“Keep fighting.” “You’re so strong.” “She lost her battle with breast cancer.”These are phrases many women hear the moment cancer enters their lives.They are usually said with care - words meant to comfort, encourage and give hope. Yet over time, these words do more than describe cancer. They shape how cancer is understood, how people are expected to respond and even how patients see themselves within the experience. The language used to describe cancer – words like “fight”, “battle”, “survivor” and “journey” – can influence how patients experience illness, recovery and identity. While these phrases are often intended to empower, research suggests they may also create emotional pressure, especially for women living with breast cancer or metastatic disease.How ”Battle” Language Shapes the Cancer ExperienceWar and violence metaphors are among the most commonly used ways of describing cancer [1]. Patients are often said to “fight”, “battle” or “defeat” the disease, while cancer is framed as an enemy that must be overcome.At first glance, this language offers clarity. It gives structure to something deeply uncertain. In some cases, it has been shown to help patients feel a sense of agency and control during treatment [1]. For some patients, it offers a way to make sense of an experience that feels otherwise overwhelming. However, research shows that this framing also carries unintended weight. When cancer is framed as a fight, it may unintentionally suggest that recovery is linked not only to medicine, but also to mindset, positivity or personal strength [2] [3].This can leave some women feeling pressured to stay hopeful all the time, even during moments of fear, grief or exhaustion [3]. Over time, this may make it more difficult to express more complex or fluctuating emotions. One study involving women with metastatic breast cancer found that some participants disliked phrases such as “lost the battle”, because it implied that people who had passed had somehow not fought hard enough [2] [3]. In reality, cancer progression is shaped by complex biological factors, not personal failure.The Emotional Complexity of Cancer SurvivorshipThe language used to frame the cancer experience is often rooted in positive intent. Yet it can sometimes oversimplify the realities of what each person goes through.The word “survivor” is widely used in cancer care and advocacy, often as a symbol of strength and endurance. Public narratives around cancer survivorship frequently position it as a conclusion - a final stage where one crosses the finish line, where the story is expected to end. For some women, this is meaningful and affirming, like reaching light at the end of a long tunnel.Others may feel differently.Some women embrace the “survivor” label immediately after treatment but feel less connected to it over time [4]. Others may not relate to it at all, because it continually reminds them of what they have been through. For many women, life after breast cancer is not a clear “after”, but an ongoing process of adjusting - to a changed body, lingering side effects, uncertainty and to a new sense of normal [5]. For those living with metastatic breast cancer, the language of “survivorship” can feel even more distant [2]. Rather than a finish line, cancer remains part of ongoing life. In this context, words that imply closure or completion may not fully reflect lived reality and can make empowering words like “survivor” feel alien. Why Cancer Patients Experience Language DifferentlyBeyond “fighter” or “survivor”, gentler language such as “journey” may also not be universally experienced in the same way.Journey metaphors are used to soften the intensity of cancer language. They suggest movement, progress and continuity rather than a battle to be won. In some cases, this can help patients make sense of a long and uncertain process by encouraging them to take things one step at a time [6].However, research shows that the idea of a “journey” can sometimes feel too linear, or even overly positive, especially when a patient’s experience involves ongoing treatment, setbacks or disruption to daily life [7]. Others may feel they did not choose the journey they are on, making the metaphor feel distant from reality. What feels empowering to one person may feel exhausting, alienating or inaccurate to another, and that difference matters. Patient-Centred Communication in Cancer CareCancer language becomes most meaningful when it allows room for individual interpretation, rather than assigning a fixed identity or expectation. What many women consistently express is not a rejection of hope or strength, but a need for language that does not add pressure to an already complex experience. For some, what matters more is simply being understood without needing to perform strength, optimism or resilience all the time. Because for many people, living with cancer is not about fitting neatly into a narrative of victory or endurance. It is about gently navigating an experience that is deeply personal, often unpredictable and still unfolding in different ways over time.And sometimes, the most compassionate language is the kind that leaves space for that complexity to exist. Finding Support in Your Own WaySometimes, reassurance begins with a conversation. Whether you are navigating a new diagnosis, seeking a second opinion or trying to make sense of your breast cancer experience, having the right support can make a difference.At Solis Breast Care & Surgery Centre, our breast specialists provide compassionate and personalised breast care in Singapore - at your own pace, and on your own terms.References[1] Liu, Y., Semino, E., Rietjens, J. & Payne, S. (2024). Cancer experience in metaphors: patients, carers, professionals, students - a scoping review. BMJ supportive & palliative care, 14(e3), e2366–e2376. https://doi.org/10.1136/spcare-2024-004927 [2] Hulse, S. B., Balogun, Z., Rosenzweig, M. Q., Marsland, A. L., & Palmer, V. M. (2024). I'm still me, I'm still a person: war metaphor use and meaning making in women with metastatic breast cancer. Supportive care in cancer : official journal of the Multinational Association of Supportive Care in Cancer, 32(2), 108. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00520-024-08309-5 [3] Prado, G. F., & Gonçalves, T. A. (2025). Why we should rethink military metaphors in cancer. Jornal brasileiro de pneumologia : publicacao oficial da Sociedade Brasileira de Pneumologia e Tisilogia, 51(2), e20250109. https://doi.org/10.36416/1806-3756/e20250109 [4] Tsiakiri, A., Tzanas, K., Chrisostomidou, D., Plakias, S., Christidi, F., Frantzidis, C., Aggelousis, N., Lavdaniti, M., & Bista, E. (2026). Person-First or Disease-First? Language Choices in Cancer Communication. Nursing Reports, 16(4), 143. https://doi.org/10.3390/nursrep16040143 [5] Guité-Verret, A., & Vachon, M. (2024). The Traces of Cancer: A Metaphorical Understanding of the Experiences of Women Living Beyond Breast Cancer. Qualitative Health Research. https://doi.org/10.1177/10497323241242054 [6] Semino, E., Demjén, Z., Demmen, J., Koller, V., Payne, S., Hardie, A., & Rayson, P. (2015). The online use of Violence and Journey metaphors by patients with cancer, as compared with health professionals: a mixed methods study. BMJ Supportive & Palliative Care, 7(1), 60–66. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmjspcare-2014-000785 [7] Appleton, L., & Flynn, M. (2014). Searching for the new normal: Exploring the role of language and metaphors in becoming a cancer survivor. European Journal of Oncology Nursing, 18(4), 378–384. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ejon.2014.03.012 

Breast cancer can strike unexpectedly, often without warning. For Tracy*, a 53-year-old mother of four and passionate hobbyist potter, a routine MRI changed everything. What began as curiosity about advanced screening became a journey of discovery, courage, and empowerment - showing that knowledge, vigilance, and support can make all the difference in living well after cancer.Please share your name, age, and a little about yourself. My name is Tracy, I’m 53 years old, a mother of four boys, and a hobbyist potter.Can you tell us about your journey with breast cancer — how you first discovered it and what went through your mind at diagnosis? I had no physical symptoms and no family history of breast cancer. Living abroad, I had been told during regular mammogram screenings that my dense breast tissue was common and “nothing to worry about,” though I was advised to continue six-monthly mammograms.These frequent screenings were inconvenient, so when I read that MRI was considered the “gold standard” for dense breasts, I decided to try it while visiting Singapore. I expected a clear MRI that would allow me to reduce the frequency of mammograms.My doctor at Solis was curious why I wanted an MRI, as my mammogram and ultrasound showed nothing concerning, but she agreed to order it. To my surprise, the MRI revealed a suspicious non-mass enhancement in my right breast, visible only on MRI. A biopsy followed, initially showing atypical ductal hyperplasia (ADH), which surgery later upgraded to Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS).Within two weeks, I went from reassurance to shock. I questioned why this had happened to me despite having no risk factors or symptoms. I berated myself for assuming the MRI would be clear and panicked over how much time I might have left with my children and husband. Why me?What was your biggest concern or worry at that time, and how did you go about finding information or support? My foremost concern was to remove all the traces of cancer from my body. I followed my doctor’s advice and underwent radiotherapy and endocrine therapy. I read every report, learned every medical term, asked informed questions, and explored ways to reduce the risk of recurrence. Knowledge became my way of regaining control. What helped you find strength during your treatment and recovery? I was mostly alone in Singapore with one of my sons who was serving National Service, while my husband and other sons remained abroad. But my extended family and friends came out in full force for me. They jostled to accompany me to doctor visits and radiotherapy sessions, waited for me before and after surgery, surrounded me with prayers, nourished me with food, and gave me space to cry and ruminate — always making sure I knew I was not alone.What does “survivorship” mean to you, and how do you define “living well” after cancer? Survivorship means living intentionally. It has been just over a year since my diagnosis, and I take comfort in knowing the cancer was localised and treated accordingly.This experience has taught me to live more purposefully – to see each encounter and interaction as a meaningful step toward the next chapter of my life. Each year of living cancer-free is a blessing and an accomplishment.I’ve also become more conscious of my lifestyle. I now eat less red meat and focus on more vegetables, fruits, legumes, and soy. Taking ownership of my health feels empowering.How has this experience changed your outlook on life, family, or work? I’ve learned to let go of control and trust that life is molded through challenges, much like clay on my pottery wheel. Every experience shapes us. I now focus on what truly matters: meaningful relationships, gratitude and moments of joy.What advice would you give to other women going through a similar journey - or to young women about breast health and screening? Many Asian women have dense breast tissue, which can make cancer hard to detect. Family history and lack of symptoms do not guarantee safety. Be proactive, ask questions, and ensure your screening is thorough. Trust the expertise of your surgeons, radiologists interpreting your scans, and pathologists – and trust your instincts.What mantra or lesson do you carry with you today? Know and trust your gut instinct. If something seems off or keeps bothering you, ask questions until you find peace of mind.From diagnosis through treatment and into survivorship, Tracy’s story reminds us that life after cancer is not just about recovery - it’s about reclaiming control, finding purpose, and living fully. With determination, knowledge, and the support of loved ones, survivors can face uncertainty with confidence and grace. Her journey is a testament to resilience and the power of trusting oneself – inspiring others to prioritise their health, seek understanding, and define their own path to living well. *Name has been changed to protect the individual’s privacy.