Sinclair on life: Everybody has a battle to fight

By PETER SINCLAIR

Getting cancer has taught me to be humble. For the pain of others is often so much greater than my own.

"I live in Koutu on the south side of the Hokianga," writes Lawrence, in as moving a letter as I have ever received.

"Back in Feb my wife was diagnosed with lung cancer, 'no possible cure' were the words we heard ... she has had radiotherapy on the lung tumour and since then has developed two more on her brain. We recently had radiotherapy for that, which has had a devastating effect on her well-being ... I sometimes wake in the middle of the night and think the whole damn thing is a nightmare but it isn't and life and time continue on. Our pantry is full of pills, morphine and health products, but the cancer will not go away. I pray each night for my darling Helen but the cancer will still not go away. For breakfast I give her porridge and raisins, toast, health pills washed down with green tea, then I go for my morning walk down to the harbour's edge ... with a million thoughts racing through my head and all the grief comes pouring out. I sit on a rock at the water's edge and I pray that one morning everything will become crystal clear ... "

This e-mail makes me marvel at the ability of people such as Lawrence to bear such burdens without breaking. It's also a powerful illustration of the way in which cancer imposes itself on others as cruelly as on its actual victim.

My e-mails, too, often emphasise the void between the well and the ill. There's frequently such a failure of understanding that they could come from two different races, as another reader highlighted recently:

"An acquaintance's husband (who had been rebuffed by me, but took years to believe I meant it ... ) arrived on my doorstep three weeks ago when I was in the middle of a course of chemotherapy and ... six weeks of daily radiation. I staggered out of bed to answer the door in my daggy tights and T-shirt and luvly bed-hair and feeling like ****, and he said, 'I was in the area and thought I'd drop in and say Hi' (one of those loathsome surprise visitors who are convinced they are doing you the favour). Of course, there was no offer of moral support, tangible assistance or encouragement - I think he thought his mere presence might bring about some sort of transformation in me ... !"

All in all it was a rotten week. A former lover also rang and invited her out to a function; when she turned him down, he helpfully suggested she was being "negative" about her cancer.

But at least she sounds like a fairly combative, coping sort of person who doesn't need advice from me. Speaking of which, I get a good deal of mail soliciting my help and counsel on matters both cancerous and not. You'd be amazed at the number of people seeking support on the most unlikely subjects from someone who, like myself, has begun shooting his mouth off in public.

For the record, please don't ask. I have always steered clear of setting myself up as any kind of a guru in personal matters large or small, if only because I am so fully occupied with messing up my own life that I just don't have time to mess up yours as well.

I may not feel myself competent to give advice, but I am always glad to receive it. So my thanks to Ted Sutherland, a reader who sent me a collection of thoughts which have helped him through some hard times.

"I hope," he says, "that you find something which helps you ... "

You've helped me already, Ted, with your invaluable tips on how to have a good day.

"Rise early ...

Eat slowly ...

Speak gently ...

Be kind ...

For everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."

I hope that, just sometimes, readers may find some casual remark of mine as useful to them in their battle. Just as I hope that some prayers may work. For I am praying for Lawrence and Helen, how can one not?

E-mail pete@ihug.co.nz