Support

So, last night I attended my first ever support group. It's taken two years to get me there but I feel like now, more than ever, I need to have a space where it's okay to have cancer. Where I can talk about my daily fears and the people there "get it." They have this stupid cancer too and they feel my pain acutely. The funny thing was it started like you would expect an AA meeting too - you all tell your stories and start to ask each other questions. The truth is that the face of cancer is as different as we all are. I guess there's value in hearing other people's struggles and successes. It brings a sense of reality to the statistics I read online. There was a woman there who had interferon treatment and it was very successful for her - that makes me hopeful. I have this fear that when it gets to that point you're done already. Morbid, yes, but it's how I feel.

They sort of all looked at me like - wow, we're sorry. You have the worst of this. Which is ironic because they all had positive lymph nodes and extensive treatment. They couldn't believe I never had anything but an excision. They were sympathetic to the fact that I had a reocurrence just two years from the month I had my first Melanoma and, well, I assume it's because of my age that they teared up when I started talking about the things that scare me.

I think it's a luxury for my husband and family to not think about Melanoma every day. I am jealous that they don't think they got a bum deal marrying me or that they don't think about me dying when they think about me being a Mom someday. I can't help it. It's my cancer and I live it every day. It's nice to be in the company of people who can understand that. It's nice to be with people who understand that even though I don't have a Melanoma today I still have Melanoma every day for the rest of my life.


Beverly Hospital
Beverly, MA
The Garden Conference Room
Second Tuesday of the month, 6pm