This new life was scary for all of us. But we were especially concerned about our daughters as I was about to start chemo. Mom was going to lose her hair, she was not going to feel well, and well, who knows what else the next few months were going to hold.

We decided to go to the elementary school and meet with the girls’ teachers and administration so they were aware of what was happening at home and could help keep an eye on how they were handling things.

My oldest was in second grade at the time. Her teacher was an angel (in fact, she was later my younger daughter’s teacher too). When we told her about the diagnosis and that I would be starting chemo soon, she asked if she could add me to her prayer list at church. Of course, a few more prayers would never hurt.

Then she told me about a support group at her church for women with breast cancer. She asked if I would be interested in going. Honestly, I had never really had any need for a support group before, but this was new territory.

I agreed to go.

Looking back, I wish I had said no. We had a great support system from our friends, family and church. But I didn’t listen to that little voice.

Some of you may really appreciate support groups, and since I have learned to find support from people in my situation, but the experience I had with this group made me want to run and scream.

I went to the meeting which happened to be during my lunch hour very close to my office (which I thought was a good sign at the time since I worked 45 minutes from where we lived, it seemed like a God thing at the time).

Unfortunately the normal moderator was not in attendance that day. As the meeting began and people introduced themselves I was already beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was at least 10-15 years younger than the youngest person there (remember I was only 37 when I was originally diagnosed).

When it was my turn to introduce myself and tell me story I was very anxious. I’m not usually a person who likes to talk about myself (so this blog in and of itself is very strange for me). Here I was in a room with people I have never met before and I have to tell them so very intimate details about my cancer diagnosis.

I had barely gotten my story out and one of the ladies verbally attacked me, for lack of a better description. She told me that I should not listen to the doctor that I had felt a connection with, that SHE was going to drive me to her doctor in Dallas. And by no means should I start chemo on November 6th like we had scheduled.

She had nothing positive to say about my oncologist, nor any other oncologist for that matter. Why I didn’t just get up and walk out I don’t know (well, yes, I do, my parents raised me better than that). And if she thought I was going to get in a car with her after her venomous speech, she was crazy. Somehow she thought I should trust her instead of the doctors.

When the meeting ended I was looking for the door as quickly as possible. A few of the other ladies came up to me and apologized for the outburst. I smiled and said I had to get back to work.

I ran from there as fast as I could, at least in my mind, and determined that I was never going back.

I shared my experience with the sweet angel that had offered the group to me and she was embarrassed (not that she had any reason to be) and apologized. I also got a very sweet, apologetic email from the moderator of the group that was not in attendance that day. We actually kept in touch for a while through emails, but I never went back to the group.

 

A few days later I was scheduled to go to the hospital for the third time in the same month to have my port “installed.”

All this in an effort to begin chemo on November 6th. Time to get this fight underway.