New Way to be Human

Nov. 18 2004, my Mom was diagnosed with Stage IV Lung Cancer. I started this blog to chronicle her journey. July 19, 2005 she gave her life in the battle. This blog is my place to process through the journey I walked along with her, and now my journey through grief. It's also a place to discuss the effects cancer has on the lives it touches--survivors and caregivers alike. I'm a Navy wife, a Mom, and my mother's daughter now and forever.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Battle and Fighting Terminology

The metaphorical terminology that surrounds cancer is vast. One image that seems to come up again and again is the idea of it being a battle or a war. People are said to fight valiantly against it. People are called fighters, warriors, soldiers.

When my Mom was sick, and then when she died I hated the phrase, "She lost her battle." It just sounded so defeating. It sounded like the cancer won and that just... shouldn't be. I didn't know what else to say though, so I found myself using those words.

Not long ago, a dear woman on my message board brought up that very phrase. She, too, had a problem with it. And she refused to say that anyone lost their battle. Instead, she viewed it as giving their life in the battle. She refused to believe that whether she lived or died with her cancer that it could be the victor. She felt that either way she would defeat her cancer--either by going on to life abundant and everlasting and being rid of it forever in her death passage, or by surviving it here. Either way, she would be the victor and it would be defeated once and for all. That remarkable woman gave her life in the fight shortly before I left for Washington. I miss her wisdom very much, but I am happy that she has won her battle.

But other terminology that plagues me right now, that stings me more than it should, is the idea of folks being 'fighters.' Of 'having spunk,' and therefor faring better.

My Mother was the fightingest woman that I've ever known. She was the spunkiest, take no prisoners, tell 'em to F*** off kind of woman that you've ever seen. She was to me the embodiment of feminine strength. I felt that this would be one of her finest assets in her fight against Lung Cancer.

But, my mother's battle with cancer was a very short one. She gave her life in the battle only 8 months and 1 day after her diagnosis. Her decline was also very rapid. She didn't linger and linger and linger. She lost her awareness quickly. We weren't able to have those special meaningful conversations I think we'd all envisioned after we signed on the dotted line for hospice. What do I do with the 'fighter' terminology in her case? Am I to believe that my Mom was less of a fighter than others because she couldn't hold on longer? Did the beast just come on too fast and too furious--with strategy that would outsmart even the brightest and strongest warrior?

The thought that comforts me is this: In a war, I believe the man who gives his life on the first day of the battle is every bit as valiant, every bit as much a warrior as the man who fights the entire conflict and perishes on the last day. I have to believe that is true.

But still, sometimes the words haunt me...

3 Comments:

  • At 6:04 AM, Blogger samurai said…

    I am so glad you have a special place in your heart for people with autism. I had lost your blog pages on my blog (long story)... now I can come back and read again.

    I too lost my mother to a form of lung cancer. Her "battle" was short as well. Diagnosis in July and she passed away in December 2000. In the end, the cancer definetly lost. It no longer had a host in which to spread.

    Anyway, I am so very glad to have refound your blogs. I will be praying for your friend and you uncle.

     
  • At 10:14 PM, Blogger KinnicChick said…

    When Keith was "battling" the brain tumor, we found it difficult to see it as a battle at all. For him, he wanted to toss out the whole war terminology altogether. He was more interested in a discussion about being at peace with this tumor. There was a lot more to it that I'm not remembering here in the wee hours, but it did make sense at the time. *sigh* I'll have to come back and discuss it with you.

    *hugs*

     
  • At 8:38 AM, Blogger Val said…

    Keri,

    That makes sense to me too. The idea of being at peace and the language that would surround it. I don't think any concept of language quite captures it, and I think that every different way of looking at it, sheds some insight. I'd love to hear more.

    Val

     

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