Survivor. I am not sure how I feel about that word. Survivor. I am not sure what it means to me.
Am I really a survivor?
From the moment I was diagnosed, I have been living with and through cancer. I have been surviving with it. That’s the moment we are surivors. Not when surgery happens, not when tests or scans come back, not when you hear “cancer free” or “remission.” Anyone who was diagnosed with any form of cancer is or was a survivor. No matter the treatment, surgery, path nor outcome. We are all survivors. Some have had easier paths than others to being cancer free. Chill. It’s not a competition. No one gets out of here alive anyway. You can’t survive life.
I’m in a club I never wanted to join.
Welcome. The introductory kit includes chemotherapy, drugs and fear. It also includes many hands to help along the way. I’ve discovered a huge sisterhood of pink that have traveled this path and we all support each other. Encouraging words, helpful hints and sending off of items we no longer need to help another pink sister out. We are never alone in cancer. As clichéd as it sounds, no one fights alone. There’s an army out there fighting with us daily. Some silently through research for a cure or treatments, some lobbying for more funding, some as medical teams and others as those who are beside us on a daily basis. Our rocks. This is my club now and as I move from treatments and surgery, my place in the club remains the same. Survivor.
American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life stands behind all of us in this club. They cheer us on and support us in so many ways. The donations they receive go to so much, not just research. I’ve utilized two of their services, Look Good Feel Better and I’ve been given a wig which they matched to my old hair. They provide rides to and from treatment, lodging, information and other services.
I got to wear a purple shirt, a nine-month survivor. The shortest one at Relay for Life. I wore it. They call your name and you receive a medal and then we walk a Survivor Lap. I walked hand in hand with my husband, also a survivor. Fifteen years. Two peas in a pod that cancer has touched. For the second lap, our sons walked along side us, floating along in the purple sea. I could barely speak. Everyone looked as they they’ve been on the other side for quite some time. Young and old and the most precious preschooler, all in purple, together. I still have my port. I have chemo hair. I am still dealing with the fallout and after effects of chemotherapy. My nose runs non-stop, my joints ache and I get tired. I am still in the middle of this mess as I go every three weeks for targeted treatment. I’m in this purple group for life now. This is my tribe. Survivors.
In theory, I was cancer free at the time of my double mastectomy. Chemotherapy was a safety net, let’s just make sure we kill it all. I was told I am cancer free. Cancer free, remission, same thing. Still, some weird terms that leaves me feeling a bit unsettled. In a small sea of purple, I was overwhelmed…but I’m a survivor…
Comments