Reflection 3 Tangibles and intangibles, or, you need a mess of help to stand alone


When I was diagnosed, I received a battery of treatment recommendations. Surgery was ruled out as being too invasive and potentially damaging. An aggressive combination of chemotherapies and radiation was chosen as having the most likelihood of success. I also received various shots to stimulate my salivary glands, as well as medicines and vitamins to regulate my body’s general functioning. For any patient with a similar diagnosis, these tangible methods would be considered. Whatever approach employed would depend upon both the location(s) of the disease, the pervasiveness in the body, and the health of the individual. You can only be slapped silly with therapy if you are in shape enough to handle it. As I have stated, I started out fairly strong, but ended up bruised and battered by the very therapy that was meant to heal me.

There is also the reality of the importance of securing highly qualified, determined, and available medical staff. But even the best and the brightest have their moments when they look to the side, uncertain how to proceed.

There are so many of these tangibles to consider. As songwriter Brian Wilson said, “you need a mess of help to stand alone”.

Independently of these are the intangibles. Prayers, mental attitudes, positive actions – by both the patient and others – must be factored in to the mix. For those who like their approaches measurable, this is a messy business. It’s hard to weigh the benefits of prayer groups, determined positive thinking, desperate pleas to God, and many more of the ways we work outside the medical model to achieve the ultimate outcome – total healing (and with this disease, there is nothing less than total that is acceptable).

We even throw the hail Mary pass on fourth and long, hoping for the big score.

A sign on one of my hospital rooms said, “every day holds the possibility of a miracle”.

That miracle, the greatest of the intangibles, may be what we have to hold on to.