The coffee in my thermos was hot and warmed me thoroughly. I settled into a vacant desk and waited for class to begin. I’d never seen the movie Wit and thought that I was in for an entertaining and thought provoking evening. I was right but I wasn’t truly prepared for how the movie would affect me.
It was written, shot and acted so well that I was completely immersed in Dr. Bearing’s world and pain. From the opening of the film I knew that it was going to be real; taxing on my mind and spirit in ways that, even during discussion afterward, I couldn’t properly express or comprehend.
“You’ve got mustard on your cheek.” It was a blunt tone for such sharp words. That’s the way that it came out when Dr. Bearing’s physician told her that she had cancer. The very mention of that word punches me in the gut with the strength of Samson. My family is riddled with the disease on both sides. My mother and, more recently, my sister had it. My father, a couple of cousins and at least one uncle died because of it. I cringe and cower as though I’m looking at the business end of a gun when I think about it and what it can do. It is so powerful. In its path we are all weak.
Over the course of an hour and a half the portrayal of this woman’s story was all that existed to me. Samson had pummeled me and I sat weeping in the dark at the back of the class. My coffee was still in the thermos. I had given up on it. Its warmth couldn’t chase away the chill that had overtaken me.
As the credits began to roll and before the lights came back up I was on my feet and out the door. The weight made it hard to walk but I made my way down the corridor to the men’s room where I stared at the mirror and splashed water in my face. The salt of my tears burned my eyes. My body was numb.
I returned to the classroom for a post-movie discussion and wrap up. “It was heavy…I’m spent.” These were the only words that I could muster. Inside there were far more complex thoughts and concepts but I couldn’t articulate them.
The disease was not caught during stages one through three when it could have been better treated. It was in stage IV and, as stated in the movie, “there is no stage V”. The oncologist suggested that Dr. Bearing undergo chemotherapy at its full dose both for the possibility that it may have some affect on the tumor and also so that she could serve as a medical case study. The progression of her disease was so fast. I thought about this and I was terrified. Cancer doesn’t kill everyone it touches but many of the people who do die do so quickly and painfully.
Sometimes, however, it’s not the disease itself that causes death. One of the most poignant lines in the movie landed on me like Newton’s apple. I had a realization. It made me think more than I wanted to about cancer and the loss of my father.
I am not in isolation because I have cancer; because I have a tumor the size of a grapefruit. No, I am in isolation because I am being treated for cancer. My treatment imperils my health. Herein lies the paradox.
Cancer is a disease that threatens its victims and tests their resolve but, unlike many other illnesses, the treatment can also cause the patient’s demise. My father may have been victorious in his battle with lung cancer were it not for some of his post-surgery treatment.
I’ve spent over a year thinking about, writing about and trying to heal from the loss of my dad. I feel as though I’ve aged more in the last year than in the ten years before. At this pace I’ll be fifty long before I’m forty. His death has been the most difficult thing that I’ve ever had to deal with and I blindly believed that I was moving on. This movie made me realize that I was wrong. But then, perhaps I shouldn’t think that I’m moving on. Maybe thinking that I’ve moved on is proof that I’ve not. Once I’m not concerned with moving on then I will have healed.
