Posts Tagged ‘face reality’

Cancer

Tuesday, October 28th, 2008

My wife has cancer. It started in her breast two years ago and progressed to her brain last year. It is terminal.

I inject this personal matter into the Deathstroke blog because it has taught me something about myself, about all of us: no one wants to hear bad news, particularly really bad news.

Quite soon after Judy’s initial diagnosis was made, well-meaning friends and family would call the house on a regular basis to see how she was doing. Each call would send an electric jolt through me as time and again I would be called upon to describe the details of her health and treatment, and of course, her prognosis. People don’t realize that your inner being wants to free itself from the realities of an ominous event — -to pretend if only for the here and now that things are going to go on as they always have. Reality asserts itself often enough — -in the slurred word, the stumbled step, in the letters “MRI” that daily approach on the wall calendar.

I realize that I have come to a position that, consciously or subconsciously, I drive the truth of what is coming from my active thoughts. I know that Judy has done this to a far greater extent than I. To be sure, there are moments of tears, even anguish when it all pours in, but for the most part the terrible reality of what is coming lies just beyond some invisible door that we have erected in our separate minds. I know that the day will soon come when the door will open, never to be closed again. But that day is not today. Judy and I can still live in the world that was, if only for just another day.

I raise all of this because I have come to realize that, as a species, we are doing on a global level what Judy and I am doing on a personal level — -we are consciously blocking out the reality of the most compelling truth in the history of mankind: that the world we live in has cancer.

By now, the symptoms are well known, and growing in number and intensity: the concentration of carbon in the atmosphere is rising dramatically; the Arctic and Antarctic ice caps are melting; the Great Barrier Reef will be dead by mid-century; Glacier National Park will soon have no glaciers; the honey bees are dying, the rain forests are disappearing, and the snows of Kilimanjaro will soon exist only in fiction. The list goes on. Our planet has cancer, and, like my beloved wife, I fear that it, too, is terminal.

I ask you: How are we reacting to this information? If we were told that an asteroid was going to strike the planet on June 11, 2011, we would be marshalling all of the resources of the planet to avert the threat, or to make certain that as many people as possible would survive it. Yet a catastrophe of equal magnitude is approaching. It comes for all of us — -for our spouses, our children, our grandchildren, our friends, even our beloved dogs and cats. I created Deathstroke to focus firmly on this horrendous truth. Yet, by and large, we ignore it. As a species, we have closed an invisible door so that we can go on believing that life as we know it will continue without interruption.

But the big difference between the invisible door Judy and I live behind and the one our world is living behind is that Judy’s cancer cannot be stopped. It is a certainty.

By contrast, the prognosis for the world is as yet uncertain. The scientists and others who have raised awareness of the climate crisis say that we can stop the coming disaster if we act decisively. But let me ask you this: Do you see us taking any decisive action on a global scale? Have we done anything meaningful to reduce mankind’s carbon footprint, let alone our individual ones? Or have we collectively closed that invisible door and picked up the remote to change from the Science Channel to American Idol?

No one wants to hear bad news. But some bad news needs to be heard, loud and clear. That is why I wrote Deathstroke — -to plant a stake firmly in the ground on the other side of those who say the crisis can be avoided. I am trying to say as forcefully as I possibly can, that if you don’t open that door and start acting quickly, you are going to inherit a planetary Deathstroke that cannot be reversed.

I start and end Deathstroke with the ominous phrase: “The Gorgoth is real. It comes for all of us.” It was, and it remains, a warning. It’s the bad news we can no longer afford to ignore.

Richard