The important things…
I know this guy. Super nice; not an unfriendly part about him. My wife and I became friends with him and his wife. Over the years, our family grew; as did theirs.
Let’s recap- He started out as an acquaintance, who became a friend. A happily married man; who loves his wife, and adores his children. A man in his prime, content with his life and happy to be alive.
He was diagnosed with cancer.
What a crappy beginning to a story. That’s just it though… It’s not a story to him.
I wrote about cancer and its nasty effects in my book. It was a byproduct of a secondary storyline, but very relevant to the overall theme for the protagonist… my hero. I made it sound like this horrible beast (which it is), was conquered by one, but consumed another close to my hero.
As a writer, I, along with countless others, have the ability to create a fantasy world out of nothing. Sometimes we use real-life events and expand on those to create a brilliant idea or an amazing story arc. We can turn simple things such stopping to smell the flowers at a corner florist, into a missed traffic light sending a car careening into the patrons at that very flower shop. Often, we forget about story ideas such as cancer being very real, and not just part of a fictionalized tale. It never really hits home until someone close to you experiences it. Now, being as near to middle age as I care to get, this is not my first real-life exposure to a person with this terrible and unholy disease. Yes, I use the word “unholy” in its true form. There is nothing remotely positive about this blight on human suffering.
As a true testament to those who have survived it, they are the heroes, and they should be well recognized as such. Most of us who have never experienced it, do not understand the tough road of suffering it takes to get on the other side of it. Even so, sometimes we write about it as if it will add a complex layer of depth to the suffering of someone in our stories.
It may make for a good storyline,… but it sucks for those who are actually living with it.
I gave my friend a copy of my book. I wanted him to have something to read; to help take his mind off everything that is happening. It wasn’t until later when I realized that I had painted, not one example, but two, very realistic portraits of his new existence. My heart sank. I fretted for days over the mistake that I had made in handing him a new owner’s manual of something that nobody wants. His family had said that it was not a big deal. It was, and still is to me. He has become one of my biggest fans. For that, I am truly grateful and completely undeserving. Nevertheless, he is living out the true story of something most of us writers can only conceptualize. He has become just another number for the disease, but so much more to those around him.
He will overcome this. Of that, I have no doubt.
Although thoughtless in nature, my intentions were pure, from the heart, and full of love. I know, deep down; he knows and understands this. The compassion I have for my friend’s feelings would never allow me to willfully hurt him or anyone in this situation.
Simply put, yes, he is a hero. A man holding his head up and hitting this face on. He is more of a hero than Joshua could ever be.
For my friend,… this too shall pass , and one day we will dance on the grave of this disease, victorious with the sun shining down on us.
You are my hero.
