Liberation and psychological chemotherapy

Forty-odd days I'd waited for this and now, some six or seven hours after, I'm still bathed in that same wonderful liberated glow. This life truly teaches all sorts of lessons in the oddest possible way.

Like a cancer victim, struggling with that wretched tumour. The doctors walk in and pitifully shake their heads and scratch something into their clipboard-backed notepads. Well-wishers and relatives waltz in to "cheer the patient up" when all they end up doing is showering said patient with sympathy. No one really gets the feeling of being afflicted with cancer like the patient does...

And then, one day, he stands up and rips that tumour right out and hurls it into the garbage disposal furnace where it belongs. He then stretches and roars a mighty roar, as if to tell the world, "I'm back!!! Take your best shot at me!!!" Tearing off all the IV tubes and syringes, heart-monitor cables and dialysis chords, he struts out of the ward. Flipping off the doctors and nurses as he makes his way out of the hospital and into the street, the former patient is bathed in the glow of wondrous liberation. He laughs in the face of misery and death as calls are made to all those aforementioned well-wishers to request them to keep their sympathy to themselves.

"The infection has been removed... The soul of this machine has improved," says the now recuperated former patient as he quotes some Fear Factory. Gazing up at the sun as it dips behind a sky-scraper, he smiles because the worst is over. A little more rest and then the world is his oyster once again.

And the most glorious thing of all is that the patient-no-more fought it all by his lonesome, without any need for chemotherapy. The chemotherapy that gave him the strength to rip out his cancer was his own will - his own desire and his own self-respect that told him that he would no longer be a slave to this parasite. Of course, the scars will remain. But they shall for evermore serve as a reminder of this tumour and that cancers are to be fought, but some battle injuries will remain. "Wear them as a badge of honour and you will be fine, my son."

Oblivion. That is the location to which the cancerous tumour is now consigned.
Bliss. That is what the former patient and now potential world conqueror experiences.

This truly is a wondrous life, with its weird, yet oddly profound teachings...