My rock stars (Volume 1*)

This is a run-down of the individuals and groups who have gone above and beyond for me during my first few months with cancer. This is Volume 1 because there are far too many people than I can thank in one post. If I’ve forgotten someone (and I know I have), I will get to you later, I promise.

My dog

Lady Mabel’s favorite thing to do is to run and jump through the woods and swim in creeks. Her second favorite thing is to nap. Whenever I head toward my bed for a nap, she’s not far behind. She takes a place near my feet and doesn’t move until after I get up. Whether it’s for one hour or six, Lady Mabel valiantly stays by my side, showing me how to nap like a true champion. She’s my ever loyal companion, even if she’s a little smelly sometimes and even if she can’t be trusted around an unguarded peanut butter sandwich.

 

My Yarn Army

There are a lot of people who like to make stuff with yarn and I seem to know a lot of them. When my family and friends learned of my diagnosis, it was like a silent dog whistle went out to all the knitters and crocheters to get to work. I’ve had numerous hats and scarves arrive on my doorstep, including a beautiful knit blanket from someone who doesn’t know me personally. Thanks to the yarn army, my head, neck and other body parts are toasty warm.

 

Assorted friends

I’ve been shown a level of kindness from people that is difficult to quantify. In addition to all of the fiber products I’ve received, I’ve had people send gift cards for restaurants, groceries, and received an entire box of Better Made potato chips and a package of baklava from one of Dearborn’s most famous Arabic bakeries. I’ve had slippers, more blankets, T-shirts, water bottles and more directed my way. I had no idea how many kind people were left in the world. I seem to know a lot.

Other people with cancer

I know that in my previous life I must have encountered people with cancer, but I don’t remember being conscious of it very often. Now, though, people who have and had cancer seem to come out of the woodwork. “I used to have that haircut” is the cancer patient’s version of the secret handshake. I seem to encounter these folks when I’m having an exceptionally bad day. Like angels, they come out of nowhere, and tell me that I can get through whatever bad moment I’m going through.

One day, I was leaving the hospital after getting a treatment and discovered that I was in no shape to drive. I don’t know if it was the drug I received or the cold or the fact that a cancer patient I followed on social media had died that morning, or a combination. I staggered into a bagel place on shaky legs, figuring that some food and coffee would probably help me return to normalcy. As I waited for my order a woman I recognized from the hospital elevator asked me if I was ok.

“Do I seem not ok?” I responded.

“You’re shaking,” she said. “I followed you in here because I was worried about you.” She led me to a table. I sat. I cried. She explained she had cancer too. It had gone away and now it was back. She held my hand until I was calm again and I stopped shaking. She disappeared and I went to work.

My friend Mary

Mary has been with me from the beginning of this journey. For many years before moving to St. Louis, Mary was my main partner in crime, and dog walking. During the process of my diagnosis, I had a weekend of waiting and wondering what was going on. Mary came to town and took me to City Museum, which is exactly the place you want to go if you need to forget that something awful could be happening to you, like cancerous tumors growing throughout your breasts. We rode the 10-story slide and probably spent an hour sitting in these spinny chair things, and climbed all over Monstro and it kept me engaged in something that wasn’t googling horrible facts about cancer (pro tip: don’t google if you’re going through a cancer diagnosis. It won’t help and will only make you terrified.) Ever since, she’s made numerous trips to help me out on post-chemo weekends. She took me to get my hair cut pre-chemo. She’s taken Lady Mabel on walks and thrown the frisbees, she’s put up with a nosy toddler who thinks that all guests are for her, she’s made meals, she didn’t freak out when she walked in to my bedroom while I sat there puking into a bucket. She has gone over and above standard friendship duties and she lives two hours away. I promise that we’ll go out and have fun again sometime soon. I owe her many, many drinks.

My Uncle Steve’s family

You know who you are, and you know what you did.

My parents

As a parent myself, I understand that watching your child go through cancer treatment must be spectacularly horrific. My parents don’t want me to say they’re old, but I thought I was at the point in life where I would be tasked with taking care of them. Going through chemo, though, is something that makes you want your mommy. They’ve endured hours on planes and trains and inadequate guest accommodations. They’ve sat with me in waiting rooms and doctors’ offices and watched while the pre-meds made me groggy and I’ve fallen asleep. They’ve put up with me being bitchy and grumpy when they really didn’t need to. They’re going to do even more of this before it’s all over. They deserve a lot more than I can offer as repayment.

My husband

To say that Jim has gone above and beyond our marriage vows is a drastic understatement. His entry is last and short because there are not words for how spectacular he has been. Since August, he’s taken care of me and our girl without complaints or limits to his energy. Whether I need a cup of tea or a foot rub, he’s been there while taking little time for himself. I know this is what you sign on for when you get married, but he’s embodied selflessness in a way I don’t think I ever could. Like everyone else, he deserves more repayment than I could possibly offer. I truly hope that I’m never required to return the favor because he has set the bar higher than I could ever reach.