Life lost

By early 2008, I had endured 18 months of chemotherapy with Xeloda. My CEA was down to normal and my scans were clear. When my CEA came back up a bit, we decided the chemo had done all the good it could and it was time to set me free. We would just watch closely and hope that cancer would stay away, at least for a while.

It felt great to get away from the grind of chemo. I didn't have to plan my activities around good weeks and bad weeks. I didn't have to avoid favorite foods on chemo days to prevent making bad associations. I had more time and energy, my mind was clear, and I could plan for the future: projects to accomplish, advancing my career, traveling around the world, and pursuing romance as a normal man.

Just a few months later I got bad news. My CEA was not rising gradually but shooting rapidly into the danger zone. And my scans showed new growth – a tumor had resisted all the chemo drugs and was expanding without restraint.

I cried upon receiving that news – something I had rarely done through all my dealings with cancer. The physician's assistant assured me that the doctors had not given up on me; there were still more treatments to try. She must have thought that my tears were from a fear of death. And I should take comfort that there might still be ways to avoid that fate.

But really I cried for the loss of life. The loss of living. I knew that returning to treatment meant more hardships from chemotherapy, the loss of time, and the loss of vigor. Death is inevitable and I do not fear it, but I have things to do before it comes. I cried because I was losing those plans for my future – productivity, strength, happiness, love.

We eventually fought that recurrence with surgery. And when we found that some remnants had survived, we scorched them with radiation. I have been living free since then – watching closely, hoping for a long break from cancer, and planning for the future.

But now my CEA is back in the stratosphere. Though we haven't identified a specific tumor on scans, I have been experiencing bowel obstructions and greatly increased pain. It seems that cancer is back in my life and ready to fight.

I start a new course of chemotherapy on Monday.

Threads of reincarnation

I don't believe in an afterlife, but I'm not 100% sure that one does not exist. So sometimes I ponder how it might work. How is the soul tied to the body, and where does the soul go when the body can no longer carry it?

One idea is that there is a whole other realm where souls go after leaving this world – heaven, hell, etc. But a simpler idea is that the souls return to our own world to continue their existence. They are reincarnated with a different body and maybe with different circumstances based upon what the soul did in previous incarnations.

One argument against reincarnation is that there are not enough souls to go around. The population of the world is growing (generally exponentially), so there are many more bodies now than there were a thousand years ago. Where did we get all the souls to inhabit these bodies? Or what were today's billions of souls doing when there were not enough bodies for them to inhabit?

I believe that time is an illusion, so I have an explanation based on the plasticity of time. Think of our world as a sheet of canvas and think of our souls as long threads. With time running from left to right across the front of the canvas, a soul comes into life by piercing the canvas from behind. It lives its life along the front of the canvas and leaves our world by piercing back behind at some point to the right.

If time were immutable then any reincarnation must occur with a return to the front of the canvas somewhere still farther to the right. But if the netherworld is free from our constraints of time, then the thread could run in any direction behind the canvas. It might return to the left, and come back to the front at any point, even one corresponding to a time before its prior life.

If the soul has little or no memory of its previous lives, then it could even make parallel runs across the front of the canvas without any paradoxes of coexistence. This flexibility means that all the living people you see today could be inhabited by any number of souls (up to as many as there are people today). And there could be any number of souls, weaving back and forth through time to inhabit all the bodies that ever have been or ever will be.

So be nice to your neighbors. They might be the other lives woven from the same thread as you.