Today is National Cancer Survivors Day and its my 4th celebrating as a cancer survivor. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose I’m still relatively new at this, but I feel like a veteran with the massive amount of spiritual and emotional growth I’ve gone through since my diagnosis. Its funny how time can feel both fast and slow, like light refracting through a prism differently when we change the angle at which we view it. I suppose words are similar — their meanings can shift depending on personal perspective.
Today I’m pondering the word “survivor,” as many do at some point after a diagnosis. In the traditional sense of the word, to “survive” means to outlive or outlast, and that’s how its used in the cancer world, more or less. It works because its objective and describes the literal process of living during and after a diagnosis. It’s simplistic (and far too basic for me).
However, the beautiful thing about language is it evolves over time as people begin to use it in new ways. In a more recent definition, to survive means “to continue to function or prosper despite” adversity — to withstand, to endure. Now, these words pack some serious subjective power! While the first definition conjures a mental image of a lone person on a deserted island, the second definition gives that same person in the same situation a set of clothes fashioned from palm fronds, a spear made of seashells and driftwood, and a fire cooking fresh caught fish beside them.
I can’t speak for anyone else, but I want the main character in my story (that would be me) to be a resourceful, hopeful spitfire who makes the best of their situation. They don’t just keep living, they prosper and are quite frankly amazing at it. The see the situation, realize it sucks, and try to make it better anyway.

See, a funny thing happens with words. Just like language evolves based on our use over time — the words we use, and how we define them — can change our perspectives on things. The more I see myself as a badass persisting despite obstacle after obstacle, the stronger I feel. However, if I see myself as just hanging on waiting for the proverbial ship to save me, I feel much less empowered. I’m still in the same exact situation — Gilligan, stranded on Cancer island — but when I shift my perspective of what it means to survive, I shift how I see myself on that island. Zooming out into real life, this equates to more positive moods, resilience, motivation to grow as a person, etc.
So what does it mean to be a survivor? For me, it means enduring the hardships cancer brings and carrying on — sometimes prospering, sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other — but always knowing I’m stronger because I keep going. I’m not going to let one lousy shipwreck ruin my one shot at living an amazingly beautiful life.