Passages

War and Disease.

John is upstairs, putting on a suit. This is not normal workaday attire for my man, but he is going to a funeral today. His boss, Marla, died on Tuesday after what the newsfolk call "a long battle with cancer."

I've thought a lot about that word "battle" being applied to illness lately. I suppose on a cellular level, it is in fact a battle. But the body's generals can be a diffuse, uncontrolled lot, and the soldiers can be capricious and inclined to inflict "friendly fire." And, at least in the individual battles, our side always loses in the end. Some of the greater wars have been won - at least temporarily - in some vaccinated areas.

But cancer. The very word kind of stops us in our tracks. It's the Attila, the Alexander of disease. It strikes dread even in its mildest form. Cancer has such a near association with death in so many ears. And its "therapy" can be so wasting, so horrible: Mi Lai all over again.

I never met Marla. But from what I hear, she fought well. Farewell, soldier. For you, the battle is over. May your rest truly have peace.

Posted: Thursday - August 11, 2005 at 07:05 AM | |