm probably more than averagely analytical of the words we use to shape and make sense of our stories. And I've discovered that since the word 'cancer' has entered my story, there is a particular set of language that has come along with it more than any other. That is, of course, the language of fighting battles, waging war, and kicking the enemy.
I say 'I've discovered'; actually, I need to qualify that a little. Thanks to my old mate the lovely Andrew Graystone, I had my eyes opened to this phenomenon several years ago, when cancer was a living reality for him, but - as far as I'm aware, anyway - not for me. He's written and broadcast his thoughts on the language we use about cancer and they're well worth a listen. I'd suggest getting yourself a drink and listening here before proceeding any further:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b037v4gg
I clearly need to do a little thinking on this. Like Andrew, I'm basically a pacifist. War solves nothing, as far as I can see. I'm also committed to the way of loving enemies (even if I usually don't manage it), not "kicking their butts", as one of my least favourite Facebook memes of all time urges us to do to cancer. I'm not sure I'm at all prepared for the terrain I'm mapping out for this journey to turn out to be a war zone. And yet . . . there is something there behind the language of fighting that is important. Holding on to fragile hope requires it. So I want to thank the friends who are cheering me on to battle, and who are battling for me and with me, because I understand - at least I think I understand - what they mean when they say it, and I need to be reminded that the journey is strenuous, and there will be conflict to face.
I wonder if I can find my way through the language to something more helpful, more true to what I'm actually experiencing? More to follow soon.
as always very moving and i feel very close and i understand this is a privilege and carn't say thank you well enough for allowing me to follow your journey i am as always so proud of you and the way you seem to be getting on with your life as you do
ReplyDeletei do hope it makes sense seemed to for me
Thank you Phil - the support of the community here means so much to us x
DeleteHi Debbie. Thank you for sharing this. I know that although the battling language is very helpful to some people is not the whole story. There's a lot written (by people like Deborah Lupton and Rosalyn Diprose and Arthur W. Frank) about finding alternative metaphors for what is happening to one's body. Generosity, hospitality, sharing, comforting, confronting (not quite war), challenging etc. and focusing with kindness more on the possible causes and the way you feel now. Just a thought.
ReplyDeleteabsolutely - and allowing enough space and silence in the language to enable you to listen to how you do, actually, feel now, and to be ready to be surprised by that.
DeleteDear friend
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for pointing to this old programme. I hope there's something useful in it for someone. As is the way with these things, I was later asked to make another programme in the same area, this time for the BBC World Service. This one (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01lf8vh) has less jokes, and more interviews with people who know what they are talking about, including the lovely Paula Gooder.
The last thing I want to do is to keep banging on about cancer. Both you and I have MUCH more interesting things to talk about! But I have now been asked to give a talk about the rhetoric of cancer (under the title War - What is it Good For?) at UCLAN in April. Hopefully that will be it!
I've thought about this quite a lot, both from a language point of view and also as an amateur theologian. The whole language thing is complicated - and then again it's very simple. You should use whatever language you want to, in whatever way you find helpful. If that includes references to war, fighting, battling... that's absolutely fine by me. (The playwright Dennis Potter named his tumour Rupert after Rupert Murdoch!) The key thing for me is that it is YOUR cancer - no-one else's. I don't mean that in terms of asserting rights, which would be futile. I mean that you shouldn't feel beholden to anyone else to talk about your cancer or live with it in a way to please the rest of us. Fight it, dance with it, live with it, write an opera about it or just ignore it if you want to. I know you will do it beautifully.
My cancer taught me to love my unlovely body in a new, or at least different way. And language follows that. There are some attempts at alternative vocab in the World Service programme. If you find them at all helpful I'll be delighted. If, alternatively, you want to use that 40 minutes to share a bottle of red wine with someone lovely, that'll be fine too! As long as I'm in the queue.
Thanks Andrew. How strange is that - that you're speaking down the road at UCLAN next month under the same title I just gave this post? I've found listening to you again on all this more helpful than I can say. We'll have that bottle of red wine soon :)
DeleteAn interesting analogy, but totally understandable! Many of us in this part of the world, fortunately, don't know what it means to fight. Surely, however, there is a difference between being the aggressor and being the defendant. Isn't natural to defend what is most precious to us?!
ReplyDeleteI mean, isn't it natural to defend that which is most precious to us. If the cancer is the aggressor, alien and intent on harm , then defending and fighting back is the natural response!
ReplyDeleteTHis is great Linda, thank you - helping me to tease out my thinking for part 2! xxx
DeleteFeeling a bit diffident about posting as I only know about your blog because Jono shared it on Facebook. But I am holding you in my thoughts and prayers, and I'm a words person myself, so I hope it's ok to join the discussion. I think there is a big difference between fighting out of greed and selfishness, and battling against evil and chaos. I would not have much of a garden if I did not fight weeds. I do not hesitate to kill germs with disinfectant or antibiotics. I will fight for justice and the rights of the poor and the oppressed. None of these would prevent me from being a pacifist.
ReplyDeleteThis has clarified my thoughts a little. I knew I disliked those messages that talked of 'stupid' cancer (or something like that) but wasn't quite sure why. I think it comes down to the human tendency to bad mouth or demonise any thing or person that we object to or can't get the better of. The war on cancer puts it in the wrong and us in the right - and I wonder if this has as much to do with our obsession with being right as much as our belief that we can conquer all. And when Christians take up a holy war against this demon it just seems worse.(was Jesus conscripted into this fighting force?).
ReplyDeleteIts a curious thing that we love the cross when it is our mortal enemy. Its also curious that 'cross' and 'cancer' both begin with the letter 'C'. The famous verse 'Jesus wept' is poorly translated - its possibly closer to 'Jesus was extremely disturbed' and some commentators suggest it wasn't Lazarus' death but death itself was what Jesus was reacting to, the cross being imminent.
We live in a beautiful but sick world - why is cancer so out of step when greed and hate are much more destructive? We don't use the 'H' or the 'G' word because they make us look bad. We don't like the 'C' word because it makes us look vulnerable. As ever, the terminology we use and the feelings we have towards our enemies say more about us than those we battle with.