4th Cancerversary

I can’t believe it’s been four years since I picked up the phone and heard the words “You have cancer.” I spent those early days in shock and disbelief. I was also terrified. I remember going to our New Year’s Day mass on January 1st, 2020, convinced that I wouldn’t be there with my family next year. I pictured my husband with the three boys sitting there without me. Am I going to be here next year? I wondered with tears in my eyes.

As time went on, I realized that my odds of being around for each consecutive year were looking more promising, though each year certainly had a different sort of feel to it. On my first cancerversary on December 30, 2020, I think I was still mostly in shock, trying to process everything I’d just been through. I was in fact still in active treatment at that time. On my second cancerversary, I felt angry. Why had I needed to go through all of that? Was there anything that could have been done differently, and why in the world are young people being diagnosed with cancer anyway? Some of the young adult cancer survivors I knew were much healthier than their counterparts without cancer; this confused and frustrated me. Last year, on my third cancerversary, I was feeling dedicated to sharing my experience: I was deep into the manuscripts of my memoir and my fiction starring young adult cancer patient and cancer survivor main characters. I’d attended a memoir writing workshop locally where I’d connected with others sharing other difficulties they’d experienced, from caring for parents with Alzheimer’s disease to losing young children to tragic accidents. I accepted the fact that we all have difficult shit to digest from our lives and that sharing it, embracing humor, and moving on while being both stronger and more empathetic was the best way to live our lives.

This year, I feel that I’ve changed perspective slightly once again. I’ve been feeling more generous with any time and resources that I have. After all, as I was telling my Firefly Sisterhood mentee the other day, I’m living on borrowed time these days. If I’d been born into any other generation, a treatment for HER2+ breast cancer didn’t yet exist. As recently as the 1990s, patients with my subtype of breast cancer were treated as best as they could be and then generally “made comfortable” with the assumption that we wouldn’t survive a year past diagnosis. This sounds ridiculous, probably, and yet here are what two oncologists had to say about the subtype of breast cancer I had:

“HER2 is a gene that when turned on really drives how a breast cancer will behave…Twenty years ago, women would often lose their lives to this type of cancer within 6 to 12 months. Now, with the advance of disease understanding and drugs…that’s been totally flipped on its head” (Virginia Borges, MD, qtd. in OncLive, Feb. 23).

“It is absolutely remarkable, isn’t it, just in our lifetime we’ve gone from one of the worst possible cancers to really arguably the best [to treat] in terms of outcomes” (Joyce O’Shaughnessy, MD, qtd. in OncLive, Feb. 23).

With these words in mind, I need to use my extra time wisely. I’m not sure how many “bonus” years I will be granted, but I want to make the most positive difference that I can while I’m still around. That includes making extra time to do special things with my friends and family and being actually present in the moment when doing so. Donating to causes I support (even if that is simply a family member down on luck) is important to me, too.

I started a support group specifically for young adult cancer patients that meets monthly at Mayo Clinic. I wanted the group to be specific to young adults because our age group (typically 18-45ish) has unique needs that differ from most cancer support groups (generally people aged 60+), including care for young children, infertility, long-term side effects, work/cancer treatment balance, dating relationships/early marriage support partners, and so many more. I believe young adult patients and survivors also simply need to see that they’re not alone. They’re not the only 25-year-old in the Cancer Center even if some days if sure feels like it.

I like to believe my group is already making a difference. We’ve met twice now and have 3 members, growing from 1 at our very first meeting. I was grateful to have anyone there, especially after recently hearing of the difficulty these 3 young women (and their support people) faced in tracking down the meetings (apparently all the receptionists at the Cancer Center have been telling people who call that this group doesn’t exist?! And/or they direct them to the wrong location?! That, admittedly, does frustrate me, and I’m planning on calling in and getting everyone on the right track as is the Cancer Guide who is my partner in this and the lead on Mayo’s side. Who knows how many other people are trying to make it to these meetings and led astray?!). Despite the miscommunication, the group meetings have been great so far, and I can already tell that these folks are feeling a bit more comfortable. I’m looking forward to providing additional support for young patients and seeing where this group leads. I’m also happy to be a cancer mentor and a resource for anyone who desires support locally. I’ve shared bookmarks with lists of resources and my contact info with my providers at Mayo to distribute as needed.

Another part of being a cancer survivor is understanding that you don’t always know what difficulties others are experiencing. I try to give my students the benefit of the doubt, even when they frustrate me with late work, unanswered emails, and extreme tardiness. The last few years, these traits have especially bothered me. Why aren’t they making the most of their lives? Don’t they realize they might not have a lot of time! This year, however, I’ve learned to let that frustration roll off and to offer folks a second and third chance, if they’ll take it. Some will never make the change to get things done, but I know I’ve offered them all the resources and opportunities that I can, and I like to think that will lend them a more positive outlook to the next person they encounter in need of another chance. A little patience and humility goes a long way. Embrace those, your faith, and your passions. I believe that’s the path to true happiness and maybe even a healthy dash of wisdom, too. 💗