Rodney Warner, JD

My 13 year old daughter, thanks to her Jewish friends, is frequently engaged in the local bat mitvah circuit. She has the patience to get through the ceremonies (being Catholic, learning Hebrew hasn’t been a priority) and enjoys the parties afterward. She attended one yesterday. She said one of her favorite parts was the speeches given by the parents about their daughter. She wants me to give a speech about her after her confirmation. Her request made me think, and this is a draft…

Nine years ago, I was in a very dark place. The only thing keeping me going was the light at the end of the tunnel. At the time, I didn’t know if the light was real or a mirage.

My cancer had relapsed twice in two years. I knew my situation was desperate, but how desperate, no one could really tell me. One specialist at a world famous cancer center told me I was terminally ill and further attempts at a cure would be a waste of what little time I had left.

I was 37 at the time, married and my daughter was four at the time. Like many of those involved in slow motion disasters, I tried to bargain with God, come up with good reasons why He should see fit not to have me die at an age I thought was far too young.

I argued my daughter needed a father. If I died, she’d be without a parent, which would be a bad thing. I thought my wife would be better off without me. What’s the point of being married to guy who’s constantly sick, unable to work, just draining her of energy? But my daughter, I thought, even if I were severely disabled but alive, I still could contribute something to her life.

I think all us fathers of daughters, at some point, fill some time with fantasies of graduations, a joyous wedding and grandchildren to spoil. At the time, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see Kaitlin get through second grade. Kaitlin’s school was close enough to walk to. I imagined walking her to school, but as time went on I’d be unable to do that. Maybe I’d only be able to walk her to the end of the driveway, then only to the front door, then I’d get only as far as her bed, then I’d be unable to get out of my own bed, then I’d be unable to wake up. As I got sicker, I’d slowly withdraw from Kaitlin’s, and everyone else’s, life. I’d be too sick to do anything and die a death I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

If there’s anything worse than dying, it’s dying with regrets, with work left undone. What’s better life long work than being a parent? If I died when Kaitlin was, let’s say, six, what’s the chance she’d really remember me later on in life? If cancer were to take my life, not only would I not be there to help her surmount life’s obstacles, and enjoy the many triumphs that lie ahead of her, I’d just be a faded memory. Perhaps those memories wouldn’t be of me being a, loving, active parent, but a sick man whose life was being drained away by an uncontrollable parasite known as cancer.

In our living room, you’ll find some really nice black and white portraits of my family. We did them back in January 2003, so at least Kaitlin would have some good pictures of me. Somewhere in my closet is a video camera we bought to take videos of me and Kaitlin while I was still healthy enough to be engaged in her life, so she’d be able to hear my voice. We did these things to give her proof in future years, despite the absence of memories of me, that I really was her father.

So I bargained with God. I asked for more time, so I could be a parent to my only child. That’s all I asked for. That was truly the most important thing to me at the time. As it turns out, it looks like God was listening and showed me some mercy. I’ve lived to see days I doubted I’d ever see. I’ve been a parent (such as I am) to Kaitlin. I marvel at what a wonderful kid she is, and how she’s grown to be the caring person that she is. I also marvel at how fast time has passed. Though the clock may seem frozen at work, when I’m with Kaitlin, the clock is a speeding blur.

My brother died of cancer a little over five years ago, leaving behind three sons. I’m sure he tried the same bargain with God that I did. For whatever reason, the miracles ran out for Bart. Maybe God was distracted by some earthquake, malaria outbreak or request by Tim Tebow for some help on a particularly complex end run.

So, despite the odds against me, here I am, with a wonderful wife and daughter, alive and healthy enough to write this. Kaitlin, is a loving, caring kid with the world in front of her. I hope the effort God and/or the medical system made for me was worth it. I know all the efforts I made to get through cancer was worth it every time I see Kaitlin.

Rodney Warner, JD

That was the question from a friend of mine. He’s the father of a six year old boy, husband of an oncology nurse recently diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. He, like millions of us, is seeking the miracle of a cure for cancer.

We’re a demanding bunch, we humans. We can never have enough of a good thing, even miracles. Where do you find the miracles?

There may be trillions of planets orbiting hundreds of billions of stars in this universe (and there may be billions of other universes, for all we know). All things considered, our planet is pretty hospitable to life, in spite of everything we’ve done to it. Our sun is not too hot, not too cold, and keeps us comfortable.

The United States has managed to survive, and thrive, over the past 200+ years. In spite of a civil war, and a host of wars involving foreign nations, our nation still plugs along. Other than the War of 1812, the attack on Pearl Harbor and the attacks during 9/11, we haven’t been invaded by a foreign army.

We’re one of the richest nations on Earth, consuming resources far above and beyond other nations our size. Despite its many failings, we have one of the best health care systems on the planet. People the world over come here for care.

We are a nation of much poverty and much wealth, where millions go to bed hungry at night, millions are also over weight. In some ways, we are cursed by our prosperity. We have enough money to buy more than enough food produced, and often cooked by, others. We have enough spare income to buy tobacco, alcohol and illegal drugs. Since we don’t need to farm, gather or hunt our food, we live a sedentary life, with all the chronic diseases and ailments that come with it.

If you can read this, you’ve been educated enough to be literate. You are wealthy enough to own some kind of computer and have some kind of internet service. Considering how many of the six billion plus people on this planet don’t have clean water to drink, sturdy housing to surround themselves or a steady supply of food, you’re probably in that much maligned “1%” of the wealthiest of the human beings on the planet.

You are mentally healthy enough, and have the cognitive ability, to turn on your computer, navigate through the internet and read (and hopefully comprehend) this blog. You are probably physically healthy enough to walk around your house, sit down in front of your computer and use a keyboard and mouse. Hopefully, you can do a lot more than that.

Many of us are blessed with loving relationships, with loving children, parents and siblings. Many of us have more than sufficient housing, in nice neighborhoods. Many of us are employed and able to support our families. As much as we may gripe about our jobs, bosses and co-workers, those of us who are employed, are employed.

How many more #^&*(!+ing miracles do we want? Miracles surround us. We swim through them every day. But we only want what we don’t have, a cure for cancer. Though miracles flow around us, they are finite and not at our beck and call. We can’t summon them like a witch before her bubbling cauldron. But just like cancer, miracles do happen, people are cured, even those in the most desperate situations. So we pray, scheme, research, hope, because despite all the miracles that flow around and through us, we just want one more.

Rodney Warner, JD

It’s that time of year again. No, not Christmas, but in a couple weeks the New Year, 2012, will be upon us. With the new year, comes resolutions, kept and broken.

Mine’s a favorite. Lose weight (and, hopefully, be more healthy). According to one online poll, that’s the most common resolution. That beat out “fall in love” by nearly two to one. How you can resolve yourself to a loving relationship is beyond me.

Having gone through a long, protracted, painful, frightening, expensive battle with cancer, and having witnessed my brother’s long, protracted, painful, frightening, expensive battle with cancer that he eventually lost, you might think I’d do anything to avoid a repeat of the process. If you think that, you’d be wrong.

Quite honestly, I’m in lousy physical shape. I don’t exercise in any meaningful way. Earlier this year I started working full time for the first time in many years. Financially and professionally, it’s a huge plus. But I rode my bike far more often back in my part time job days.

You will find people in much worse shape than I. I don’t smoke. I drink very little. Though I’m over weight, I’m not “obese” to the point I’m in any immediate danger of health problems (though my left knee hurts at times and I have arthritis in my right foot, so carrying more weight isn’t helping). I don’t live on fast food and Twinkies. I do manage a regular intake of vegetables.

I bet my situation is shared by millions of Americans. We know we need to eat more healthy food and exercise more. We know what we’re doing and not doing is harming us. But we don’t actually change our ways, or if we do, we fall back into old, bad habits. How I’m living my life is threatening my health long term. One study estimates that 25% to 30% of several common cancers are caused by obesity and lack of exercise. There’s a whole menu of other fatal diseases and conditions related to having too much weight and not enough exercise.

Eating healthier food and exercising more is the perfectly sensible, logical and smart thing to do. These changes don’t need to cost money or necessarily take much time. In all likelihood, if I can stick to this course, I’ll be healthier, live longer and feel better about myself.

So why don’t I just do it?

When I was in my teenage years, one of the things that really bugged me about my parents was their inability to change. Every day, in every way, seemed to be the same. I’m starting to wonder if reluctance to change is genetic. Another reason, ironically, is my cancer experience. Yes, I don’t want cancer again, but I’ve seen many lives cut short, and denying short term pleasures for long term gain is a problem. I really like chocolate milk, buffalo wings and ice cream (though not all together). I don’t like biking so much that I’ll do it year round. Long walks are literally a pain (in my right foot). When my brother was my age, he was three months away from dying. Who’s to say I won’t meet up with that UPS truck with my name on it next week? If my life can be cut short at any moment, why not just enjoy the things I like?

Aren’t cancer survivors supposed to ‘live for the day’, enjoy life every moment we can? I don’t see a regular diet of kale and the absence of beloved chocolate as ‘carpe diem’.

If someone could guarantee me I’d be 30 pounds lighter for the rest of my life, and I could eat whatever I wanted, and exercise as much or as little as I wanted and live a long and healthy life but in return I’d have to go through all the utter awfulness of the cancer treatment I had over five years, packed into six months, I’d do it in a minute. The experience taught me that when my back’s against the wall and I literally have a sword hanging over my head, there’s a lot I can tolerate. When necessary, I can suffer through a mountain of crap. I can beat cancer, but I can’t get my act together to lose weight and exercise more.

When it comes to day in, day out, little decisions that affect my life long term, I, frankly, suck. My resolution is to suck less, hopefully, a lot less. I’ve changed in the past. I’ve moved a couple times. I’ve gone through college and gotten a graduate degree. I’ve gone through career changes, gotten married and have a daughter.

I’m a creature of habit. All I have to do is start good habits. I can change and change for the better. It’s something I can do. All I have to do, is do it

Rodney Warner, JD

It’s a fine line.

As an attorney, I worked with cancer survivors. I tried to make their lives easier, so they could focus on recovery and treatment. It could mean talking about planning issues, advanced medical directives, employment problems or family issues. I had a client in her 30′s with stage three breast cancer. She was the single mother of a young daughter. The father was less than reliable and never let the truth interfere with his relationships with women (at one point he lied to his fiancée (not my client) and denied he had a daughter).

This client had her act together. After getting her diagnosis, she had a ‘to do’ list of things that had to be addressed. One of those things was custody of her daughter. We went to family court and she got it.

As a cancer survivor, I’ve been to many a support and networking meeting. At one, a woman attended who had a hard time admitting that she had cancer (according to an oncologist). She told us she was too busy to have cancer. At the start of the meeting, she told us her diagnosis. Later in the meeting, I asked her again what she had, because I’d never heard of it before. She just looked at me and didn’t respond. I think she might’ve thought that if she admitted she had cancer, it might make it more real, give it more power over her.

These two ladies are on both ends of the spectrum, as far as their ability to emotionally handle their situation. One fully grasped the jam she was in, put together a plan so her needs (and those of her family) would be addressed, put the plan into action and plugged ahead with her treatment. The other couldn’t move ahead to have her needs met (including proper treatment) because she refused to accept the reality of her situation.

In my roles as a professional, and as a fellow cancer survivor, I’ve tried to help others cope with cancer survivorship. I’d guess in almost all situations, a helping hand and a shoulder to cry on can be a huge help. With my client, she knew what she was up against, and I was more than happy to give her whatever support I could.

But in case number two, how do you give emotional support to someone who can’t recognize or admit she has a problem? Some people are just in such spiral of self-absorbed woe that I think a cold blast of reality is more likely to get them on the right track, as opposed to a warm hug of touchy feeliness.

I’m no counseling professional, but if along the way you encounter a survivor just submerged in grief, maybe the better thing to do is to encourage the person to understand the reality they face, but to let them know they can take actions to make the best of the situation. Even someone who’s terminally ill can control their treatment, and hopefully, control their pain. Encourage them to take actions and address their problems.

In the end, it’s up to the individual to decide how to cope with what they face. But giving the warm fuzzies to someone in a cocoon of denial or a self-induced haze of inability to make decisions, may not be the most helpful thing you could do.

Rodney Warner, JD

It’s supposed to be The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Even for those of us lucky enough to be “normal” and “healthy”, it’s a time of stress and high expectations. We’re supposed to be happy, even when we’re dealing with uncomfortable family get togethers, spending time at office “holiday” parties with co-workers we don’t like all that much and trying to cram gift purchases into our budgets. Add to it the cold, snowy and icy weather and financial issues you may have, December is an emotional mine field for the unprepared.

You’ve got cancer too? Just makes the season that much more merry!

I dealt with cancer treatment for three consecutive Christmases. As the years went on, my prognosis became more bleak. The following two Christmases, my brother was undergoing cancer treatment. He died a couple weeks before Christmas, in 2006.

There’s a lot of pressure at “holiday” time. Maybe, because of your health, you can’t see everyone you’d like to see. Maybe, because of the holiday, you’re seeing too many people. If family’s visiting, you may feel the need to put on that ‘happy warrior’ face when talking to relatives you haven’t seen in a while, even when you’re not all that happy and you feel much more like a casualty than a warrior.

In general, the best way to deal with cancer is to live the moment, and that’s especially true at Christmas. You can’t think about the past (Why did I start smoking? Why didn’t I go to the doctor sooner? Did I choose the right treatment?) or the future (Will I live? Will I die? Will I suffer? Will I get all those nasty side effects that are listed in tiny print in those handouts that come with the all meds I’m taking?). There is no yesterday, no tomorrow, only today. That needs to be your focus.

Be honest to yourself and others. If you’re down in the dumps, talk about it, to loved ones, to your doctor. Get professional help if you need it and can afford it. Seek out support groups. Get it out. You’re not the only one dealing with these problems. There are probably hundreds of thousands of Americans undergoing cancer treatment in America right now. It’s OK to feel stressed and depressed. I don’t think it’s OK to ignore these issues. You can feel better, you can do better, but you have to make the choice to move in the right direction.

Don’t want to be the happy warrior with others? Then don’t be! Feeling crummy? If asked, let others know! Feeling scared? If you’re comfortable with it, feel free to share! People who truly care about you won’t run away if you paint a picture that’s not bright and sunny. They will support you the best they can. They will feel better knowing that they are helping you in your time of need.

Another way to cope with Christmas with cancer is to focus on what Christmas is truly all about. Despite what you’ve heard, it’s not about Black Friday sales, covering your house with lights and busting your budget to buy gifts for the sake of buying gifts. At its heart, Christmas is a religious holiday. It’s a celebration of the fact that God sent us His son, to spread the Good News that we need to treat each other with love and respect, and that we might be able to live life everlasting. Feel free to opt out of all the Christmas Crap that’s been layered onto the holiday over the centuries.

Give gifts to yourself this Christmas. Be honest to yourself and others. Reach out for help if you need it. You can get through today, you can feel better, be it Christmas or not.

Rodney Warner, JD

They’re in this year’s World Series. They beat our home town Philadelphia Phillies, which should be reason enough to root against them. But they were my brother’s favorite team, so it’s not that easy.

Bart died of cancer (multiple myeloma) in 2006. That was the last time the Cardinals won the World Series. By October 2006, Bart wasn’t doing well. He died two months later. Bart’s friend and co-worker gave the eulogy at his funeral. In it, he said he thought it was a bad sign the Cardinals won that year, in that it would make it easier for Bart to let go of life, after seeing his team win the Series.

Bart was about four years older than I. We shared a bedroom as children for I don’t know how many years. I can remember one of the walls covered in pictures cut from Sports Illustrated. This was in the early 1970′s, during one of the better periods of Cardinal history. Joe Torre, Lou Brock and Bob Gibson were on the team and their pictures were taped to the wall.

I don’t know why Bart liked the Cardinals. We grew up in Connecticut, which is disputed territory between Red Sox and Yankees fans (I was an Orioles fan in my youth, trying to get along with every one). Then again, Bart was a Lakers fan too, obviously unafraid to go against the tide.

You might hear guys talk about how great it was for their Dads to take them to baseball games. My Dad never did, but Bart and I attended many games together. When I was 16, our family drove out to St. Louis to visit my sister (who taught special ed in an inner city Catholic middle school) and her husband (who was attending graduate school). We all went to a Cardinals game (they lost) in the now departed Busch Stadium (it was also home to the departed St. Louis Cardinals NFL team).

After I graduated college and moved back to Connecticut, and Bart moved to Boston, we saw any where from three to five Red Sox games a season for a number of years. He got me, and my future wife, tickets to see the Red Sox in a playoff game in 1988 against the Oakland A’s. I can remember sitting a few rows behind the bull pen, watching the game through the green chain link fence that separates the fans from the players.

Bart got married, had three sons, and we saw fewer games together, but we still saw our share. I have very fond memories of watching baseball with Bart. He would keep score. We’d talk about baseball, work, family.

In 2007, my wife and I went to a Red Sox game. For me, it was a memorial service. It brought back many fun memories of Bart. I could almost feel him there, in a Red Sox (or Cardinals) hat, program in hand, with a pencil to keep score. A warm, over-priced beer would be close at hand.

Baseball (especially a major league game in person) creates in me sweet and sour feelings. It brings back sweet memories of Bart, and the sour taste of sadness knowing he’s not with us (physically anyway) any longer. Bart’s life didn’t go anywhere near a complete game (he died when he was 46). Life, like baseball, is good, but it’s not always fair. Your home team may get a bad call from an umpire, or a bad bounce of the ball may result in it rolling past an outstretched glove, and the game could be lost. Bart died a death he didn’t deserve, at an age far too young. It was an end indescribably unfair for Bart, and for all those who knew and loved him.

Rodney Warner, JD

You’ve got this bush in your yard you really don’t like. Maybe it’s dead, dying, diseased, ugly or just in the wrong place. You want to get rid of it. You could cut it just above the ground, but you’ll have this stump there. It’ll have a much cleaner look if you can dig it out, then fill in the hole, and make it easier to plant other things in its place.

When you’re digging up bushes, you need the right tools. You need heavy duty gloves, a round point shovel, a cutter mattock, an axe, a hand trowel and a crowbar. Other than the trowel and crowbar, try to use tools with fiberglass shafts, as wooden ones may break under the stress of digging up a bush.

Depending on the size of the bush, you may want to trim back the branches (which will take pruning or lopping shears), but don’t trim it back so much that you just have a small stump. Leave enough so you’ll have something to grab onto (more about this later).

The key to digging up a bush is persistence and creativity. Try to dig completely around the bush (if it’s possible, it might not be if it’s next to a wall or fence). The round edge shovel will not only take out dirt, but cut smaller roots. You’re not so much digging up the bush as undermining it. You’re cutting roots and removing the foundation upon which it stands. You dig round and round, deeper and deeper, cutting as many roots as you can.

With the hand trowel, you may be able to get closer and dig out more dirt and get a better look at what you’re dealing with. For bigger roots, use the axe to cut them. The cutter mattock can also be really helpful. You can use the cutter side like an axe and cut roots. You can dig up the roots with the mattock side, and once you’ve made progress, wedge it under the bush, and using the tool as a lever, try to pull the bush up.

You can also use the crowbar as a lever. You can ram it under the bush, and push down (with hands, or feet if you have something or someone safe to hold onto) to loosen it up. Using a foot or two for this will allow you to literally put your weight into getting the bush out. If possible, have some cut up sections of 2″ x 4″ handy to put under the crowbar to act as a fulcrum and increase its angle and leverage.

Once the bush is loose enough, you can try to rock it back and forth (with your hands, or sit on the ground and use your feet…if you cut the bush down to a short stump, you won’t be able to do this). I think this is especially effective in larger bushes. You’re using its weight against itself and it can tear out remaining roots. If this doesn’t do the trick, depending on how it’s rocking, you can tell where the remaining roots are, so you can focus your attention on that area and finish the job.

You have to be creative because you just don’t know how many, or how strong, the roots are. Don’t assume the roots will be a certain size and be in a certain place. Persistence is key. You need to keep digging, cutting, loosening things up, going round and round, plugging away until you get it done. Of course, help would be great. It can cut your work load and time it takes to get the job done. That person may also come in handy if you hurt yourself too (these are heavy, sharp tools you’ll be working with).

Being treated for cancer is like digging up a bush. You need the right tools. You need the right meds, surgery or radiation. You need to be persistent. This can be a slow process, for me it took years. You need to keep plugging. You need to hunker down and get it done. If you can’t be cured, you still may be able to live for many years with cancer, given the right circumstances and treatment.

You need to be creative. Don’t take things you read, or are told, at face value. Think about them critically. Get second or third medical opinions. Think about, if this is right, what do I do? If this isn’t right, what do I do? You could get hurt. There are many long and short term potential side effects to treatment and cancer (other than death).

Having someone to help would be great. If you have a partner/spouse/friend/family member to help you get through this (not everyone does), it will make this whole nasty mess much more tolerable. Get help if you’re having a hard time emotionally, financially, professionally, or with your relationships.

If all goes well, you’ll have a tremendous feeling of satisfaction. It’ll feel good to know you’ve gotten that ugly bush out of the way. It’ll feel a million times better when you get good news from your oncologist.

Rodney Warner, JD

The co-founder of Apple Computers was a remarkable guy. A technological and marketing genius who reached professional and financial success the likes of which few human beings have experienced. Mr. Jobs is another famous man whose life was cut short due to cancer (of the pancreas).

I watched CNN this morning, and Mr. Jobs was the only topic of discussion. Someone e-mailed CNN claiming they were crying over his death, though the person never met him. Mr. Jobs’ death was front page news world wide.

He lead a fabulously successful company whose products changed the way many of us use computers, listen to music and talk to each other. But I really don’t think he deserves all this attention. I think all this attention shows how focused our society is on technology, business and wealth.

We’re a wired world, in part thanks to Mr. Jobs. After some stumbles, thanks to Mr. Jobs, Apple is fabulously successful. Those of us less successful professionally have a habit of putting successful businessmen on pedestals, deservedly or not. He was a billionaire many times over.

But how many lives did he save?

I imagine every day there are doctors, nurses, researchers, even paramedics who pass away, whose life work was to save lives. Do we hear about them? Do they get any attention? Is their good work worth some air time?

How many people who work or volunteer their time in war torn, disease ravaged, hunger filled, God forsaken places on this Earth, trying to help others, and after their passing, get any mention in the press (unless, of course, they were killed by local fanatics of one stripe or another)?

Where are our priorities? Why not celebrate the lives of people who really make a difference in others’ lives? I had the pleasure of being treated by six great doctors, and dozens of nurses, during my cancer journey. They’ve devoted their lives to easing the pain, extending the lives, and saving the lives, of cancer patients. Collectively, over their careers, how many lives have they touched? Thousands? Tens of thousands?

If one of those doctors or nurses was to pass away tomorrow, would I hear about it? Other than the local obits, would it make the newspaper? Would their life’s work, their achievements, the good that they did, be broadcast as an inspiration to others? If Tiger Woods were to die in a car crash tomorrow, how many people on the planet would not learn about it?

Can we question why society is so &%#*’ed up, when our focus is on the wealthy, the famous, and ultimately, the irrelevant?

Rodney Warner, JD

A couple days ago, while driving to work, I saw it on the road. I was at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green. It rained the previous night and the road was wet. The cigarette butt rolled silently on the damp road, blown by the wind. I guessed someone had to have a cigarette while they drove to work and threw it out the window when they were done with it. Blue grey smoked curled up from the butt. I tried to crush it with my tires after the light changed.

In college, one night after drinking too much, I think I smoked half a cigarette. One of my uncles smoked himself to death. He died while I was in high school, of cancer. He was told he had to stop smoking. I’m not sure he ever did.

Tobacco is a history changing plant. It’s believed native Americans cultivated it as far back as 6000 BC. It spread to Europe after Europeans came to the New World. The young American government used it as collateral for French loans used to finance the Revolationary War. When you think of slavery in the U.S., you probably think of cotton. More slaves worked on tobacco plantations, than cotton plantations, until the invention of the cotton gin.

Tobacco’s death toll is astounding. Worldwide, an estimated five million deaths per year are tobacco related, or about 10% of all adult deaths. To put that in perspective, five million is about the population of Los Angeles and San Diego combined or slightly less than the population of Colorado. In the U.S nearly 20% of all deaths are tobacco related, or about 443,000 Americans a year. That’s just less than the population of Kansas City. A study commissioned by the world’s largest tobacco company, Philip Morris, estimates that the average American smoker loses 5.23 years from his/her life due to smoking.

It’s been estimated that one billion people will suffer tobacco related deaths in the 21st century, with a mere 100 million tobacco related deaths in the 20th century.

Long term illness isn’t the only threat. In 2008, an estimated 680 Americans died in cigarette smoking related fires. The world’s worst forest fire (in China in 1987, which left 300 dead and 5,000 homeless) was caused by smoking.

You might also think lung cancer when you think of tobacco use. Smokers are ten to twenty times more likely to get, or die from, lung cancer, compared to non-smokers. But tobacco use has been linked to 14 different kinds of cancer.

It should come as no surprise that tobacco is big business. The World Health Organization estimates that about 5.5 trillion cigarettes a year are manufactured world wide, a third of them being smoked in China. In 2008, the world’s top two tobacco companies, Philip Morris and British American Tobacco, had $114 billion in revenues. That’s all well and good for their stock holders, not so good for everyone else. For example, in 1999, 6% of the nation’s total health care spending, or about $76 billion, was to treat tobacco related illnesses. It’s been estimated that, in 2001, smokers took off nearly twice as many sick days from work, compared to non-smokers.

We are creatures of habit, and smoking isn’t the only bad habit that causes disease and death. But, can death and destruction be more attractively packaged and sold as tobacco can? Will we ever stop buying it?

Editor’s note: Learn more about the tobacco crisis: Did You Know…The Facts About Smoking and the Worldwide Crisis it has Caused? Ready to quit? Get started on OncoLink. Want to know more about cancer risk? Create your What’s My Risk? profile.

Rodney Warner, JD

It was a terrible day ten years ago. Nearly 3,000 people died in the worst terrorist attack in U.S. history. It brought war home to the lower 48 states for the first time since the War of 1812. Those of us with cancer battle our own wars. No commandos or spy satellites working for us, just nurses, doctors, researchers, family and friends.

In the past ten years, the U.S. government has spent an estimated $8 trillion on all things “security”. As far as I can tell, the budget for the U.S. government’s National Cancer Institute has been about $50 billionfor the past ten years.

Including the 9/11 attacks, about 3,023 Americans have been killed by terrorists. An estimated 6,177 Americans have been killed in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. An estimated 569,490 Americans died of cancer last year. Each year, nearly as many Americans die of cancer as were killed in World War I, World War II and the Korean War combined. In one year, more people will be killed in Philadelphia by cancer (an estimated 3,628) than were killed in the 9/11 attacks.

For the sake of argument, given these numbers, in the past ten years, the federal government has spent $869,565,217 in “security” for each American killed by terrorists and in Iraq and Afghanistan, and $9,090 for each American killed by cancer. While I’m talking dollars, the economic impact of 9/11 was an estimated $35 to $109 billion. The economic loss due to cancer in 2010 alone is an estimated $263.8 billion.

If the country had just spent 6% less on “security” and put it to the National Cancer Institute, its budget would’ve been ten times larger. How many prevention programs could’ve started, how many more cures could have been researched in the past ten years, we’ll never know.

Cancer is the leading cause of death of Americans under the age of 85. While the chance of an American of being killed by a terrorist is about one in 3,500,000, the chance of an American being killed by cancer is about one in seven. You are five to six times more likely to be killed by fireworks than by terrorists.

It takes about two days for cancer to kill as many Americans as were killed in the 9/11 attacks. What would the federal government do, how much would it spend, to prevent a terrorist organization or foreign country from killing 3,000 Americans every two days?

Why doesn’t the amount of money spent by the federal government to protect us bear some relation to the reality we face? Politicians don’t want another 9/11 “on their watch” so are spending dollars by the trillion in the name of “security” while it’s perfectly OK to pinch pennies (relatively speaking) to try to prevent something killing an American about every one minute. This is happening because we’re allowing it to happen. Taxpayers and voters set the priorities.

I don’t want to be killed by a terrorist. I don’t want anyone to be killed by a terrorist. I shed no tears when I learned Osama bin Laden caught a bullet in his head. I want federal money spent to protect me and my family, but those spending decisions should have some basis in reality and should be spent to protect us against the greatest threats we face.