I have often struggled with the concept of being a survivor. At what point have I survived? My mother was a survivor for ten years, till she got cancer twice more. And what if I did ultimately die of cancer, would they come take all the presents back? Recently my sister said “I wish someone would just say that it’s over.” My response, both insensitive and full of self-pity was “We don’t get that. The best we ever get is “as far I as I know, I do not currently have cancer. That’s it, for the rest of our lives.”
Surprisingly, and conveniently, I found peace with the term survivor on my train ride to North Carolina for the luncheon. I was lucky enough to be allowed to sit in a reserved disability seat. Just another reason cancer is totally worth it. A woman sat down in the seat across the aisle from me, and read for most of the trip.
I don’t even remember how we first started to speak to each other, but once we did, it only took a few minutes to identify ourselves as members of the breast cancer club. She told me she was a survivor of 10 years, Stage III. She also told me she recognized the bandage I had covering my recently installed mediport for my chemotherapy. We compared treatments and experiences. I told her why I was heading south.
"Yeah, they’re honoring us as survivors. I’m not sure I count yet. I’m not sure when you ever really do."
She responded without hesitation and with the wisdom that comes from being a real grown up, not a 36 year old self-absorbed idiot. I don’t remember her exact words, so I won’t try to quote, but just attempt to capture the sentiment. She explained that being a survivor wasn’t about being done with cancer, it’s about getting treatment, doing everything you have to do to get better, then following up when you’re in remission.
That’s what makes you a survivor, not that you survived it, but that you’re doing what you need to in order to survive.
And just like that, I became a survivor. I am surviving this disease and will continue to survive it until the day I die, which will not be for a very, very, very, long time. So please stop giving me those looks. You know the ones that say "She's so brave..."
My trip to North Carolina was… too many things for me to sum up with any string of adjectives. I spent time with my family, and most importantly my incredible niece and nephew. I must figure out some way to stop them from growing up anymore. They’re quite perfect as they are right now.
I visited my sister’s cancer treatment center, which I confess was just as swanky as she portrayed it to be in all her bragging. I even stole some free medical advice while I was there. I also picked up some port pillows, which you place over your port to prevent irritation from seatbelts, bras, etc. And, in a pinch, they make terrific substitutes for a prosthetic breast.
I even had a chance to visit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation office where my sister works. First, excellent snack supply. Second, it is amazing that a group of women who deal with such a horrible disease can be so happy and friendly. I can rest a little easier knowing my sister has plenty of other sisters taking care of her.
It was good to be with family again, no matter how much we annoy each other. It has been hard being apart while we all go through this strange and often unpleasant journey.
Below are my remarks from the luncheon. I think this is an excellent way for me to tell you a little bit more about my big sister.
________________________________________________________________________
I have not seen my big sister in six months, after her diagnosis but before mine. This of course supports the theory that she gave me cancer, but I digress. Thank you for inviting me here and giving me an excuse to get on the train. I start chemo in two weeks, so I probably won’t be back again for a while.
My sister, like my mother, has spent most of her life helping others. From her work with Holocaust survivors at the Shoah foundation, to her current position at the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, not to mention countless other charities she has supported over the years. After all her good deeds, I could not imagine what she had done to deserve breast cancer.
Then a few weeks ago, I figured it out. The night before her biopsy I had a conversation with God. I asked, “Let me have cancer instead of her.” God must have misheard and thought I said “Let me have cancer in addition to her.”
It does not come naturally for a little sister to say nice things about a big sister, but my sister is an incredible woman, an amazing daughter, a wonderful mother and an adequate sister. She has faced this idiotic disease with grace and strength.
The hardest part of cancer is loving someone who has it. The people who really deserve honors and thanks are those who support us, like my father, brother in law and my brother and his wife. And of course the world’s most amazing boyfriend who can’t be here today, family, friends, neighbors and people like you.
Thank you so much for acknowledging my family and our current struggle. And thank you for supporting and celebrating breast cancer survivors every month, not just in October.
________________________________________________________________________
Hi there Becky! I was just reading up on a few of your posts and had a quick question about your blog. I was hoping you could email me when you get the chance, thanks!
ReplyDeleteEmily
Sorry Emily, I did not see this till now. I would be happy to chat with you. Where's the best place to reach you?
Delete