By Heather Von St. James 

Having cancer isn’t really all ribbons and runs. It’s not always shaving your head because of hair loss and having someone you love join you. Cancer doesn’t always mean you’re fighting for your life. Sometimes having cancer means feeling alone. It means having to adapt to change that you didn’t ask for and have no control over. It means fighting for just one more day.

I guess that’s what no one tells you about having cancer. Everyone, including yourself, wants to believe that every morning will bring about an improvement or some good news. But it doesn’t always. Sometimes it can bring more pain and sadness than you’re ready to deal with. Sometimes it only gets worse.

In the world we live in, everyone knows someone who’s had cancer, whether it’s themselves, a friend, relative, co-worker, or some other acquaintance. It’s almost a given at this point. I don’t think anyone ever really expects it to be them. At least I didn’t. Before I was told I had mesothelioma – a rare form of cancer caused by asbestos – I was tired, so tired, and I had a three-and-a-half-month-old baby. That wasn’t really so strange, right? Just like that, everything changed when I got that diagnosis. I went from being a mother and a wife to being a cancer patient whose only goals were to fight and to live for my daughter, my husband, and myself.

When I was diagnosed, I felt like everything was being taken away from me. A part of me felt cheated of the lifestyle that I had been working toward my whole life. After my surgery, I could no longer work as a hairdresser in the salon I had worked to build. I felt like my own body was betraying me.

For me, the loneliest moments of my cancer journey often coincided with those quiet hours before the sun rose, when the house was still dark. In those moments, my mind would start to wander down the “What if?” path. What if the surgery doesn’t work? What if I die on the table? What if I never get to be there for my little girl as she grows up?

As those lonely moments grew longer, my questions would expand. Is traveling to Boston for treatments the right choice? Should I get a lawyer? How can I provide for my baby girl? In those late nights, I would sneak into Lily’s nursery, watch her sleeping, and let the tears silently fall. In those moments it was just me, struggling to understand everything that I was going through, trying to figure out if there was a way through the lonesome darkness.

There was a way. What got me through those dark hours was a strong support system that brought me out of the loneliness with their love and kindness. It was there when I asked for help, and it was there when I didn’t. My husband Cam was absolutely amazing, even when I was recovering from my surgery and we were kept apart. My parents, too, were incredible, allowing Lily and I to stay with them after I was released from the hospital.

Even the kindness of strangers surprised me in so many different ways. When I was sick, a group of women from my church brought meals for my family and me. Right after my surgery, when I’d gotten to my parents’, my mom’s church held a benefit and an out of town visitor donated $1000 because he wanted to help. It was things like this that really showed me what people are truly capable of in times of tragedy.

The support I had from family, friends, and strangers helped to bring me out of the loneliness I had felt. In a big way, just knowing I had the support of all these individuals made the recovery process that much easier. Not that it was easy, but their presence and assistance gave me that extra bit of strength I needed to continue fighting and surviving.

Having felt that loneliness during my diagnosis, treatment, and recovery is one of the reasons why I am so passionate now about being an advocate for mesothelioma patients. I don’t just go to conferences and write blog posts. I get to know patients personally so that they know they don’t have to be lonely while going through their own cancer experience.

It’s my hope that through spreading awareness for mesothelioma, people who are going through treatments for this or some other cancer will know that they’re not alone. There are people out there who understand and can help. To read more about my experience, check out my 10-month blog series, written for my 10-year anniversary of being a cancer survivor.

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About the Author

Heather is a mom, wife, and rare cancer survivor and advocate. She raises awareness for her rare cancer and helps others who have been diagnosed. She wrote a 10 month blog series for her 10 years of survivorship in February of 2016. She can be found on Facebook and Twitter.