Life...It's a Terminal Illness
“Life, it’s a terminal illness” is a great phrase. I’m not the original author and I don’t know who is, but it carries a truth that most of us tend to actively ignore for most of our lives. As I write this, I’m 76 years old. I’m a clinical psychologist and I’ve been in private practice for about 36 years. Whether working with patients who struggle with health anxiety or with patients with a terminal illness, the specter of life’s end can be all-consuming and paralytic in its effect. We give furtive glances to a horizon that has no light and we turn away. For some, a deeply held faith in chapters beyond the horizon offer solace, even hope. But for those of us unwilling and unable to embrace the unknowable, mindful, pacific acceptance of the reality of life as a terminal illness can be challenging to say the least. We all struggle to achieve a sense of control in our lives. Order and predictability provide a structure that shields us from the fear anomic chaos. It is an essential element to feeling safe. Recognizing life as a terminal illness means acknowledging a vector that inevitably leads to an unknowable end. As a psychologist, as a fellow human being on this universal journey, learning how to accept, even appreciate this endpoint to life, has been important to me both personally and professionally.
When I was 34 years old, my wife passed away of cancer, leaving me a widower with two very young children. Amongst the many things this crisis forced me to face was the cruel unpredictability of life. It also prompted me to read about death and dying and what it all might mean. One very impactful recollection I have was of having read what I recall was an exercise run by two psychologists who were exploring ways to better understand and frame death and dying. As I recall what I read, they stood before an audience with a thought exercise. They asked the audience to imagine that they could offer them the following option: Life without end, no aging or illness, for them and all the people they know and love. When asked who would choose it, all hands were raised. They then asked the audience to think of something, anything, that they believed would have enduring value now that they had life without end. Someone shouted, “Love”. The presenter then asked, for how long…80 years, 200 years, a thousand…500 thousand… There was a hushed pause. Another person shouted, “Ice Cream”. Once again, the presenter asked for how long…100, 300, 1000… Again, a hushed pause. The point had been made. Without an end, nothing remains special. Everything eventually recedes into to being the same. A critical point was made. The boundaries between birth and death make what happens in between -life- extraordinarily valuable. When I first considered this, I was gobstruck. For death to be necessary for life to be meaningful was remarkable to consider. I can recall as an undergraduate being influenced by the cynicism of existentialism. It essentially posits that life is meaningless because in the end, we all die. How ironic that the converse is true. Life is meaningful because we die. For me, this completed the circle. It made sense and made precious each day and each moment. To be clear, it doesn’t take away the realities of pain, hardship and heartbreak. The tapestry of life contains it all. The challenge is to be fully present and experientially open to life as it unfolds. It is through this commitment that we develop the capacity to learn, grow and deepen our appreciation of this journey called life.