Journey
Through a Support Group
By
Marilyn Wallach, NHOH Patient
I’m an emotionally strong person. I’ve handled a crisis
before. I have plenty of support from my family and friends. I can
do this alone. I don’t want anyone to know my business. I want
to keep my family life as normal as possible for my kids. I don’t
want to pour my emotions out to a bunch of strangers and listen
to everyone else crying and being depressed.
As
someone diagnosed with cancer, have any of these thoughts run through
your head at the mention of a support group? A few certainly ran
through mine. I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in September
2001. What started out as a simple lumpectomy followed by radiation
quickly turned into a mastectomy, chemotherapy and radiation. For
anyone who has heard the words, "You have cancer," you
know how quickly your world can turn upside down. You know that
cancer does not invade just you, it invades the lives of your family
and friends. Yet, these statements keep running through your head:
"I will be strong for my family. I can get through this alone."
And
for a while, you do. That’s because you’re still in shock.
Remote control. Following instructions from your doctor. Getting
through the physical and medical part. Then one day, dropping down
on you without the slightest warning, you suddenly feel very alone.
People are there for you but you feel very misunderstood. That’s
because they can only understand so much. They’re not going
through it. They are watching you go through it.
I
reached this point. It shocked me. With the encouragement of my
husband, he suggested I try a support group. "There will be
women in the group going through the same thing as you who will
understand." This idea coming from a man who won’t go
to a doctor unless it’s a dire emergency. I thought if he’s
suggesting this, I must really need to do something. I had been
given information on support groups when I was in the hospital and
had tossed them aside. I called and signed up.
I
went to my first meeting feeling very nervous. I didn’t know
anyone there or know what to expect. I actually entered the second
week of a seven-week group for newly diagnosed breast cancer patients.
I was the newcomer among approximately ten women, and, to make matters
worse, I walked in late.
I
was quickly given a warm welcome. The group starts by hearing updates
on courses and events relating to cancer that may be of interest
to them. We move on to talk time. Each person introduces herself,
tells a little bit about her diagnosis and talks about whatever
is on her mind. This is completely optional. If you don’t feel
like talking, you simply say "pass." This never happens
in our group. We’re talkers. Anything said stays in the room
and is not discussed outside the room.
People
were full of information. They told me what day I would lose my
hair and they were right. Some dared to bare bald heads. I got ideas
on how to wear hats and scarves that I wouldn’t have come up
with on my own. We missed our eyelashes. We were extremely tired
from radiation. We talked about how our kids and husbands were coping
(or not). I felt more alive than I had in weeks. Sometimes we cried,
but a lot of the time we were crying from laughing so hard. I thanked
my husband for his suggestion. I no longer felt alone.
From
that seven-week group, I moved on to join the survivor group that
meets once a month. We are a big group – twenty women can show
up on a good night. I have since had a recurrence of my cancer.
It has metastasized (showing up in different parts of the body)
and I have been told it is incurable.
I
continue my battle, forever on chemo. I thank these women for keeping
me sane. They are the strongest, most compassionate people with
a great sense of humor and a strong spirit. They appreciate life
and are thankful for every moment given to them. Although I am a
reminder of what they fear most, a recurrence, they welcome me with
open arms and warmly support me. When I told the group I felt I
was a reminder of their greatest fear, they quickly discouraged
my way of thinking. One woman hugged me and said, "You don’t
scare me. You inspire me." They are truly an inspiration to
me as well.
Joining
a support group has been a life-altering decision, and quickly dispelled
all misconceptions of its purpose. I now hope to find a support
group for women with advanced cancer. For anyone who has not given
a support group a chance, I urge you to think again. Even if you
can do this alone, you are missing out on an incredible experience.
You will see firsthand what the human spirit is capable of. You
will learn from women who have been where you are about to go and
have a chance to help others go through where you’ve been.
If
you don’t know where to go, start by calling the facilitator
at your local hospital. If you are scared to go and that’s
all that’s holding you back, speak with the facilitator who
runs the support group and get comfortable with that person first.
If you feel uncomfortable in one group, find another one until it
fits your needs. You will truly give yourself a gift and you deserve
it. Your family will thank you too!
I
wish you a healthy future.
Marilyn
Wallach
July, 2003
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