An Excerpt

“For after all what is man in nature? A nothing in relation to infinity, all in relation to nothing, a central point between nothing and all and infinitely far from understanding either. The ends of things and their beginnings are impregnably concealed from him in an impenetrable secret. He is equally incapable of seeing the nothingness out of which he was drawn and the infinite in which he is engulfed.”—Blaise Pascal

At the end of the day, when all is said and done, we may ask ourselves—what is the meaning of life? Why do we exist? What is my purpose in the grander scheme of things?

I think instinctively, this curiosity is what motivates us to pursue our respective goals in life. For some this may mean success, an entity that can be measured and defined by different things including money, power, respect, accomplishments, comfort, happiness... For others, it may mean a life dedicated to invention, intervention, or intercession. Whatever it means, I am almost certain we cannot deny that at some point in our lives, irrespective of our background, intelligence or education, we entertain this question of purpose, of meaning, and of discovering our identity in this world.

But I often wonder—so what does this mean for children and young adults who are just beginning to grow and understand the philosophical concepts of life, then suddenly faced with the challenges of sickness and death? I met a teenage boy during my elective in oncology at B.C. Children’s Hospital whom we diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease. A week previous he was a “normal”, healthy, athletic boy with the world at his finger tips. But now his life is on a standstill. Over the next few weeks he needs to prepare himself for his future prospects of possibly not becoming the track and field professional athlete he was aspiring to be. He has to learn how to be realistic that the side effects of the chemotherapy that will cure him may compromise his respiratory and cardiac function; that although there is still the chance he can fly by this a few months down the road, be cured, and suffer few side effects, there is always the chance that things will not go as planned. Life isn’t fair. He did nothing to deserve this. But he chose to simply accept it. He listened intently as we explained the disease and treatments and asked very appropriate questions. He demonstrated courage and inner strength in the subsequent period of treatment, always joyful and appreciative of his family and friends who stood by him. He continued to live purposefully as he wrestled with life.

One of the most captivating things about the pediatric population is that they often respond differently to crisis than what our adult minds can fathom. They are honest with their feelings, expressive with emotion, and true to what matters in their life. They embrace their hardships, are hopeful for the future, and always persevering. The joy they possess transcends understanding. There is simply something remarkable about children that interests me, engages me, and inspires me to work with them. I find that change in their life brings change in mine. Through working with them and their families, I learn to not define meaning in life by the worldly definition of glorious success, but by the relationships that give meaning.