How to Be a Pacifist in the War on Cancer

I am not only a pacifist but a militant pacifist. I am willing to fight for peace. —Albert Einstein

Since my cancer diagnosis 13 years ago I have identified as a pacifist in the war on cancer, or PWC for short. As a result of being asked to speak at seminars, workshops, and conferences, I decided I needed to clarify what this means. I begin by telling the attendees that being a PWC does not mean:

• staging sit-ins at local oncology offices and telling patients to stop their chemo drugs in favor of herbal remedies.
• protesting in front of a hospital's radiology department, “Hell no, we won’t glow!”
• refusing medical procedures on the grounds that “They’re not my thing.”
• becoming a welcome mat for the disease.

Most importantly, a PWC does not look down on those who use war metaphors to gather the courage to face cancer.

I then go on to explain that being a PWC stands for striving for inner peace and reducing the amount of stress associated with a life-altering illness. It means creating a safe haven, a sacred space for healing and wellness, rather than a battlefield littered with land mines and hostile encounters at every turn. PWC is really a state of being rather than a state of doing. One can avail oneself of all means necessary to treat cancer, while at the same time adopting an attitude of humility over hostility and compassion over combat.

This is not to suggest that one surrenders, in the normal sense of the word. There is no putting down of arms and admitting defeat. Neither is there retreating to some quickly constructed “happy place” where the real emotions of anger, fear, and sadness are masked over with the slippery smile of “I’m fine.” Surrender, in this context is, as the psychiatrist and author Sheldon Kopp once wrote, to “raise your right hand against fear: extend the other in compassion.” It's taking the stand that a war fought within has the self as the first casualty.

Practical tips for applying surrender when facing a life-altering illness include:

• using the time spent waiting in doctor's offices to meditate instead of ruminating.
• using humor to break the anxiety spiral when going through medical testing.
• offering gratitude to those in the helping professions who assist in recovery.
• utilizing body movement methods such as Tai Chi, Qi Gong, or Yoga to honor the body while it is being poked and prodded through medical procedures.

Unfortunately, we live in a culture that associates pacifists with cowards. For the most part, I’m OK with that. As someone who struggles with anxiety, when it came to cancer, I was scared to death. Fear drove me to ask for the thoughts and prayers of friends, family, and strangers. I was afraid to my core that after surviving open heart surgery to remove the thymic tumor growing in my chest, I would not survive the combined hit of radiation and chemotherapies. More to the point, I was terrified that if I declared war on cancer, I would awaken a sleeping giant and rather than emerge as a conqueror enjoying the spoils, end up a refugee trapped in the ravaged landscape of my body.

The other reason that I’m OK with the misconception of pacifism is I know there is something courageous about taking a stand with a plowshare rather than a sword. It takes strength to stay in harmony with life while the body is experiencing a calamity. This journey is shared by all survivors, whether they go to war, or take the stance of a conscientious objector—all deserve Medals of Honor and Purple Hearts and an end to hostilities.

Facing cancer, or any life-altering illness, reminds us how deep the mind/body connection runs and how both illness and wellness wax and wane as a result of this connection. Ultimately, being a pacifist when confronting health challenges assists in maintaining the proper solitude that allows us to hear the murmurs of health through the cacophony of illness.