Revised prologue to 'Soul Cancer', my new book now available on Amazon.com

Did you know that your body is programmed to develop cancer and die?  I know, it seems counterintuitive, but it’s true.  This isn’t classified.  It’s not a secret.  If nothing else kills you, and you live long enough, you will get cancer.  And die.

The human body contains certain mechanisms that regulate the growth of cells.  Our cells grow at a certain rate, and ultimately, with the passage of time, our built-in cellular growth-regulating  mechanisms wear down and fail.  When that happens, some cells start to grow uncontrollably.  And that’s cancer. 

This means that cancer is perfectly natural.  In other words, it is not a foreign ‘bug’ or virus.  It’s more like a self-contained time bomb.  This actually makes sense if you think about it.  I mean, if the human experience is supposed to include the reality of mortality, it’s logical to assume that  the body has a way of destroying itself at some point in time.

Certain genetic or environmental variables can increase one’s risk of developing cancer earlier than ‘nature’ intended, which is why we have things like skin cancer and lung cancer and breast cancer. 

Cancer comes in many different ways and many different forms.  It is capable of invading all parts of the physical body.  Some cancers are worse than other.  It comes in varying degrees of severity and complexity.  It is a cunning adversary, and it is also very patient and powerful.  And it has baffled doctors and scientists for many, many years.

Cunning, baffling and powerful.  Cancer.  The exact same words – “cunning,” “baffling” and “powerful” – are used to describe alcoholism in the basic text for Alcoholics Anonymous.

Cancer of the Soul...

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I suppose any number of diseases, disorders and other medical maladies may contribute to a person feeling lonely and isolated.  Sad and depressed and anxious and frustrated.  And scared – absolutely terrified. 

Cancer for sure.  Blindness.  Severe burns.  Obesity.  AIDS.  Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia and other ‘mental’ illnesses.  Multiple Sclerosis.  Assorted debilitating phobias.  Amputations and congenital physical deformations.  Stomach-related issues.  Heart failure.  Whatever.  All kinds of horrible sickness.   And on and on and on.

            However, the disease of addiction might be the only medical condition that actually intends to cause a human being to feel lonely and isolated and fearful.  The specific aim of addiction – its actual modus operandi, for want of a better term – is to totally isolate a person.  And then to kill the person.  Alone in a room, usually a small, unpleasant room. 

Addiction, through its cunning and baffling tactics, methodically and progressively sets out to destroy its host.  Sometimes quickly, but much more often very slowly and deliberately.  Like cancer, addiction is generally defined by the medical community as a chronic, progressive, relapsing disease with no cure.  It is a terminal disease that ultimately results in death – a very painful death.  It can be successfully treated and even permanently abated,  but only for a relatively small percentage of those truly afflicted with the illness.

            But unlike cancer – which left untreated will also completely destroy its human host and result in death – addiction negatively impacts and severely damages anyone and anything related to the afflicted individual.  It severs relationships with loved ones.  It tears apart families, businesses, and all manner of material property.  It warps the lives of children.  It results in bankruptcy, loss of certain freedoms and privileges.  It is by far the largest contributor to jail and prison populations in Western society.  Addiction is at the root of most domestic violence.  It leads to endemic levels of suicide.  Accidental and fatal overdoses.  It often results in the death of innocent ‘bystanders,’ so to speak, in the form of drunk driving accidents, drug deals gone wrong, armed robberies, burglaries, and the list goes on.

            Addiction further burdens its host with the very heavy weight of an antiquated social stigma, derived from long-standing misconceptions and ignorance about the disease.  Back in the days when nobody knew what addiction was, when such a ‘sickness’ was believed to be nothing more than a morality problem and a weakness of the will, the addicted were regarded as disgraceful reprobates, devoid of will-power.  And these poor souls were judged accordingly.  The sick and dying addicts were simply treated like any other categorically insane mental patient.  They were often locked up in dungeons and asylums.  Some were sent to live in exile on island colonies or placed on large ships that never made landfall.  Addicts were deemed ‘lost causes’ who were quite a nuisance to civilized society at large. 

            Presently, the collective scientific knowledge and wisdom about addiction is light years ahead of where it was just fifty years ago.  Great advances in medical technology and increased sophistication in the specialty of addiction medicine have provided doctors and scientists in multiple fields of study the ability to demonstrate that addiction is an identifiable brain disease; the modern medical community has clearly shown time and time again, through all kinds of studies and clinical trials, that, at a biochemical level, the brain of an addict is literally hijacked by the addictive substance (e.g., alcohol, cocaine, heroin, prescription narcotics, etc.).  In other words, when the addict is actively using his or her addictive substance(s) of choice, said addict loses control of the brain – a biochemical ‘hijacking’ that puts a monster at the control panel.  Even when the addict decides to attempt a life of sobriety, the neuropathways in the brain have been forever altered, which effectively means that, on certain occasions – the most severe cases – in certain individuals, the brain is ‘hijacked’ before the addictive substance even enters the addict’s body.  It’s an incredibly complex mechanism, but it does become quite clear and logical if one is simply willing to learn about this disease that plays a significant role in the destruction of modern society.

            Nevertheless, quite a large percentage of the ‘general public’ still believe that the only thing an addict must do to be cured is to merely make the choice to stop.  That prisons are full of addicts who want to be there.  That millions of otherwise perfectly rational and reasonable human beings would actually choose to suffer repeated, progressively worse, humiliating and ultimately fatal consequences brought about by addiction.  That the homeless wino passed out on a park bench in a snowstorm just decided  that it would be a good idea to die of exposure.  It’s a tragedy that addiction causes so much damage to society in so many different ways, and it is because of that damage that the stigma is perpetuated.

            Nobody chooses to be an alcoholic.  And no-one wakes up one day and says, “I think I’d like to become a drug addict.  And then I want to give up everything I love for everything I loathe.  Furthermore, I hope to spend some time in prisons and hospitals.  After that, I think I’ll retire, penniless and alone and dig my own grave and die.”  Yeah, sounds like a great idea.

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This story is a true tale of addiction and consequences.  Addiction is a chronic, progressive relapsing disease.  And that’s what I am – a chronic, progressive relapsing alcoholic and drug addict.  Addiction personified – that’s me.  No Hollywood rehab or celebrity crackhead or slaps on the wrist.  No, no, no.  This is real.  This is addiction in its purest and rawest form – and it goes on everywhere – and its sick and twisted and angry and focused, and it causes so much more damage to society than most people can possibly comprehend.

            I truly think addiction is a cancer of the soul.  In addition to all of the tangible, evident damage addiction causes to its host and everyone else, and once the afflicted individual has been rendered totally dysfunctional, the disease eats away at the very humanity of the sufferer.  It kills the soul.  It takes away everything about the person it afflicts – everything that makes that person more than just a physical shell.  It eradicates dignity, self-respect, creativity, compassion, love, sex drive, appetite, intellect and anything else that makes the person who he or she is or was in the eyes of those who have known the person since the pre-addiction days.

Once the addict has lost everything and gets to that point where he or she is holed up in that dark, lonely little room waiting to die, addiction continues to eat at what’s left.  It takes away the desire to live.  The will to continue existing in such an impossibly painful state of being.  It takes away the soul.  Soul Cancer.
****end****

Walter & Me.

Walter Malloy Buckner, Jr. (1967-2013)

(The following is to be read at Walter’s remembrance ceremony at The Retreat, April 13^th, 2013 in Wayzata, MN on behalf of Jeremy Nerenberg)....>>>>

Greetings from Toronto, Canada.  My name is Jeremy Nerenberg. 

The Blogger

It pains me greatly to say that due to circumstances beyond my control – and I mean that quite literally – I cannot be here in person for my brother Walter. 

I can explain.  You see, the United States Department of Homeland Security deported me to Canada in 2010 – yes, I’m serious.  As a Canadian citizen living in the U.S. since 1978, I ran into some trouble with the law several years ago.  And, ultimately, due to my inability to stay sober and play by the rules, I was not-so-politely removed from the U.S. and dropped off in the city of my birth, Toronto, where I sit today.  I had many, many chances to get my act together and avoid such a drastic consequence. 

There is only one other person I know who is capable of irritating someone to such an extreme extent – someone so gifted in his capacity to annoy, aggravate, infuriate and exasperate other human beings to the point of insanity…

I first met Walter Buckner six years ago, right here at The Retreat.  I had just flown in from Aspen, Colorado (where I was living at the time) in yet another attempt to ‘get sober.’  I had been here for about a week at the time, when some friends of another Retreat guest came out here to Wayzata from St. Paul to visit their comrade.  I noticed one of these guys in some designer sunglasses, smoking a cigarette and talking n on his cellphone off in a corner of the courtyard by himself.  He was brought over and introduced to me as it was known that I grew up in Dallas, Texas, and apparently this guy had also grown up in Dallas.

Walter and I quickly learned that we had actually grown up just a few miles from each other in Dallas.  But since Walter was a few years older than me and we went to different schools, our paths never crossed until that day – in Minnesota of all places.  Walter had arrived here many years earlier of course in an attempt to deal with his own issues, while I was still years away from the darker part of my life.

I ended up staying on in St. Paul after my thirty days here at The Retreat.  As fate would have it, I moved into a sober house on Lincoln Drive (or Avenue, I don’t remember), and Walter was one of my new housemates.  I quickly learned that this guy was a monumental ‘piece of work.’  Sarcastic, obnoxious, unbelievably direct and way too cool for his own good.  He was impossibly difficult, insufferable, intolerable and insane.  I absolutely loved it.  We were soon as close as only brothers-in-arms can be. 

We developed an unbreakable bond, one like only soldiers united against a common foe can experience.  Many of you in this room know what I’m talking about.  It’s a magical byproduct of this program – this fellowship – this wonderful, colorful, beautiful, tragic, painful world of recovery.

Even though I only knew Walter for six years, and even though we only lived in the same city together for two years, I consider Walter to be one of the closest friends I’ve ever had at any time in my life.  You see, Walter was sober the entire time I lived  in Minnesota.  I, on the other hand, continued down a path of periodic relapse, trouble, madness and chaos.

Walter had my back the entire time.  When others turned away from me, Walter sought me out and made sure I was okay.  He would not leave my side as I struggled.  

For much of my time in St. Paul, I too was sober, and it was during that period when we were both healthy at the same time, that I cherish most with Walter.  We were very much alike – we had the same tastes in music, clothing, and many, many other of the finer things in life that two ex-rich kids from Dallas, Texas acquire a taste for.  We argued about everything and agreed on everything at the same time.  I saw myself in Walter and he saw himself in me.  We were both neurotic as hell and we bickered at each other like an old married couple. 

And neither one of us gave a shit about what anyone else thought of our mutual Southern arrogance. 

Walter was a walking contradiction.  No writer of fiction is creative enough to come up with such a character.  He’s impossible to properly describe in mere words.  One must experience his presence and personality in order to get a glimpse of such a curious creature.  He had the very rare combination of character traits that enabled him to help someone like me – someone equally impossible.

Walter was clearly jaded and traumatized by his many past experiences, as many of us are.  But Walter also possessed the innate gifts of compassion and empathy.  He was a restless soul with a spirit that was not comfortable within the confines of the limited human body.  He was misunderstood by most, because he let very few people inside.  I was the same, and I know many of you sitting here today could share similar experiences in that regard.

I never had an older brother – I was the oldest in my family.  During my two years in Minnesota, Walter was my big brother.  My guardian angel.  I will not go into detail about the many specific ways in which Walter helped me – it’s too personal and painful to rehash in this way, in this room.  There is enough pain in this room already.  Granted, I’m fairly certain there will be a lot of laughter in this room tonight too.  My thoughts and memories of Walter over the past couple of years generally result in me laughing out loud at the sheer absurdity of some of the things I witnessed around Walter……actually, “absurd” isn’t a descriptive enough word.  The man was capable of evoking the most ridiculous, preposterous, silly, outlandish, devious and totally irrational events in any situation, at any time, regardless of location. 

Walter had a profound impact on my own personality.  Sometimes I’ll notice the way I’m moving or the way I’m talking or even the way I present myself, and I’ll realize that part of my personal style and disposition represents the special relationship I had with Walter Buckner.

I am shaken to the core by the circumstances surrounding Walter’s untimely passing. Walter was at his best when I was at my worst, and I will always regret that I could not be there for him when he slipped back into the darkness of addiction.  But no distance can separate his heart from mine.  And no matters of mere mortality can break the bond between our two souls. 

Walter watched out for me.  He helped me when I could not help myself.  He was a soul rebel. A modern-day folk hero.  I miss him terribly.

Bob Dylan said “A man is a success if he wakes up in the morning and goes to bed at night and does what he wants in between.”  Well, no-one was more successful in my eyes than Walter Buckner.

May he find the peace he deserves and sleep softly tonight in the knowledge that he will always be surrounded by love.

-peace/love

Jeremy