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...