Earlier this week, I read an interesting piece called "Surviving Blood Cancer: Lessons from a TV Show," by Ramae Hamrin, published on Blood-Cancer.com (a website that I still do some writing for).
Ramae talks about the TV show "I Survived," where people tell stories about surviving something awful (like a bear attack or being trapped on a roller coaster). The people interviewed for the show talk about what they did to survive, usually involving finding some kind of inner strength. Ramae related this to her own experience with Myeloma, a blood cancer. We certainly need to find some kind of inner strength for our situation, even if it doesn't involve fighting a bear.
It all made m,e think of something else I read recently. It isn't something that has been published (at least not yet). It was a reflection on the word "survivor," written by a cancer patient who really doesn't like the word to describe herself. She gave lots of reasons. One is that she is still undergoing treatment, and she usually thinks of "surviving" as meaning that the ordeal is over. (The bear has walked away, if you want to think of it in terms of the TV show).
But she also felt like calling herself a "survivor" would make her complacent -- she would just forget about the cancer and stop ever worrying about it. (She's not a Follicular Lymphoma patient, but she does have a cancer that tends to come back.)
I'm not sure anyone with cancer -- especially one that comes back -- will ever forget that they have it. Side effects have a way of reminding us for a long time. But I get her point.
I also know that lots of organizations that help cancer survivors are careful to point out that "survivor" means anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer and is still alive, whether that diagnosis came 50 years ago or 5 minutes ago. I tend to agree with that one. I use the word a lot, and I tend to pay attention to National Cancer Survivors Day every June.
At the same time, "survivor" isn't necessarily a word I use to describe myself. I usually go with "I'm a Follicular Lymphoma patient," because I still see my oncologist regularly, and if I'm still in his care, that makes me a patient. (That bear might turn around and walk back toward me, after all.) But it also leads to the question, if I stopped seeing him, that would mean I was no longer a "patient," so what would I be?
But there are times when I do call myself a "survivor," because I know that most people who have never had cancer will think of "survivor" in the "It's all over now and he's fine" sense. So I use that term sometimes because it's just easier for the people I'm talking to. They don't want to worry and I hep them up by using the non-worrying word. The bear is all gone. You can get back to your picnic.
But all of this makes me want to ask:
What do you think of the word "survivor"? Is it a term you use to describe yourself? Are there times you use and times you don't?
I know there are lots of you from countries outside the U.S.A., and I'm especially interested in whether or not you use that word. Or is there another term in your country that people with cancer use to describe themselves?
I'm fascinated by words, especially the words we use to talk about cancer, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Add them to the Comments section. (And if you'd rather not, then send me an email. You can find the address in my profile.)
I hope you're all doing well, surviving, or living in whatever way makes sense for you.