My meet-ups with cancer and how community saves, part 2

As I shared in my last post, I don’t have cancer, nor does anyone in my family. But the “meet-ups” with cancer that I have had in recent years have changed my life. Selfishly, they have taught me to appreciate what I have, every moment and every relationship. But what I saw in my community, in my own neighborhood in terms of support for the families of two young children who fought and ultimately won their battle with cancer, and a father of young children who lost his – what I saw and experienced was amazing. Community is the reason why these meet-ups don’t kill us. Community makes us stronger despite the dreaded c-word.

About the same time my community was still reeling from the loss of the neighbor and man who had children the same age as mine, I learned that one of my best friends growing up was diagnosed. I went with her to get the test results, because I didn’t want her to face that news alone. I was worried for my friend, because her circumstances juxtaposed what I had just seen in my community and my other meet-ups with cancer. My friend is single and for work, had recently transferred from a community she loved to a place where she knew no one. I knew she had co-workers and some new friends, but I was worried.

Then I took her to the hospital for one of her chemo treatments, and I saw a different kind of community. The nurses and fellow patients in the infusion room were so upbeat, personable, friendly and supportive, you would never guess what was happening in that room. It was the most beautiful community of strangers. And I felt better for my friend that she had that.

While I was experiencing all these meet-ups with cancer, a strange but perhaps intended coincidence occurred. I began consulting for an independent nonprofit called Georgia CORE – the Center for Oncology, Research and Education. Indeed it had to be divine intervention how I met and got the job. When I first interviewed with the client, I was in tears talking about my recent meet-up with cancer involving my six-year-old friend, and I saw her compassion. She shared why she got into this work after being the primary caregiver of a friend who ultimately died of cancer. (Even more coincidental, I later learned that the woman she spoke of I knew. I used to work with her and only remembered her all too alive.) I knew I had to work for this group.

Once I got started, I was so grateful to be among a small but dedicated staff – nearly all of whom have had their share of meet-ups, including one who has survived cancer herself. And then I meet their larger community – the network of oncologists whom the Georgia CORE team supports. These are not just people doing their jobs. As I sat in a room during my first annual meeting with Georgia CORE and heard doctor after doctor speak of his or her work, I was moved. These people genuinely and earnestly go to work every day and give it all they have to help find a cure. And through the network, they go the extra mile to share their work so that others can help find a cure.

In fact, I have come to believe in these meet-ups that all those in the field of oncology – from the nurses and navigators to the doctors and researchers – these people are angels. The providers, especially, face in my opinion, one of the toughest jobs every day. I know I could not do what they do. I would be a puddled mess and completely helpless to anyone around me. The community that they provide, the relationships with families that they offer and nurture is above and beyond their call of duty. Thankfully, everyone I know that has faced cancer has experienced the similar community that I felt for my friend in the infusion room.

So, when you have your next meet-up with cancer, as, unfortunately, I know you will – find your community. It’s there; trust me. It may not save you from cancer, but it can save you.