Have you ever been cancelled?
Being “cancelled” has become a buzzword in our culture – a way to describe when someone is abruptly cut off, silenced, or ostracized.
It’s usually reserved for celebrities, public figures, or brands that have fallen foul of public opinion. It might be something they’ve said or done where they’ve landed themselves in hot water.
Yet there’s another kind of cancellation that’s far more personal, far more life-changing: getting a cancer diagnosis.
Yes cancer cancellation happens and we haven’t done or said anything to deserve it.
At first glance, comparing cancer to being cancelled might seem odd, even inappropriate. But when you live it, the parallels are striking. Cancer can feel like a form of cancellation – not by society, but by life itself.
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Life plans are abruptly halted
Just as being cancelled can end careers, events, or relationships overnight, cancer can slam the brakes on your life’s momentum. Suddenly, what you were doing is no longer possible – you’re forced to stop, reset, and often rebuild.
Cancellation shuts things down without warning. One day you’re on stage, the next you’re out of the show.
Cancer does something similar. One phone call, one scan result, and suddenly everything you had lined up – holidays, promotions, plans with friends – is paused or scrapped. Life hits an unexpected stop sign, and you’re forced to take a detour you never asked for.
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You face sudden isolation
Being cancelled often comes with exile and being ostracised. Friends disappear, conversations dry up, and the silence is deafening. With cancer, the isolation can be just as sharp. People don’t know what to say, so they say nothing. Invitations vanish, friends drift away, social life shrinks. You find yourself standing apart, watching the world carry on as if nothing happened, while you’re stuck in a fight you didn’t choose.
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You’re defined by a single label
When someone’s cancelled, their identity becomes wrapped up in one incident. Cancer works the same way. You stop being “John” and become someone with cancer. It’s as if all the other things that made you ‘you’, have been erased. The diagnosis becomes the headline of your life story, whether you like it or not. The rest of who you are risks being overshadowed by that single word.
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Public perception shifts
Cancelled figures often notice how differently they’re treated – with avoidance, pity, or even hostility. Cancer patients often notice a similar shift. Cancer changes how people see you – colleagues, friends, even strangers can become awkward or overly cautious around you. Some friends walk on eggshells. Others vanish entirely. Even well-meaning people can smother you with pity or treat you like you’re fragile porcelain. You start to feel like a different species in your own world.
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Opportunities evaporate
Ever tried getting a job with cancer on your CV? Ha, good luck, no one wants to know. Cancellation shuts doors or rather, it slams them in some cases. So does cancer. Work opportunities fade, adventures are postponed, and long-term plans feel like distant dreams. You live in the shadow of uncertainty, and everything you were striving for suddenly hangs in the balance. Normal life milestones are suddenly interrupted or postponed indefinitely.
Are there any positive in all this cancer cancellation?
Cancer may cancel parts of your old life, but it doesn’t have to cancel you as a person. There’s a fight to reclaim your narrative.
Cancelled figures have to rebuild their reputation; cancer patients have to reclaim their life, dignity, and sense of control amid a storm of assumptions. You have to remind yourself and others that you’re not just your illness – you’re still you, with grit, humour, and fire in your belly.
Yes, it takes things away but it also forces you to rebuild, to fight, to rewrite your script – reinvention becomes survival.
For someone who’s been cancelled, the only way forward is reinvention. Believe me, I should know!
Cancer demands the same. You’re forced to adapt, to shift your perspective, to decide what really matters. You learn resilience because you have to. You grow new strengths because the old ones aren’t enough.
After cancellation, people either stay down or rise again differently. Cancer forces you into adopting new priorities, new strengths, and a whole new perspective on what matters.
You don’t choose the script, but you decide whether to stay cancelled or come back with a stronger, clearer and louder voice.
In the end, cancer is a kind of cancellation but it’s also an invitation. An invitation to take back control, to live with defiance, and to prove that no diagnosis, no matter how brutal, gets the final say.