When I Was Diagnosed With Breast Cancer, My Friends Showed Up in All the Right Ways

I was diagnosed with breast cancer for the second — yes, second — time in January of last year. Deep down, I knew that the small lump I found in my chest wall during a self-exam wasn’t “nothing” as I had hoped. As I went down the rabbit hole of scans, lab work, and exams, my friends began to show up for me in all the right ways.

You may be thinking that of course my friends would show up

Isn’t that what friends are for? However, during my first breast cancer battle, I had a few women (whom I thought were my friends) ghost me. That’s right. No phone call, no text, no card in the mail, no coffee on my porch — nothing. I don’t know if my cancer was just too much for them or what, but I was absolutely heartbroken that during one of the worst seasons of my life, a few of my friends bailed.

Thankfully, things were quite different this go-round

For starters, I ditched the bad friends. I decided to stop investing my worry, my regrets, and my energy into those who didn’t reciprocate true friendship. This left room for newer, better friends, but also time for those who were my true gal pals.

As soon as the nurse practitioner called and gave me the “unfortunate” (her word) news that my breast cancer had returned, I told my husband and then our parents. I told my children that I had to have some tests done, and then I began texting my friends. I needed as many people as possible to tell me that I was going to be OK. I didn’t mean this in a toxic positive way, either. These women knew me, and they knew what I needed to hear.

This breast cancer battle was much different than the first

My first journey, three years earlier, involved one surgery: a mastectomy. I had lots of follow-up appointments, but no chemotherapy or radiation. This time, even though my surgery was successful and no residual cancer was detected, I opted for 12 rounds of chemo, 33 radiation treatments, and a year of immunotherapy infusions. I knew I was in for a long and bumpy ride.

Luckily, my friends showed up in the ways I needed. First, they started sending me funny and heartfelt cards in the mail. I adore a cute card, and it’s even better covered in stickers. Along with cards, many sent care packages or items off my chemotherapy treatment wish list.

The best was friends texting me GIFs and videos, many of them poking fun at cancer. Now, you might be thinking, there’s nothing funny about cancer. While cancer itself is no joke, the cancer journey is nothing short of a nightmare. As a cancer friend and I often say, you can either have a total mental health breakdown or find something to laugh about. We chose the latter.

I also appreciated our phone conversations

Because I was fighting cancer during a pandemic, we had to be very careful to avoid COVID (or any other germ) exposure — chemotherapy reduces a person’s ability to fight illness. My friends let me vent. They would tell me funny things their kids said or share their own problems. Being treated as normally as possible was so important to me. I didn’t want to be the “cancer lady,” even though I had no shame in being a cancer patient.

I had a friend stop by to drop off gourmet ice cream treats for my kids — which made their day. I had hundreds (yes, hundreds) of social media followers — whom I consider my cyber friends — mail my family books to surprise the kids with on chemo days. Part of what made this cancer journey so much better was that my children were OK. They were well loved by our nearest and dearest, and even internet friends who had never met them.

The absolute best thing that came from my friends during this past year was when they would text me to let me know they’d done their self breast exam and scheduled a mammogram. I am determined that my cancer wouldn’t be in vain. Something good must — and did — come out of it.

I am so grateful for each person who stood by my side when I was at my worst. They didn’t give up on me, and in fact, encouraged me and my family. I couldn’t give much at that time, and I didn’t have to. They had my back.