Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep
and how cool girls can help
So… cool girls get cancer. Let’s talk about that.
Sure, the idea is that anyone can get cancer, and it simply does not discriminate. You can be a athlete in the best shape of your life. You can be a cis-male and get breast cancer. You can eat healthy, have no genetic pre-cursors, be pregnant, be young, even be a cool girl… you get the point.
But that isn’t really what this is about. A close friend recently reminded me of a conversation we had when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, and that is where this cool girl convo really began.
The diagnosis hit my mychart inbox late on a Friday year 2020 night. I wouldn’t hear from a doctor until Monday morning. I had a weekend to sit and analyze every word in that report with no one medically trained to explain it to me.
I know my husband was with me, and a couple of close friends that had been quarantined and in my safe zone, but honestly, I don’t remember much about that time. It was a blur of complete overwhelm. I was in shock. But so began my cancer journey. One I am still walking five years later.
But the more I walked through it… the chemo, the side effects, the mental distress and fear, it started piling on immediately. And I needed people. Like a whole community. A true village of support. And I did feel I had that. I had spent my adult life finding that, creating that, building that. I was co-owner of healing spa that centered itself on community care.
My husband is a chef, and he knew his job immediately. He would make me comforting, nourishing food. He made sure the house was clean and the dogs were walked. He drew me baths. He held me when the fear overwhelmed me.
My friends dropped flowers, food, treats for me and my caretakers, filled my gofundme so I didn’t have to worry about losing my job due to cancer and paying heaps of medical bills, copays, and all of the supplements I needed to stay alive while “red devil” chemo filled my veins.
But I felt alone somehow? It was such a weird feeling to me. To be so surrounded with love and feel so alone at the same time. And yes, some of that is my own shit. But it was so hard to watch everyone living their life, yet somehow mine had stopped. Dead in it’s tracks. I was realizing that I needed someone that understood this new, separate life I had walked in to. I needed someone who had walked this path or was walking this path, too.
So yeah, back to the conversation my close friend reminded me of, and one that came up again when I was diagnosed the second time too…
Where were the people like me, someone that was my age, someone who I could connect with on a soul level, and also be in this same damn dumb cancer club with me? Where were the cool girls in this club? Because all I was seeing at the cancer center were much older people, and we were all isolated in our own little cubicles, getting our own different doses of god knows what chemo. How do I find access to community? And one that wasn’t inside the sterile, intimidating walls of a chemo infusion center.
Lucky for me, I found my first cool girl right within this very community I had created around me.
I was tired of making a million different texts and calls to let everyone know about my diagnosis, so I decided to do the dreaded social media post. And that is where she found me. She saw my post and instantly DM’d me, “I had TNBC, too. I know how you are feeling. Here is my phone number. I am still here six years later, and I am happy to talk.” I took a deep breath. My first real deep breath in what felt like ages.
She already knew every question I was going to ask before I even asked it. She knew how to deliver the information to me also without overwhelming me completely and sending me in a panic attack. When we were together in person, she knew how I was feeling before I even said anything. One look in each other’s eyes said everything that needed to be said. It felt like I had found an anchor in the storm.
And that feeling right there is what leads me to all of my work. I started a non-profit this year - with the whole emphasis being community care for cancer patients.
And while this page is cathartic for me, I am also hoping that it can be a soft landing for someone diagnosed or in survivorship that also needs a friend, someone that gets them. With our political climate being what is, we need to enforce the strength of our community even more.
Cancer patients have a saying - “worst club, best members.”
So if you found yourself here, reading this. I get you. I write these words for you. You are not alone. There is community. Here are some tips:
Ask your oncologist about peer support groups - they should tell you this immediately imo, but they often don’t. It can be scary to ask, but there are absolutely resources for you.
Make the scary post … you never know who else is in your community is going through or has gone through something similar. Your community may be closer than you think.
If you are in Atlanta, check out one of our FREE healing & grief circles and our Integrative Programming - we are here and ready to hold you up and help you find the support that is unique to your needs.
Or check out The Breasties - they have a global reach and are an all-inclusive nonprofit organization that creates community for survivors, previvors, stage 4 thrivers, and caregivers impacted by breast and gynecologic cancers.
And lastly, I can’t wrap this conversation without my sharing my new look. I have lost all of my hair twice now, but this time, I feel like I have found my grow out groove. I am officially in my Papa Don’t Preach Era.
See you cool people, next week 🌹