Rethinking Cancer Metaphors

I must strongly object to the pervasive and deeply problematic use of militaristic metaphors when discussing cancer and the individuals affected by it. Phrases that have become deeply ingrained in our cultural lexicon—"They are a cancer survivor," "They lost their battle," or "They won their battle"—carry a harmful and often painful subtext. This war-like language, framing a biological process as a personal combat, inevitably implies that the outcome—survival or death—is purely a result of the individual’s effort, willpower, or "fighting spirit."

This is not a purely academic critique; it is profoundly personal. My mother was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, and she passed away when I was just eleven years old. To this day, every time I hear this kind of terminology used, I feel a visceral, sickening dread. The devastating implication embedded in these phrases suggests that to say someone "lost the battle" can be interpreted as meaning my mother didn't fight hard enough to live, or that her will to survive was somehow weaker than that of those who are deemed "survivors." This places a moral judgment on a medical outcome.The Inaccuracy and Cruelty of the Narrative

This narrative is not only insensitive; it is medically inaccurate and inherently cruel. It functions to shift the blame for a biological failure onto the shoulders of the patient. Cancer is a complex, brutal, and often indiscriminate disease, not a fair fight where sheer determination dictates the victor. Its progression and the efficacy of its treatment are dictated by a multitude of factors entirely outside a patient's control:

  • Genetics and Biology: The specific mutation, the tumor's aggressiveness, and the patient's individual biological response to therapy are paramount.
  • Access to Care: Socioeconomic factors, proximity to specialized medical centers, insurance coverage, and the ability to afford necessary care play a critical, often life-determining, role.
  • Effectiveness of Treatment: The simple fact is that current medical science does not have a cure for every cancer, and sometimes the best available treatments fail.

To suggest that a patient's sheer willpower can overcome these biological and systemic realities is a dangerous and emotionally devastating distortion. It is a form of victim-blaming that compounds the suffering of the patient.Diminishing Suffering and Compounding Grief

By labeling those who succumb to the disease as "losers" of a "battle," we perform a profound injustice. We diminish the incredible suffering they endured, invalidate the immense strength and endurance they did exhibit through grueling treatments, and unnecessarily compound the grief of their loved ones. This language creates a false, black-and-white dichotomy where survival is heralded as a victory of spirit and death is tragically mischaracterized as a personal failure of will.

It is vital that we consciously and collectively adopt a more compassionate, realistic, and respectful vocabulary. We need a language that acknowledges the brutal reality of the disease without assigning moral or personal failure to those whose bodies, despite their strongest will and every medical intervention, could not withstand it.

We should move away from the language of war and toward the language of support, journey, and resilience. We should focus on:

  • Supporting individuals through their medical and emotional experience.
  • Celebrating their resilience and the strength they demonstrate in facing a severe illness.
  • Respecting the outcome of a fight that was never on even terms.

A Broader Call for Linguistic Change

The "battle language" is not confined only to cancer; it is pervasive throughout the medical community and public discourse when discussing many chronic or life-threatening illnesses. We see individuals "fighting" heart disease, "struggling" with addiction, or "conquering" mental illness. This pattern of militaristic framing needs to be fundamentally changed within the medical community, journalistic reporting, and everyday conversation.

Moving forward, our goal must be to foster a vocabulary that recognizes the complex interplay of biology, medicine, and human endurance, a vocabulary that is rooted in empathy rather than judgment. We must honor the full spectrum of human experience with illness—the strength, the pain, the medical realities, and the dignity—without defaulting to a cruel metaphor that punishes the dead and pressures the living.

The Uneven Field

The words are heavy, like a soldier’s gear,
But she was not a general or a scout.
I was eleven, drowning in a fear
That militaristic metaphors leave out.

They call it a "battle," a "war" to be won,
A "fight" where the spirit must lead.
But what of the mother, the work left undone,
When the body is all that can bleed?

If survival is victory, what is the grave?
A "loss"? A "failure" of will?
To say that she "lost" is to say she wasn’t brave,
That her heart wasn't ready to thrill.

But biology isn't a "fair-weather" friend,
And cells do not listen to "fight."
It’s genetics and access that dictate the end,
Not how hard she gripped for the light.

I carry the "visceral dread" in my bones,
The "sickening" weight of the phrase.
The "victim-blaming" in hushed, somber tones
That haunts all my motherless days.

She didn't "lose." She simply endured
A "journey" no armor could shield.
A "resilience" that never was truly assured
On such an uneven field.

Take back the metaphors, sharpen the tongue,
Find "compassion" instead of the "sword."
For the girl who was eleven, whose world was unstrung,
By a "battle" she couldn’t afford.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed




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