I’m not really going to write about cupcakes. Sorry. Just thought the title could use a little sprucing up. This entry is going to be huge downer.
Cupcakes!
I am, however, going to write about Terry Fox. And later on, AIDS. I’m writing about Fox because he was pretty awesome and we’ve (I’ve) been neglecting poor ol’ Canada in my posts. I’ll be writing about AIDS because when deciding what to include in these little lessons, one of the things I look for are total game-changers; things that forever changed our culture in ways we couldn’t even begin to measure or understand for years to come. But first; Mr. Fox.
You guys probably know a few of the basics about Terry Fox, so I’ll do what I can to put him in his proper, historical context. For starters, he’d be turning 54 this summer if cancer hadn’t taken him. That makes him a Canadian Baby Boomer. Almost. Our baby boom came a bit later than the American’s, so by those numbers, Fox just qualifies.
The story goes that when he was still basically a kid studying kinesiology at Simon Fraser (to become a gym teacher: irony!) he was diagnosed with cancer in his knee and had to have his leg amputated. He recovered remarkably quickly and was playing golf with his dad a few months after the surgery.
Because he was so impressed with the diagnostic methods that caught his cancer and the treatment he received, he decided it would be worthwhile to contribute somehow to further cancer research. Hence; The Marathon of Hope. Despite the loss of his leg, he planned to run across Canada, rasing money for cancer research as he went. The plan was to start in St. John’s, Newfoundland and finish up in Victoria, British Columbia.
He started the trek on April 12th, 1980. Things were pretty rough to start with. April is still early spring and Fox was hit with freezing rain and at least one snowstorm before the weather softened up for him. He was also disappointed at the poor turnouts he was getting along the way.
But as the Marathon went on, he started gathering more momentum and support. He was drawing crowds of thousands by the time he made it to Ottawa and Toronto. Sadly, he didn’t make it too much farther than that.
Just outside of Thunder Bay, he had to stop because of a persistent pain in his chest. It turned out that his cancer had returned and spread to his lungs. Of course, the Marathon ended there after having raised about 1.7 million dollars.
Subsequent fundraising efforts like telethons, however, continued to raise money throughout the following year, reaching a total of 23 million.
Terry Fox died about a year after he started his Marathon on June 28, 1981.
Cancer, as tragic as it is, has one good thing going for it: there is no social stigma attached to it. I mean, yeah, if someone smoked two packs a day for thirty years and then gets lung cancer, a few people might whisper amongst themselves that they brought it on themselves. But cancer has never really drawn the kind of stigma that AIDS has. And there are historical reasons for that.
Time to back up and make sure we all know what we’re talking about. AIDS, if you don’t already know, is written all in caps like that not because we’re shouting it, but because it stands for Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. And AIDS in turn is caused by HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus). Here’s the interesting thing about HIV and AIDS: not a single person has ever dies directly from either of them. What does happen is you get infected with HIV which effectively destroys your body’s immune system. It’s at this point that you officially have AIDS. And what that means is your body has no way to fight off all the thousands of little bugs and whatnot you’re bombarded with every day.
I caught a cold last week. I took a day off work to try to rest and get better. It worked pretty well. If I had AIDS on the other hand, I’d be dead. The cold would have killed me. Total drag.
Back to stigma. When someone gets cancer, it’s unlikely that anyone will think it’s because there’s something wrong with them as a person. Cancer just happens, right? Sure, there are things we can do to increase or decrease the odds a bit, but it seems to strike anyone it wants (totally anthropomorphizing here: cancer doesn’t want anything). AIDS, on the other hand, well, that’s a different story.
The first North American case of AIDS was officially diagnosed in 1981. But it wasn’t called that then. Because it was first identified in a very small population of gay men, the media started calling it GRID; Gay-Related Immune Deficiency. It only took about a year before doctors realized this was not in any way restricted to the gay community, but it was too late. Despite its official name now being AIDS, the disease would always, among some <ahem> less educated individuals be known as “that there gay plague.”
And that thing about it coming from a monkey? Yeah, that’s true. But not in the way you think it is. So stop thinking that.
A bunch of very smart doctors and scientists have figured out that somewhere in the Congo (Africa), through the practice of hunting primates for sport, meat and souvenir export, SIV (Simian Immunodeficiency Virus) mutated and made the jump to people. It was carried through immigration to Haiti to North America over the next couple of decades. And like all good pandemics, once it took hold, it was almost impossible to contain and/or wipe out.
Which is where we’re at now. More or less. There is no vaccine and there is no cure. We’ve got some pretty good medications that can halt the progress of HIV before it becomes AIDS, but even at that, a person’s life span will be pretty dramatically shortened because of how harsh the drugs themselves are on a person’s system.
AIDS, and I remember this becoming a thing, made us terrified of blood. It effectively created, or at least strengthened, a new social taboo against exposure to any kind of bodily fluids. Before AIDS, it was a big thing for kids to become “blood brothers.” Each kid would make a little cut on one finger, or maybe their palm and the two kids would hold the open wounds together. Therefore, swapping blood and bonding beyond just mere friendship. Not many people do that anymore.
And here’s the really evil part: because of how it’s spread: unprotected sex and needle-sharing mainly, it’s too easy to point to a really vulnerable population and say they deserved it. For example: if you live in a part of the world that is so poor you don’t have access to basic medical supplies, condoms might be hard to come by. You know, like huge parts of Africa. This a gives a horrendously racist person the opportunity to believe that Africans are somehow more promiscuous than whites.
Ugh. I don’t even like writing that, but it’s important to at least try and understand the logic of a delusional mind.
Or, through no fault of your own, you never managed to finish high school and/or get your life sorted out so find yourself more or less living on the street, using your body as currency and numbing the pain of that through chronic heroin use. This might give someone an excuse to point to young people and say they have no self-control, no character.
Believe it or not, there are plenty of people out there who are so lacking in compassion that they will say something ridiculous like these people somehow deserve what they got because of their wicked ways. You don’t get that so much with cancer.
Sorry. Got a little preachy there at the end. I can’t help it when I see people beating up on other, more vulnerable people.