Why Support Groups Matter

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.

My Dad wasn't too happy, about going to our support group. The day of the meetings, he was usually a little grumpy. I think we only got him there, because there was a free lunch involved. But after the first session, my Dad saw how important it was, for my Mom and I. And although he wasn't over the moon about going, he didn't give us a hard time, about attending.

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...

 

Since my Dad's death, I've attended a couple of support groups. And coming from a caregiver, I would recommend a Survivor's Group. Or a group, just for Caregivers. I've seen the need for it. Personally. And from others, who have reached out to me.

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. ❤❤❤

Moving Forward

There are a lot of days, when even I, just want to say, "I'm done. I'm tired. I just don't want to go anymore."

Then I realize, life doesn't just end. We're all walking a tough road. Sometimes, it feels heavier, than it is. But we all have those struggles. We just need to remember, not to give up.

In the last 11 months, there have been many difficult days. But they didn't start on March 20, 2015. No. In fact, the difficult days, started years before. When we had no answers. When my Dad, was just mysteriously sick. Unable to walk. Sleeping. Sometimes, unable to communicate with us. We didn't have answers. Life just seemed a mystery.

Those were the tough days. When life was up in the air. When I'd worry, the absolute most. Because how can you devise a plan, when you don't know what you are up against?

And through it all, I had my Dad, motivating me. Telling me, we have to fight it. We have to move forward. We need to remember that.

I think about that a lot, these days. Either I become stronger, move forward, and continue his work...or I become a miserable person. I tell you this, because in the middle of his cancer battle...I needed to remind myself daily. Sometimes, hourly. Move forward. Get stronger. Keep fighting.

 

And that my friends, is what brings me here. I couldn't ever start to process my grief, if I didn't deal with it. It's not easy. I find myself crying, a lot. Sometimes without realizing it. Something triggers me. Just the other day, I sat in the library, watching this elderly lady. From afar, she reminded me of my Dad. The childlike man, he became, near the end. And I sat there crying, for well over an hour.

Until she left the library. And another kind lady, came to sit with me. To ask if I was OK. Because that's what happens. It hits, from out of nowhere. But you must deal with it. You have to stare it down. And say, "I'm never going to forget my loved one. But I need to become a stronger person. If not for them. For me. I need to be able, to function every single day."

I say this. And I've been where you are. I've been that person, that received that news. That felt like they had been punched in the gut. I still remember when my Dad was first diagnosed. And trying to stay strong. For everyone. And silently, falling apart. Feeling like, life was never going to be the same again.

And in reality, it wasn't. But if I would have stayed in that place, I would have never have been able, to be there for my Dad. I wouldn't have been able to take care of him. To meet his needs. To allow our relationship to grow. To love him. And to make memories.

 

I know, this entire battle can be tough. It is very tough. And scary. Sometimes, overwhelming. If you are the person battling cancer, remember you are tough. You can do this. You've got to "keep your head in the game." But you can do it. If you are the caregiver, you are strong. Much stronger, than you can imagine. Honestly, one day you will look back, and wonder where your strength came from. And how it got you, through all of your journey.

 

I still look back, and think, "How did I make it? How am I still functioning? Where did this strength come from?" Honestly, I don't think I'll ever completely understand that. But it's part of life. And your team, they will provide, so much strength. Honestly, I can't even begin to tell you. Our nurses, doctors, and other team members...were constant "Fountains of Strength," for me.

 

And if you are family and friends, don't doubt yourselves. Love hard. As hard as you can. If you have an idea to call, visit, take someone some food...do it. Do it all! Make those memories. Don't be afraid. You'll always appreciate the memories, later down the road.

 



When I first came across this quote, I immediately thought of my Dad. I printed it out. And I gave it to him. It's still in his wallet. He had been sick. And no one knew, what was wrong. It had been months. Many doctors, trips to the hospital, and countless tests.

The sicker he got, the more trips to the hospital, the more fear I had...the more I thought of these words. I'd end up printing this. And framing it. It traveled with us, many times, to and from the hospital.

And I look at it, for strength. Thinking to myself, if he can do it, so can I. There were times, when my Dad couldn't eat. Or walk. Sometimes talk. But he ALWAYS fought back. It showed me, to never give up. No matter the battle, we always have a way to fight back. ALWAYS!!!

I think of this a lot. Maybe it was the first time we went to our Support Group. Or when we first met, the team, that would carry us on our journey. Maybe it was the first time, we knew it was Stage 4 Colon Cancer. But life, had forever changed. I knew that, deep in my soul. And I had to embrace, the next chapter.

Life would forever change. The somewhat "simple" life we had. And we needed to appreciate it. We needed to acknowledge, that our new journey, was laid out for us. We had time with my Dad. And we needed to take advantage of it. All of it. The good, and the bad.

More than that, we needed to prepare, for what was up ahead. The struggle, of this journey. The heartbreak, that would lay ahead. And how we'd pick up the pieces, and continue to move forward. We had to remember all of this, while fighting the fight.

There is always life, after cancer. Sometimes, we are lucky. And our loved one, or us, beat the beast. Sometimes, we are facing life, without them. But our life will be, forever changed. Cancer has a way of doing that. We will all come out of this journey, changed. Stronger for sure. And maybe, with more questions, than answers. But for all of us, touched by cancer, we must remember...to keep moving forward. ❤❤❤