I sent my friend this text earlier this week, “I’m a little burned out. I’m tired of being cancery and not feeling good. I want to be done and have someone say, you’re fine! You’ll live to 100! Here’s a pumpkin spice latte and your life back! And here’s a big cash reward for giving up a year of your life!” She’s coming to town next week and said she’d bring a PSL and like, $10 in cash. It made me laugh and I am so lucky to have friends that can take an honest, my mood is shitty text and turn my spirits around in a moment
The next day another friend texted me about a last minute idea to go to an outdoor antiquey, market type thing. I’ve wanted to go to it for years. She turned my whole week around. And we are going to cure my funk with retail therapy and time with my friend of nearly 40 years.
Cancer makes you take stock of your community.
I am so fortunate to have the best friends and the most supportive family. It makes such a difference. Going through this alone would be horrible. I have deepened so many relationships during the past seven months. It is another cancer silver lining I am truly grateful for.
Then there is the community I have grown in the past 6 months. Turns out, the people that help save your life are some of the kindest, coolest people you will ever meet. Oncology nurses, radiation techs, liaisons from every doctors office you visit…literally the best people. I hate how I’ve come to meet them but damn, I am so glad I have. They make this journey (I f ing hate that word) so much better. I’m telling you, sharing a love of trashy reality tv with someone you see 5 days a week for 5 weeks makes the grind of radiation enjoyable. I know, I sound crazy. Still, you provide life saving treatment AND you want to catch up on Love is Blind or F Boy Island…hell yeah!
Finally, there are the ones LITERALLY going through it with you. The nice lady in the chemo chair next to you that points out your hair is growing back. The woman who is always before you in radiation, giving you a tired but sweet hello every day. The friend diagnosed right after you who isn’t grossed out but laughs at your, I was certain I shit my pants story. They are part of a community you never want to be in but they become a part of your beautiful, loving and supportive bunch.
I can only speak for myself, but the long haul of cancer treatment can feel overwhelming and as I am about half way through it, I’m burned out. I’m tired, I don’t feel like myself, I don’t look like myself and I just want to feel normal again. So in times like this, I lean into my community. And they are always there. The people I’ve known and loved for years and the ones I’ve met along the way. If you’re reading this you are a part of my community and I want you to know, I will be forever grateful and you are part of the best cancer silver lining.
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