No Cure for Being Human

1. The American Dream of a Perfectible Life Crumbles in the Face of Finitude

Tumors budded and spread across my colon and liver without my consent, and here I am.

The illusion of control. American culture, fueled by self-help gurus and the prosperity gospel, promises that a perfect life is achievable through endless choices, hard work, and positive thinking. This narrative suggests we can conquer our limits and curate our own destiny, believing that success, health, and happiness are simply decisions away.

Reality intervenes. A Stage Four cancer diagnosis shatters this illusion, revealing the fundamental truth that life is not a formula and we are not always in control. Despite striving for the "best life now" through efficiency, productivity, and optimism, the author confronts the stark reality that some things, like aggressive cancer, cannot be outworked, outpaced, or outprayed.

We come undone. The diagnosis exposes the vulnerability inherent in being human – we fall ill, get old, lose loved ones, and miss opportunities. This shared human condition of finitude and suffering is the universal truth that the culture of limitless potential often ignores, leaving individuals unprepared when life inevitably comes undone.

2. Facing Mortality Forces a Ruthless Pragmatism and Letting Go

This will be a hard journey... Is there anything you can set down?

Pragmatism as survival. Confronted with a life-threatening illness, the author adopts a steely pragmatism, a philosophy that prioritizes what "works" over personal preferences or sentimentality. This means making difficult, often painful, decisions based on the stark reality of limited time and resources, asking "What can I set down?"

Shedding the non-essential. This pragmatic approach extends to every aspect of life, from physical possessions to future plans. The author discards clothing incompatible with surgical ports and chemotherapy packs, cancels subscriptions, writes a will, and takes family portraits, systematically letting go of things and ideas that no longer serve the immediate, urgent reality of survival.

The cost of choices. The experience highlights that choices are often luxuries, and true surrender comes when those choices are removed. Facing the potential end forces an honest accounting of a life's worth, measured in quantifiable terms like age, income, and relationships, revealing the cold math of mortality and the necessity of focusing only on what is essential.

3. Time Transforms from Productivity to Precious, Quantifiable Moments

I had invested heavily in the science of efficiency... Now I watch my friends and family head out the door for work, errands, anything, hungry for that feeling of being propelled through the world.

The tyranny of efficiency. Before the diagnosis, time was viewed through the lens of productivity – a resource to be optimized, streamlined, and filled with accomplishments. The author, like many in modern society, was a "human bulldozer," constantly seeking to maximize output and winnow moments into a million uses.

Time as scarcity. Cancer redefines time from an endless resource for productivity into a precious, dwindling commodity. Days are no longer measured by tasks completed but by medical treatments, scans, and the ticking clock of potential recurrence. The focus shifts from future achievements to the immediate present, where minutes with loved ones become elastic and invaluable.

Counting the moments. The author begins to count time in concrete, finite units: two years, 730 days, two Christmases, 104 Thursdays. This new, urgent timekeeping highlights the scarcity and preciousness of each moment, contrasting sharply with the previous relentless pursuit of efficiency and forcing a re-evaluation of how time should be "spent."

4. The "Bucket List" Mentality Misses the Point of What Truly Counts

A bucket list disguises a dark question as a challenge: what do you want to do before you die?

Experiential capitalism. The modern bucket list, influenced by consumer culture, transforms the ancient desire for meaningful experiences into a checklist of accomplishments and adventures to be collected before death. This industry promotes the idea that a successful life is one that can be completed by seeing, doing, and acquiring a multitude of things.

Approximating infinity. The problem with aspirational lists is that they often attempt to approximate infinity, suggesting that with enough time and resources, we could do anything or be anyone. This focus on quantity and external achievements distracts from the deeper question of what truly matters and how to grapple with finitude.

What counts vs. what can be counted. While the author is adept at making lists, she realizes that counting items on a bucket list is far easier than knowing what counts in a life. The true value lies not in accumulating experiences or conquering goals, but in the simple, often mundane, moments of love, connection, and presence that cannot be easily quantified.

5. Living in the Moment Clashes with the Reality of an Uncertain Future

I want to believe in the beauty of eternity, the endless future spooled out before us all. Time is a circle, the Christian story goes.

The wisdom of presence. Ancient philosophies and modern therapeutic culture advocate for living in the moment, free from anxiety about the future. This advice, while valuable, becomes complicated when the future is not just uncertain, but potentially very short and painful.

Future interrupts the present. Despite efforts to focus on the "eternal present" of daily life – medical treatments, diaper changes, small routines – the future constantly intrudes. Planning for a world without her, making arrangements for her son, and facing the potential end of her life makes it impossible to simply exist without acknowledging the looming cliff edge.

The mundane sparkles. The "terrible gift" of illness is that it forces a focus on the present, making the mundane aspects of life – a child's laugh, a shared meal, a quiet moment – sparkle with unexpected beauty and significance. However, this heightened awareness of the present is inextricably linked to the fear of losing it, creating a constant tension between cherishing what is and grieving what may never be.

6. Ambition and Work Must Be Re-evaluated When Life Becomes Finite

How will I know when this work has cost me too much?

The cost of career. The author reflects on the immense investment of time, effort, and personal sacrifice required to build a career, particularly in academia, where success is measured by quantifiable achievements like books and articles. This ambition, inherited in part from her father's own struggles for recognition, feels increasingly precarious in the face of a limited lifespan.

Work as identity vs. calling. The question arises whether her work is merely a career driven by ambition and external validation, or a calling that holds intrinsic value. Facing the possibility that her life's work might be unfinished or unread forces a painful re-evaluation of its purpose and cost.

Finding meaning in the process. Despite the fear that her final moments might be spent on a book no one will read, the author ultimately decides to continue writing. She realizes that her love for the work and the act of creating itself hold meaning, and that her presence and passion are embedded in the work, offering a way for her son to "find her there" even after she is gone.

7. The Body Becomes Both a Stranger and a Site of Unexpected Grace

I thought I was something, but I might be nothing at all.

The body as battleground. Illness transforms the body from a familiar home into a site of trauma, pain, and betrayal. Surgical scars, physical weakness, and the toxic effects of treatment make the author feel alienated from her own flesh, viewing it as something that "almost tried to kill me."

Loss of self-worth. The experience of being reduced to medical data and survival statistics, coupled with the physical changes, leads to a feeling of worthlessness and replaceability. The author grapples with the confusion of feeling less human despite fighting so hard to stay alive, questioning her value beyond her physical state and ability to perform.

Unexpected grace. Despite the physical toll and emotional struggle, moments of unexpected grace and connection emerge. The author experiences a profound sense of God's love and a surreal completeness even while facing death, realizing that wholeness and beauty can exist alongside brokenness. The body, though altered, remains capable of giving and receiving love, embodying memory, and experiencing moments of joy.

8. Different Experiences of Time Shape How We Navigate Suffering

The Christian tradition has special language for our three experiences of time: tragic, apocalyptic, and pastoral.

Tragic time. This perspective grapples with the problem of evil and suffering, acknowledging that not all things will be made right. It focuses on loss, the brevity of existence, and the collection of cherished memories and experiences that remain after loss.

Apocalyptic time. This view sees the world on the brink of a dramatic, often redemptive, conclusion. It brings a terrible clarity, revealing hidden injustices and the interconnectedness of human experience. While potentially comforting in its promise of a final resolution, it can also lead to a sense of urgency, fear, and a dismissal of the mundane.

Pastoral time. This is the "Ordinary Time" of everyday life, marked by seasons, routines, and the slow, often inefficient work of tending to basic needs and relationships. Most of life is lived in this mode, requiring patience, presence, and finding meaning in the ordinary rather than constantly seeking grand narratives or dramatic conclusions.

9. Hope and Fear Coexist in the Liminal Space of Durable Remission

You have been left in this heightened present forever.

The ambiguity of remission. Achieving "durable remission" after a Stage Four diagnosis places the author in a liminal space – not cured, but not actively dying. This state of prolonged uncertainty is emotionally taxing, as the fear of recurrence remains constant, making it difficult to fully embrace hope or make long-term plans.

Betrayal of trust. The experience with the clinical trial and doctors who prioritized research protocols over her individual care leads to a profound sense of betrayal. This reinforces the feeling of being a "lab rat" rather than a patient, making it harder to trust medical professionals and navigate the ongoing uncertainty.

Learning to live afraid. Fear, initially a necessary tool for survival and vigilance, becomes a difficult state to exit. The author realizes she cannot stay in this heightened state forever but struggles to move forward without the certainty she craors. The challenge becomes finding courage and allowing herself to hope for a future, even a modest one like turning forty, without the guarantee that it will come.

10. Life's Meaning is Found Not in Completion, But in Unfinished Love and Work

There is no such thing as a finished life, Kate.

The myth of completion. American culture often presents life as a project to be completed – a list of goals to achieve, experiences to collect, and a narrative arc that culminates in a satisfying conclusion. This focus on completion can make suffering and premature death feel like failures.

Meaning in the process. The author discovers that meaning is not solely found in achieving goals or reaching a finished state, but in the ongoing process of living, loving, and creating. The "unfinished cathedrals" of life – the relationships, the work, the dreams – hold value precisely because they are ongoing and imperfect.

Love's enduring presence. Ultimately, the most profound meaning is found in the enduring power of love, particularly the love for her son. This love, like the gorilla hearts beating "love-love," is a fundamental truth that transcends the uncertainty of time and the fragility of the body. It is in these moments of connection, and in the act of pouring herself into her work and relationships, that she finds a sense of purpose and presence, even when facing the possibility that her story may remain unfinished.

Last updated: May 15, 2025