A Word About Weakness

as·the·ni·a (ās-thē'nē-ə) n. Loss or lack of bodily strength; weakness; debility.

Recently I had to complete paperwork to qualify for disability benefits – I never envisioned being at the other end of that process! When asked what about my condition prevented me from being able to work, I wrote down “weight loss, fatigue, asthenia”. Not currently in any significant pain, the predominant debilitating symptoms are these. No longer am I able to breeze through 12-hour days, mostly on my feet, and certainly not on any sustained basis. Loathe to admit it, I am too weak. I lack the sustained physical energy, muscle and mental stamina, to manage the longitudinal care of hundreds of patients as I once did.

As I have tried to share with you lessons learned during this journey with cancer, the one lesson I have yet to learn is how to accommodate my own weakness. Perhaps it is because I have almost always had more than my share of energy. “Blessed” for years with subclinical hyperthyroidism, my metabolism was in hyper-drive. Even after treatment for the thyroid condition, I required higher-than-average doses of synthetic thyroid medication, which seemed to keep me revved up, getting by with less than six hours of sleep, running circles around my wife, and driving her crazy with my ability to eat most anything without gaining weight.

Perhaps my difficulty adjusting to this new reality of weakness is my tendency to equate weakness with a defect in character or will. Of course I know better, but I have always operated on the semi-conscious notion that if you simply “buck-up”, you can overcome most any obstacle. Ask any one of my daughters how their doctor-daddy responded when they wanted to stay home from school because they did not feel well or it was “that time of month”.

And, although I am reluctant to admit it, part of my difficulty with weakness is that my self-esteem is linked to an achievement-oriented mentality and the desire to "be strong" for my woman whatever the circumstance. After all, she is the weaker vessel, right? Like it or not, I have a hard time shaking off these deeply ingrained patterns of thinking. I may yet need to learn (like a friend recently observed) how to become a human being (as opposed to a human doing).

Now I am confronted with a condition in which both the disease and the treatment rob me of energy; and no amount of self-will, positive thinking, or even sincere faith seem capable of restoring. This last course of high-dose Interleukin-2 zapped me of energy like I have never experienced before – just getting up from a chair or climbing a flight of stairs required enormous effort. Only now am I able to stay upright most of the day.

I know intellectually that there are lessons to learn through this experience of sustained weakness but I have yet to embrace them fully. The apostle Paul was apparently well tutored by weakness as he related to the Corinthian church his struggle with a “thorn in the flesh” (2 Cor 12:7-10). Beset with some chronic malady he was told by the Lord that he would not be rid of this condition, but rather “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

Power is perfected in weakness… Hmm, how does that work? Apparently that is what I must yet learn. What is the nature of this power? It certainly is not physical. No Olympic athlete cultivated weakness in order to achieve greater strength or stamina. It must be spiritual power, or as Paul puts it, “the power of Christ”. I must yet learn what that means experientially – this is not something to be comprehended through mental gymnastics. I suspect people like Joni Eareckson Tada and Dick Woodward know a bit about power perfected in weakness.

One thing I have learned: that is to be satisfied with uncertainty. In a conversation with my Dad the other day, he asked “When will you know you have been cured?” My short answer: “Never.” From a medical standpoint, I know the physicians will never declare me “cured”, even if no evidence of active cancer can be found. Rather, knowing that not every renegade melanoma cell can possibly be accounted for by any existing scan or test, they will declare me “in remission.”

And that is okay with me, for in this state of uncertainty (vulnerability, weakness), I am totally dependent on Him as my source of peace, hope and strength. That is where I belong. That is where I will stay. And one day I will be able to say with Paul: "Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

Still learning and loving each day He gives,

Dan