Editorials. Margaret McCaffery Terry Murray. Terry Fox: Heroes Aren't Saints. AT THE TIME of writing, Terry. Fox's funeral is taking place. At the time of reading, ...
Editorials Margaret McCaffery Terry Murray
Terry Fox: Heroes Aren't Saints AT THE TIME of writing, Terry Fox's funeral is taking place. At the time of reading, God and the Post Office willing, all of the eulogies will have been written, the honors given, and the tears dried. But the money will still be pouring in. What does it all mean-what caused people to react to this young man in the way they did? What was it about his effort that unlocked people's imaginations? Thousands of words have been written about Terry Fox, and tens of thousands more if you count the photo essays. They range from tasteful tributes to maudlin memorials, with an unfortunate abundance of the latter. That sentimentality robs Terry's achievement of its true meaning, and gives rise to cynicism. For example, when we mentioned to colleagues that we planned this editorial a common response was: ''Not another one!" We, like many other journalists, got very weary of the coverage of Terry's last months-so much so that at first we felt everything had been said, enough already. Certainly, anyone close to someone dying of cancer must have been appalled by the constant barrage of detail on Terry's final illness, every half hour on the hour. But that in itself seemed worth writing about. Why did the stopping of the Marathon of Hope get more ink than the starting? George Woodcock once commented: "Heroes impose on others, and Canadians do not like to be imposed on, but they think they are, and hence they are inclined to identify with martyrs, particularly as martyrdom is the kind of fate into which even a moral, rational man can be trapped."' He was writing about Louis Riel at the time, but he could well have written the same about Canadians' identification with Terry Fox. By the nature of their work, doctors probably meet more heroes than most people do. They may have wondered what lifted the curly haired kid from Port Coquitlam to the status of folk hero while their own little collection of heroes were quietly shouldering the 1184
burden of crippling arthritis, or blindness, or cancer, or relatives with any or all of the above. Was it the fact that Terry's marathon raised $24 million for cancer research that makes him a hero? This prompts another question: would we have supported him so avidly if he hadn't had cancer, and wasn't doing the run to raise money for a Good Cause? After all, one leg or two, to run across the second largest country in the world is a mammoth undertaking. Whether or not Canadians identify with martyrs, we'd like to believe that the people of this country would still have been inspired by the idea of the little guy doing something big. North Americans may have learned to be more suspicious of heroes today because so many idols have been found to have feet of clay. But we aren't so jaded that we don't still cheer swimmers of the English Channel and balloonists crossing the Atlantic. There were other effects of Terry's run-raising money for cancer research, uniting the nation, bringing us out of ourselves. Significant by-products, but by-products nonetheless. That was the way he viewed it. He spelled that out to reporters who interviewed him along the way, as well as in his initial letter to the Canadian Cancer Society: "The night before my amputation, my former basketball coach brought me a magazine with an article on an amputee who ran in the New York marathon. It was then when I decided to meet this new challenge head on and not only overcome my disability, but conquer it in such a way that I could never look back and say it disabled me."2 To Terry's mother and his former basketball coach, he was average-in everything but determination. That average-ness made him all the more a hero-an ordinary man doing something extraordinary. It also distinguishes his heroism from that of military, diplomatic or political heroes. Ken Taylor, the former Canadian ambassador to Iran who rescued six U.S. hostages, put it best: "He didn't have
to do anything. I did what I had to do professionally, instinctively. Terry Fox took an individual decision and, against all odds, attempted it."3 Compare, for example, the achievement of Sir Francis Chichester, who sailed solo around the world in a small yacht. At a time when Britain sorely needed heroes, here was this aging man who had already weathered one bout with cancer deciding to do what seemed to be impossible. He did it, not to raise money or draw attention to a cause, but for himself. And the world responded. It was only when he died of cancer five years later that everyone realized what a physical triumph his sail had been. But what captured their imaginations in the first place was the very audacity of the idea. Little did they know that this restless, troubled man was recovering from a-potentially lethal disease, having already recovered from many other injuries "and disorders that would have felled a lesser man, having been born with a constitution that was not particularly strong. The parallels between Francis Chichester and Terry Fox are several. Chichester, whose first love was flying, began planning to fly around the world, solo-after he had flown solo only once. Terry Fox planned to run a marathon-even before he knew whether he'd be able to walk again. Both were initially not very good in their chosen fields, but became experts through dint of hard workChichester in flying and Fox in basketball. Both were strongly discouraged by others from undertaking what they set out to do, and urged to take more medical advice than they did. Both were incredibly stubborn about what they wanted, and resisted any suggestion that they wouldn't make it-for health or any other reasons. Both were supported by those closest to them who knew that they could not be dissuaded and that they had to be allowed to do what they wanted-for themselves. Both suffered what Chichester described as "terrifying welcomes". And most important, both were bent on doing CAN. FAM. PHYSICIAN Vol. 27: AUGUST 1981
the seemingly impossible alone. The long death-watch by the media put more distance between Terry Fox 'and other average, ordinary Canadians his run inspired. To canonize him and treat him with the reverence reserved for saints is to rob ourselves of the benefits of having heroes. It removes what he did from the realm of possibility, and denies .other average, ordinary people the dream of being able to do something extraordinary. It also defeats another by-product of his run-making people aware of issues
larger than themselves. Cancer research is not everyone's cup of teathere are countless other worthy causes to which people could devote their newfound zeal, inspired by Terry Fox. But if only saints are capable of such deeds-well, that removes some responsibility. The goal then far exceeds the reach of mere mortals. To qualify praise of his accomplishment by adding "for someone with one leg" also diminishes his efforts. When asked by a Toronto radio
Conjoint Meetng Royal College of General Practitioners College of Fanily Physicians of Canda Hosted by the Irish Council, RCGP Dublin, April 28-May 2, 1982 BUNOL
28 APRIL - 2MAY
CALL FOR PAPERS
A feature of the conjoint meeting in Ireland will be the presentation of freestanding papers on a variety of topics. Readers are invited to submit abstracts of proposed papers, which will be judged by the Scientific Program Committee for possible presentation. FORMAT Each speaker will have ten minutes for presentation, including 35 mm slides if desired, plus five minutes discussion time. Papers may cover any research, clinical, political, economic, philosophical or historical area of direct relevance to family medicine.
SUBMISSION Abstracts should be submitted by October 1, 1981 to: Executive Director College of Family Physicians of Canada 4000 Leslie Street Willowdale, ON. M2K 2R9 1186
interviewer whether he was concerned that people not feel pity for him, he replied: "If anybody feels pity for me, they don't know, they don't understand what I'm doing. Life now is more rewarding and challenging because I'm doing it on one leg. I feel more satisfied than I did before. I try harder than I did before."4 The consolation in all of this is that the memory of his determination is what will remain. Remembrances of the media's many responses will fade-the sentimentality, and even the attempts to discredit the effort by falsely suggesting, as one Quebec newspaper columnist did, that Terry didn't cover the distance between St. John's and Thunder Bay entirely on foot. Recollections of all the kudos heaped on him by federal and provincial governments and other recognized Canadian heroes will wane. Yes, even the $24 million raised for cancer research and just what projects it funded are likely to retreat to the dusty recesses of our memories. The dictionary defines a hero as "'one idealized or held in esteem for superior qualities or deeds of any kind". That's not a saint. One emotion that seemed to characterize Terry Fox at many points during his Marathon of Hope was anger. He was angry that he had cancer, angry that the diagnosis had initially been missed, angry when he was misrepresented by the press, angry when people tried to do things for him that he wanted to do for himself. Why not? People are 'just folks'-even if they do become heroes. His best friend Doug Alward said of Terry: "Sometimes I loved him, sometimes I hated him, sometimes he made me cry".5 Let's not put Terry Fox and his like beyond our reach, because who knows? We may want to reach that far again sometime.
References 1. Woodcock G: Canada anid the Ca,zadians. Toronto, Oxford UniversitY Press, 1970. 2. Fox T: Letter to Canadian Caancer Society, Oct. 15 1979. 3. MacGregor R: The nature of heroismyi. Maclean's 1981 Jan 12, pp 28-34. 4. Brown J, Harvev G: Terrv Fox: A Pictorial Tribute to the Marathon of Hope. Don Mills, ON., General Publishing Co. Ltd., 1980, pp 9-10. 6. Pettigrew E: I believte in mniracles: A tribute to Terry Fox. Reader's Digest March 1981 (reprint). CAN. FAM. PHYSICIAN Vol. 27: AUGUST 1981
