Surviving

What does it mean to be a survivor?


By definition, a survivor is someone left over, someone remaining or living when others who've experienced a similar event aren't. A survivor is someone who outlives, outlasts, copes with and/or perseveres. Don't we ALL fit that definition? Simply by existing in this world, having survived childbirth, we are all survivors, right? Isn't the simple fact that we live through the experience of child birth part of the reason it's referred to as "the miracle of birth?" I don't know about you, but since that moment I've experienced a rapid succession of events I've survived. It occurs to me that these events turn into the stories we tell one another, how we relate to each other, get to know each other. I've survived an acute respiratory distress syndrome called Hyaline Membrane disease (when I was born), a nail across my scalp from a roller skating incident, being attacked by a dog, falling into a broken sprinkler system (I only include that because my brother called my mom at work, worried I would bleed to death), being chased by crazy-naked-circus man, choking on a cough drop (thanks again for the save, Bobby!), basic training, war, a second-story deck collapse, and that near-drowning episode last summer to name a few, and really, that's only a few.


The thing is, I don't really feel like a survivor. I look back and think about how lucky I've been to have support through every trial. I'd never have made it this far on my own. I do think that my survivor stories reveal other things about me, the traits that, when pieced together, create the visage of the whole person. I'm klutzy, goofy, an extroverted-people-person with just a touch of shy. I love wholly and fiercely, family and friends alike. I'm an open book. Sure, I've got skeletons, but there is no closet. Somebody out there knows all of my stories, or, at least, if you all got together, you could piece together a pretty solid timeline of my survivor-life stories. Hopefully, if you ever do that, you'll laugh and smile through it all.


Maybe surviving is more like that reality show.  Gather up a bunch of breast cancer survivors, stick them on some remote island with little more than each other and the clothes on their backs and see who's the last one standing. From what I know of breast cancer survivors, we'd all still be standing together at the end of the show, one big alliance, arms linked together in defiance. If breast cancer can't bring us down, no silly show or prize can do it. Ok, maybe that million dollar prize would help pay for the ridiculous price tag associated with surviving, but I'll save that discussion for another blog (I'm still researching).  Truth be told, (breast) cancer survivors are some of the most helpful, supportive, encouraging and open people I've met, always willing to share their stories, pass on their wigs and caps, answer questions, lend a shoulder for support.


I encountered a definition of cancer survival as starting at diagnosis. The very moment you know you have cancer, you are surviving it. I struggled with that at first. But, in thinking about it, it dawned on me that each day a person wakes up is a victory. Maybe we should call people "champions" and award trophies for the milestones. We could call the trophies "Slammies" aka "Surviving Life Grammy," but we'd all need to put additions on our homes to accommodate all the awards and swag-bags. It'd sure be fun to have a black-tie awards ceremony to attend every now and then. Just-sayin'!


My doctors seem to agree that survival starts when the cancer is gone. For me, that was after the mastectomy. But if that were totally accurate, I wouldn't have had chemo or have to have radiation treatments to attack any remaining cells. I think that it should start after the major modalities, like surgery, chemo and radiation are done, but before the extended stuff, like Tamoxifen, which, as I understand it, works to prevent a recurrence.


My personal definition of surviving really comes down to living. I'm stubborn, willful, and determined. I will keep living as long as I can, enjoying as much of life as I can, and when I can't live here any longer, you know I'm gonna love it up in heaven! I am, however, planning to stick around for quite some time (and listen to this song by Ingrid Michaelson, a lot - thanks Natalie, for the album!).