Survivors Come In Many Forms

It is early morning.  The sun has barely begun to shoot golden rays over the horizon.  In the fading darkness I fumble with my keys and lock the front the door behind me.  I shoulder the bag carrying my N95 mask and protective googles as I walk down my front path to my car.  Another day in the ICU stretches before me.  Something brushes against my legs as I pass…it is a large flowering plant growing from between the cracks in the sidewalk.  Though some might consider this plant a pest to be dealt with, I admire it’s perseverance.  This plant is thriving in a hostile environment.  This plant and I are alike in many ways, and I am reminded that survivors come in many forms.

As I drive to the hospital, the sun crests over the horizon reflecting on the surface of the bay.  My mind drifts to the plant in my front sidewalk.  The flower, known as a vinca or more commonly a periwinkle, is a beautiful glossy green bush covered in magenta flowers.  This particular plant is a “volunteer”.  The parent flower was in our neighbor’s front yard and has long since perished.  But month after month with no care at all, this plant survives in a tiny crack in our sidewalk. 

Last spring, as I was recovering from my reconstructive surgery, somehow a tiny seed found its way upon the breeze into the sand between the pavers.  Despite these relatively hostile conditions, little space, and no water, the periwinkle not only grew but flourished into a healthy flower bush.

Though beautiful, this flowering bush is in a very inconvenient place and blocks part of our front walk.  My husband, if left to his own devices, would quickly cut it down.  But, to his constant irritation, I find myself firmly protecting this plant.  I can not help myself.  This plant is a survivor.  Against all odds it has laid firm roots in a hostile environment and has flourished into something big and beautiful. 

Instead of resenting its existence, I admire this plant and in a strange way relate to it.  I am constantly amazed how such a large beautiful plant grew from such a tiny inhospitable crack in the pavement.

In the same way nature can be cruel and unforgiving to plants, the world can be cruel and unforgiving to cancer survivors.  It often feels like society provides us only tiny cracks in the pavement to exist in, and thriving in this life after cancer is not easy. 

Survivors are faced with a myriad of challenges, from health issues to social stigmas.  We are often caught in medical quicksand.  One illness begets the next.  Even when we are considered “cancer free”, our bodies are far from recovered.  Long after the cancer treatments have concluded we must attend dozens of doctors’ appointments to keep ourselves healthy and functioning.  Even when our bodies are on the rebound, our hearts and souls are still processing the trauma we have lived through.

Society is not forgiving of this.  We are not greeted with supportive work places or forgiving employers.  Instead, we experience loss of income, loss of opportunities, some even experience loss of jobs entirely.  When in need of understanding support systems, we are often told “get over it already” or “move forward” which only leaves us feeling isolated. 

Our bodies change.  We may lose our hair or have visible scars or injuries from our treatments.  We may develop long term deficits or even become disabled.  In my case, though only 40, my dark hair is now streaked with white and fine wrinkles have developed on my brow and around my eyes from months of heavy stressors.  My chest is covered with scars from multiple surgeries and procedures.  I am self-conscious of these changes and feel I am judged for them.  I feel if I were to go to the beach people would stare so I stay away. 

Even so, I know many survivors have far more extreme changes to their bodies and I am very lucky to be as whole and functional as I am. 

Instead of being lifted up after our battle, we are often knocked down by an unforgiving society.  Where we long for soft landings we receive “tough love”, curious stares, or unrealistic expectations.

Much as the beautiful flowering periwinkle has flourished despite the unforgiving environment of a tiny crack in the sidewalk, I too hope that someday I can flourish in this difficult post cancer world.  Though I occasionally trim the flowers back to allow us to walk by, the plant still flourishes and I will continue to protect it.  Plant or otherwise, I will never destroy or tear down a survivor.

As I move forward in this post-cancer life, I hope to be the change I want to see in the world.  I hope to help other survivors in ways I wish I had been helped.  Like the flourishing periwinkle, I too hope to build strong roots in this changed life, thrive, and grow my new life into something big and beautiful.  I find hope and inspiration in this flower’s simple act of survival.

Even if society, nature, the very universe throws up barrier after barrier to those who fight battles and persevere under difficult circumstances, here, with me, in my corner of the world, there will be a safe space for fighters and survivors where that difficulty does not trespass.      

I know this attitude is unusual and bewilders many.  The world may be a cruel place, but in the tiny corner where my influence reigns, survivors will have a soft landing.  Whether plant or human I will not make their journey more difficult.  I will lift them up and protect them from cruelty and hardships … even if that means letting flowers grow in the cracks of my front sidewalk.