Survivable

I always said that when I die if anyone says that I lost my battle with cancer, I would haunt them. In truth, I don't think I'm the haunting kind. Hopefully there's more restfulness in all of this than that. But I've always disliked the battle metaphor for cancer. And as a corollary, I've taken personal issue with describing myself as a survivor. I think survivorship research is very important. And I appreciate the expansion of the term to metavivor, which seems to me equally empowering and ironic. True, the definition of cancer survivor is supposed to start at the time of diagnosis and extend onward as long as we do. However, to survive something it does seem to me we must conquer it, transcend it, and have risen above it all together. That is never how I have felt with cancer. Even during my stints in the land of cure and remission, cancer always traveled with me. The changes it had made; the forced perspective. We are so anxious to return to how things were. But one of the only truths of life and the world in general is that things will never be how they were again. I find this comforting and joyful as well as devastating and sad. We are bidden to change. And so survivorship strikes me as either being beaten down, or having won and forgotten the scars of battle. It also means that there is quite a good chance that you will lose. Or that at best, it's a draw. We do, most of us, need metaphor. I find myself happiest with the journey metaphor. Like all metaphors, it won't work for everyone. Though I do feel that cancer has caused me to travel through all sorts of terrain with companions both willingly sought and begrudgingly needed. And the path is uncertain, and yet we hope for rest stations and for beautiful vantages along the way. Like in life, the journey is indeed the destination. We do what we can and we hope for the best.