Current & Past Articles » Letters

Is “falling down” a sign of weakness?

November 5, 2026   ·   0 Comments

by Mark Pavilons

“Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Sometimes the hardest thing we ever must do is ask for help. We want to show everyone that we can do it all, that we have it under control. But the reality is that asking for help is not a sign of weakness – it is the greatest sign of strength.” – Kendra Scott

Seeing someone trip and fall down is often comical, a video clip worthy of America’s Funniest Videos.

Just a few short years ago, that would be the case, but in my current life, it’s just a cruel joke.

I don’t like getting dizzy and falling down in the hallway. I hate it, with every fiber of my being.

I don’t like feeling my legs buckle, reaching out for something to hold onto and then falling, like a sack of cement, to the floor.

I don’t like having my son lift me up and set me straight.

I hate showing him how weak I am. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to support the family, not sit on the floor like a ragged stuffed toy that has seen better days.

I don’t care where the weakness comes from – dehydration, chemo fatigue, improper diet – it reveals, like a mystic mirror, what’s truly going on inside me.

I hate it all.

When I was in my prime I never really thought of growing old. I couldn’t picture that future Mark, in a rocking chair with a knitted blanket keeping my aged bones warm.

I could never picture my twilight years.

Perhaps that was a bit of an omen, that I would never reach old age. Alas, that’s the case, at least statistically speaking. My oncologist has not given me an “expiry date,” but she has made it clear I won’t make it to a certain age.

Sure, people defy the odds all the time and scoff at cancer diagnoses with derision.

They fight, because everything is on the line.

I am happy, and somewhat jealous, when I read social media posts about people who have ended their chemo, ringing the bell, or are celebrating a year or more being cancer free. They are the lucky ones.

My epitaph will indicate that cancer conquered me. It is not a “battle” or a “fight,” it is about extending, stretching – time, energy, hope, love.

My obituary won’t say that I passed after a “courageous battle with cancer.” Quite the contrary. I hope my obituary writer tells the truth and say that I faded in the face of an unbeatable, insidious foe, becoming sad and weak as it robbed me of joy. I hope it says I hated every minute struggling with weakness.

Not a very heraldic picture, but a true reflection nevertheless.

And how do we measure strength and weakness?

The dictionary indicates that strength is the ability to resist being moved or broken by a force. It’s the strength and durability of a material. And it’s the quality that allows someone to deal with problems in a determined and effective way.

Weakness, on the other hand, is defined as exhaustion, feebleness, infirmity.

Is that what I have become?

Yes, at times, I’m tired, both physically and mentally. I’ve been fortunate in that I haven’t suffered from severe chemo side effects like many others. I’ve had a good appetite, sleep pattern and little pain. Okay, I’ve suffered from fatigue and some aches and pains, but overall, I can’t complain.

This is a physical reaction to what’s happening to me. It’s neither strength nor weakness.

I try to remain busy, as active as possible, and mentally well oiled. Working, and writing, keep my veins pumping and my mind sharp.

But my mind is plagued by depression, moodiness, anguish and even doom.

I’m reminded by many that a positive attitude will help clear those storm clouds and refresh my ability to see clearly. Easier said than done.

And what of my strength of character? My dad was known for saying that someone had “no character,” meaning they were weak, unreliable, not trustworthy. To him, that was an important quality for a man to have.

I hope I haven’t disappointed him. I’ve tried to be honest, genuine, dependable, compassionate and someone who is always ready to support a cause or help a friend.

I’ve tried to be a decent husband and father, but I admit I’ve had some character flaws along the way. 

Billy Graham once said that the tears we shed for ourselves are “tears of weakness.”

If that’s true, I’m guilty of spilling a few pints.

Some believe our greatest strengths can be our greatest weaknesses, and vice versa. Maybe it’s how we funnel such energy. And it’s been said that men grow stronger by enduring weakness.

Regardless of how you view it, it’s the dichotomy of being human. We are filled with a vast array of conflicting emotions, thoughts, and abilities. We must decide between right and wrong; whether to run or stay and fight; and if we should struggle or give in.

We deal with being happy and sad; upbeat and depressed, feeling blessed and feeling victimized.

Experts say that paying attention to our weaknesses is definitely helpful, in that improving our perception of weakness will help our resilience.

Identifying our strengths is as easy as noting what we’re good at. I don’t think that’s an issue for most of us.

And if we are honest with ourselves, we know our weaknesses inside and out.

What becomes problematic is when something –  force, unforeseen happening, tragedy and yes, major illness – steps in and derails a perfectly well-rounded human being, flaws and all!

I know my weaknesses intimately. I’ve spent some time with them.

I never asked be strong. I just want to live.

Readers Comments (0)