I’ve been having kind of a hard week.
I’ve been feeling super anxious and negative and thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts in general.
Then I realized that tomorrow, November 18th, is my cancerversary.
I need to come up with another name for it, but I’m too exhausted to think of something clever right now.
So wow.
Here I am two years later.
I’m still alive.
And I’m still fighting cancer.
I want to share something I’ve been thinking about lately.
And don’t feel bad if you’ve done this before because I’m sure I’ve said plenty of stupid things too. I’m realizing that most of the time people aren’t doing it intentionally.
I know people mean well.
But take it from someone who actually has cancer:
When I tell you that I have cancer, it is NOT helpful to immediately tell me about someone you know who died from cancer.
Even some of my closest friends and family have done this without realizing how it might affect me.
When I was first diagnosed, I told a friend what was happening and they responded by telling me that the only other person they knew who had cancer had died from it.
Another longtime friend showed me a picture of someone we both knew who had died from cancer.
I tried not to take it personally.
But then, over the last couple of weeks, it happened over and over again.
In one situation, friends shared that a beloved family member had died from cancer. That felt different because there was context—we were having a whole conversation, they were grieving, and it wasn’t just thrown at me immediately after hearing about my diagnosis.
Another time, I was having dinner with a friend and filling them in on what was happening with me when they suddenly reminded me that someone we knew had died from cancer.
And then on Halloween, I was visiting friends of friends and this someone who knew I was living with breast cancer proceeded to show me pictures of the gravesite of their friend who had died from breast cancer.
Twice.
She actually put the phone in front of my face to make sure I saw it.
I was very sorry for their loss and their grief.
But I couldn’t understand:
How do you know that I’m fighting cancer and think that seeing the grave of someone who died from the same disease is going to help me?
I don’t get it.
Then, the Monday after Halloween, I found out that my own friend had died from breast cancer.
And suddenly this wasn’t somebody else’s cancer story.
This was someone I considered a friend.
I met Alison through my cancer support group earlier this year.
She was the one who reached out to me and wanted to meet up.
At first, I wasn’t sure we’d click.
Turns out…
We had SO much in common.
We even had the same name and the same birthday—September 22!
Along with another friend from the group, the three of us started hanging out.
We’d go for Korean BBQ or all-you-can-eat sushi. Alison invited us to her house and made chili. We’d talk about cancer, complain, laugh and just hang out.
It was the kind of friendship where nobody had to explain why cancer was exhausting or scary.
We already knew.
For our birthday, I took Alison to dinner.
I don’t even really like celebrating my birthday, but I was so happy to celebrate hers with her.
We had the most amazing meal.
Alison was incredibly honest about what she was going through.
She was real.
And I loved that about her.
For a while, the three of us were constantly texting in our group chat.
Then sometime in October, Alison stopped responding.
We were worried and kept checking on her.
Eventually she told us that she was really sick and that her family was there helping her.
I kept texting even when she didn’t respond.
At one point, I actually started wondering if maybe she just didn’t want to be friends with me anymore.
Then last Tuesday, I received a message from her phone, sent by her dad.
Alison had died that morning.
I was in shock.
I couldn’t believe it.
The sadness was completely overwhelming.
We went to her funeral on Friday.
It was surreal sitting there listening to people talk about someone I’d just been having dinner with and texting not that long ago.
After the funeral, I sat in my car trying to process everything and pull myself together.
And then something happened that made me smile.
A Drake song came on the radio.
There was an inside joke involving Alison and Drake that always made us laugh.
So there I was, sitting in my car after her funeral, feeling so sad.
And suddenly Hotline Bling is playing.
Maybe it was coincidence.
Maybe it wasn’t.
But at that moment, it felt like Alison was telling me:
Don’t freak out.
And I smiled.
The day after Alison’s funeral, I went to my first hockey game and saw some amazing friends I hadn’t seen in a long time.
We met up with some other people, and they asked what had happened to me.
For a second I actually thought:
Should I tell them not to tell me about anyone they know who died from cancer?
Then I thought:
There’s no way this is going to happen AGAIN.
So I told them I had cancer.
They asked what kind.
I said breast cancer.
And immediately:
“OMG, my aunt just passed away from breast cancer.”
Then:
“Are you okay? You’re done with cancer, right?”
I looked at them and said:
“No. I’m not okay. My cancer is Stage IV, and I’m fighting for my life right now.”
I think they got it.
So yes…
The next time a friend tells you they have cancer, maybe don’t immediately tell them about someone you know who died from it.
Maybe tell them about someone who’s still here.
Maybe you can tell them about me.
Here I am two years later.
I’m still alive.
And I’m still fighting cancer.
