A New Year's Encyclical and Two Thank You Notes

“People mean well and do not see how distancing insistent cheeriness is, how it denies another’s reality, denies a sick person the space or right to be sick and in pain.”
-- Marilyn French 1929-- : “A Season in Hell” (1998)

One of the comforting abstractions of youth is the illusion that adulthood brings wisdom, security, and resolution; and this is as it should be, lest our children see the truth of existence and head for the exits. That there's no future in imagining Santa Claus packing enough racing fuel to send the party up the chimney seems self-evident. So we hide the foreclosure notice, trumpet the joys of "peace on earth/good will towards men," take a day off from bombing Gazans, and head for High Mass at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

And why shouldn't we gush about Xmas, After all, baby Jesus grew up, died for our sins, and ensured we could all be redeemed and go to Heaven. Prior to the mass redemption precipitated by the Crucifixion (see Mel Gibson's bloody biopic), we were all guilty of that most heinous of sins, the original transgression of eating from the Tree of Knowledge, which in turn required that we be washed clean by the blood of the lamb. No longer could we cavort in that prelapsarian paradise where the pain of acquiring food, shelter, and clothing was non-existent. That Eve, the first in the historical line of grasping, Evil Women, would pluck the forbidden fruit, and thus make childbirth a gendered affliction, provided a convenient justification for paternal hegemony. But are men more violent than women?

Might there be a Mrs. Claus out there ready to incinerate the party? And why is it that Sharon Smith enjoys the comforts of free healthcare, three squares a day, and a warm room for sending her little ones down the boat ramp to the Resurrection? They say if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament.

All of my students felt she deserved the death penalty. But maybe she sees herself as another kind or redeeming angel, one that spared her children from the myth that growing older offers better days, the wisdom of time, and the security of aging. And what of those around us who lose the glow of youth-- that characteristic which allows us to overlook ignorance and folly as signs of immaturity, rather than innate human traits--and don the mantle of unforgivability (not a word) peculiar to adulthood? The trickerations (soon to be a word) of Father Time move us all from childlike innocence toward the way it is.

Humans starve, kill, rape, and plunder as matters of expediency; just as disease, suffering, and death, are expressions of nature's randomness. Conditions easily explained away with quaint phrases like, "God works in mysterious ways," or, "the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away."

Two close friends, one from my childhood some 50 years ago, the other, my mentor in graduate school, are now undergoing that arbitrariness of existence most of us assign to another day. Yes, people get sick, suffer, and die, but they’re always other people. The resignation of age, a quality of being euphemistically described as wisdom, is such that when it happens to us we internalize it as bad luck, while others around us ascribe it to some life-style flaw or moral imperfection.

On a recent visit to his oncologist, my childhood friend, T., described a recent encounter with a physician's assistant. Knowing my friend was suffering from throat cancer, he asked T. how long he had smoked. Having never smoked, T. was incensed, he was pissed that this sensitivity-trained caregiver (at least one would think so) had crassly assumed T.’s cancer was the result of being a life-long smoker. One wonders how many physicians enter the consultation with preconceived notions poured in their ears by medical attendants--whether they come from well-intentioned ignorance or pre-meditated callousness.

I once had a resident foreign medical student, haltingly, and nonchalantly, describe my cancer as a "stage three...no,…four...large cell lymphoma." This after arriving to receive a diagnosis I fully expected to confirm my complaint of a bothersome kidney stone.Just coincidentally, at the same time T. will undergo a ten-hour operation on his voice box at The University of Wisconsin, my other friend, also T., suffering from renal cell carcinoma, is having his kidney removed at The University of Michigan. Like myself, they are in their 50s, and full of life. Both are accomplished at what they've achieved. One is a consummate craftsmen and skilled artist who can turn Birdseye Maple into elegant pool cues, and then effortlessly run the table when called upon to demonstrate their effectiveness. The other is a highly esteemed author and scholar, prolific in his publishing output, and world-renowned in the area of disability studies.

TWO NEW YEAR’S MESSAGES FOR TIM AND TOBY

Posted 34 minutes ago
by Randy Tessier

Dear Tim:

When you're sick, anticipation takes the form of worry, or more specifically, anxiety. Know that we share your optimism, uncertainty, and impatience. I remember feeling those fiery orbs, (in my case marbles) and experiencing imaginings of every sort. Ms. Garceau was right to remind you of that most spiritual of healing medicines--the love of others. Know too that it's more than your family that loves you. That "flaming orange" post brought tears to my eyes, and I thank you for them. Tears are important: they bring relief and healing, and, perhaps more importantly, for those of us who love you, provide a concrete manifestation of our care and concern. Know too that you are in capable hands. U-W has one of the finest research hospitals in the world, and Dr. Hartig is an innovator in his surgical field. I guess I really want to say that what you took to be "whining" is an expression of the comfort, trust, and faith you place in those of us around you. You are a part of us, as we are a part of you.

Love - Randy

Dear Toby:

Although I haven’t spoken with you in a few days, you’re always in my thoughts. As I’ve briefly told you, another dear friend of mine is struggling with cancer. While I can empathize with you both in many ways, I’ve never known the emotion of awaiting a major surgery; and in this regard, having undergone three major surgeries, you alone have already experienced this. As you so eloquently put it, you know what it means to see us “on the other side.” Without going into the many dialogues we’ve shared, I would say that your wisdom has given me spiritual insight, as well as aided my good counsel to Tim. Thank you, dear Professor, for teaching me the meaning of caring listening, consideration of others, and what it means to exhibit a stoic patience in the face of adversity.

Love – Randy

Happy New Year, and I’ll see you both on the other side.