Cancer Pacifist

art from Yakuto.com

I am a cancer pacifist.

No, this does not mean that I eschewed (or will eschew) all treatment or that I intend to throw up my hands and crawl into a corner to die if it should come my way again.  Death by cancer suicide is not my preferred way to go.

 

But, still, I have always been extremely uncomfortable with the “cancer warrior” label.  I am SOOOO not a warrior.  I did not *choose* to fight.  I *would not* choose to fight.  I did not nobly take up shield and sword and mount my cancer-fighting steed. 

At best, I would be considered a cancer draftee, not a warrior.

Still, even being a draftee is not “me”.  I am not a natural fighter.  I am a born and bred preacemaker.  I value kindness above most things, I strive to NOT fight, to NOT struggle, to find peace.  Truly, I had already had enough struggle to last a lifetime, even before cancer came along.  Over my struggle quota here, God, can we just move along?

Maybe my lack of warrior spirit is why I really never went deeply into the “why me” pit and all of the darkness that I think could have come to me with that.  I am more of a “why not me” kind of gal.  I would not wish my cancer on anyone else, therefore I could not really rail at God and say “why me,” because there is no one else I would rather give it to.  So, if there is no one else I would give it to, then I guess it is mine to have and deal with.  Weirdly logical, eh?

During all of my treatment, I always thought I would get better, because my life has taught me that I can do hard things and come out (reasonably whole) on the other side of them.  Not that there were not a few curveballs in there, or that I did not have moments that shook my faith a bit.  Still, cancer for me has been less of a fight and much more of a meditation.  I had to be STILL to fight my cancer, not struggle against it.  I had to stop and do what I needed to do for my body.  I had to let the medical world help me, and I had to ALLOW them to help me.  I had to stop and pray for my spirit.  I had to stop and make time for music and poetry and art for my soul.  I had to do things that comforted me on every level I could be comforted.  I had to focus INWARD, not outward.

So, I do not want a ribbon – no matter the color.  No badge, no medal, no warrior recognition or symbol.  I do not need those things to know that I have won and cancer has lost.  Even if cancer takes my life some day (and I sincerely hope and pray that it does not), it will never win.  Cancer did not change me for the worst, it focused me for the better.  Cancer did not kill me, it made me more alive.