Mickey Z

Cool Observer

Friday, August 05, 2005

My new career as an acrobat (part two)

“I must be an acrobat to talk like this and act like that.”
—"Acrobat," Bono (and he would know)

(Going, going, Ghana)

Last month, I was in conversation with a holistic health practitioner. He knew nothing of my mother’s situation as he stated—correctly, I’d say—that Western medicine is geared more toward the suppressing of symptoms than addressing the conditions that facilitate illness. When he got around to the topic of cancer, it came as no surprise that he derisively declared the “cure” is often more dangerous than the disease. I’ve been in many such conversations and that is usually my cue to emphatically nod in agreement and state that I’d rather die from cancer than chemo...before linking cancer to the standard American diet.

(standard American diet)

This time, things went a little differently.

My opinion of the “war on cancer” hadn’t changed. My thoughts on how prevention is the key remained the same. The outrage I feel over corporate complicity in the prevalence of cancer was as strong as ever. But this time, as I sat there, my mother was two days away from her first chemo treatment. My stomach tightened into a knot and I wondered how many times I too had publicly scorned the Western medical approach without a thought about who was reading or hearing my words. Even if they were 100% accurate, such words could and probably did wound those in need of healing. How often had I made someone experience what I felt that night?

Am I suggesting sugarcoating one’s message? Certainly not...there’s a distinction between going soft and being sensitive. In 2005, 570,280 Americans will die of cancer: more than 1500 a day. Clearly, there’s no time to worry about stepping on toes, but analysis and criticism can be presented with compassion and empathy. For me, that means I must conjure new ways—better ways—to spread the word that the only “cure” we have is: prevention, taking responsibility for our lifestyle, and exposing corporate culpability in many of those 1500 daily deaths.

Easier said than done…

There’s plenty percolating in my mind during this stressful time, so I figured I’d lay some of it out in the name of seeking answers...maybe even enlightenment? Some may gleefully attack but, hey, I’ve offered no quarter in much of my writing...even when discussing Clinton during his bypass surgery or Ashcroft as his gall bladder was being removed. Thus, if I’ve dished it out, I should at least be able to take it as well.

But what I’m wondering is: What purpose does “dishing it out” ultimately serve? Surely some members of the Clinton clan and the Ashcroft family sat in the hospital waiting room, desperately hoping those surgeries would go well. How do I reconcile the fact that when I look into their eyes, I recognize myself?