"rephrasing 'lost the battle' to cancer"

Image Source: Lludmila Chernetska on iStockPhoto

Another phrase I often see in online grief forums that can be irritating is "lost the battle." Many people who have lost loved ones to cancer find this phrase upsetting because it implies that their loved one wasn’t strong enough to beat it or that they gave up fighting. Neither of which is typically true.

Having lost my mom to cancer, I completely understand why people dislike the phrase "lost the battle." I’m not a fan of it either because, in my experience, it doesn’t accurately reflect my mom’s journey. My mom had always said she never wanted to undergo IV chemo, but when she believed it was her last option to extend her life, she was willing to give it a try. Regrettably, that option was not possible at the time because the cancer had spread extensively throughout her body.

We were told that we had to shift from combat-mode to comfort-mode. There was nothing more that could be done. It broke my heart to watch her, someone who had never wanted to go down that path of IV chemo, be told that it was time to start thinking seriously, and quickly, about hospice, as the cancer was shutting down her vital organs.

So, when people say that my mom "lost her battle" to cancer, I choose to rephrase it in my response, with respect, as follows:

"Her body could not keep up with her strong, determined spirit."

Because it’s the truth, and I believe that most, if not all, others who have lost loved ones to cancer would feel the same way.

For those whose loved ones chose not to pursue the next treatment or any treatment at all, I don’t believe they "lost the battle" or "gave up" either. Deciding how to move forward after a terminal diagnosis is an incredibly difficult decision. In my view, it takes a great deal of courage to say "no" to life-prolonging medications, especially since the side effects can be extremely harsh and may end up making things worse.

For me, I’ll always say that I lost my mom in February of 2023 to cancer, but I’ll never say she lost her battle. She was, and still is, the strongest person I’ve ever known.

As with all posts on this blog, if you believe differently and find that works best for you, that’s perfectly okay! If you’re comfortable using the phrase "lost their battle to cancer" to describe your loss, or if others use it to describe your loss, that’s absolutely fine. Everyone has their own preferences, and my suggestion is just that: a suggestion.

-j🌻

"tenses"

Image Source: Augustas P on Pexels

After the loss of a loved one, it can take time to shift from speaking in the present tense to the past. Sometimes, the present tense slips out, triggering a fresh wave of grief. It can even be embarrassing if someone gives you a concerned look, but please don’t feel embarrassed. In my opinion, there’s no need to change everything to the past tense. There’s no rule that says once someone passes away, you have to alter everything about them to reflect that loss.

At first, I told myself I would keep most things about my mom in the present tense, because she will always be my mom, and to me, that didn’t end when she passed away. But then, when responding to people, I found myself backspacing to delete “is” and changing it to “was.” In my head, I knew I was speaking in the present tense, but I felt too embarrassed to write it that way. I didn’t want people to think I hadn’t accepted my mom’s passing, which couldn’t be further from the truth. She passed away right in front of me, and there’s no denying the fact that she is no longer physically here.

It wasn’t until I went to a follow-up acute grief appointment that I noticed my doctor (who was a wonderful person and an angel to my mom and our family during her battle and well before) spoke about my mom in the present tense. I felt a sense of relief, understanding, and acceptance in that moment. That’s when it clicked for me: I don’t have to speak about my mom in the past tense if I don’t want to. I didn’t bring up the tense change with my doctor, but I found myself responding to her using the present tense as well. I’ll have to thank her for that.

If you prefer to use the past tense, that’s perfectly okay, too! It’s all about what brings you the most comfort. I still sometimes find myself backspacing or actively changing my thoughts to the past tense, depending on who I’m talking to or the context of what I’m writing or saying. Some people understand these preferences, while others don’t, and that’s not worth stressing over. Ultimately, it’s about what works best for you. For me, keeping my mom’s memory in the present tense feels right. It helps me feel like she’s still "alive" in a way, and that brings me comfort.

-j🌻

"i'm officially an orphan now!"

Image Source: Mabel Amber on Pixabay

The phrase: "I'm officially an orphan now!" —

I’ll be honest: when I first came across posts or comments like this on social media, I didn’t feel immediate compassion or understanding. In fact, I felt a flicker of anger toward these individuals for casually saying they felt like, or were now, orphans after losing their last or only parent. Especially when it seemed, based on how they wrote, that they had never experienced the true hardships and trauma that come with being orphaned or adopted. (Just to clarify, this perspective is based on adult children who have lost their biological parents or parental figures.)

Then, I remembered a technique I had learned in therapy that I highly recommend to others when they’re feeling negatively about something or someone. It’s simple but effective: step back from that initial reaction and ask yourself, “Why am I really feeling this way?”

After digging through my thoughts and unpacking my feelings, especially since I’m truly grateful for my adoption, I realized that what bothered me wasn’t just the phrase itself, but how it seemed to minimize my own life experience. It felt as though my journey was being used in a superficial way to describe their loss of a biological parent. My first instinct was to say, "I'm very sorry for your loss, but you have no idea what that life is really like, so please don't use that phrase."

But then, I quickly realized that I had no right to tell them how they should feel. Their emotions are just as real and valid as mine. After all, they were technically orphans now, regardless of their age or whether they had grown up with their biological parents. Personally, I understand how losing a parent can emotionally transport you back to that childlike state of longing for your mom or dad. I can see why someone would equate their pain in such a way.

I also thought about how I would feel if someone discounted my grief over losing my mom. How would I react if someone said, "Well, you can’t be that sad she’s gone because she wasn’t even biologically related to you"? I would be devastated (crushed, even) that someone would invalidate my feelings simply because I wasn’t born from her womb, but from her heart.

The lesson I took from this is that people are allowed to feel however they feel, even if their experiences are different from mine. If someone expresses that they now feel like an orphan or are grieving the loss of their last or only parent, I can empathize with them. I no longer feel anger or annoyance. Losing that final parent can absolutely make someone feel like an orphan, and their feelings are completely valid.

-j🌻