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.
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.
RSS Feed