Do You Care About ‘Cancer Survivors’?

While I do enjoy a good conversation and find using words in print as one of my most satisfying hobbies, I generally distain academic arguments about the meaning of words.  Perhaps this is left over from being an English major and sitting in dread while classmates spent hours debating the poetic meanings of every noun, verb and adjective in a 500 page book.  They would talk about their personal experiences and they would talk about historical context and they would talk about words Greek or Latin roots.

“Perhaps the wagon was just ‘red’,” I would say.

They would counter, “But what does ‘red’ mean in the context of the author’s sexual orientation?”

I value the importance of words, but I do not think they are perfect.  To me words are a means to an end.  In my opinion, a story does not really need to be told, it needs to be experienced.  Words cannot truly give you the story.  You have to have the experience. Words, even the right words, are inaccurate and merely labels.

For this reason my gut wrenched when I started reading this article about ‘cancer survivors’ from Slate that was forwarded to me.  “Not another gagging discussion about the meaning of words,” I thought.  “Regardless of what we call them cancer survivors are still themselves.  A label does not change them or what they experience.  It does not change what they feel they have or have not survived.  It does not change their face, their smile or grimace.”

Then I remembered my belief that communication is central to healthcare.  That a good physician must use the best words possible to a patient.  Meaning is crucial in what a physician says to a patient.  Every word that is said in the physician-patient setting must be constantly raked over the metaphorical coals of every possible context.  If a change in a word or phrase can be made to help patients fully understand their choices then it should be made.  Even if the modification does not address every imperfection of the label it will keep the conversation fresh.