Why are you STILL talking about cancer?

Hey, Cancer Havers (present or past), has anyone been bold enough to ask you this question directly?

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Hello, friend.

If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with cancer, and it’s been a while since Diagnosis Day, has anyone ever asked you why you’re still talking about cancer?

I would guess if you answered no, there have, nonetheless, been a few folks who have implied that maybe you should “be done with all that” by now. Maybe you should be done thinking about cancer — or at least be done talking about it.

And the follow-up questions they likely think or even come right out and ask are — if you’re not done, why aren’t you?

After all, that’s all behind you by now, isn’t it?

Hidden within such questions, there is judgment — be it intentional or not. Because the implication is clear: You and I should be done with all that cancery stuff by now.

Of course, if you are metastatic, no one would ever dare ask you such questions — at least I hope not!

Metastatic folks do hear some doozies, though, such as: Gosh, you don’t look sick. I mean, really?

Just how is one who has metastatic disease, or any type/stage of cancer supposed to look?

If someone has come right out and asked you, “Why are you still talking about cancer?” — I’m wondering what your response was. Be sure to share it below in the comments. I would love to know how you handled it.

For someone like me who was diagnosed nearly 14 years ago, I’m pretty sure there are more than a few people, probably even in my own family, who might be asking, or at least thinking, this question. No one has ever come out and asked it directly to my face, not yet anyway.

So, why am I still talking about cancer?

First of all, if I stopped talking about cancer, it would be almost like no longer talking about my mother, would it not? Cancer didn’t define her (or me), but it most certainly defined her dying and death.

Secondly, as many of you would attest to, there isn’t a tidy endpoint to the cancer experience, at least not for me.

This is, in fact, the very reason my book title, EMERGING, is what it is. I didn’t title it: Stories from the Other Side of Cancer.

No, I purposefully titled it: Stories from the Other Side of a Cancer Diagnosis. Subtle, but important difference.

Same deal with loss and grief. I didn’t title it: Stories from the Other Side of Grief. There is no other side of grief because grief has no endpoint either.

And even when talking about the pandemic, for many people the impact of it is not anywhere near over — especially for those who lost loved ones.

Do you see and hear those differentiations?

No matter what life challenge or trauma you face or have faced, it likely didn’t have a neat and tidy endpoint. But I might be wrong. Let me know if you feel differently.

Life challenges tend to bring and leave baggage of some sort.

The trick is to incorporate the experience, and the baggage, into who you are or want to become. In other words, the hard work continues. And we all do this work and incorporating differently.

I read an article the other day about this very thing — putting cancer behind you. The article’s main message was about not staying in the land of the sick. (I’m paraphrasing.) Getting on with it. Moving on. That kind of thing. I’m not going to disparage someone else’s views just because they’re different from mine.

All I ask is that my way of thinking be respected too.

I am not done with cancer because my body still has many highly visible scars that speak to me every day. Mirrors don’t lie. Unfortunately. I mean, hello, I’m missing actual body parts. Sure, the things the scars “say to me” vary from day to day. But those scars are “speaking,” nonetheless.

In addition, I still have lingering side effects from treatment that I’ll likely always have. Plus, let’s not forget the risk for recurrence remains.

Then, there are psychological scars that continue to heal and be dealt with. Some are personal and private in nature and shall remain that way. Many I’ve shared about.

So yes, I still think and talk about the losses that cancer brought. I still think about cancer every day. I still miss the old me. Not in a “dwelling on it” sort of way, but in a this is my reality way.

It’s not like I think about and talk about cancer to anyone and everyone, though. I don’t. Mostly, I do it here in this space and in my three books. (Thank you, Dear Readers.)

And, let’s not forget that cancer is in my DNA. Literally. It’s in there. Hereditary cancer sucks big time. But it’s my reality, too; I continue to worry about various family members.

How could I not?

Plus, there’s the continuing advocacy work that remains important to me. As long as there is that component, and I still have things to say, I’ve no intention of being quiet.

Stop talking about cancer?

Uh-uh. Not gonna happen.

So, yes, cancer is still on my mind.

For the most part, I’ve got the cancer worry stuff corralled into a corner of my mind. Most of the time, I’m pretty successful at keeping it fenced in.

Sure, now and then cancer worry breaks out of there. But all in all, I manage to do a pretty decent job of keeping it in check.

So, why am I still talking about cancer?

It’s pretty simple. Because for me, it’ll never be over, I still have things to say, and advocacy work remains to be done.

What about you?

Why are you still talking about cancer?

Or, on the flip side, why have you stopped?

Thank you for reading!

P.S. If you’re confused by the “pledge your support” options, I have no plans to turn on paid subscription options at this time. If and when I ever do, you will always have the “no pledge” option. I’m just grateful you’re here to read my ramblings.

If you like this post, please consider clicking the “like heart” and/or sharing the post with someone who might enjoy it. Thank you!

If you haven’t yet, remember to visit my author website when you get a minute!

The sale will end soon, so don’t forget to grab your copy of EMERGING!

Have a great rest of your week!

Until next time…

As always, I see you. I hear you, and I care about what you have to say. Thank you for being here with me.

Nancy

The appearance of these little friends means spring has officially arrived!