More thoughts on heart warriors and heroes
Readers sound off.
On Sunday, I shared an essay about my uncomfortable relationship with the terms “heart warrior,” “heart hero” and “survivor.” A lot of people had thoughts! Which is great! While those terms aren’t for me, I can’t stress enough that people are allowed—and encouraged—to describe their bodies and their stories using the language they prefer. Here’s a sampling of responses from readers.
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Those words do make me feel like I'm not enough, like it's this big thing to live up to. I already worry constantly that I'm not doing enough to keep my heart and body healthy, when I hear those words it makes me so anxious. For whatever reason I don't mind being called a fighter, it seems like less pressure to me lol. Like I'm gonna try to kick this thing’s ass with whatever power I actually have, not some superhuman magic. —Deirdre Conway, Massachusetts
I have been called many different things. “Heart warrior,” “miracle baby,” “inspiration,” “a fighter.” I even had one friend call me a “modern day prophet.” I honestly hate that kind of attention. I'm just me. I'm just Joey. I'm not any more important than anyone else on this earth. —Joey Williamson, Michigan
What do you want people to say to you? I’m 37, beating odds, survived what a lot of people haven’t, and with that said, I am damn proud to be a heart warrior! —Ryan Andis, Indiana
I understand why people use the term and don’t have any problem with them self-identifying that way, but I feel pretty uncomfortable with it for myself or applying it to others. I find “heart warrior” needlessly aggressive and militaristic. I also feel like it implies a failure of will or effort by those who suffer or die as a result of their heart conditions. I’m not locked in an epic battle with my body. My anatomy is what it is. Railing against it won’t help or change it. In fact, I spend a lot of my time working out how best to work for and with my body—not against it. —Pat McConville, lutruwita (Tasmania), Australia
I often feel like an outsider in groups who really have a heavy emphasis on the heart warrior theme. I am here in spite of my heart. I fought no battles. My surgeons are the heroes, they went to battle for me. I laid there like a lump while my body did what it is supposed to do and heal. The surgeons’ knowledge and risk-taking did all the heavy lifting, and I am forever grateful to them for that, but I am no hero and certainly no warrior and I am so much more than my defect too. It is a part of me, but it does not define me. —Natalie Marleau, Ontario, Canada
I’ve had eight heart surgeries. I’m a personal trainer and a weightlifter. I’m a wife and mom of two of my favorite people on the planet. You bet your bottom dollar I am a warrior. I battle on oxygen every day to keep this heart going and to keep fighting to be here for my family. I am a warrior. My ancestors were Vikings, and I love that my kids think I’m a badass too. It’s not who I am, but it is a part of me. I am blessed and a witness to what a wonderful life you can have, even if you only have half of a heart. —Gena Elam Hurta, Texas
I don't particularly care for “warrior” or “hero.” To me, “warrior” sounds like I am a fighter in a constant battle. If anyone was a “warrior,” it would be my parents, as they were the ones fighting for me to live. “Hero” sounds like I am Superman or something and saved the day. If anyone was a “hero,” it would have been the surgeon and the host of other doctors that cared for me. So I am neither one of those.
I don't mind “survivor” as much because that sounds like I survived something, a bad accident or plane crash, or something. I did survive in a day and time when most other babies did not. My surgery in 1959 was an experimental procedure. The doctors told my parents that I had less than a 50% chance of surviving the surgery but a 100% chance of dying if they didn't do the surgery. The story as I was always told was that after my surgery was successful, they tried it on two other children, but those children did not make it. So I do feel like a “survivor.” However, as was stated, that was in the past.
Now, I just feel like a person that has a heart condition. I have a chronic condition that needs monitoring just like someone that has had cancer and needs monitoring. I don't like people to think that I have the same normal heart problems that most people have though. —Diane, Texas
Those terms all imply great bravery, and yet. As a kid, adults would tell me how brave I was, but I wasn’t! There were just no alternatives. I would have stayed under my blankets if I could. Brave not brave. —Shelagh Ross, British Columbia, Canada
Responses are lightly edited for clarity. Everyone quoted gave me permission.