Omar Little, Cancer & the Game
Art by Oliver Barrett (oliverbarrett.com)
Who doesn’t love a good TV binge? One episode leads to the next, drawing you in more and more to a new world. It’s like a vacation from ordinary life as plot lines keep you guessing and you’re exposed to new places, time periods, cultures and lifestyles… To new ideas.
I always enjoy sizing up the characters and after watching long enough, I’ve even found myself mimicking the leads. While tearing threw Mad Men, I started carrying myself with a new swagger as movements became more graceful and I spoke in shorter, more confident bursts like Draper himself. Later when I revisited Sopranos, I found myself harassing my wife for braciole even though I don’t eat meat and was eventually warned the next “marone!” would leave me sleeping on the couch… What can I say? I get into it.
Recently, I gave HBO’s classic, The Wire, another shot. Earlier attempts hadn’t drawn me in fully, perhaps I was too young to appreciate the content and lacked patience for the show’s slow burn. But this time the moment was right. I’m on medical leave and welcomed the opportunity for new distraction and entertainment.
The Wire aired from 2002 - 2008 and focused on the narcotics scene in Baltimore through the eyes of law enforcers as well as the drug dealers and users. It also explored the government and bureaucracy, schools and the news media. Omar was a fan favorite on the show- a notorious and charismatic stick-up man who robbed drug dealers. He was no model citizen but followed a code that left civilians alone and only threatened drug dealers. “All in the game”, he explained.
On paper, I shouldn’t be able to relate to a character like Omar. The closest I’ve come to the streets of West Baltimore was graduating from the University of Maryland and that was quite a different experience. I was a white male attending college and my parents took care of the tuition. For the first 29 years, my life was relatively easy. I worked hard and never took anything for granted, but I lucked out being born into a loving family and safe, upper middle class situation.
Then at 30, I was diagnosed with cancer and everything changed. Suddenly, I was thrown into a chaotic rollercoaster and have been fighting to defy the odds of survival just like Omar.
We don’t choose where or how we’re raised and Omar, like so many people in the real world, grew up in rough conditions with little support. He developed a set of values to maintain structure and navigate the madness. I try do the same with how I respond to my health situation. I could easily unleash a wrath of anger, impatience and resentfulness. I could scream why me! And honestly, I do every now and then - you HAVE to vent - but for the most part I try to focus on staying present and being grateful. I’m not preaching that on anyone. Fighting cancer is incredibly stressful and emotional. Anyone in the unfortunate situation is more than justified to react however they’d like; I just feel my body and mood will respond better in the long run to positive self talk.
There’s a memorable scene in season 2 where Omar is called into court as a witness and the prosecutor asks, “Mr. Little, how does a man rob drug dealers for eight or nine years, and live to tell about it? He merely responds, “Day at a time, I suppose.”. Because that’s how you have to take things with constant threats lurking around the corner. Cancer provides a similar sense of lone wolf on a quest for survival. Realizing how fragile your life actually is can be one of the most overwhelming feelings in the world. You have two options: fall down the worrying rabbit holes and become paralyzed or break down the process into more achievable steps.
Later in the series, Omar is ambushed by a skilled hitman seeking revenge. He calmly replies, “Worryin’ about you is like wonderin’ if the sun gonna come up.” That’s where I had to draw the line. I’m just not that zen and lost the luxury of peace of mind a long time ago. Even when people enter remission or show no new sign of disease, microscopic cancer cells are always a risk. The fear itself can be the worst part. Sure, I’ll meditate and reach fleeting stages of calmness but scanxiety always seems just a few months away. At that point I can be the most mentally fit person in the world but my body knows what’s up. My stomach tightens. I can’t distract myself. The phone calls come in from family and friends checking for updates… I know they mean well but feel guilty for causing worry and stress.
All I can do is remind myself that things have changed and there’s no going back. I’m handicapped and live in a perpetual state of alert. I’ve had to radically overhaul my diet and lifestyle. I can’t meet friends for casual happy hours or party without a care. But I’ve gotten this far and every day means more memories with my wife, family and friends. I live in a safe neighborhood. I have food, water, clothes and health insurance.
I take the good with the bad. It’s all in the game.
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