She’s a young mother, with small children, living in a community far away from her family and support system. She’s just been diagnosed with a very serious breast cancer—and she’s about to lose her breast and her hair. Doctors can treat her physically but her emotions are equally challenging. Terrified and overwhelmed, what she needs right now is to CONNECT—with people who care about her, with people who have been through a similar experience, with anyone who can help her get through this nightmare.
This was me, in 1995. Living in my new community, where I knew very few people, I felt cut off, and disconnected. Taking care of my kids, working, and getting through treatment left little opportunity to make those connections I craved. I wished for some magical way to collect my faraway friends into a circle of comfort around me; I wished I could contact someone, somewhere who had lived through the same situation, who could inspire me with hope.
She’s a young mother, with small children, living in a community far away from her family and support system. She’s just been diagnosed with a very serious breast cancer—and she’s about to lose her breast and her hair. Doctors can treat her physically but her emotions are equally challenging. Terrified and overwhelmed, what she needs right now is to CONNECT—with people who care about her, with people who have been through a similar experience, with anyone who can help her get through this nightmare.
This was Angela, in 2009. A US soldier serving overseas, she was thousands of miles away from family and friends, and she didn’t know anyone else who had breast cancer. Our age, our families, our experiences and our diagnoses were similar. But Angela’s ability to connect, 15 years later, was far different from mine.
I got an email from a friend of Angela’s, telling me her story and asking if I would reach out to her. Within minutes, I sent an email. That was all it took; we were sisters in the same sorority. I knew exactly how she felt. I understood the fears, the concerns she couldn’t even tell her own family. Later on, as her treatment progressed, Angela sent out group emails to update her family and friends on her progress—exactly what I wished I could have done.
I’ve never met Angela, who still lives overseas, and I’ve never met the other breast cancer survivors I’ve communicated with via email over the years. But it’s an enriching and intimate experience on both sides. Sometimes it’s easier to share feelings that you might not be able to express in another way. We’ve shared secrets, we’ve shared hope, and we’ve shared the big C—both of them, Cancer and Connection.
The best news: today Angela—and I—are both doing great.
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