Not alone

May 21, 2013
By: Miriam Sultan

I recently attended a CancerFightClub Montreal retreat that took place in a hotel in Quebec City, located on a large lake, surrounded by snow-covered mountains. The grounds were vast and picturesque, and the amenities were spectacular. There were three different walking trails, snowshoeing, a pool, and indoor and outdoor hot tubs. During the first workshop on Friday night, Helene, a nurse, spoke to us with empathy and compassion. She listed what we, as young adult cancer patients, fear, and on the list, she included the fear of recurrence. There was an avalanche of emotion that arose in me – I needed to cry. I did what I do best: I fled. I got up slowly and walked out without displaying any emotion. I closed the door carefully, and only then did I burst into deep, uncontrollable sobs. I tried to pace myself as I made a conscious effort to breathe. As I wept violently, a facilitator came to see me and sat patiently at my side. When I calmed down, I blurted it out: “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave my baby. I’m so scared.”

I cried long and hard. In all of my 16 years of living with this chronic illness, I had never given myself permission to cry. Being in this setting, among sisters and brothers fighting the same battle, for the same cause, gave me a safe space to experience, feel, and share. That was healing, in and of itself.

During the weekend, I did more physical activity than I had done in years. I felt victorious to have gone snowshoeing for the first time, to have taken two walks – one that lasted 1 and 1/2 hours. I also had the opportunity to hear other people’s stories. I felt a strong kinship to everyone around me. I spoke to a young woman who was scheduled to have her breast removed the following week; she shared how happy she is to have met all of us because she could take this positive experience with her into the operating room. She was able to speak to other women who could give her support. There was also a young man who had a brain tumor and lived with short-term memory loss as a result. There was another young woman who was operated on for a brain tumor and is also experiencing short-term memory loss; she shared that her tumor was not fully removed because it was too deep, so she waits. A group of young women spoke about their fears pertaining to employment possibilities because they are too weak to work or not able to hold a job. Young women also shared their fears revolving around fertility. Would they be able to bear a child? Though each story is heartbreaking, I feel endlessly grateful to have provided each person an understanding ear and an open heart.

When I came home, I felt a tremendous mix of emotion. It was bittersweet: I was so happy to have met such strong and incredible individuals (both participants and staff), and I was so sad to see and hear the kinds of challenges they faced on a daily basis. The retreat offered us the opportunity to disconnect from the outside world and build friendships and offer each other support – friendships that we continue to build. For some, this is the highlight of their year. For me, it reminded me that I was not alone in my daily challenges and fears. I now have a support system of individuals who understand me, who encourage me, and who inspire me.