16. Emotional or Practical: Friends Come in Different Sizes
People who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting a grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside
Acting more like children than children
(People from Broadway Musical “Funny Girl”)
I was drawn to the song People from the Broadway musical, “Funny Girl.” It was also released by Barbra Streisand in 1964 as a single. Yes I am old. And yes, I was ready to hide all the need inside.
I did meet Barbra once on the steps of the Plaza Hotel. All I could say was, “My name was Barbara too, but different spelling.” I am sure it was a life changing moment for her.
Anyway, back to people. When you hear the words, “You have cancer” the world stops spinning. I heard a dear friend who heard those words, simply said, “Oh, damn.” The feelings ran the gamut, Anger, Fear of the Future, Depression. You can read more at D-A-B-D-A. Please do!
While the decision of what avenues to take boils down to Emotional versus Medical, the friends you have come in two forms: Emotional or Practical. And, many can be both! The Emotional variety of friend you can call or be with them in person, and they watch you cry, laugh, and really good ones, offer you wine. You tell them –well everything. The Practical variety offer rides to the appointments, ideas for the new jewelry you will need to wear, and many, survivors themselves, insights to the future, sharing stories of their journey. Some friends are old and familiar and others are new to the entourage—or is it a posse like in the old west ready to hunt down the bad guy? Bottom line, they are people who without I would not be where I am today.
The Emotional Support People come in many forms: Family, Friends, Pastors (Plural as this diagnosis came at a time when my familiar pastor resigned and an Interim was taking up the slack), my medical team, and my new friends, cancer survivors who reached out to share stories and a much needed ear. Let’s face it. I am on a new path in my life. A path that surprised me as I had retired months before. Since my retirement party, I have had a hip replacement and now bilateral mastectomy. I thought retirement meant travel and no more 9-5, a misnomer for me as I was self-employed and worked weird hours to raise my family. I did have former clients reach out, which was an ego boost as well.
Once they learned of my plight, they came out of the woodwork, each one an angel in disguise. As the Type A that I am (Type Anus as my hubby calls it) I started with research. As I poured through the endless links of Google, the fear filled the pit of my stomach. I went to the portal and asked a few questions. Immediately the response, “Stop Googling!” I stopped. Further more, I support this suggestion—STOP GOOGLING!
The medical team, the foremost authority, was easily available via email, phone and portal. Best of all, they answered within minutes. The one exception, the drain removal team, as they only do that Monday through Friday and I reached my threshold Friday night so I needed to wait the weekend. No problem, it just assured with every drain that weekend, my the drains were getting lighter. They did call first thing Monday morning and I went in.
The Medical Team key people were the Doctor, of course, the Nurse Navigator in charge of navigating the entire experience and the frontline to the doctor, the nurses, techs, and admins as well as the entire hospital staff some we do not see and many who show themselves until the day of surgery—anesthesia and radiology. Each one ready to help and serve. Each one asking if there are questions, needs, and of course—a blanket.
The Medical Team started with homework. Who would have thought I had to study. I received a three ring binder outlining meetings and phone, pre op procedures, calendar of surgery preparations, day before and day of instruction, post surgery instructions, resource support groups, emergency contacts and most important, how to reach the Breast Center. In addition, a text book on cancer, with a bookmark on DCIS cancer—my specialty.
I read the text book first. The DCIS cancer was just a short chapter, thank goodness. It took a few days to start the three ring binder. My head was not into it. When I did, I did start filling out and noting items for the future doctor appointments. True confessions, I made the notes and brought the binder to each appointment, I relied on my family to ask questions, as my mind seemed to leave me.
Family. WOW! You need emotional support, so do they. My husband was a rock, learning the medical trade from care after the hip and now care for cancer. We did talk. Sometimes it was overnight, alone in bed at 3 am till sunrise. We have been known to do this throughout our 40 plus years of marriage. Now it was a regular appointment. Communication. A key.
Then my girls. They had their own communication system of texts, conference calls, and google docs to keep each other in touch. They did their own research and brought questions to the table, taking notes at each appointment. When the day came, they kept in touch all day even though two were miles away on business trips. It was my request, as the surgery was mid week with a chance of overnight, may as well come in the weekend. Which selfishly, meant they would be devoted to me and my beckoned call, and not working.
The Baby, the nurse. She took the brunt, as she was living with us. She was there at the first diagnosis and I am sure she held back her move until I got the all clear. She looked forward to the weekend after the surgery when the other two and spouses –or is it spices plural—arrived to help out and see if mom was still kicking. She also took drain duty, cooked meals, cleaned, and helped with this blog—setting it up and editing. When she edited she was surprised and in one case, said she was sorry. You can be the judge as to which entry.
The Middle Daughter , the researcher. When she told her boss the situation, and her boss was a nurse, the boss indicated her mom had the same thing. I soon had a call from that mom (more about that later). It was Middle who found what I would need post surgery—from special shirts to drain-wear. The Researcher bar none.
The Oldest, the voice of reason and parttime cook. I say parttime cook, as her husband seemed to be the main cook, but let us not split hairs. She was the organizer, watcher, and drill sergeant, supervising all work done on my behalf over her sisters. She shopped for food, read and noted my special instructions, then let the Baby perform them. She has always been the leader of the pack. She also took charge of her dad, taking him, as the put it, yard sailing and doing father/daughter trips to keep him occupied—a feat in itself. And it was good for Dad.
Friends. As a long time ago girls scout, we sang, “Make new friends but keep the old. Some are silver and the others gold.” Well the old friends and new friends are golden.
Old Friends, those who know you well. These people took me to appointments for special procedure they deemed I should not go alone to, took me out for breakfast, lunch, dinner and happy hours, dropped off food and sweets, lent an ear, sent flowers to cheer my day (it did look like a flower shop in my living room) and one friend not only supplied a happy hour with appetizers, sent pints of ice cream to enjoy during recuperation, although I was not sure if that was for me as much as my husband.
New Friends, the cancer survivors. As my plight became national news, old friends told their friends, who were cancer survivors. They would call and ergo, I made new friends. These people shared their story with me. From how to take a shower after surgery, little exercises to take to help your arms, what to expect, each one had a drain story. Most of all, they talked about their experience, about how to take control of your life. From lumpectomies to bilateral and single mastectomies, they shared their life journey, the pros and cons of reconstruction, where to get a prosthetic bra, and where to get free bra inserts from the Knocker Knitters (A great organization that knits bra inserts so you can use your soon to be retired bra. They are free and good for swimming too).
The Pastors, to hedge my bets. My diagnosis came at a time when I was on council and our pastor of many years resigned.. I did keep old pastor in the loop, texting and getting responses, after all, he was part of our life from confirmation classes and performing the marriage ceremony for two of the three girls. The new pastor, hearing of my plight from old pastor, was truly a rock. He called to check in on me. Best of all, he arrived at the hospital before I did and shared stories and a prayer. During my recuperation, he brought communion. Ok, he did spill the blood of Christ, but no one is perfect.
Getting emotional and practical support is important for your well-being. No one should face breast cancer alone. And, it may be hard to ask for help when you need it. Your family and friends may want to help, but may not know how. That is when you put on your big girl panties(or if you are part of the male population that has breast cancer-whatever you wear) and tell or ask.
There are also many support groups. I have not gone to the support groups. I have been in contact with the PA Breast Cancer Coalition who sent a wonderful box of goodies—free I might add. If you are in PA, get to them! For me, this blog has been a great release. Many have told me to make it a book. Maybe I shall.
I still come back to: GET THE MAMMOGRAM. Early detection can save lives—YOURS—and make it easier on your family, friends and more! It is Emotional and Medical time. It is an Emotional and Practical time.