I blinked...then blinked again. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. She got a little flustered, as though she had asked the wrong question of the wrong person and then I realized what she was asking me - Am I a cancer survivor?
No one had asked me that before. No one had used that word in conjunction with me. In all this talk of diagnosis and treatment and prognosis and recurrence, no one had once said I would survive.
"I'm working on it!" I replied, suddenly understanding. She said she was a five-year breast cancer survivor, our sisterhood established. We chatted about treatment and outcomes, new testing and clinical trials, and we wished each other health and wellness as she left for her destination.
I had forgotten about that conversation until today. I had forgotten about survival until this afternoon.
Ken ran the ACS Bark for Life 5k today, thanks to our friend Bobbi Jo who wanted to support me and others she knows battling cancer. I had to work this morning so, unfortunately, I missed all the running fun (but will have my chance in two weeks at the Komen run in Kalamazoo). Ken tells me he's got "swag" to share - and a special gift for me.
It's an ACS shirt - and on the back it says,
SURVIVOR
I burst into tears.Every day I work towards completing treatment and getting back to my normal life - whatever that "normal" may be. But in my darkest hours, I fear I will not make it through this, that this cancer will kill me - now or later. I am apprehensive about the testing I will complete once treatment is over - the baseline they'll use for future tests to determine recurrence or metastases. I wake up crying, fear and despair pouring over me from nightmares I cannot control. I have micro-moments of panic, like walking into a brick wall, that all this work will be for naught and I will not be prepared for what may come.
The tears flow for several minutes as I let that word wash over me, cleanse me with its power and force and make its way into my heart and soul. In all these months I cannot remember a moment where I felt the enormity of my survival. I cannot remember ever feeling that I would be a survivor.
I am ready to own that word: survivor. That's me.
Yes. I am a survivor.
Own it....You ARE a survivor! Sometimes, it feels like we are walking through a dark forest at night with a blindfold on and, just a walking stick to help us along the path. But the light begins to trickle trickle in. Eventually, you realize that 5 years are behind you and there you are SURVIVING....You will be able to take that blindfold off soon and, then you will see the rays of sunshine through the trees. Trust me...it will happen for you...and it will happen for me AGAIN!!
ReplyDeleteSending you sister love xxxooo Dorrie
Thank you, and bless you Dorrie. You are an inspiration to me - someone who has battled this demon before, and yet show so much positivity while battling again. You give me strength and hope, and I cannot thank you enough. I feel foolish for being so scared, when I know others are struggling with far more difficult diagnoses and prognoses - but we all struggle with what we are going through. We will both survive this with style and grace - kicking cancer's ass all the way!! Much love and joy to you too! XOXO
ReplyDeleteBe good to yourselves ladies. Knock CA out of your body, out of your life and out of your world. You both inspire and awe me. Love you both. Praying for your serenity, comfort and peace!
ReplyDeleteHi from New Zealand. I was also taken aback when my oncologist first used the word survivor in relation to me. It was a word that didn't sit well initially as I was still a patient undergoing radiation therapy at that stage. Now as I head into my big reconstruction op next month I feel like a survivor and feel like I can move on instead of dwelling on the journey I've been on. Life is for living and if it means another label that can describe me along with wife, mother, etc then so be it. I own that word too - survivor and proud to be able to use it. Catherine
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