I have a few friends, who either have walked this journey not long ago, or who are in the middle of the journey. I get a lot of the same questions. Almost daily. How do you manage? Does it get easier? Really, what were your first days like?
My answer is always the same. I managed, because of support groups. This has been the toughest journey, I've ever walked. And most days, feel overwhelming. But the support groups, they help so much!
From the beginning of our journey, our medical team, recommended joining a support group. We were lucky, in that the hospital where my Dad got treatment, had an amazing Support Group. They'd welcome us, with open arms.
The day that we got a definite Stage 4 diagnosis, we were embraced. They called in, so many people to talk with us. To comfort us. And to lend a shoulder, to cry on. The man, that was in charge of the group at the time, came to speak with us. Two days later, we were sitting in the Support Group.
Once a week, for 6 weeks, they'd have a group meeting. Lunch was always included. No one ever felt, like they had to hold back. We had various speakers, come talk to us. Doctors, nurses, religious leaders, former patients, family...anyone associated with cancer. Then they'd open up the floor, for the patients, family, and caregivers to speak.
The people who attended our support group, were amazing! At your weakest point, they were there to support you. Embrace you in hugs. Give you words of encouragement. Give you advice. It truly, saved my Mom and I. Especially, in those early days.
There were some days, that were definitely tougher than others. Whenever morality would come up, my Dad would check out. He didn't want to hear about death. It wasn't something, he wanted to talk about. And when that would happen, I'd go sit with my Dad, outside the meeting.
Looking back now, I realize it had more to do with my Dad, processing what was happening. How his life, was nearing the end. And he wasn't ready to process that...not yet. But it was a helpful group. Many of the people that attended, had been through cancer before. They were entering, their second or third battle, with this disease.
We met some truly amazing people, in that group. One woman, still comes to mind. I think about her, at least once a week. And I wonder, how her journey ended. And if she ever found peace.
You see, this woman was just a few years older than me. In her mid-thirties. She was diagnosed with an incurable breast cancer. And only had months to live. She also had 2 very small boys. When we first met her, she was so angry. Angry at God, her doctors, life in general.
We'd go to group. And without a doubt, she'd sit next to me. Every week. Commenting on little things. Like she liked my nail polish. Or thought my hair looked nice in braids. Or did I catch the latest episode, of her favorite show. And after the first meeting, I tried to have little things for her. A bottle of nail polish, a candy bar, maybe a book I'd enjoyed.
By the end of our support group session, we had developed a friendship, of sorts. She'd tell me about her fears. Of having to leave her sons. And not having any family. What would happen to her babies? Why did the cancer happen to her? What was her life going to come to? She had lived a tough life. And this, just darkened it.
She would tell me, to share her story. One day, she wouldn't be here. And no one would know, what she'd been through. I at least, knew some of her story. The parts, that she was strong enough, to talk about. The things, that weighed the most, on her heart. It was really, a heartbreaking story. Of a young mother, scared for her babies.
Our sessions ended, in the summer. But we'd still manage to see people from our support group. Everyone attended doctors' appointments, chemo, and radiation in the same buildings. And from time to time, we'd see that same lady.
Like my Dad, she'd opted to try chemo. To extend her life. Even if, it was just by a few weeks. They both knew, there was no cure. But they wanted to live, as long as possible. My Dad was at his 4th or 5th session. My Mom had stepped out, to go grab us a snack. And there she sat. The woman, that wasn't much older than I. She sat crying. Crawled up, into a ball. In the chair next to my Dad.
He'd reach out to her. Grab her hand. And tell her, "You're not in this alone. If I can do it, so can you. It's not easy. We're not lucky. But we can do this. We can do this together! We're here for you." She would continue to cry. But she'd sit up. And look at my Dad. Stare into his eyes. "Do you think so?" It was a timid voice. Something you'd imagine from a frightened child.
My Dad would struggle to get out of his char. So many tubes, coming out of everywhere. He'd give her a hug. And would promise, to be there for her. And bravely, she'd call over to the nurse, so she could begin her treatment.
We'd see her, a few more times. In the chemo room. That would be, the only time, we'd sit next to each other. But from then on, she'd wave from across the room. Put on a smile. And write a little note, to my Dad. We'd usually get it, on our way out.
It's crazy, how even in chemo, my Dad was able to inspire, comfort, and encourage someone else. By the Fall, my Dad would be struggling. We'd be in and out of the hospital. Taking time off, from chemo. Trying radiation. And we wouldn't see her, anymore.
I always wonder, what happened to our friend. One night, in the hospital, my Dad thought he'd heard her. And we'd go visit his hospital neighbor. It was someone else. But even they'd strike up a friendship. And he'd provide this twenty something, with some inspiration.
I think about those people a lot. I'd wonder, how we would have dealt, with my Dad's illness, without that group. After my Dad's death, I'd be asked back. To talk about what I'd gone through. As a caregiver. How I was dealing, with losing my Dad. And just, how I got through the days.
Lots of people, thought I was crazy. Going back. To that group. To talk. To be supportive. I'd just lost my Dad. Had I healed enough? I don't know what the right answer was. But for me, it was the right time. It helped me, in my own healing.
Those people had been there for me. And my Mom. And my Dad...when he'd let them in. It was my time, to be there for them. And it truly helped me, to heal. To pick up the pieces, and start moving forward. These people knew my story, our journey, and what we'd been though. They were walking a similar road. And I didn't have to pretend, to be OK. I could cry. I could be real. I could just be...
If there was anything I could tell the people at Presbyterian, it would be to start a Caregiver or Survivor Support Group. It's needed. And would be a valuable asset, to so many. It's that "after care," that is necessary. For so many people.
Support Groups, are for people, walking similar journeys. It's a place, where you don't have to worry about explaining yourself. If you've walked a similar journey, you'll understand what I mean. How many times have you been frustrated by family and friends? That just don't get it. You explain, you give details, you provide updates...and no one seems to care.
Many times, the caregiver is expected to be the strong one. Never crying. Or letting things get to you. Then one day, you feel yourself cracking....
That is what support groups are about. Finally dealing with all those things. The things no one wants to talk about. Or deal with. Or make real...
I found, that we got so much hope, from attending our support group. Not hope, in terms of a cure. But hope, that we would all be OK. That we could take care of my Dad. My Dad, got that hope too. That after he was gone, we'd have people, that understood our situation. That would comfort us. And help us, on our journey.
And at the end of the day, our support group provided so much of that. For all of us. They made us feel, like we mattered. Our journey mattered. Our struggles, were real. I want to be that, for someone else. That is why, I go back. Every single time, that they ask. I go back.
In fact, I'd be willing to start a Support Group for Survivors and Caregivers. It's so important. And with some help, I think it would be a success. It's something that would benefit so many! And I think it's something, that no one thinks about. Until they need it.
After my Dad's passing, I didn't find a Support Group right away. I heard something on the radio one day, and I turned to a group. That was based out of a church. And it, became my saving grace. A place, where I could deal with my grief. I didn't have to be strong. Or tough. Or the leader. I could just be.
It was roughly 6 months, after my Dad's passing. My Mom was back to work. And I could go alone. And just deal. Some days, were full of tears. Some days, were about talking. Some were about listening. All were about dealing. And working through the tough stuff.
It was finally a place, were I could just be. I could deal with the anger, the heartbreak, the loneliness, the uncertainty, and the loss. It was a place, were I could just be. I could fall apart. And no one judged me. I found my strength there. In that room. With strangers. I found myself again.
With family and friends, you always hold back. Just a little. You don't want people to know, that you are broken. Inside and out. And you put up walls. You stop being, true to yourself. But in the Support Groups I was in, I could just be. I could be broken, hopeless, and afraid. And I could put myself back together, again. No one ever judged. Ever!
Do be afraid of Support Groups. You will learn how to deal, with all your emotions. You meet similar people. Who will be supportive, of your situation. You will learn, that there are people, who will support you, no matter what you've been through.
It's a place, were you can be real. And get real. With yourself. You are able to put the pieces back together again. You learn tools, that help you to deal with your days. And your emotions. And you realize, you will be OK.
The fact that I was able, to be a part of a support group, helped to prepare me. For the next part of my journey. You don't always know what is coming. But this was a way, to prepare me, for the hard days, that were ahead of me.
I'm so grateful, to the staff at Presbyterian,. That started us, on this journey. They held our hands. Helped put our hearts, back into place. And allowed us, the time and space, to grieve. They helped us grow. And eventually, they helped us, put the pieces back together again.
That's why support groups are so important. It's those things, that allow us to move forward. That help us, to put the feelings, emotions, and grief...in a better place. You learn who you are. And how to deal. It helps you, to get through the day. And the week. Then the month. And before you know it, you will make it to a year. ❤❤❤
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