Last year, as I was perusing through Facebook chatting with friends, I came upon a comment in my newsfeed that caught my eye. It was made by a high school friend on a page called Mike's Cancer Fight. This friend, Norman Strickland, was posting an encouraging word for his friend, Mike Terrill, a Stage 4 Cancer patient. As a cancer survivor myself, I was intrigued. Mostly, my heart was breaking for this guy. He was having a particularly tough day and was really venting - "putting it out there", so to speak. While his post was pretty raw and filled with anger, I found it totally refreshing. I was struggling with the fact that some people in my own life seemed to be tiring of me talking about my own illness - at least it seemed that way. Some actually seemed to be jealous of the attention I was getting, which was NOT the kind of attention I wanted at all. A few "friends" even made accusations behind my back, questioning the validity of my claims - saying that I was using my illness to get attention, and that I wasn't as sick as I was pretending to be. Of course, this was very painful, and unfortunately...it has continued. On his fight page, Mike alluded to the fact that he, too, was dealing with this issue. He was obviously sick and tired of putting up a front in order to make other people feel comfortable. He had made the decision to tell people exactly what he was feeling. And what he was feeling was ANGER. When I read his post, I knew that I just had to talk to this guy. I went to his fight page, requested to join and posted a comment. I then posted a private InBox message, introducing myself and telling him that I understood what he was going through. I didn't want him to give up, as he seemed to be at the end of his rope. I knew what that felt like. I offered to be a sounding board if he ever needed one, and I promised not to judge him for anything he said because I understood where he was coming from.

That very same day, I had a Facebook discussion with Norman. He told me how much Mike meant to him and that four years of battling this horrid disease was starting to get to him. But it didn't take long at all for me realize that Mike was far from giving up. Hardened...yes. You can't help but become bitter when you're four years into a cancer battle, you've seen so many people taken by the disease, your own prognosis is bleak and there are so many people who are indifferent, inconsiderate or just don't understand. He was most definitely changed by the experience - we all are. And he was exhausted from a lengthy battle - not just from the physical part of the disease, but all the other things no one tells you about in the beginning: the emotional ups and downs, the strain on relationships, the crushing financial repercussions - including NEVER having enough money for bills, let alone basic living needs; losing a job that not only paid those bills, but defined who you were; the loss of a home or a car, or in our cases, both; the inability to afford any kind of much-needed vacations or "breaks" from the battle. It would be easy to completely break down and give up at any given point, but not for Mike. No...this man had a stubborn streak that rivaled mine. He was raw; no filter whatsoever. And I loved that. Mike said all of the things that I felt, and all of the things that I wanted to say. I loved this guy from the very first time I read a post of his on his fight page. I not only had to meet him; I had to get to know him. And that I did.

Mike responded to me almost immediately. He was cautious at first, as many people far into a battle are. He didn't want to get close to another cancer survivor who might not win her battle. He really didn't want to explain his feelings or listen to any of the typical "rah rah" words from people who didn't begin to understand what he was going through. But, like I said, I'm just as stubborn as he is. I kept commenting on his posts, and before long we were having lengthy conversations about our illnesses, our frustrations, our dreams, our loved ones - our journeys.

At the same time, some high school friends of mine were rallying to help me and my family. We had lost our insurance, our home, my job and were challenged every month to pay bills and get me to Washington, DC, where I was receiving treatment. My friends started a group on Facebook called Rams to the Rescue. Through this group, my family and I received donations, prayers and support. A golf tournament was organized to raise money, and several other events and projects were also organized. Mike was thoroughly impressed with how people were coming together to help us. One day, he sent me a message and said, "Hey...I want to start a group like this to support cancer survivors and caregivers". I agreed to help him, and we began to talk about the goals of the group. We agreed that we needed to be brutally honest, help people by sharing our own experiences and encouraging them to talk about theirs, and most importantly - to give them all a place to unwind, rant, rave and LAUGH. Laughter has been my #1 medicine throughout my journey. Those who know me best know what a big clown I am; laughter is my life. Whenever I'm struggling, those closest to me know that a moment of laughter can turn me around. Quite often, I am the one providing that moment. And I told Mike that I wanted to do that for others who were struggling too. We continued to talk, and before we ended our conversation, Curing Cancer with a Smile was born.

Our membership started with our closest friends, but soon burgeoned as friends of friends joined the group. Occasionally, Mike would challenge members to help him increase membership, and they always met those challenges. Some members hang out in the balances, never commenting on posts, but reading them. Others comment occasionally. And then there's the core group that comments throughout the day, every day. We are the ones who always try to welcome new members, and cheer each other on. We are the ones who have the nutty conversations that make us laugh until we pee very late at night. We are the ones who vent when things aren't going so well and call attention to others going through the same challenges. And some days, we cry.

Today was a crying day. One of our original members, Lois, lost her beloved husband of 21 years, Ben. He was the first member we've lost to this disease. Ben put up a valiant fight against the lung cancer that ravaged his body as it began to spread. Lois updated us daily and we all got to know her very well. I had the distinct privilege to talk with Lois via phone over the past few days, and to help her through some of the confusion of the last few days. I was on the phone with her in the wee hours of the morning shortly before Ben died, and again right afterwards. And when I needed to rest, our noble leader Mike stepped in - the same man who we almost lost just last week during one of his bad episodes. The same man who, in the back of his mind, is wondering if he himself will be the next to go. Mike put aside all of his own pain and mustered up every ounce of energy he had to be there for a grieving widow and the nearly 1500 members we now have at CCWAS. When he tired, I jumped back in, as did the three other group administrators. People who normally stay silent offered comments of support for Lois and her family. New members, seeing all of the activity within our group, joined the group and began to participate, Mike's daily blog - a tribute to Ben and the work we are doing - went viral. Even as Ben left this world, we continued to spread our message about the far-reaching effects of cancer and the NEED FOR A CURE. To do anything other than that would dishonor our friend, Ben, all of those taken by this disease and every other cancer survivor, caregiver and supporter on the planet. 

So, tonight...we decided to go back to our core values and concentrate on the one thing that has gotten us this far: laughter. Mike posted something funny about his young son tonight in the group. I joked with several members about upcoming birthdays and goofy off-the-wall stuff. We did what we all know Ben would want us to do: we carried on. And as he looks down on us in the coming days, weeks and months, Ben will forever be in our hearts and on our minds. We will be reminded of his gentle smile, his love for family and the incredible bond he had with his wife. We will feel Ben's LOVE, and we will continue to spread that love to all who face this monster. We will gripe, we will advise, we will support, we will cry. But most of all...we will LAUGH in the face of cancer. For as long as we do...WE WIN. 

It was May 9, 2008. I was in the process of searching for a friend of mine named Mark, who I hadn't seen or heard from in ages. He and I were very close at one time, and I couldn't seem to get him off my mind. I'd actually been looking for years, mindful of the fact that something could have happened to him, but refusing to believe the worst. We had shared so many fun and even not-so-fun times back in our early ad agency days, and I missed him terribly. I was positive that things would still be the same between us if I could only find him. I had promised him years ago that if I ever had a daughter, he would be her godfather. My daughter was now 16, and the time was way overdue for her to meet her long-lost godfather. But that's not all that was driving me to amp up my search for Mark. No...on this particular day, I was also thinking about a close mutual friend of ours named Tony. Mark and I had shared many an adventure with our hilarious pal, along with other friends who I met through both of them. I always assumed that if I could find one of them, I'd find the other. But today my focus was on Tony, and for some reason unknown to me at the time, it became more important than ever for me to find my friends.

I had no idea where to start my search. I didn't even know where Mark and Tony were living or if they still spoke to each other. Google was of very little assistance at the time. I tried MySpace and Facebook. I was new to the burgeoning social networking world, but I thought that might be a good place to start. I found nothing.  It never occurred to me to try LinkedIn; it was a relatively new site, and I just didn't see either one of these boys using it anyway. Of course, a lot of time had passed and I soon found out that I was wrong in my assumption.

Throughout the summer months, I thought about my friends. I knew that Mark had moved to Washington, DC shortly before Steve and I got married. He returned to Raleigh, NC (where we had all met) for our wedding, and I was obviously thrilled to see him. However, as weddings go, ours was hectic and I didn't have much time at all to talk to any of the guests. At one point, while Steve and I were posing for photos, I glanced over my shoulder and caught Mark looking at me. A tinge of sadness shot through my heart as I realized our lives had taken different paths and we had barely seen or spoken to each other in the past year. A few photo ops later, I scanned the reception hall and noticed that he was gone. For a brief moment, I panicked. As ridiculous as it seemed, I had the worst gut feeling that I wasn't going to see Mark again for a long, long time. As it turned out, I was right. It would be a very long time: 21 years, to be exact.

Fast forward to October 2008. I was working late and about to call it a day, when I decided to open up LinkedIn and see if, by some crazy longshot, Mark or Tony had a profile. I typed in Mark's name first, and...guess what? There, in black and white, staring me in the face was my friend's profile. I had FINALLY found him. He had been in DC the whole time. I quickly jotted down his email address and fired off a quick message to him. I can still remember what it said, "Hey there Stranger! Remember me? Crazy Suzanne?" I had no idea whether or not I'd get a response, but one appeared in my mailbox almost immediately, in gigantic, 100pt red letters: "OH MY GOD! OF COURSE I REMEMBER YOU! CALL ME!!!!" And so, I did. 

I don't remember everything Mark and I talked about that night; we were laughing, crying and talking at the same time, and at lightning speed. But the one thing that I will never forget was this: "I hate to tell you this, but Tony died back in May. He had cancer."  I was shocked...literally. So shocked that I didn't even respond. I think I said some generic thing like, "Oh no, I'm sorry,", or "Really? That's awful". But as Mark would tell me later, there was no emotion in my voice. I seemed to be undaunted by the news. In fact, I truly was shocked. I didn't believe it. I WOULDN'T believe it. I was so shocked, that it took me a full 24 hours to process what I'd heard. How could Tony be gone? I was supposed to find him when I found Mark. We were supposed to have a big, happy reunion with all of our friends from back in the day. We would recount and relive those times of our youth, when we lived on a shoestring budget, wore flea market sunglasses and celebrated life as if there was no tomorrow. Tony was the epitome of that life too - a perpetual comedian, who lived life as I did - full throttle, with no regrets. He was a handsome, gifted musician who was an excellent cook and gardener. He could create just about anything with a sewing machine and fabric, and helped me out of more than one wardrobe disaster. You just could not be in a bad mood around Tony Eldridge. It was impossible. 

I could recount scores of hilarious stories involving Tony. I could write books, in fact. I used to howl at the ridiculous names he would call people, my favorite being "Idiot Boy", which he stole from "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas".  (He and Mark used to call each other this all of the time.  To this day, Mark and I still use the name to describe incredibly goofy, crazy people - mostly Mark) I could also fill a small lake with the tears I've cried for him since learning of his death - tears that took a while to come, and flowed nonstop when they did. But once the crying subsided, I started counting my blessings. I have never laughed harder than I did with Tony, Mark and friends. They got me through some of the worst times of my life and gave me some of the best. In the past five years, I have been fortunate enough to reconnect with some of the friends who were there in those precious good times. And Mark and I are now closer than we have ever been; rarely a day goes by when we don't talk, text or email. I still pat myself on the back for never giving up hope that I would find my friends. And though I'm still sad that I didn't get to see Tony again, I realize just how blessed I am to have known him at all. For in him, I have found strength to get through some of my own cancer battles. Sure, I wish I had him here to talk me through it. But, all I have to do is imagine what he would say to me if he was here. I know he could offer tremendous insight. More importantly, he'd offer a whole lot of love and laughter. And there is simply NO medicine greater than that.

So, here I am, on the fifth anniversary of Tony's passing. I now realize why I was so moved to continue my search five years ago. As Tony took his final breath, that breath transcended miles and made itself to me, renewing my urgency to continue searching for he and Mark. At first, I thought I'd missed Tony. But I didn't. He is here...in Mark, our many mutual friends, his beautiful sister Sandra and every smile that comes in recalling his memory. I found my other Idiot Boy. Boy, did I ever find him...

I was thinking today about this cancer journey of mine. Actually, I can't help but think about it all of the time. Even when I'm not focused on the physical aspect of the disease, my family and I are constantly bombarded with the financial repercussions, and we all have to deal with the emotional issues as well. But that's not what I'm talking about. What I'm referring to is the "up" side of cancer.
   
What? There's an "up" side to cancer? Yep...there sure is. And in my case, it's a lot more than that; it is a true blessing. You see, I have learned that no matter how bleak my situation may appear to be at any given moment - no matter how bad I feel or how crushing the financial issues may seem - I am still one of the luckiest girls in the world. Because with all of the negatives surrounding my illness, I have discovered plenty of positives - starting with my amazing friends.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in the same city (Asheville, NC), in the same house, the same neighborhood, with the same kids throughout my childhood. Our family never had to move because of a parent's job, and most of the kids I grew up with were in the same position. For the most part, new kids moving into our school district were treated like royalty - a novelty of sorts. By the time we reached high school, we knew each other well. And even if we didn't, there was a very special sense of community surrounding my graduating class and many others before and after it. That close-knit feeling is very hard to replicate today - with changes in family dynamics, more transition, off-campus and internet courses, redistricting and new school construction, to name a few things.

Unlike most of my closest friends, I didn't visit home that much after leaving for college. When I relocated to Chapel Hill, NC to attend the University of North Carolina, I was only four hours away, but I quickly entrenched myself in college life, enjoying the freedom and life outside of my hometown. I stayed in Chapel Hill during the summers to work and attend summer school, so I didn't have as many opportunities to see the people I'd grown up with - except for my very closest childhood girlfriends, and those who were also students at UNC. I didn't attend any of my high school reunions, due to work or family commitments, and I began to feel very much out of the loop when it came to what was going on with people from my childhood. But make no mistake...I LOVED those people. I never forgot how special they made me feel, or all of the fun times we had. I hated the fact that we'd grown apart, and I truly longed to reconnect with some of them. Thankfully, the internet and Facebook changed all of that.

To this day, I will never forget the night about five years ago, when Facebook became very real to me. I had just joined the social network that our own kids were raving about. As I was "friending" old high school chums, one of my favorite friends, Kevin, started posting pictures from "back in the day." Another friend, Rodney, began commenting on the pictures. Soon, we were all captioning and commenting on the photos as quickly as Kevin could get them posted, recounting some of our more memorable "adventures". It was great fun, and kickstarted my reuniting efforts with literally hundreds of high school and childhood friends.

Fast forward to 2012...I was already one year into a cancer battle that had taken a turn for the worse. As I quickly learned, I wasn't the only one in this position. There were several survivors from my high school, one of whom asked repeatedly if my family and I needed help. I was being treated in Washington DC, and traveling there once a month for a week. I had lost my job, we had just lost our home to foreclosure, and the bills were mounting faster than we could open them. It was scary; so scary, in fact, that we reached a point where we could no longer afford to ignore or refuse help. We were destitute. All I had to do at that point was reach out to a few close friends and ask for their prayers. And that is ALL I asked for. But what they did with that request still amazes me to this day.

Because two of my friends had dealt first-hand with cancer and the devastating effects it has on finances, praying wasn't enough. No...they weren't going to stop there. They rallied my close friends from TC Roberson High School and started a movement, that within an hour became a Facebook group called Rams to the Rescue (named appropriately after our school mascot.) From there, they connected with Eblen Charities, a charity management group founded by another high school friend, Bill Murdock. Within days, there was a golf tournament being planned, wristbands with my nickname "Zippy Rose" were being ordered, people were sending donations and the best part of all - our support network was exploding. A Facebook page was opened, where people could post and offer us words of encouragement, and where I could communicate with members of the group to give them the latest information about our situation. I was completely dumbfounded by the selfless acts of kindness that repeatedly came our way.

My husband, Steve, and I have always talked about forming a foundation of our own to help people affected by the crushing financial debt caused by catastrophic illnesses. Even before my diagnosis, our family had dealt with several very serious illnesses and witnessed friends going through similar challenges. Steve and I decided that our charity would be called the Zippy Rose Foundation, incorporating my nickname, "Zippy". When we found ourselves in way over our heads, we knew that foundation had to be formed. And it will be. For now, we are an active part of Rams to the Rescue, which serves other graduates of my high school as well. Eblen Charities continues to be involved in some cases, and they have continued to support us throughout our ordeal. There is a special place in heaven for people like Bill Murdock, the staff and volunteers at Eblen, and the nearly 1000 friends who make up Rams to the Rescue. I feel a moral obligation to continue their good work through my own foundation - the sooner the better. With a logo already designed by my dear friend, Mark, we are taking steps towards making this "pay-it-forward" dream of mine official.

This morning, I posted information on the RTR site about another Facebook group that I co-founded and co-administer. It's called Curing Cancer with a Smile. The co-founder and leader of the group is Mike Terrill, a friend a met through a high school buddy, Norman Strickland. Mike has end-stage brain cancer. His prognosis is very poor. But he was so inspired last year by what my friends at RTR did to support me and others, that he decided to follow suit and start a group dedicated to supporting and lifting the spirits of cancer survivors, caregivers, families and friends. To date, we have nearly 1400 members, and we are averaging at least one new member a day. The support we give and receive is just amazing. Most importantly, we use the tremendously effective "medicines", love and laughter, to do our work. And we are doing some VERY good work - work that started with a very special group of people, appropriately named Rams to the Rescue.