What Doesn't Kill Me...

 

Even folks who care little about philosophy are probably familiar with the quote, “What does not kill us, makes us stronger.”  So wrote Fredrich Nietzsche at the close of the 19^th Century.  He must have hit on something with that phrase because it has turned up in more than one pop song and is even quoted by the title character in the movie Conan the Barbarian.  Smarter folks than I have surmised that what Nietzsche meant was that suffering is an opportunity to gain strength.  I will leave it to the philosophers who understand Nietzsche’s book Twilight of the Idols to determine if that is an accurate understanding. 

 

Recently while listening to the audio book version of Ross Douthat’s book The Deep Places, I encountered a different take on Nietzsche’s phrase.  The subtitle of Douthat’s book is “A Memoir of Illness and Discovery.”  The book chronicles his ongoing battle with Lyme disease.  He tells of the physical, emotional, and financial toll this sickness has taken, and is taking, on him and his family.  As the book closes, he writes, “What doesn’t kill you, doesn’t necessarily make you stronger.  But what doesn’t kill you, doesn’t kill you. And sometimes that alone supplies the thin reed of hope, the solid thing to cling to, when every other help and possibility goes thru your fingers like sand.”  To be candid, Douthat’s insight was just what I needed to hear. 

 

 In 2015 I was diagnosed with corticobasal degeneration (CBD).  Since then I have explored the internet, chasing down any lead on some treatment for neurodegenerative diseases.  As you might have guessed, I found no miracle cures for CBD.  I have lost count of the number of times over the past 7 years when I discovered some promising-sounding title, but then once I’ve deciphered the scientific terminology, there is a statement that this “looks promising.” Promising?  If a prediction is made about when any sort of treatment might flow from this research, the guess is it will be 10 years out.  I even came across one article that ended with the prediction that the next generation will think about neurodegeneration the same way this generation thinks about polio!  

 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do pray the day will come when neurodegeneration will be a footnote in medical textbooks, but what are the currently afflicted to do?  Denial, anger, self-pity, or seeking to make a deal with God are all possible responses.  I am honest enough to say that I have tried all of them and found no abiding relief.  That is where Douthat’s book comes in.  I doubt that the suffering that CBD has brought into my life has made me stronger, and the strong likelihood is that it will eventually kill me, but it hasn’t killed me yet!  One of the first things I did when I had a name for my illness was to explore the treatment options.  There are none.  That led to another search to see what the life expectancy was. The average is six years from diagnosis to death.  I read that in 2015.  I might be math impaired, but even I know that if you add 6 to 2015 you get 2021.  I just checked my calendar, and it says 2022.  Quite honestly, I didn’t think I would still be alive, but here I am.  Sure, I hurt more than I used to, and I move even slower, but I am still moving!  I have come to see the wisdom of Douthat’s assertion, What doesn’t kill me may not make me stronger, but neither has it killed me!  Someone said, “As long as there is life there is hope.”  And hope is as Douthat puts it, “the solid thing to cling to, when every other help and possibility goes thru your fingers like sand.”  I am hanging on, but hanging on to what?  I am a Christian, in fact, I made my living as a pastor.  As you might think, that means I have prayed quite a lot both publicly and privately.  I am not sure exactly when I started doing this, but I typically conclude my prayers with, “I ask this trusting in Your love for us and in Jesus’ name, amen.”  My trust, my hope, is ultimately in God.