The "Cancer Patient" Label

PROCEED WITH CAUTION: Possible triggers plus a dash feminist rage.
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The best class I ever took at Smith was Medical Sociology. Since having cancer, I've been reading up on the sociology of illness and it helped me cope with the "cancer" label that seems to follow me everywhere I go. It's true that illnesses dictate social scripts; the "sick" and the "well" are supposed to act in very specific ways. I definitely don't fit the script for the typical "cancer survivor" and usually societal forces are constantly trying to pull me back into the "sick" role with the constant pity and inappropriate questions and comments.

Cancer seems to be very important in our culture. Watching television commercials for fundraisers such as "Race for the Cure", for breast cancer awareness/research, is a fantastic example of how individuals with cancer are portrayed and perceived by our society. We are expected to be spiritual, humble, grateful, optimistic, quiet, calm, sorrowful and passive in our demands. We are expected to welcome the inquiries regarding our health and treatment, no matter how invasive. (I can't recall the number of times people ask me an offensive question ending with, "You don't mind, do you?") We're expected to be in either a state of extreme sorrow or extreme optimism. We're not allowed to experience the vast spectrum of human emotions. If we have a bad day/angry/frustrated, we're supposed to just "feel lucky to be alive". If we're too happy/optimistic, we have to remember how bad it was/is to have cancer and how "sick" we really are inside. Remember, cancer survivors, it could come back any time! We are expected to inform everyone around us, even strangers, of our cancer/survivor status and what kind of cancer we have. Why is that? Is having cancer a marginalized status? I can't decide for sure having experienced a variety of reactions; but I am beginning to believe that being a "sick person", more specifically a "sick woman", is a marginalized status. (Not to mention that I am also a "sick Queer woman", but my Queer status almost never surfaces unless my physician asks about my sexual history or I mention a past relationship)

The dental tech made it a spectacle. My primary doctor that discovered my cancer had no empathy. My oncologists assumed that, having female organs and presenting as a woman, that I wished to preserve my eggs/ovaries for pregnancy/birth. My parents' friends and even other cancer survivors pity me because of my age. People exclaim with surprise if my cancer status comes up and then say "I'm so sorry.." (lol, I'm not dead, people!). Some point at the keloid scar that was once the location of my port and ask me how I got that "nasty scar" on my chest. Neighbors sometimes get our mail accidentally and when they knock to return to me, they casually ask why I'm getting letters from Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. There are even hierarchies within the types of cancer and choices in treatment. When I tell people I had Hodgkin's Lymphoma, they scoff and say that its easy to treat/was the first type of cancer ever treated/very responsive to treatment.. blah blah blah. Yeah, but it was cancer. Cancer is cancer and it is never easy.

It seems that the majority of mainstream resources for cancer survivors are the Chicken-Soup variety, rather than the science-driven knowledge that we crave and need to maintain healthy lives and make decisions about our care/treatment. While yes, the touchy-feely books can be helpful (I have a couple myself), they closely align with our expectations of the sick; to be concerned with the soul, spirit and quality of our (remaining) life as if we have a shrinking Bucket List to fulfill before we kick it. I'm expected to "make every moment count". I can't waste my time with frivolous things nor can I live on "borrowed time" as my grandmother constantly reminds me.

Along that line, people usually ask WHEN (not if) I'm having children since I'm in a monogamous relationship with a man. While I'm in remission, I should probably try to squeeze out a few puppies before I become utterly useless. For many sick women, illness/treatments often impact the essential roles that female bodied people are expected to play in society, especially the expectation that they fulfill child-bearing functions. When radiation threatens our ovaries, we are expected to want to "save our womanhood" with invasive ovarian shielding surgeries (http://www.uptodate.com/contents/oophoropexy-and-ovarian-transposition) and when chemotherapy affects our reproductive system, it is referred to as "ovarian failure". Why is it a 'failure'? When we have breast cancer, we are expected to choose less successful surgical options to preserve the shape and appeal of our breast(s) instead of procedures that secure a clean margin of error. Afterwards, we stare in the mirror at our bodies permanently marked by scars, skin discoloration, and the remains of medical devices, wondering if we will still be sexually appealing to our partners. Wondering if we will ever feel whole again. If we can't save our breast(s) or preserve our youth, we feel like half-women, damaged women, useless women. Conversely, if you're an openly lesbian woman, your breasts, uterus and ovaries are assumed to be of no use in the heteronormative context of medicine and therefore assumed to be of no consequence to you, the cancer patient. Because you're gay, you're assumed to have no interest in pregnancy. You won't use it any way, right? How you look after treatment doesn't matter to you since you're a lesbian.

How do you explain? How do you cope with the constant inquiries and assumptions? Why does cancer hold such sway? Why can't we as a society find a balance among empathy, privacy and equity?

"Sick" female-bodied people and women just can't win in this institution. I can't speak beyond my own experiences, but I am sure that there are other unique barriers that people with cancer experience, complicated by their relative status in the social hierarchy. One thing is for sure; the "cancer patient" label is here to stay.