Cancer has no heroes

Stories mean more to us if we know the people involved.

That’s why news of Jack Layton’s new battle with cancer quickly became a mega-story.

Layton is “known” on two levels in Canada.

First, by journalists who have gotten to know him in Ottawa during his years as federal NDP leader, along with many others familiar with him from his years as a leading Canadian municipal politician.

But Layton is also “known” in a very real sense by millions of Canadians, most of whom have never met or talked to him in person, but whom he has visited countless times in the intimacy of their living rooms, over many years, in countless political stories.

That’s why, when Layton appeared Monday at a press conference to announce he was temporarily stepping aside as NDP leader to battle a new cancer, millions who have never met him were genuinely shocked by his physical frailty, rasping voice and the fact he suddenly looked much older than his 61 years.

It was like seeing a relative, or a friend or workmate you hadn’t been in touch with lately, who suddenly appears before you in shockingly ill health.

What I’m going to say next is in no way intended as criticism of Layton, a skilled politician who really is a guy you’d like to have a beer with and who has always fought passionately for his vision of Canada.

My concern, rather, is that, “we,” meaning the media and the public, not make the mistake of portraying Layton as either a “hero” or heroic in his attempts to recover from this clearly very serious new cancer, which followed his previous bout with prostate cancer, which Layton says is now under control.

The reason is no one who is dealing with cancer, or any other serious disease, publicly or privately, should ever be expected, or required, or made to feel they must be heroic, or serve as an example to others, even if they demand it of themselves.

I don’t, for example, consider my late father, who died from lung cancer after smoking all his life, having started decades before it was linked to cancer, “heroic” in how he coped with the disease.

Rather, I consider him “human.” Knowing the prognosis was grim, he tried to hang on until the birth of his first grandchild, and, once he realized he wasn’t going to make it, refused all further treatment.

The point is, it was only after the two of us got by any notions he should “heroically” hang on, that we were able to talk honestly about our mutual fears, pain, recriminations, confusion, disappointments and anger.

Indeed, having had some health problems in recent years, I can tell you from experience that anger is an emotion that accompanies illness far more than any notions of “heroism” or being a role model for others.

Anger as in, “why me?” As in, “what did I do to deserve this?” as if anyone “deserves” bad, or for that matter, good, health.

I don’t think we should expect anyone who is sick - famous or unknown, young or old, married or single - to be heroic, or an example to others.

I think we should expect them to be human, and start from there.