 |
| http://www.giantteddy.com/60in-pink-gigi-chubs-cancer-awareness-teddy-bear/ |
“Barbara! What are you even saying? Why should
you just wallow in your sadness? What is wrong with trying to lead a happy and
peaceful life in the face of cancer?”
I was so
angry. It seems to me that optimism—trying to overcome the imminent evils of
life—is precisely what defines our humanity. All of us have struggles, and we
all must strive to find peace.
Immediately
she exposed my ignorance: “Well, Hannah, have you ever had cancer? Do you know
what it’s like to suffer chemotherapy?”
Of course I
had to say no. I’ve never had cancer. But…
“Barb,
don’t assume that I haven’t had my own struggles. Life is hard for everyone!”
I probably
shouldn’t have been so surprised at how furious she became after that. But I
was. And her anger was terrifying.
She grabbed
a teddy bear from off the bed and shook it at me as she said: “Oh? You think
that cancer is ‘hard’? You know what it’s like for your very own cells—the
biological essence of your being—to
attack your body? You know what it’s
like to have people think that giving you a teddy bear with a pink ribbon on it
will make up for the cellular warfare happening inside your own body? Yes,
please elaborate on how your experience is anything like mine.”
I was
speechless. And the worst part was, she was right.
 |
| http://www.express.co.uk/life-style/life/ 528509/Disney-Princess-breast-cancer-survivors |
“But
Hannah, do you know what the worst part is—worse than the dying—worse than the
pain—worse than the fear? Losing your identity. Yes, your cells are literally
attacking your identity, but so are the doctors and so are your friends—so is
the rhetoric used by the entire cancer community! The way we talk about cancer undermines
identity—the autonomy—the humanity—of the patient.”
I was not
following: “Are you saying that the doctors and your friends and the greater
cancer community have stolen your humanity?”
“Yes! Just
hear me out. When I got diagnosed with cancer, the doctor said to me,
‘Unfortunately, there is a cancer.’ He did not say ‘Barb, I’m sorry, but you
have cancer.’ He took me out of the equation. I was no longer a person, but a
cancer-carrierWhen we talk about cancer, we never talk about the victim. We
never use nouns to describe the condition. Having cancer is a verb. Having
cancer is being cancer. Having cancer is battling cancer—and you are only free
from this identity as a verb rather than a noun when you are a survivor of
cancer. In essence, I’m only a fully-fledged person when I’m cancer-free.”
What if she
was right?
“We are
treated like children. It’s our job to let the doctors—the grown ups—take care
of us. We’re not allowed to question whether or not having chemo, which may or
may not save us and will make us suffer either way, is what’s best for us. So
they give us teddy bears and crayons; they tell us to just keep smiling.”
 |
| http://www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk/ p/beat-cancer-and-keep-smiling/ |
“Well,
Barb, I’m sure your friends and doctors are just trying to help. Having a
positive attitude can make a world of difference.”
“But we should be allowed to complain because feeling those feelings is forbidden. Complaining is giving up—as if keeping a smile on my face
will defeat the evil inside me—as if the outcome of my body’s struggle
against cancer is something I can control! It’s time we stop blaming the
victims!”
She was
right, and I knew it.
“You know
what I really wish? I wish my feelings were treated like they were valid. I wish I
could just say ‘Cancer sucks!’ I wish I had someone who would stop trying to
feed me that crap about how a smile can save you.”
I took the
teddy bear from her hand and hurled it across the room. Then I just screamed:
“Cancer sucks!”
