Breast Cancer Survivor

I don't care for being referred to as a breast cancer survivor. My image of a survivor is someone who has won a battle. Someone who can celebrate their victory and put the ordeal behind them. For me, survivor doesn't define what being stricken with breast cancer is about. To me, more appropriate labels include unlucky, casualty, prey, underdog.

When I traveled to Helena for the Komen Race For the Cure last month I was surprised how strongly I was repelled by the label of survivor being thrust upon me. I didn't want to put on the pink survivor t-shirt. I didn't want to be part of that group. I was not proud to be part of the group. I was there to run a race. I was there to run with my son, nephew and sister and enjoy being active and strong after a depressing winter of chemo treatment. I was there to visit Jody, my dear sister-in-law from my previous marriage, who has supported me with such unselfishness and kindness.

When it was time to join the other survivors on the Capitol steps I reluctantly put on my pink t-shirt and walked up with the 1 year survivors. The other groups of cancer survivors were called up according to the length of time since their diagnosis. Then it was announced that the song "We Are Family" would be played so that we could clap and sing along. After the song started I looked around at the singing and celebrating women surrounding me and I felt irritated and indignant. What were we celebrating? Being afflicted with cancer? I can't celebrate, in any way, having a harrowing, hideous and vicious disease.

We can't fight to survive cancer. Either treatment works or it doesn't. We are either lucky or we're not. Its quite simple, we take the treatment and we endure. We try to stay positive. Not because we really believe that a good attitude increases our chances of surviving, but because its easier to cope that way. And, the really great thing is that we don't know which direction we are headed.

Survivor my ass, its not that glamorous.