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Fifteen years after my own cancer journey, I find myself balancing hope and grief as I support a colleague newly diagnosed with cancer.
Fifteen years into cancer survivorship, I was still not ready for my response to learning that a colleague at work had recently received a cancer diagnosis. I’m certain that this was not the first time since my own diagnosis that someone I knew had been the recipient of this devastating news. During this period, friends and family members travelled the path, and yet somehow this was different.
Since hearing the news, I’ve routinely found myself thinking about what it will be like when my colleague sits in the chemo chair for the first time. I could literally feel the “scanxiety” as I imagined her waiting to get the results from her first PET scan. Questions would roll in like waves: What should I tell her worked for me? Did I even know myself what worked or what was just a distraction? Should I direct her to the “woo woo” side of my recovery that involved Reiki, meditation, yoga and the like? As if that was not enough, I found myself doing something I dared not do while I was going through treatment: I was online researching the type of cancer she has and its survivability.
My guess is that many cancer survivors have found themselves in a similar situation — having to support a new member of the cancer survivors’ club all the while struggling with memories tinged with a hint of survivor’s guilt.
As a working psychotherapist, along with my colleague in the field of wellness and resilience, I’ve tried to turn my insights into useful words of encouragement, knowing full well that feeling helpless is part of the cancer journey. I think this sense of wanting to help but often feeling at a loss to know what form that should take is what drives many survivors into the healthcare field or volunteering their time to support those going through treatment.
Cancer survivors have much to offer those who are just beginning to come to terms with the diagnosis. However, even years out from active treatment, it can be challenging to balance empathy, where one can understand an experience but have the emotional distance to offer help, and sympathy, where one feels the others’ pain too acutely, which makes being there for someone more difficult.
Within the complex uncertainty of the cancer experience lay the seeds of both hope and grief. Honoring grief while encouraging hope is where I’ve decided to land any time I may find my thoughts turning to my colleague’s future as a cancer survivor. Additionally, I will pay silent tribute to all those whose paths crossed mine on a journey that even 15 years on still feels like it was yesterday.
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