MBC is Not a "Journey"

Moiralf

For everyone the words have different meaning in different situations and stages. There is no one right way.

For me, personally, i don't mind journey. I thought of myself being on my life's journey before bc. It works for me. My journey involved my early life, my loving husband, the birth of my beautiful daughters, plus the heaps of other ups and downs it had. Then came bc, a really hilly bit to journey over and even it has it ups and downs and beautiful moments. This is my life, I don't know what  is ahead but right from the beginning of my whole journey the end destination is death. When,how and in what state I will be in has never been in my control. It will be what it will be. I don't think of anything being stolen from me, I never had it in the first place.It is only ever potential. That is how I chose to remain in exactly what I do have which is today. I chose to generate as much as possible any joy and happiness as  I can dredge to the surface. And believe me I am no Pollyanna. It sucks donkey balls but I am also greatly blessed, it seriously could be worse and I am daily grateful for what I do have.

But the whole fighting/survivor thing gets me. At 6 years stage 4 can I be called a survivor. I consider each day one of survival for anyone, how can it be applying to only one small group. And what indeed have they survived.  Still won't survive life girls and boys, it gets us all so keep looking over your shoulder.

Fighting to me is redundant in physically terms. Damn cancer does what it likes and takes me along for the ride. Treatments work or it doesn't. Again not a lot to do with me. Eat healthly, exercise gently, do alternatives, yes they are part of my wellness package but my body is in control and I ride along with it.

My fight is mental and emotional. I can work hard to stay in the moment, to live blowing raspberries at cancer and seizing the day. To inhale the beauty of sea, sky and nature and be glad I live where I am and with the people I do. When my mood drops and bad results come in and i face the harsh reality of what is most likely staring at me. I work hard to remember it is not now, it might be one day sooner than I would like but what if it isn't. Minds play mean and horrible tricks of taking us to our nightmares. It's all a mind game. Thoughts are not real they are projections of possibilities.  That is my fight and it 's hard fought and sometimes I lose and cry and scream and it's not stinking fair. But such is life, it isn't designed to be fair. We don't always "win". And if my dh mentions in any sentence, death notice or church sermon Fighting, fought or warrior. I will find some way to come back and make him really sorry he didn't listen to me more closely.

This is my long and personal view. 

Moira

Leah_S

MBC is not a journey, it is a disease. And I am not fighting it, I'm being treated for it. I am not battling it, I'm dealing with it. My 20yr old DD, on the other hand, likes the terminology of "fighting" - she says it feels stronger to her. I told her she can use whatever terminology makes her feel better. She never says to me "you are fighting this", the terminology is for herself.

I like calling it a chronic disease, since that's part of my coping mechanism. I don't kid myself that it's like diabetes; it's more like serious heart disease in the "chronic" scale. I have a friend who has been dealing with heart disease for over 20 years and believe me it's been extremely difficult for her.

Leah

curveball

I too detest the metaphor of cancer as "battle" or "fight", especially the frequently used phrase "lost his/her battle with cancer" for someone who dies of the disease. It seems to imply if the person had "fought" harder, they'd still be alive, which is utter baloney. "Journey" is not a similar hot button for me. Treatment for cancer does have a starting point, a desired destination, and a series of events between the two, sometimes including detours that send you places you didn't want to go to, so in that sense it is similar to traveling.

A metaphor that occurred to me once is that MBC is like being on Death Row (for a crime I didn't commit), but not yet having exhausted all of my appeals. Eventually, the sentence will be carried out, but maybe not until years from now. And maybe, just maybe, there will be new evidence or a pardon that will open the prison doors and let me go free. That's the closest parallel I can think of to being always conscious of my own mortality yet without expecting to die at any specific time, combined with the faint hope that a cure will be found soon enough that I can once again reasonably expect to live for perhaps a few more decades (as I did before my diagnosis), instead of for a few more years. But probably being compared to convicted felons will be just as offensive to some other bco members as "journey" or "battle", if not more so.

surfdreams

I'm guilty of saying  "journey" , but when I think of that road, it isn't an adventure like the El Camino de Santiago trek. It's more of a "yea, tho I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" kind of journey and there are man-eating potholes and crumbling edges. I don't mean to offend others if I refer to this rotten journey (that sucks donkey balls, as Moiralf so aptly phrased it).  I do feel my hackles rise though when I hear the fighter/warrior kind of words. The "fight like a girl" shirts are popular in their bright  pink camouflage patterns. I won't be wearing one of those. I find those pretty offensive on more than one level. I'm enjoying reading everyone's take on this subject. Interesting. Good luck finding a common ground here, Moderators

kendra3

When people use the word "journey", I also hear a sense of awe, of mystery, of the unknown in their voices. 

We travelers are on a road they can neither see nor understand, though we know that they too may walk it someday. 

Glad to be here with you all.

steelrose

"Journey?" Ugh.

Sinsin

 Hi! New gal here and I apologize beforehand for my green ways. I have just been diagnosed with IDC and in fact, am 6 days out on recovery from my mastectomy. And from day 1, I have have never been able to align myself with the "Save the Ta-Tas", or the whole pink thing period (makes me require pepto bismol but then I'd really be sick by the pink redundancy) nor when my loved ones tell me "we'll get through this", etc. All I can think is "you don't know that for sure, you can't make promises you're not 100% sure of." And I think it's because the truth is, people really don't know.

 Most people aren't familiar with breast cancer, or aware that there are different types, the stages or even all the treatments and their effects. What most people do know is what Susan G. Komen has put out there, and that's all the pink warrior stuff and the many survivors and their stories they use to obtain funding. Not that there is anything wrong with that but because of it, I think it has lead people to believe that it isn't as deadly as other cancers and that women are still dying from it. So when people say these things, we need to try and take it with a grain of salt and know that they mean well. Then, set 'em right! 😉

And good luck to all of you lovely ladies and f*** cancer!

exbrnxgrl

@surfdreams, don't feel guilty about using journey. It may not be a hot button word for you and that is perfectly ok! And good luck to the mods, indeed!

@sinsin, so sorry about your recent dx. Were you dx'ed with metastatic disease right away? Clearly you understand that for us, this journey, weird trip or whatever we call it will only end one way. Yes, you are right that people don't understand bc in general but, as you will discover, mbc is even less well understood. I know you are just recovering from surgery but when you feel up to it, check out the threads on the stage IV forum that deal with your specific mets. Stage IV stinks but we are a great group!

Danishgirl66

I don't mind the word "journey."  I see it as either traveling or your path in life, sometimes good and sometimes traumatic.  Cancer of course is quite traumatic.  I don't really like the words  "fighting" or "battling" cancer, because like several of you have said I didn't choose to have it.  I am being treated for it by the best medicine I can find, very appreciative of my husbands great medical plan and doing everything I can to be healthy and active.  I guess I'm a "survivor" until I am not a survivor.  The survivor part is what makes me really sad.

journey61

Wow, I really hesitated in responding because of my site
name, but I have to explain why I chose it. My name doesn’t just reflect my
experience with breast cancer, but my health issues for years. I have had
symptoms dismissed and illnesses missed and have been chastised, demoralized
and patronized by certain members of the health industry. I have been told I have mild MS and
fibromyalgia years ago and since then have had to have emergency surgery for
narrow angle glaucoma (almost lost my eyesight) and had a slight stroke BEFORE I
was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Two years later I was diagnosed with it
to my sternum. Two years later I am dealing with it possibly in my adrenal
gland. (surprise, surprise)

When I was first diagnosed I had been going to the doctor
for two years saying something was wrong. By the beginning of 2009 I was
sleeping sitting up in bed because of vertigo, had lost 20 pounds, was dizzy
(there is a difference between dizziness and vertigo), was exhausted, and had
vibrating vision. Every morning I got up something else would go haywire.

Through a lot of divine intervention and meeting the right
people at exactly the right time I am now, after almost 5 years, feeling MUCH
BETTER than five years ago. It has taken 45 radiation treatments, 14 rounds of chemo, alot of Neupogen and Herceptin as well as relentless research and many
appointments with my wellness team to get to this point. I still have some
health workers treating me cruelly to the point I have almost walked into a
neighboring river after one recent appointment. But I have to remember that I
have people who believe in me, lift me up in spirit, and those are the ones who
have helped the most.

I could have picked a name to signify this “trip” like maybe
LSD would have been a good one, but I chose journey because it encompasses my
path to healing. The word clarifies the significance for me and I have come so
far from where I was. I can make myself a sandwich, dress and feed
myself, go out for a good time, walk, and just enjoy life. I have a sister who died
of MS 12 years ago and she couldn’t do those things.

Both of my parents lived through opposite sides of World War
II-my dad in the Royal Airforce as a navigator and my mum as a teenager in
Berlin. They had to live with the PTSD
from their experiences-my dad developed OCD and had shrapnel in his head until
the day he died. My mum lost a brother
and another was captured. Her father was in both World Wars. He was a doctor of
philosophy at a school and would have exchanges with English students. With
every fibre of his being he wanted peace.  My family has been devastated by the
effects of war and for that reason I dislike any terminology associated with
it.

I am grateful for each and every day, be it sinking into a
valley of despair or having an epiphany and feeling like I’m on top of a mountain. When doors have been slammed shut in my face I
have found the help I needed at the right time.

I dislike that I have metastatic disease and am playing the
real life game of Survivor where I have to outwit, outplay and hopefully
outlast the games this illness can play, and my road has taken many twists and
turns. I am going through some difficulties right now and am scared…….but I am
alive and I am blessed.

exbrnxgrl

journey61,

No need to hesitate to post or explain your user name. As has been mentioned several times, what is a hot button word for some is completely ok for others.  Take care.

Springlakegirl

I'm sure I am guilty of using terminology that could hurt someone out there who is dealing with this devastating disease.  I have words that are turn-offs for me too, but I won't list them right now.  In general, though, I don't like it when people tell me I'm "incurable".  That's the word that doesn't sit well with me.  Who has the right to tell me that I won't be one of the few fortunate ones who "wins this fight"?!  Okay, I get saucy when I'm healthy, like I am right now, so hopefully I won't offend anyone who hates those words!    

Bestbird, I hope you don't mind if I share a poem I wrote right when I was in the thick of treatment.  I almost lost my life during chemo and was hospitalized for about a month, away from my hubby and four small children.  When I got home and recovered for a few weeks, before starting chemo again, I went out on a little walk/run on a beautiful day.  It was the first time I had the energy to do that in a long time, and I came home inspired to write a poem.  (I don't normally write poetry).  I'm not saying it's a great poem or anything, but it just flowed out of me and was exactly what I had been feeling, and I felt fully satisfied with it when I was done.  A lot of analogy in it, but I think many of you could relate.  I will share it for those of you interested in reading:

Mother of Four Battling Metastatic Breast Cancer:

I stepped out into the world
one day to go for a run. I was eager to
try out my brand new running shoes. The
sky was brilliant as the sun rose over the mountains. I breathed in the fresh crisp air as I laced
on my shoes. I was ready for this
run!

It was hard to contain my
energy and strength as I bounded out onto the pavement. I smiled at the little flowers I saw blooming
on the side of the hill. It was almost
effortless to glide forward at a nimble pace.

Sometimes I accelerated
without even noticing. Other times I
stopped and dawdled at the side of the road.
Frequently there were others around me.
We ran together for a while and compared running shoes. We gleefully splashed through puddles, and
trudged up steep hills together. We held
our arms up in the air as we recklessly sprinted down the hills and into the
valleys.

Soon one was running beside
me. He made my heart pound deeper. My steps grew in rhythm with his. We turned onto a new path together. It felt familiar. It was our own.

Our new path was
narrower. It was a lovely winding path
with playful white flowers freckled along the side. We splashed in the cool mountain stream that
bordered our path. We climbed a tree to
get a better view and chartered our course.
Our shoes were slightly worn now, but we had taken good care of them,
and knew that we could run many more miles on them. We loved our new path. We vowed to run on it together forever.

We decided to share our path
with four new runners. We were so
excited to show them everything. We
laughed as they marveled at their new shoes.
We taught them to lace up their shoes, stretch, and run, run,
RUN!!!!! If they fell, we picked them up
and brushed the dirt from their knees.
“Your wound will heal” we said, “It is not so bad. Now get back up and run!“

It was hard to keep up with
them sometimes! But other times they lay
peacefully in our arms as we reverently watched them sleep. They were amazing.

We held hands and ran slower
so that we could all stay together. A
steady pace forward and side by side was our goal. The radiant sun was still high in the sky.

Suddenly a thorn shot through
my shoe and tore deeply into my foot. I
was stunned at first and stumbled. I
could not get the bleeding to stop. I
fell and cried. The wound was too deep
to heal, I was told. I could see the wound, but I couldn’t feel the pain.

Someone cries beside me. He takes my hand again. We are wounded together. We are lost from our course. How could we lose our beautiful path? This was not what we planned.

We tell our little runners
that it will be okay. It will heal. Then we continue to run on our new path as
the sun begins to hide behind the mountain.
We quicken our pace to beat the setting sun. We hold each other’s hands. Our little runners can feel our grips
tighten.

When I am too weak to run, he
carries me for a while. I try to smile
and I run when I can. Our path gets
steeper and darker. I try to move
forward on my own, and our hands lose contact briefly. I can feel the pain now. Our little runners cling to us and stumble
when we do. We reach out to find one
another again and turn the corner. The
path is unfamiliar ahead.

If we cannot get back onto
our beautiful path, can we make this one ours?
We decide to recharter our course.
First we must stop and remove the thorn, we decide. It will hurt, but it must come out if there
is any chance for it to heal. We let
ourselves believe that it can heal. We
cannot remove my shoe completely or I will have to go home right away. We know that we will both end our run at
home, but we want to enjoy the path together as long as we can. We try to remove all of the thorn. We don’t want to leave any part behind.

I sob with pain as it being
removed. Sometimes I stop and take a
deep breath. “We have to continue“, I
say. My will to be rid of the thorn is
increasing. I want to believe that my
shoe can be as good as new. Our little
ones play alongside the path, unaware of the thorn. I want to watch them grow into strong
runners. There is so much for me to
teach them before we go on separate paths.
They come over to us when they see the clouds darkening, and we tickle
them and tell them to go play by the stream for a while. This will just take a moment longer.

We struggle to get rid of the thorn.
Feeling weak, we cry out to God.
“Please heal this wound!!” Others
encircle us and lift me to my feet. “If
you do your best to repair your shoe, I will take care of your foot” comes the answer.

We summon all our strength
and pull as hard as we can on the thorn.
It comes out but leaves a wound
in my foot and a hole in the shoe. We
ask others for help to repair the shoe.
We want to do the very best job we can so that the shoe will last a long
time. We have to use what is around us
to repair it. The repair job seems
solid, but the shoe will never be completely the same.

I look at all who have
gathered around me on our path. They are
telling me that it will be okay. They
encourage me to keep running. I don’t
like this path as much as the one I started on, but I am not alone like I was
at the beginning of my run. I decide
that my foot needs to be stronger if my shoe is weakened. I did not start this run only to go home
early. I will run better than I have
ever run before!

I take his hand again with
renewed energy. I can feel my foot
healing already. We take our four little
runners and begin again. The path takes
us around another corner, and the sun is still shining. We only thought the sun was setting because
of our place on the path. My shoe is
working well, but we know that all of our shoes will wear out eventually. Then we will go to our beautiful home and
rejoice at the new shoes that await us there that will never wear out.

But in the meantime, we look
around and notice that the path is much more interesting than we thought. The shadows only make the sunlit parts look
brighter. There is still a long way to
go on the path before we reach our home.
We will never be the same as we were before the thorn. In many ways we are stronger. We are more aware that our run cannot last
forever, but we are not afraid. We vow
to run our best, to splash in the stream, to raise our hands in the air and run
recklessly down the hills, to lift those we see who have fallen on the path, to
tickle our little runners, to teach them all we know, and to hold hands all the
way home.   

Thanks for reading

deniseneish.com

exbrnxgrl

Denise,

Thank you for the nice poem. I think the mods have an insurmountable job ahead of them in trying to find language that upsets no one. That's why I think none of us need to hesitate to say how words effect us. We will never all be the same in this respect, so we can just leave it at that. I don't mind the word incurable as, save for 1-2% of mbc patients, that's what I am. It's not taking my hope away at all. I'm very pragmatic about my disease and if by some stroke of luck, I fall into that minuscule group, great! If not, I'll do what can to be as happy and healthy as possible in whatever time I have (the longer the better, of course!).

Bestbird

Denise, it's a privilege to read your story.  Your words are quite beautiful, as is their message.  The next time I see someone joyfully running in the foothills of Salt Lake, I'll think immediately of you!

Exbrnxgrl, you summarized the situation so well. Indeed, terms that some deem offensive is are considered perfectly acceptable - and sometimes even positive - by others.  That said, simply building an awareness about how we feel about specific verbiage is helpful, and I have learned a great deal through the posts on this thread.

Journey51, you have selected a meaningful name that you have every reason to proudly bear.  Thank you for sharing your thoughts, and please - never hesitate to post!

All - this is truly a learning experience for me, and possibly for others as well.  Thank you so much for your candor!

SophieJean

An awesome discussion here. For me there is no 'right' language around this - during my NED and stable times 'journey' has suited me just fine and even when I'm not doing so well I'm journeying like my pioneer ancestors.When I start a new chemo/ treatment and I'm trying to claw back some much loved activities and pleasures I 'fight' damm hard ( and say things like "I'm going to win") and when I try to explain that bad can go on and on and greatly shorten my life I use 'chronic' - not like diabetics but like those on dialysis or with Heart disease. 

Whatever story works - it's the stories behind the words and the images that they have for each of us that matter, it's what ideas about ourselves they inspire or don't inspire, how they make us visible or invisible to others, how they help us speak out, but mostly, for me now, how they help me make day to day decisions about what I'm going to do about this mess.

We should just invent new words and stories.

I think I am a kerble. And I will continue to kerble along :-)

Sophie

Woodylb

hi all, 

I am newly dxd as MBC it is a reoccurrence of ILC , i understand that some words are offensive to us. But i also understand that most people don't make the difference in cancer terminology. I believe they are trying to help and give strength. They mean well , so i am not offended , i smile . Even though MBC is a devastating disease and terminal , there are also a lot of stories and hope , and there are people living more or less normal lives and longer lives. It is definitely a deadly and un curable disease but with new treatments it is sometimes manageable and controllable. But so are all cancers. Please check other threads like stage IV forum people with multiple mets , these ladies were dxd stage I and  II yet it came back with vengeance to either stage IV or metastatic. O focus personally on the little hope there is, and don't give much attention to terminology and stuff. I keep the faith as do a lot others and some of us actually make it. I hope you are not offended by my response and i do wish you all better days and a lot hope and faith. 

Chickadee

I think of my life as a journey though and this is probably the end of it for me to contemplate mine. I'm trying. Still I wish it wouldn't be ending so soon.   

I am grateful that it wasn't too short and I am sad for those for whom the journey has been more like a shooting star across the heavens. 

Annie62

I think one of the reasons I don't like the word journey is that I feel like my life has become much smaller since my MBC dx.When I think of journey, although there may be low points and a meandering path, there is always the possibility of things getting back on track or even better. That will never be the case for me.

 I don't have the energy for all the things  I did before, I need to schedule my life around appointments and how I'll feel after treatment. Making long term plans is difficult (or pointless in the case of very long term plans as I won't be here.)

To me it has a context of trying to make others feel better about our sucky situation. Well, I feel like cancer has become my life and how I am defined now. Calling it a journey just amplifies that feeling and gives it even more importance and that what came before is over and not how I am viewed by others anymore.  

As to the battle/warrior terminology, I'm not crazy about that either. I don't mind 'fight' so much but I would cringe if someone called me a warrior. 

All that being said, I may not use those words, but when other people with cancer or their families do it doesn't bother me. If it works for them that is great. It doesn't affect me. It's like the 'dumb things people have said to you thread'. I've had a few doozies, but most were from a place of people trying to help, so while I may shake my head at those comments, they don't make me mad. Of course comments that are not well intentioned or from medical professionals who should know better are a different story. 

carpe_diem

We're all facing an insufferable reality and most of us find ways to describe it that help us to keep on keeping on.  I'm not bothered by other people's metaphors as long as they are describing their own situation.  I'm irritated when they start using their metaphor to describe my reality, and even more by those who are healthy or whose disease is not life-threatening who want me to accept their language.  I don't want to be put in a pink box.

"Journey" doesn't bother me, but from the start I resisted the "warrior" terminology.  I want medical treatment, not war games! I used to object to "survivor," especially right after my diagnosis made it clear that I wasn't expected to survive very long, but since I've passed my sell-by date, I'm starting to feel maybe I am a survivor.  For the time being. But hold the pink T-shirts. 

stagefree

definitely...

EnglishMajor

A person in another group asked for alternatives to warrrior/battle/courageus because she doesn't want those words in her obituary.

I suggested:

She
lived as well as she could for as long as she could  with an incurable
disease. Always a proactive and pragmatic person, she was truly
uncomfortable at the prospect of being pitied or being credited with
having any special characteristics as a result
of having cancer. While she would like to ascribe her longer than average
survival to her attitude, the truth is her particular cancer wasn't
particularly aggressive at the start. From a cellular perspective she
was just lucky that way. "I was funny, sarcastic and often lazy," she
said. "I was never particularly brave or strong although I may have kept
my real feelings to myself. Believe me, I was often afraid--and if we
are being honest, you would be too. Although I strove to live with
dignity and grace, I am human and I am sure sometimes I missed the mark.
I sincerely thank those who loved me despite these human frailties. I
am unfortunately not the first person in my family to die from
metastatic breast cancer but I pray I am the last."

exbrnxgrl

Brava! I love it.

Rosevalley

English major - Very nice! Well put.

Bestbird- here here on your "rewording"  

SophieJean - Sometimes I brain scramble and splice words together.. creating a nice new one. One of my family's favorites is Terrible and Horrid, spliced "Terrid." It is simply terrid!  I guess it's a brain shorthand, because I did it unintentionally.

I like Kerble..

Bestbird

EnglishMajor, your words resonated beautifully.  From them, the reader obtains a truer and much deeper understanding of the individual.  The run-of-the-mill verbiage, "She bravely fought..." doesn't even come close.

Rosevalley, "terrid" is indeed quite a term!  One person on another forum described what we deal with as "shizzle."  Now those are terms we can related to and understand!

Mompsych

Loved the way you put that into words English major.

We need more words to describe all the crap we are going through.  Couple of good Yiddish ones - dreck (literally means crap) and chazerei (garbage).

MusicLover

Right now, I think my obituary is going to read more like this:

"At first she carried on normally but as the months went by it began to sink in that she had the disease that she dreaded. She was ok with the daily medication since it wasn't harsh at first, but she dreaded the treatments that were necessary every 4 weeks and the quarterly scans because up until she was diagnosed with cancer she was hardly sick a day in her life.  Honestly, she was the picture of health. She felt betrayed by her body and soon, she felt defeated by this disease so she began crawling up into a little ball on her "spot" on the couch in the den. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't cry.   She spent many hours looking feverishly for a cure and after eating a mainly raw vegan diet and drinking her share of wheatgrass juice she succumbed to this horrible disease." 

I am actually very grateful for all the wonderful things in my life but (and you knew that there would be a but) I would have loved several more cancer free years then what I have been given.  My heart truly goes out to anyone who has had to deal with cancer or any disease at young age.

I actually hope that I become as strong as all of you and that my obituary can read more like the one that EnglishMajor posted.  My glass is half empty now...it was always half full before but I never faced this big of a challenge before. 

I am going to look for my 85% dark chocolate right now (I have managed to keep it on my diet).

exbrnxgrl

musiclover,

Many of our bco sisters, myself included, will testify to the fact that dark chocolate is a miracle drug. Indulge as often as needed  All kidding aside, I'm going to say what I've been skirting around for a while and I apologize in advance if I upset or offend you. Whether you wanted them or not, you will not be getting any more cancer free years. However, it is quite likely that you will still be getting quite a few years or maybe even more than that. Yes, you will be receiving some type of tx forever, but you can have a life that is fulfilling and happy. Perhaps, not the life you planned, but you get to decide what to do with the life you've been given. I don't think I am particularly strong, and certainly not brave, I'm just doing the best I can under imperfect circumstances. Personally, I don't believe there is a miracle cure. Lots of good stories but no miracles that have been proven. I will try to be as healthy as possible, but I will enjoy food and drink as it pleases me. I will not spend my time choking down stuff that doesn't give me pleasure or allow me the splendid social opportunities of shared meals, nor will I spend excessive amounts of time preparing food for restrictive diets. The only place coffee will enter my body is through my mouth! Now, here's the big one...I will not allow depression or obsession over finding a miracle steal my time and enjoyment of life. I know you are not keen on therapy/psychs or meds, but they can lift the veil of darkness, whether you live for only one year or fifty. I will not ask you why you are so opposed to this (psych/meds) as I'm sure you have your reasons but know, that many of us have availed ourselves of this and it 's made a world of difference. It does not dull you or make you zombie like. You sound very depressed and that's not any way to live, bc or not. Just my thoughts and I apologize in advance if I upset you.

Fondly, Caryn

journey61

Thanks you guys for making me feel better. Bestbird, I have to say that I have some of your posts bookmarked from Inspire.com and you have helped me alot in my experiences. 

Annie62 I understand your point of view. I don't think any words can make us feel better about our situation. I feel that we are more than survivors-we are courageous women who get out of bed each day (because sometimes it would be so easy to stay there) and we face whatever that day will bring. We go to the doctor, go to the doctor, go to a treatment, go to a scan, go to a doctor, on and on and we keep our heads up even though we may be terrified and try to keep our hearts and faith strong. I would never have wanted to be part of a stage 4 group but I would like to say that I am proud to be in the company of so many resilient women who go above and beyond whatever is thrown their way and have so much strength in the face of adversity.

Cafelovr

Fitz, what's wrong with Journey? I love them...LOL

I don't think of myself on a journey. It's like walking through fire, crawling across broken glass, plowing my car into a train going full speed. Is that a journey? I don't want to do this stuff, but I have no choice. If I don't sit and get poisoned every three weeks, then my husband is a widower and my daughter will be an 11-year old without a mother. I'm not brave and I'm certainly not courageous. I get creeped out when people tell me I'm their hero or idol.

I kind of like the term "warrior". Even though we will someday lose the battle, we are willing to fight. It may be next year, it may be 20 years down the road. That's life. I've earned every scar on my body from my battles. I wear them with pride. I didn't enter this lifestyle by choice, but I will march on and live out the plans that God has for me.

Has anyone mentioned the term metavivior? Although many muggles probably don't know what that means...LOL

MusicLover

Caryn, You never upset me (no apologizes), I wouldn't post my opinion if I wasn't ok with hearing everyone else's opinion too. 

I hope everyone is well today, well you know what I mean...

Hugs to everyone!