I was going through some notes and found this from when I chaired the Relay for Life at the Vero Beach High School after my first run in with cancer.
25 October 2004
Not long ago I was struggling with my identity as a “survivor”. I hadn’t identified myself as such until attending the Relay for Life in CT during the summer of 2003. While there I received an American Cancer Society “survivor” pin and stuck it to my backpack. Over time I began to take on the survivor identity. It made me feel proud and strong but also had a hint of sadness to it. I felt as though I had been damaged somehow.
My mother’s parents were holocaust survivors. Many of their friends were survivors as well. Some even had numbered tattoos on their arms to remind them of their horrible experience. It was difficult for me to use the word survivor without thinking of the holocaust and all of the horrific stories and images I had stored in my mind.
Yes, I had survived cancer, but my cancer experience was a positive one. It taught me to listen, to appreciate every breath; it brought me closer to people I needed to be closer to and separated me from people I didn’t need in my life. It wasn’t pleasant but it was a gift that I continue to learn from every day.
I wanted to embrace my experience, to let it shape my life and who I was to become. The label of survivor moved me in a positive direction but seemed to be holding me back in some subtle way that I couldn’t quite figure out.
My answer came from our son, Meier, who was 7 years old at the time. Meier is named after my paternal grandfather who died of cancer while I was in high school. We were riding in the car one evening when Meier spoke out and said “Mommy, I love you.” My wife and I were touched by his tenderness that had come out of the blue. Jokingly I replied, “What am I, chopped liver?” He took a few minutes to think about it and responded, “No dad, you’re a liver.” “A liver?” I asked. “What do you mean?” He replied, “Remember how you had cancer and lived.” I said yes. He said “Well, that makes you a liver!”
Brilliant! There was my answer. Yes I had survived cancer but now I am a liver! I often think of that label and the childhood innocence that created it. It makes me feel proud and strong but it also gives me the freedom to get on with creating and living my life.
So here I am today as your event chair. I relay to memorialize my grandfather Meyer who was such an important influence in my life. I also relay to remind myself that I am a liver. I relay so that I can be a symbol of hope to others in my community and I relay so that someday no one else will have to hear the words “you have cancer.” Thank you for joining me on this very important journey.
Aric Attas
P.S. 27 August 2014
Meier is now 17, Aaron, who was born mid-way through my chemo treatments for non-Hodgkins lymphoma, is now 13 and preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. They have grown into wonderful young men who inspire me to live for the joy & beauty of life as I battle this second cancer. Attas 2, cancer 0!