Friday, April 22, 2016

Rejection

I belong to a neighborhood forum, or I did.  You may belong to one too.  People share safety concerns, stranger sightings, carnivals, and items for sale in the neighborhood.  Sometimes a neighbor asks for personal help.

I rarely log in, but for some reason the other day I did, and I saw that a woman who lives nearby had been diagnosed with an early stage cancer and wanted to hear from neighbors who had survived cancer.

She was getting a lot of bad advice from people who hadn’t even had cancer.  Still, I hesitated in responding despite meeting her qualifications of “survival”.  I am aware that being metastatic has frightening connotations for many in the breast cancer world, and that some tend to be nervous about us.  However, she did say she wanted advice on chemo and hair loss, and after 6 ½ years of living with cancer, I know I am eminently qualified to give that kind of advice.  More than that, I was willing to be a friend.

So, tentatively, I offered my services, disclosing immediately that I was Stage 4.  I collect vintage scarves, so in my post I offered her some and told her I’d teach her how to tie them.  I have numerous books that people have given me to review, not to mention the ones I bought myself, which I also offered.  I added that I didn’t want to push myself on her, so if she was interested she could PM me.

She did.  I was quite pleased.  We exchanged numbers and sent several texts back and forth, setting the upcoming Saturday to meet.  I spent the rest of the day going through my closet, finding scarves in the colors she said she liked, pulling out wig holders that I am not using, and cleaning up a charm bracelet that had been given to me when I was first diagnosed - one that had been passed like a baton down through many breast cancer survivors for luck.  I’d been hanging on to that bracelet, waiting to find a person to give it to personally.   I pulled all the cancer books that had helped me from the shelves, and found a casserole recipe to bring her a meal, found some coloring books and started making her earrings  - every bald chick needs earrings!

While I have been able to provide support online through this blog and my facebook page, and I have met some wonderful women living with metastatic cancer, I had not met anybody newly diagnosed in person – at least, outside the infusion center.   So, I was happy to be able support somebody I could actually look at in the eye.  I even wondered if she’d be curious about my mastectomy scars, and figured I’d wear a button-down shirt in case she wanted to see. I kept thinking back on what I’d wanted to know, and what I needed back in those early days.  In the meantime, on that neighborhood forum, people were still discussing cancer, and so I posted my Soul Pancake video, showing how people can live a long time, which I've been told is inspirational.

Apparently not.

Later, I logged in the neighborhood conversation again, only to read a public message, “Ann, I do not want to hear a Stage 2 to Stage 4 story” and a terse cancellation of our plans with the generous concession that maybe we could meet after it was “all over.”   Which it will be for her, but will not be for me.

Despite having texted privately, she chose to announce her decision to rebuff me to all of my neighbors.  I’m now left with a box full of goodies and a sick feeling of public rejection, and the humiliation of knowing the stage of my disease meant I was not worthy of helping.  I was too frightening.

I swiftly apologized, and offered to mail her the scarves, but I heard nothing else.

I share this story because it is not unusual in the world of breast cancer. Many women with metastatic disease report being ignored from those who are newly diagnosed.  Those of us who are Stage IV are not looked at as inspiring in this culture of survival.  The fact that we can go for years, sometimes decades, having treatments but still raising kids, getting out every day, smiling and laughing and sometimes even working is not cause for celebration. All many can see is the end of our story, not the fact that we are still living.

We are zombies to these people; the walking dead.

This is not my first experience with exclusion – my own brother stopped talking to me after I was diagnosed.  The reason, I heard through my sister, is he supposedly cannot “handle it.” (He’s been not handling it for 5 years now.)   I’m hardly alone in being rejected because of my disease – stories have flooded in of relatives so afraid of grieving that they cut off the cancer patient long before their time, of friends suddenly disappearing and not taking calls.   I have heard stories from Stage IV women being told by social workers that they cannot attend a support group as they will frighten the early stage women.  A friend of mine described a time when she was sitting on a couch with another breast cancer patient, and as soon as her stage was mentioned, the woman got up and moved to the end of the couch, as if she were contagious.  

This cruel behavior is sometimes written off as shock at being diagnosed, but that is merely an excuse for bad behavior. The truth is, cancer does not make for a better person, it makes one become deeper into who they already are.  If they are self-centered, they will become more so; now they have an excuse.  We shouldn't allow them to justify it though.

We can feel all alone and frightened in this disease, it's true.  When we are shunned by our own – by the supposed sisterhood of cancer patients, it’s particularly troubling.  Being told we aren’t worthy is one of the more difficult pills to swallow – in a lifetime of pill taking.

Why does this happen so often?  Those of us who are metastatic don’t fit into the pink narrative as promoted by major charities and which has become part of our culture.   The story is that you get breast cancer, you “fight” it, and then you survive, hopefully to run races and make some money for the cause.  We are supposed to be “living beyond” breast cancer, and run for the cure and be warriors in pink.  We are not supposed to be in chemo for yearss.  We metastatic patients are the losers.  The entire pink world is set up so that the heroes of this story are the ones who were never in danger. Those of us who actually face death are often treated as pariahs and as outsiders - we haven't toed the pink line.

What the newly diagnosed don’t understand is you cannot get through this disease without the help of women who have been there, and that support can come from many places.  Few have been through as much as the woman who has done 300 rounds of chemo.   We metsters should be honored instead of turned away. Let me ask you - who needs help more than we do - and yet we still offer.

No matter the stage of our cancer, we all want nothing more than our suffering to mean something.  We want our lives to have a purpose.  When we have the energy, desire, ability and chance to help – being rejected may be the most painful slap one can experience.

To the newly diagnosed woman out there, let me say that most of us who are metastatic understand your fear of relapse.  The number batted around is that 90% of women who are currently Stage 4 were diagnosed at an early stage. If true, (and it is for me) that means nobody is truly safe.  Someday, you may look in the mirror and see Stage 4.  Someday, you may feel the rejection you inflicted on somebody else.

What will you do then?

54 comments:

  1. I am stage 1 and luckily don't need chemo but when I was newly diagnosed I was terrified and I reached out to you. You took time to talk to me privately and you share so much on your blog and facebook page. Sending a BIG hug. As for those who show callous disregard, rudeness and reject, well I shall refrain from saying anything other than they are shameful, and may karma treat them as they deserve.

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    1. Thanks. I wish I believed in karma but I don't. However, I may have escaped from having to deal with a person who can't see that she's not the only one on the world. It's likely a blessing in disguise that I don't have to deal with her. At no time in any of this did I think only my problems were the important ones.

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  2. I was shocked to read this happened, but then quickly realized I shouldn't be. I'm so sorry your overwhelming kindness was rejected before she even knew what she was rejecting. But sharing this story is yet another act of kindness to all of us. And a reminder. So thank you for sharing and guiding us all. I'm still frequently contacted by newly diagnosed women and I do realize they all want a "happy" story, and I realize I don't know that mine will always be that and I certainly can't promise them theirs will be. Your point about moving forward and living with mets as something to be honored and celebrated is a really excellent one. One I will remember and share. Thank you.

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    1. Thank you. Nobody really thinks about who are the people to admire and emulate. A singer who had DCIS, or Elizabeth Edwards? They are not on the same scale but society doesn't differentiate, and in facts, discriminates against the Edwards out there.

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  3. Okay,is it wrong of me to say she's a b#$ch". You're correct: Having cancer doesn't make you better it just makes you more of who you already are. So she's gone from Stage 1 ass to Stage 4.

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  4. There should be 3000 comments here, imo. Not three. I love my metster buds, especially you, Ann.

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    1. Plenty on Facebook too. I feel fully supported, thanks to everybody.

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  5. Wow. Too shocked for words (or many words, anyway). That is really low of her.
    - Ingrid

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    1. Hard to imagine I'm worthy of being feared. All 90 pounds of me!!

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  6. Hugs to you. I was diagnosed in Dec '09, and you were already there for me, a kindred spirit. You are in my prayers every day. <3

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  7. I'm shocked. Did the others respond to her public announcement? What did they say?

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    1. No. After I posted my apology, she must have realized how it sounded and she deleted her comments. She was getting terrible advice about alt-med therapies and cancer vibrations and crazy stuff that we all get from people who have no clue-and I realized if those are my neighbors, I'd rather not know them that way so deleted my account. :).

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  8. As a spouse of a stage 4 mBC patient, be very careful who you share the diagnosis with. We don't need sympathy or pity. We need a cure! Four words sum it up: METASTATIC BREAST CANCER SUCKS!

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    1. Yes but if people don't know our stories, they are going to continue to focus on early stage, early detection. So we must share. We are still humans.

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  9. That really stinks, so sorry it happened to you. For what it's worth, as a fellow stage iv, I've found a lot of wisdom and comfort in your writing. Her loss.

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  10. The woman would have undoubtedly been a horrible friend, so good you found out early. I hate more that your brother abandoned you. My sister told me she couldn't read my blog because it is too sad. How supportive and completely lacking in any consideration for my feelings, don't ya think? And my sister-in-law who said, "Do you think (soon after my diagnosis)this is a sign about how you are living your life?" I know people want to protect themselves from our pain or from the reality that they too will die, but I will never understand how simple acts of kindness and respect for others are not practiced. It is not a hard thing to do.

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    1. Ugh, the things people say. And I think you are right, it worked out for the best. It was clearly all about her. Well, in my mind it was too, my desire was to help her so I overlooked clues that she was only interested in hearing her skewed version of success.

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  11. Ann,

    I think you nailed it on the head. Her cancer has only amplified who she already was. Probably a selfish person who engages in pity parties regularly.

    Being a 15 year metster myself, I've learned to steer clear of these sorts of individuals, cancer, or no cancer. We certainly don't need to be around that sort of negative energy!

    I've always been a doer and push myself hard, sometimes too hard, to keep on living an active life, despite my status.

    It is amazing to me the number of pansies out there, who complain about every little ache and pain. I just want to kick them in the pants, and say "you really don't have a clue, stop moaning and get out there and enjoy life because it could all be taken away from you in a heartbeat"

    It's true, that some folks just can't handle being around us metsters, so I don't usually tell a person of my history, until I've gotten to know them a bit. I think I get a strange kick out of their reaction when they see that I'm not waiting around for "the end" and instead out there livin life!

    You are right though, it does tend to scare away some folks. So sad, but true.

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    1. Yeah, I don't talk about my diagnosis anymore, unless it's appropriate to the situation, which it was. I do think people tend to focus on little things, and I sometimes wonder how they'll handle the big thing if it comes.

      I think some think we are all bedridden and sick, when we could be standing next to you in the grocery store line.

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  12. I'm glad I read this as it is clearer here then what I understood on facebook. I am sorry you have had negative responses from so many people. I can't imagine and it must be hurtful. In June it will be two years since dx with stage iv (METS) breast cancer. I have a army around me and people have been very accepting and supportive. In another few years that is if I am still alive, many of the supporters will drop off expecting me to move on. I just hope at that time I can. Thanks for sharing.

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    1. I hope they don't, Evie. It's a rough ride to be on, with highs and lows. But I hope you stay well for years to come.

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  13. My heart goes out to you. I admire you so. You are truly a good person. Some people, sadly, just aren't. Thank you for telling the real story, even (especially) when it hurts.

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    1. Thank you. I've heard way too many stories of stage 4 being rejected by everybody from strangers to family. We are exactly the same people we always were.

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  14. So sorry you experienced this, Ann. I'm sure this woman was overwhelmed by the dx but that is no excuse for such blatant and public disrespect. The first support group I joined online was Knitters With Breast Cancer in Ravelry when I was originally dxd Stage III C. When I came up Stage IV, I gently asked one of the moderators about my wish to keep my Stage IV status off the message board. My word, did I get an ear full from Dee! She not only encouraged me to share, but insisted on it reminding me that we are all there to support and care for one another. I wish everyone held that point of view. (I'm Deanna Larson..on Facebook and IRL. KaerligMor is Danish for Loving Mom.) Blessings!! Keep up the amazing work that you do! Like I said before, you are our face and voice.

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    1. Deanna! You have a secret life, I didn't know you knitt! Good for Dee for having you share and ensuring everybody dealt with it.

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  15. I just want to say that I do follow your blog and facebook page. I am so sorry that happened to you. The neighbour did NOT need to make it public. I understand people can say they "cannot handle it", my brother is the same. Won't talk about my cancer (still stage 3) so I do not mention it around him. I find you inspirational because I am also HER2 positive and love the fact that you are still kicking even through the ups and downs and that you are "living" with cancer, not "dying". I am sorry the neighbour could not just send an sms if she really could not handle it and wish there was more out there we could learn about mbc instead of the pink crap that is out there. My support to you always. Don't let someone that awful ruin the gifts of your blog or facebook page that help so many.

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    1. Right, it was the public nature of it that hurt me. Had she messaged me it might still have hurt but I think I'd have been more understanding. It's as if she wanted to make sure my neighbors knew I was not worthy.

      But my way of dealing with things is writing. I'm already over it. And I'm giving away the bracelet on my Facebook page so head over there if you want it. :).

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  16. Ugh. It's such a shame that people not only choose to be outright jerks, but that they're the ones who stick in our thoughts far longer than they deserve. Blessings on you for being so generous with your time, energy, and wisdom.

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    1. Yeah but she's out now. That's what writing is for. I haven't even thought of my brother in years...he made his choice.

      Just don't cry for me when I'm gone.

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  17. Ann, I've been following you for quite a while now, ever since learning a dear friend was a "Metser". I love your writing and humor and I feel sure that if we'd met IRL we'd be friends. This post brought me to tears....ugly crying to be honest. I will never understand our cruelty to one another. Just know that you bring hope, humor, laughter, and knowledge to so many people through your writing. We may never meet IRL but your impact is felt and oh so appreciated. Thank you!

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  18. Jan, thank you so much. I could use some friends these days. Of course, I have amazing ones but many live far and travel isn't easy, and I'm still young enough so that most local are working and busy. It can be a lonely life being ill at a young age. (Getting older though, which is good!). I'm living the life of an isolated 80 year old 30 years too soon. Maybe that's a little part of my disappointment, I'd hoped to have a person nearby who could somewhat relate to my life. Although, I suspect it turned out for the best in this instance.

    Rest assured, we'd be friends if we were close!

    I've been very touched by the kind words I've experienced here. Thank you.

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  19. Ann, we would!! But it makes my heart hurt :(((
    Suffering from an AI disease the last 32 years I understand a teeny-tiny bit (!!!) about the lack of compassion and the isolation, Thank God for the internet but nothing takes the place of F2F friendship. Although I agree that in this case you were saved from a toxic person!!! Sending you much love 😘

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  20. I deleted my neighborhood account too, there is too much anger out there. I had the neighborhood association lady drive by and tell me after we replaced our lawn with drought tolerant plants that she "hates bark". I told her I hate grass, detest the stuff. She drove off.

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    1. I decided I'd rather imagine all my neighbors are nice, than discover that many are not. :).

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  21. What are you if not a survivor?

    Stage 1 ass to stage 4 ass - wish I had wit like that.

    I'm sorry this happened. For both of you. She's missing out big time.

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    1. I call myself a cancer patient. Survivor doesn't apply to me. Patient is accurate. :).

      Thanks.

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  22. its hard to look fear in the face...but that's no excuse. How she handled the situation on a public forum is terrible, how she made you feel is even worse.

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    1. Thank you. I perhaps give too much credit to the cultural aspects of this stage 4 thing in this particular circumstance. Looking back on my disease course, there is no time when I was offered help and rudely slapped the offering hand away, and I was eager to learn all I could from another who experienced it. The first thing I did was look for blogs like mine.

      I met just three women with breast cancer at the time, and two had DCIS, and even if their offer of help and information wasn't help I needed, my response was always "thank you so much. " I saw tiny lumpectomy scars people wanted to share, even knowing I would have a mastectomy. They wanted to share what they had learned to help me, and I let them, whether it was exactly relevant or not. Each story was valid and I learned from it. (The only thing I wouldn't hear was pseudoscience and I was still nice about it, just thanking the person and saying I'd follow my oncologist's advice.)

      I know I'm a much better person for not have focused only on myself and allowed others to give. I could never use my disease as an excuse to hurt somebody. I couldn't be that afraid.

      I think it's less than fear and more self-centered behavior. It's about her, she now has cancer and feels nobody counts because she's dealing with a terrible thing. She isn't open the the world of experiences out there that could help her cope. As my southern friends would say "bless her little heart."

      Anyway, I've already forgotten it, life is way too short. However, I'm lazy and still have that box of stuff in my reading room! I need to put it away. :).

      I'm giving the bracelet away on my Facebook page, so anybody reading is a cancer patient in need of inspiration, check it out.

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  23. Hi Ann. This is the first time I have posted any comments on your blog, but after reading this story I felt the need to say something.... I was diagnosed in September 2014, ER-/PR-/HER2+.
    Stage 2 when diagnosed. I have been through a double mastectomy, chemo, radiation and finished Herceptin in October 2015. I have had only one follow up visit since finishing Herceptin, 2nd follow up appointment scheduled next month. So far no signs of metastasis. However, I'm very cognitive of the fact that I could be diagnosed as metastatic on my next check up, or any check up therafter, especially since I am HER2+. To me, the stage we were at when diagnosed or the stage we are at currently is irrelevant - we are all victims of this horrible, awful disease called breast cancer and we MUST support each other, no matter if we were diagnosed at stage 0 with a 95% survival rate prognosis or stage 4 with a terminal prognosis. I have no words, just boggles my mind. I do want you to know that I stumbled upon your blog about 4 months ago and have each and every blog, in chronological order, and have found your blog to be informative, educational, sometimes funny but always comforting. I guess each new "victim" has their own way of dealing, and I don't want to be too judgmental of how your neighbor is trying to cope. That said, it makes me feel sad that women who have been diagnosed as metastatic are made to feel that they are too much of a reminder of what us others might become, which is terminal. I guess it's just called denial?

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  24. Hi Ann, I have been following you since I was diagnosed in October 2012. Stage I. I come from a family with a strong history of breast cancer.(most of us die from it but slowly seem to have a persistent slow grower) My mother was stage I at 41 and stage 4 at 68 same for my Aunt. Plus my grandmother died at 38. My first response when I read your blog here was OMG how could someone be so callous!! Cancer is hard enough to deal with let alone having to deal with people like that. It just so saddens me. You are a true survivor and I have learned much from your blogs over the past years. I thank you for taking the time to have this blog

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  25. I was just diagnosed with ILC last week and found your blog after reading messages in the breastcancer.org community. I don't actually know what stage I am since I'm told they will determine that after surgery. Anyway, when I was talking to the nurse after being diagnosed she told me that breast cancer is now often more like having a chronic condition, like having diabetes. I thought it was a strange way to view it but I can understand it now after reading how you have been impacted by it.

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  26. Ann,
    I'm so sorry that happened. There are many of us who wish we lived close to meet you personally. Her loss.
    When I was first diagnosed with my stage 1 breast cancer, one of the first people I told was a friend my age who was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer one year prior. I was not close to any other breast cancer patients. He and his wife have been a huge help and support through this and I believe it goes both ways. One issue is that I feel guilty for being stage 1 when he is stage 4. It's kind of a survivors guilt. Anyway, you just continue on as you have been. God is using you to help so many.
    God bless you.

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  27. Ann, I am so sorry that you have been treated like that. See? All that 'awareness' stuff hasn't stuck, we are just 'stuck' with ignorance. That poor woman you described, someday, she might think of you if/when she progresses.Sacramento rules! (I was born there, and miss my two rivers.) Keep up the great work. Kathe, lllc

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    1. Well, we miss you too! Our rivers are high now!

      I don't she'll ever think of me but I won't know, nor do I care. I think that if somebody's first instinct is to slap down somebody who is offering to help them (in such a public manner,) they are unlikely to have the depth to look back and remember somebody else's problem, if that makes sense.

      The point is, as you pointed out, the messaging about breast cancer has gone off the rails. Awareness has never taken a step beyond "get your mammograms" and "check your boobies". We've learned a lot in the 30 years since these awareness campaigns started but they haven't changed at all.

      I wonder what Komen and the other charities who rely on the early detection message will do if it's discovered that the cancer that metastasizes has a previously unknown genetic mutation and we learn that this type of cancer metastasizes from the moment it forms and it can't be caught early. What then, huh?

      I hope I live to see that day, and that discovery. :).

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  28. Ann, People are weird. When I told my youngest brother that I had TNBC he replied "What do you want me to do about it?" Well I sure wasn't expecting that.

    I've been cancer free for 2 1/2 years but that's probably gonna change because I have brain MRI scheduled tonight. As a cancer newbie back in 2013, I read your entire blog looking for clues about what to expect. I was clueless and some days I still am. Hard times will always reveal true friends. Your a blogging friend who I've never met. From one cancer survivor to another, thanks for caring enough to share!

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    1. Oh dear, let me know how your MRI turns out. If you do have a brain met, know that the survival is much higher than you will read online, most of what you google is old.

      But let's hope you don't have to do that Google-let me know, okay?

      Your brother sounds like an...erm.....clueless person. At least you know you can't rely on him. People don't get better when your diagnosis gets worse, in fact, they usually do their best to deny you have an illness that serious. :(.

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  29. Ann, I tried to comment before but don't think it went through. :\ Anyway, I've been reading your blog since 2011 when my mother-in-law was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. I wanted to find as much information as I could for her and your blog was by far the best resource. You've done a great thing by keeping this blog going. Even now I check in because I've been concerned about you but also because your writing is so witty and intelligent.

    This woman missed out on a great opportunity. I know what it's like to not want to look fear in the face and hide, but you miss out on a lot if you let it control you.

    You did a terrific thing and I wish you were closer because I'd love a friend like you.

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    1. Ann; I have been reading your blog for four years now. I was rejected by my own family when I was diagnosed. Sister [and I believe that Satan must be real because for sure and for certain my sister must be both his personal trainer and life coach. I exagerate only slightly. she is that evil] convinced family members that I was faking. I was beyond distraught and shared the enormity of my pain on a breast cancer forum. Before this, I had received enormous support from other women on the forum. But, when I told of being so painfully rejected, only one person responded. This one response though, was lengthy, well thought out, and healing. That person who responded was YOU Ann.

      I am not sure you know what a positive impact you had on me.

      I am an old Autistic [50yearsold before finding out why I was so different than...everybody] and this made me the scapegoat in a truly monstrous family. Somehow, on some level, I believed that I must be somehow responsible for their actions [ I had a real "I'm sorry my face got in the way of your fist" problem] Something you wrote in your response, combined with the sheer evilness of their actions, finally made me realize that I needed to be away from those people.

      If it were not for you, I would never have gotten to a place where I was able to see that MANY Autistic people grew up in families filled with psychopaths. And you gave me the strength to become an Autistic activist.

      I facillitate a PTSD and adult scapegoat group for Autistics, am assisting in putting together an Autistic community, and am in preparation for the third annual AutHaven, which is a 4 day retreat for Autistic people that everyone can afford [ last year over half attendees were on full scholarship, which includes food, lodging, classes, fun times, speakers, goody bags, and more. People come from all over the world.

      I NEVER would have been able to do what I am doing now were it not for your responding to my anguished plea for help. No one else would. I guess the thought of someone with breast cancer being wrongfully accused of "faking It' also makes people too uncomfortable.
      I have wanted to tell you this for a long time. When I read your blog today I figured that now was a good time.

      I am so sorry about the rejection you have encountered, and will always be SO THANKFUL that you did not reject me.

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  30. Just found your blog yesterday. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! I'm newly (Oct. 2015) diagnosed, have finished chemotherapy, am continuing with targeted therapy for another 40 weeks and will soon begin radiation. I've no illusions about this horrible breast cancer disease and need women like you to guide me, especially with your sense of intelligence, wit and humor. While I could've used your blog months ago, I am so thankful I have found it now. Your service to women in unparalleled. So appreciated!

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  31. Your generosity is lovely. Keep doing and sharing with your whole heart, which is what people love about you. Sometimes restraint is advisable with those newly diagnosed. They want to know, yet emotionally they can be bouncing around from day and day and do not handle things as well as a result. Your neighbor showed very poor judgment in using the local forum that way! I am sure others on that forum will be surprised at her response. You have so many places to spend energy that will be well met. I, too, have a stage 2 to stage 4 story that moved fast into the realm of "what will keep me alive?"
    ~ Stephanie

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  32. I'm newly diagnosed stage 4. I haven't even started treatment yet, although I will probably within the next week. Your blog is helping me tremendously. My husband is telling me I should find a support group, but I don't feel like a group full of women in the early stages, who can see the light at the end of their tunnels, would be all that helpful for me. I need to find a group full of women who are in the same boat with me, I think. I've already had a few survivors proudly waylay me with their uplifting survival stories on me. I find I just want to give them 2 sarcastic thumbs up and say "yay for you." Would that be mean? Yeah, that would probably be mean. Anyway, I'm glad I found your blog. It makes a huge difference.

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  33. Ann that woman is a DOLT and it makes me furious. I will say I have never been scared of women with mets, I have always seen us as part of the same community.(I knew you through BCO before you had mets!) I don't know how many people feel like me, but I can't be the only one out there.

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