The cancer world comes with a strong undercurrent that focuses on curing the disease. Fight it. Battle it. Beat it. Sometimes this approach can undermine the very essence of the individual who is caught in a situation where going for the cure isn’t an option. And then what?
Cancer is a scary beast. A cardiologist told me just last week, “It’s frustrating how people are so willing to take any medication or do any treatment for cancer, some of which haven’t even been proven to be helpful, but these same patients are skeptical of what I have to offer to prevent a heart attack.” He then made a gesture that almost had me smiling, if only he hadn’t been so serious, as he continued, “All because it’s cancer. Everybody is so afraid of cancer!” His frustration was palpable and his observation very real.
Get a diagnosis of coronary artery disease, Type 2 diabetes, or high blood pressure and most people will go on with their lives, some making lifestyle changes, some taking medications, or both. Don’t get me wrong. Each of these conditions can be a serious diagnosis, but they don’t usually upend a person’s world, at least not anytime soon. We don’t typically talk about curing heart disease, diabetes, or hypertension once a person is diagnosed. Instead, people typically respond by adapting to and managing the disease.
Get a cancer diagnosis and our world stops. Surgery. Chemotherapy. Radiation. All move front and center to find the cure. But sometimes a cure isn’t possible and where does this leave the person? I can tell you: Emotionally drained and often having conversations with health care providers, family, and friends that can overlook the patient’s immediate need for symptom management, emotional support, and planning for a good quality of life.
One of my favorite courses to teach in college is about food and culture. My students and I explore various cultures from around the world, and before delving into the social dimensions of food, we examine the diverse health beliefs across cultures. This often includes a discussion on the distinction between curing and healing.
Curing and healing are both related but they are also distinctly different. The goal for curing cancer is “no cancer detected.” We achieved this for 18 months with Nasir’s initial cancer treatment. And then his cancer came raging back refractory to the standard treatments. We were not focused on healing during this time, but still on curing. And when his cancer returned, it broadsided us. I think more so than had we also been focusing on healing.
Most cultures have a holistic view of health, integrating physical, emotional, spiritual, and social dimensions such as support networks. For many groups, health practices are often tied to cultural identity with healing being just as important as curing. We don’t hear much about healing in the cancer world, especially not in the U.S. medical system. At least not while someone still has cancer, when the focus is on curing. Healing on the other hand is a much broader approach that goes beyond the physical symptoms and seeks to also promote the person’s overall quality of life, which may include coping with, adapting to, and finding meaning in a health condition. In other words, achieving emotional, spiritual, and mental peace. While curing is often measured by getting rid of the disease, healing is more often measured by improvements in overall wellbeing and personal fulfillment.
The overall goal for healing is to promote a sense of wholeness, even if the physical illness persists. Six years into Nasir’s cancer and post bone marrow transplant, we realized a cure for his immune cancer was not likely. We focused on managing with medication, not to cure, but to get him to the next point when there might be a new medicine to help manage the disease. Nasir’s physicians were calling it maintenance therapy. The goal was to control the cancer as long as possible, but without the expectation of a cure. Maybe there would be a cure down the road, but in that moment in time the goal was to focus on keeping his cancer in check and manage his symptoms while enjoying the time with our children. We eventually came around to some of the aspects of healing, but it wasn’t until after intense push back and years of treatments that wore down his body. I think had we embraced healing earlier, it would have empowered us to take more control of our situation rather than feeling defined by his illness.
Just before Nasir passed, we were waiting for a new immune therapy called ibrutinib. It works by inhibiting B-cell multiplication which most likely would have afforded him additional years. However, complications from the aggressive stem cell transplant had caused too many other issues that complicated his survival. It’ll be ten years this month since his passing. Each time I teach the section on traditional health beliefs in my food and culture class, I am reminded of the profound importance of embracing healing and how much more our medical system in the U.S. could do to better support patients and their families navigating cancer.
I had never thought about, yet alone, understood the difference. Thought I did but I'm more in tune now, Thanks!
Excellent points, Jeannie. I'm not sure I would have used the word 'healing' as much as managing the symptoms. But your article resonates strongly with my experience, not just because of my Dad's bladder cancer but the fact it came on top of other chronic diseases - congestive heart failure, and others. Managing all these conditions was a constant spinning plates situation.