Fear Is The Mind Killer
Apologies to Dune fans, as this isn’t a piece about the book but does reference the Bene Gesserit litany which is the point I wanted to make.
I have spoken in the past about going to the doctor — on a regular basis. In 2008 I went to the doctor for my annual visit. That was the year I found out I had cancer.
Fear is the Mind-Killer
I did actually visit the doctor every year from when I turned 30. I was never afraid of going to the doctor — even when I was told my cholesterol was high and I needed to alter the way I ate. I went because it made sense. In 2008 I came to realize how much sense! I was diagnosed with an incurable form of cancer called Multiple Myeloma. Because of my doctor visits, I caught it very early, before the disease had caused any permanent damage. From that point on I have been advocating regular, annual, doctor visits — for everyone! This preventative step could help find things in advance of those things becoming an issue.
This is so easy to say — but sometimes not so easy to do.
By the end of 2012 my disease had gotten to a point where I had to take the next step, and I was scheduled for an autogolous stem cell transplant. On January 29, 2013 I re-planted my own stem cells I had harvested after my first round of chemo in 2009. In 2016, on my three year anniversary of the transplant, I had a bone marrow biopsy that gave me the really good news — there was no trace of the disease in my body. I was told my long-term prognosis had just been extended, significantly, and that my next milestone was 5 years. This is an incurable disease and most often it returns within 3 years of the transplant. When first diagnosed I was given 3–5 years to live. This milestone was good news, no, Great News — but there are always two sides to the coin. And Fear always chooses the worst side!
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration
I was told to get my blood checked quarterly. I had to see the doctor annually but I was told to get the blood checked quarterly. Simple enough, eh?
This is an incurable disease, which means it could come back. For most, it comes back within 3 years. I had just spent 8 years dealing with this disease, having started that 8 years with a 3–5 year life span estimation. For the first time I was given a true, All Clear, there was No Trace of the disease. It wasn’t gone but it wasn’t present. The last thing I wanted to think about was the disease. I took a break from the Myeloma train and avoided the hospital. In other words, I didn’t get my blood checked quarterly.
Every time I was tired when I thought I shouldn’t be, I found Fear knocking at my door. Each time I had back pain, which was most likely muscular related, I found Fear was knocking at my door. The one way to resolve the issue was to get my blood work checked. Then I would know for sure.
And Fear was there — to absolutely, without doubt, fully re-assure me that I would most definitely know for sure when I got my blood checked — I would know for sure, without doubt, the disease was back!
That is what runs through my head every time I think about it. The minute I was told there was no trace of the disease was the first minute I was reminded the disease could come back at any moment. Every bit of good news comes with the potential for bad news when the C-word is involved. Fear makes sure you never forget that.
I was able to push Fear aside — to disregard the little voice of doom. There wasn’t any ‘urgency’ and nothing t0 give me worry so I was able to suppress the fear and get on with life. When I passed the four year anniversary of my transplant, and still hadn’t scheduled my blood-work, Fear started coming back. Every time I didn’t schedule my appointment Fear would say, “yeah, you don’t need to check that, I’m sure everything’s fine…(wink, wink)”
It’s this Fear that is truly the mind killer. And when you are dealing with an incurable disease it takes a lot to push past it, and tell it to shut the ____ up! It eats away at you, eroding any confidence without a shred of reasoning to justify said erosion. But that doesn’t matter, it’s Fear, it’s the little death that brings total obliteration.
When I finally booked my appointment I was reminded of Dune and the Bene Gesserit litany. As I was getting my blood-work done I felt myself, “permit it to pass over me and through me”.
It is difficult to explain how tough that step really is. No matter how irrational your thoughts might be, no matter how much you know it isn’t true, the minute you take that step you are worried you might find out that Fear was right — and that is paralyzing. The only thing you can do is press on — otherwise Fear has won.
I write these words to remind myself to keep pushing Fear behind me. I am so lucky compared to so many others I know with this disease. For that reason I try to ensure that others can understand the mindset people face and how debilitating the disease can be mentally — not just physically. And it’s not just my disease, people battle with many types of Fear daily.
It’s finding the courage to look it in the eye and move forward. Or finding the courage to call someone and let them know you need help. It’s finding anything you can do to help put Fear behind you, where it belongs, so that You can move forward. That is the step that is sometimes so difficult to take.
I hope these words helped you, just this once, face Fear and realize, “where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Thank you, Frank Herbert, for the lesson — and thank you for reading!
