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After all the sophistication we’ve gained in learning about and treating breast cancer, you’d think the term “survivor” would have gone out of fashion. The word suggests the patient is someone who still sees herself as a victim, who came out of a harrowing situation, and should be appreciated and honored for it.
That person is not me.
Every now and then, the topic of my breast cancer comes up. I rarely initiate discussing it unless the subject of the conversation is cancer. But there are a multitude of reasons that I’ve never seen myself as a survivor or victim, and for those who’ve had any kind of cancer, I highly recommend this attitude.
When I was first diagnosed, I was shocked; there was no breast cancer in my family, as far as I knew. I had taken care of my health, exercised and there was no obvious reason for my contracting cancer. After the initial shock, my main interest was in learning about treatments, and the doctors made that easy for me. (I’m often comforted by learning, even if I don’t like the information; it’s like coming out of the dark into the light.) So in one appointment, I met with the oncologist, then the surgeon, then the radiologist (who didn’t end up needing to treat me). Their goal, and it was successful, was to educate me in the process I would be going through over the next several months. They were pleased that my husband and I were asking questions, and gave me the impression that they had all the time in the world to chat. I liked them all personally and was impressed with their professionalism and kindness.
Recovering from surgery was tolerable, given that my husband helped me. And when it was time for chemotherapy, I tried to take it in stride. But I was so nauseous, that I told my husband I didn’t think I could go through with it. (I didn’t say I wasn’t a wuss.) Fortunately, I talked to the nurse practitioner who had the perfect remedy; three days after the treatment, I’d go for a saline infusion, which made all the difference in the world, and that became my routine every few weeks. When I chose to shave off my hair (which was much easier to bear than having it fall out in clumps), I invested in a few pairs of cute drop earrings. I wasn’t crazy about the kerchiefs I could buy, and as soon as I thought I could go around without my bald head attracting too much attention, I did so. I wore a baseball cap at the gym.
My husband also helped me organize the supplements and medications that I had to take on a semi-regular basis. His matter-of-fact attitude and participation in the process were a godsend. His only reward was that during chemo, they offered me cute little PB&J sandwiches, and when he started to drool, they offered to bring him one, too. That became part of our chemo ritual: he’d read his Kindle, I’d do my crossword puzzles and then we’d dine together.
I only needed to have one breast removed, and my husband and I both agreed that there was no point in having reconstructive surgery. The surgeon insisted, however, that I talk to the reconstructive surgeon, whose office was across the hall, so I reluctantly walked over there. I told the receptionist I didn't want to pursue the surgery, and she was wonderful: with a smile, she told me if you don't want it, then don't. My husband and I turned right around and went home. I've never regretted my decision.
It’s been three years now since the whole treatment was finished. The downside is that I don’t think I fully recovered from the toxins they were putting in my body until recently. I still have a slight case of neuropathy in my feet. But life is very, very good.
For those people who may have cancer treatment coming up in their lives, life is not over; it’s just taken an unexpected turn. You can spend a lot of energy grumbling or crying over your bad luck, or decide to take it with the most positive attitude you possibly can. Talk to your doctors when you have questions; confide in your friends; find foods you can enjoy (since you may lose your taste buds temporarily).
And don’t call yourself a survivor, because life calls on you to thrive.
And you can.
Discussion (10)
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Even before I had the experience myself I always found people who introduced themselves as "cancer survivors" extremely tiresome. As if that was a major factor in their identity. Most of us have survived a number difficult conditions/situations and don't go around reminding everyone of them. Rather than congratulate myself - if the subject arises - I prefer to brag about how the late Mr. AZ helped me through all the tough times.
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I identify with all you say, justme. I agree with your last sentence--the men in our lives can be such a gift. I'm sure you miss him a lot.
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Excellent article. Beautiful words of wisdom. Thank you Susan for sharing.
Yesterday my sister reminded me that it was 10 years ago she found a lump in her breast. On that weekend my sister was unable to visit my daughter and her newly born twins. Being sick my sister (who is a twin herself) did not want to bring her bug into the newborns' house. So she stayed home and while lounging around did a quick manual breast exam. Surprisingly she found a small lump.
Surprising because she had her regular mammogram just a few months earlier with a clean bill of health. Now she did not get the "enhanced" mammogram. It wasn't even offered as it cost extra. Family history is that our women have dense breast tissue. The "enhanced" mammogram does a much better job in finding lumps in women with dense breast tissue (at least according to the radiology director of the clinic I managed).
After a few medical appointments, my sister discovered she had breast cancer. A re-read of her earlier mammogram found that the radiologist had missed the lump that was in the picture a few months earlier. That's another story.
In short my sister went through a treatment regimen much like yours Susan. She was declared cancer free 5 years ago. The anti-cancer toxins do cause some problems as my sister discovered especially a few cardiac related ones. Hang in there Susan! There are problems but you are able to thrive because of the treatments.
One of the things that as a man I am jealous of is the fabulous support network that was available to my sister. There is an organization called Firefly Sisters that surrounded her, supported her and were able to tell her what the journey was likely to entail. When I got my prostate cancer diagnosis, there was no such support group. It would have been helpful. FYI I am 3 years past my surgery and still looking good...so far.
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The use of survivor in this sense wasn't so much that until the pathologically therapeutic culture descended like a pillow to smother everyone and every reference to any difficult circumstance is met with a spew of carefully programmed and curated sympathetic utterances. It actually is an accomplishment. John Wayne was a cancer survivor before he wasn't. The DEI terror made therapyspeak a survival skill.
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That's great, Brian! And what an ordeal early on for your sister. But with help, she turned her life around. I'm so happy for both of you.
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