Cancer

I'm going back for a turn-the-page interview with my surgeon tomorrow, where he gives his opinion on how to go forward. I have a preview, which is that he will recommend only careful watching, not radiation. But more on that tomorrow, or the next day.

What has struck me throughout this process is the gonglike resonance of the word, cancer. Where does that come from? Nearly everyone knows it's not an automatic death sentence. But it seems to be uniquely scary, in its own dimension, different even from stroke. We fear it, I think, because it is alien. An invader.

The derivation sheds a little light. "Cancer" is the Latin word for crab, although the Roman physicians also used the term for the disease. Ditto the Greeks, with "carcinoma". An invading creature, with claws.

And unlike other invading creatures - germs, say -we don't really know where it comes from. It doesn't come from the outside. There aren't little cancers floating around that hop on board. This invader seems to appear on its own - we grow our own enemy.

So if that's the case, is it an alien? Or an evil version of ourselves?

In my case it's further compounded because we can't find it. It's an invisible evil-alien-doppelganger. Even more scary, I suppose.

But here's what I say: aliens don't scare me and neither do ghosts. They intrigue me. God help me, I think the whole thing is interesting. And I have never felt more alive.