I suppose, if one is open enough to coincidence, happenstance - and all the other "-ce" words that involve inspiration - one can find something to write about every day.
I would shamefacedly admit that I have not been too open as of late. Much physical and emotional activity swirls around the von Bloggenschtern abode, and in the frenzy of it all, I tend put on both blinders and armor, and do my best to just clunk through every day.
But, sometimes...
Sometimes, when it's first thing in the morning, and when the house is still and I know my little chickies are all sound asleep in their nests, and I can hear the dog snoring away his doggy dreams on the couch, sometimes then I can prise open the plating just a little, and be aware of that which is set in front of me.
So.
As I leafed through an issue of one of my magazines that has sat on the counter, sad and unread for a month, I came across a sidebar in the Health section that made me sit up and take notice. Got my dander up. Stuck in my craw.
Quoted was an excerpt from Kris Carr's book, "Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips". The title of the piece?
Don't know about Kris Carr? She made quite a stir not too long ago with her documentary "Crazy Sexy Cancer", about her diagnosis of a rare and incurable cancer and her subsequent journey back to health through organic nutrition. She has since had a TLC special, and written a book.
She's also one of our blogspot neighbors, and her site is all at once informative, humorous, humble, inspirational and wise.
However.
There is one particular topic on which Ms. Carr and I part ways. Let me first quote the excerpt:
"Until recently, I didn't dare use the S-word. That was a special term reserved for remarkable, strong people. 'Survivors' belonged to a ritzy, dress-code-only country club, a place where the jet-setting cancer-free toasted themselves and hobnobbed. 'Dahhhhhling, I'm a survivor, pass the Grey Poupon.' I wanted so badly to join. But, in my mind, the only way through the emerald gates was remission, or maybe a job as a dishwasher...
Are we not 'surviving' while managing the demands of a busy life? Whether you've made it through the battle or are still in the trenches, pink hats, special ribbons and raised hands for everyone - not just the 'winners'. When I started to call myself a survivor, my whole attitude changed. I put cancer behind me (even though it was still full blown Stage IV) and started living again."
Let it be known, officially, right here and right now, that Shelley Jaffe (a/k/a The Baroness) loathes and despises the word "survivor".
For, as Ms. Carr, points out- it is an exclusive club. But on a much larger scale than anyone cares to think about.
To refer to oneself as a "cancer survivor" means, in my mind, infers that yeah, yeah, yeah - you once had cancer, but you don't anymore. You survived it.
Hence the exclusivity.
What about all of those people who, as Ms. Carr points out, manage to make it through the demands of their busy lives while still in the throes of the disease?
The ones who struggle day after day to put on the brave face for their spouses, their children, their friends - even when all they want to do is to curl into a fetal position and sleep for 3 days straight?
What of the ones who daily, hourly, semi-hourly barf themselves inside out to the point of being a dessicated shell of their former selves?
What about those "survivors"?
The "survivors" that die?
What do we call these brave, courageous, tenacious souls? They tried. Valiantly, with any atom of strength and grace they had left. They faced their mortality, eyeball to eyeball, and they still died.
How on earth can anyone have the audacity to call themselves a "survivor" in the face of all that?
I know that I can't.
At the outset of my diagnosis, I knew right away that I would have a fair bit of work ahead of me, just dealing with the vernacular that goes along with all things cancer-related.
I called my chemotherapy time "sessions" rather than "rounds"; the latter sounded too much like a UFC match with a clear winner and loser.
I said I was "receiving" chemo, rather than "undergoing"; the latter sounded like I was a victim, strapped to the table and writhing in opposition.
And most of all I hated the phrase "battling cancer", for while those of us afflicted try our hardest to deal with it, the whole battle scenario seemed to empower the cancer, making it a worthy and powerful opponent. The whole battlefield allegory was just not my scene.
My good friends Mr. Merriam and Mr. Webster describe the word "Survivor" in one respect as
So maybe I'm a Cancer Withstander.
I like that much better.
I would shamefacedly admit that I have not been too open as of late. Much physical and emotional activity swirls around the von Bloggenschtern abode, and in the frenzy of it all, I tend put on both blinders and armor, and do my best to just clunk through every day.
But, sometimes...
Sometimes, when it's first thing in the morning, and when the house is still and I know my little chickies are all sound asleep in their nests, and I can hear the dog snoring away his doggy dreams on the couch, sometimes then I can prise open the plating just a little, and be aware of that which is set in front of me.
So.
As I leafed through an issue of one of my magazines that has sat on the counter, sad and unread for a month, I came across a sidebar in the Health section that made me sit up and take notice. Got my dander up. Stuck in my craw.
Quoted was an excerpt from Kris Carr's book, "Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips". The title of the piece?
"Tip No. 36 - Replace the word patient with the word survivor"
Don't know about Kris Carr? She made quite a stir not too long ago with her documentary "Crazy Sexy Cancer", about her diagnosis of a rare and incurable cancer and her subsequent journey back to health through organic nutrition. She has since had a TLC special, and written a book.
She's also one of our blogspot neighbors, and her site is all at once informative, humorous, humble, inspirational and wise.
However.
There is one particular topic on which Ms. Carr and I part ways. Let me first quote the excerpt:
"Until recently, I didn't dare use the S-word. That was a special term reserved for remarkable, strong people. 'Survivors' belonged to a ritzy, dress-code-only country club, a place where the jet-setting cancer-free toasted themselves and hobnobbed. 'Dahhhhhling, I'm a survivor, pass the Grey Poupon.' I wanted so badly to join. But, in my mind, the only way through the emerald gates was remission, or maybe a job as a dishwasher...
Are we not 'surviving' while managing the demands of a busy life? Whether you've made it through the battle or are still in the trenches, pink hats, special ribbons and raised hands for everyone - not just the 'winners'. When I started to call myself a survivor, my whole attitude changed. I put cancer behind me (even though it was still full blown Stage IV) and started living again."
Let it be known, officially, right here and right now, that Shelley Jaffe (a/k/a The Baroness) loathes and despises the word "survivor".
For, as Ms. Carr, points out- it is an exclusive club. But on a much larger scale than anyone cares to think about.
To refer to oneself as a "cancer survivor" means, in my mind, infers that yeah, yeah, yeah - you once had cancer, but you don't anymore. You survived it.
Hence the exclusivity.
What about all of those people who, as Ms. Carr points out, manage to make it through the demands of their busy lives while still in the throes of the disease?
The ones who struggle day after day to put on the brave face for their spouses, their children, their friends - even when all they want to do is to curl into a fetal position and sleep for 3 days straight?
What of the ones who daily, hourly, semi-hourly barf themselves inside out to the point of being a dessicated shell of their former selves?
What about those "survivors"?
The "survivors" that die?
What do we call these brave, courageous, tenacious souls? They tried. Valiantly, with any atom of strength and grace they had left. They faced their mortality, eyeball to eyeball, and they still died.
How on earth can anyone have the audacity to call themselves a "survivor" in the face of all that?
I know that I can't.
At the outset of my diagnosis, I knew right away that I would have a fair bit of work ahead of me, just dealing with the vernacular that goes along with all things cancer-related.
I called my chemotherapy time "sessions" rather than "rounds"; the latter sounded too much like a UFC match with a clear winner and loser.
I said I was "receiving" chemo, rather than "undergoing"; the latter sounded like I was a victim, strapped to the table and writhing in opposition.
And most of all I hated the phrase "battling cancer", for while those of us afflicted try our hardest to deal with it, the whole battle scenario seemed to empower the cancer, making it a worthy and powerful opponent. The whole battlefield allegory was just not my scene.
My good friends Mr. Merriam and Mr. Webster describe the word "Survivor" in one respect as
"to continue to function or prosper despite... syn. withstand."
So maybe I'm a Cancer Withstander.
I like that much better.
