I Didn’t Have A Co-Survivor
This November, FTBOU addresses co-survivors and caregivers. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I didn’t have a “co-survivor.”
I am the youngest of seven siblings and have many adult nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts & uncles. So, needless to say, I have many family members. When I got the news, I sent out a family message to rally the troops.
It was my time to lean on the very same people who depended on me. In my head, there was no way that everyone wasn’t going to be there and support me in any way they could. However, that is not what happened.
The message I sent out was a cry for help and support. Some of the things I heard were: “You got this.” “You’re strong.” “I’m with you.” “Let me know if you need me.” A bunch of smoke was blown up my bum, and no actionable measures were taken by anyone.
I was very specific with what I asked for; I knew what I was going to need. I needed emotional support & I needed visibility. But instead, I got ghosted. Ghosted by nieces that knew anytime they needed me, I was the auntie that would come running. The siblings who knew if they needed my last dollar, it was theirs.
The only person that was missing but I knew that I couldn’t physically have was my mother. But I knew that she was with me and always has been.
What I wanted was what I saw in everyday media. I wanted the pictures you see on TV or Instagram of the family rallying around their loved one, supporting, validating, cheering, and helping.
Instead, I was left to my own defenses.
Surviving Breast Cancer Scared and Alone
It started with my closest sisters attending an appointment here or there. Then they became non-existent. Yes, they were around but were they supportive in the way I needed? NO! Was I specific with my requests for help? 100%.
My father’s oldest asked, “how could she help?” I said I needed someone to come with me to chemo. I can’t stand to sit in that chair alone. She said, “no problem, tell me when, and give me a time to make sure I can be there.” At that time, I knew my schedule, and I asked far in advance for her help.
“I got you. No problem.” was the response she gave me. Then it got quiet. I called her. Straight to voicemail. I text messaged her but received no reply even as the chemo date got closer and closer. Still, I waited for any type of response. Eventually, I called my father to ask if he had heard from her. He said she called him to tell me that she couldn’t attend and that he would go in her place. I said no. That’s not how this works.
After completing two more rounds of chemo, I reached out again and asked again to see who was out there. The responses were the same, “I got you,” “What do you need.” but still with no actions taken. Or, I received nothing.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “I asked for your support! What is wrong with you people!”
It took me another treatment to figure out I was very much on my own. My family didn’t understand how to help. And I get that not everybody does, but I needed to have just one out of the fifteen of them to get it. All it took was for me to be one in eight to get breast cancer. The likelihood of one more of my family members getting breast cancer is closer than the odds of one of them helping me.
I could drag this out and talk about how much it hurt being alone, but I want to take this moment to educate instead.
- Not everyone is going to be there
- Not everyone knows how to be there for you
- Not everyone has the mental or emotional capacity to help
- Cancer brings up in others mortality which they cannot handle
I write this to say that I understand all the reasons why people run away. But for those who are running and are ghosting family and friends, understand this:
- Cancer is isolating
- Ask if you don’t understand
- Support comes in many forms
- Cancer is scarier on the patient’s side
- Help is needed no matter how ‘strong’ the person is
Cancer is frightening for us. But it’s also scary to those around you. Your family. Your friends. Your coworkers. It’s scary to anyone who means anything to you, or even if they don’t.
The word, cancer, reminds people that no one is promised tomorrow, which is true regardless of its type.
If you are put in a position where you are a co-survivor or a caregiver, just stop and think about what your loved one is going through. I’ve been on both ends of being a caregiver and a patient. Both of them suck; however, I knew my mom needed me to be her caregiver. Unfortunately, my family didn’t realize they needed to be mine.
2 Responses
Powerful. I’ve been both caregiver and patient in the breast cancer battle. What is spoken here is so true. Some people don’t know what to say or how to act when you’re going through it, so they avoid it and you. I am so grateful for the ones that were there for me.
I wrote about the isolation and lack of support I experienced after my surgery in my book, “Orange is the New PInk: My Battle with Triple Negative Breast Cancer.” I have always shown up for others so I felt some type of way. Eventually, I got over the abandonment feelings, and I understand that this is the reality for a lot of cancer patients. Thank you for sharing your story.