Hesitation

I dislike the term "cancer survivor." It's a conversation killer. When people hear this, there is a shift in dialogue to an automatic deference. It's uncomfortable but I have learned to stop and let the response take us in whatever direction it goes. Usually, I hear stories of how cancer has touched the lives of people with whom I am speaking. So many have fallen - sisters, wives, grandmothers, aunts, cousins, dear friends.

There is so much heartache. So many losses. These stories have made me hesitate to write for over a year. I don't know how to wear the label "survivor" when there are a multitude who fought the same battle and lost. Or worse yet, I meet a dear one who is currently in the fight for her life - and there I stand, in remission.

Survival is such a crap shoot, and feels so random. I live. Others die, or are facing death. When I hear these stories, or watch friends and colleagues struggle along with a terminal diagnosis, I don't know what to say. My heart just aches, and I stumble around looking for a response. I feel small.

But it also makes me want to pull out my favourite T-shirt - it's black, and boldly states in white letters: F--- cancer. (I haven't found the courage to wear it in public yet!)

I guess it is another kind of pain in this world of living "in between." Another chance at life is a blessing, no matter how different it looks in "the after." It's a strange and humbling place from which to support others who have a different story.

My worries in writing are that somehow I will diminish or overlook the suffering of those around me who carry the wounds of loss. My imperfect humanity is a good reason for hesitation.

Yet I know there are others out there who, like me, are rebuilding, and coping; hoping, and trying to make sense of the new normal. Life after cancer is complex, filled with conflicting emotions, ideas, and experiences. It's a blessing. It's a challenge. And it is uncertain.

I hope by giving a voice to it, will be a means to healing for myself and whoever follows along.