The Problem with the Cancer Warrior Metaphor. Or, more aptly: my crusade for sweatpants appreciation

Some days, I'm a bad cancer patient.

Some days I can't stomach the thought of doing, erm, anything. Unless, maybe, it involves eating ice cream in bed. 

Some days I can't be bothered to put the laundry away. Or to force my strong-willed toddler to eat spaghetti with a fork instead of her hands. Or to read a book, even. I just want to lay on the couch and let myself feel tired and cranky because, um, hello? I have cancer.

So let me.

I'm not supposed to say these things. What I'm supposed to do is throw back some organic plant-based fuel, strap on my running shoes, and parrot a litany of positive platitudes. With cancer patients, it's always: Fight! Stay positive! Get dressed every morning, even when you don't feel like it! Go for a walk! Get pumped, eat leafy greens, be a damn survivor!

Since Paul's diagnosis, we've both observed a very weird and very shitty pressure to always "be the best cancer patient you can be!" There's all this useless rhetoric swirling around cancer patients, pressing them to beat their disease. To rise above it, to kick its rear, to believe/will/push themselves into a proper state of health.

Tied to this is the ever-present implication that, in order to be cured, patients need to stay in active combat mode. To get better, all you need is a fighter's attitude and a smile.

Which: nope. Incorrect.

The problem with this mentality is twofold: 1) it implies that people who've succumbed to cancer just didn't fight hard enough. And 2) that non-cancer-ish people have somehow earned their good health (both bogus presumptions).

This grossly oversimplified approach to health has a way of inadvertently placing the blame for a diagnosis in the hands of the patient.

I see it in unwitting posts about how 15 minutes of daily meditation are all you need to reduce your cancer risk. I hear it in conversations about how so-and-so had stage 1 melanoma and she ran every day and look at her now: in full remission! That one just makes me laugh. Because I will NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES BECOME A RUNNER.

A runner I may not be, but prioritizing health is nothing new to me. Veggies are my favorite, I don't smoke, I avoid nitrates. I only drink water (and hokay, beer too). I don't underestimate the need for 8-hours of sleep. I also have youth on my side. And yet, I managed to develop a big ol' tumor in my chest.

So.

If you have cancer (or a physical ailment of any kind) I hereby grant you full permission to live life on your terms: bad habits and all.

Cancel plans. Sleep in, watch trash TV for nine hours straight. Skip yoga! Go nuts, open that sugar bowl, and suck it through a damn straw (side note: I kid you not, I have childhood memories of doing this with my sister...sitting covertly on the kitchen counter with the glass sugar bowl between us and sucking it up THROUGH STRAWS. Maybe that explains the cancer. It's not an altogether implausible theory.)

Look—I'm not writing off people who live healthy lifestyles. Hooray for them. There's nothing wrong, per se, with having a good attitude. With being positive. Obviously, I think it's important to be active, to eat healthily, to move your body. Go ahead and throw in some essential oils and meditation while you're at it. I'm all for those, too.

But I'm also for staying in my pajamas until 5 pm if that's what I flipping want to do. Because—and I hope I'm not bursting anyone's bubble here—putting on pants and lipstick every morning is NOT going to cure...anything.