BAD DAYS

A funny thing happens over time when you're part of a cancer family. You start to care about others who are going through the experience. At first, it's people you know from the cancer center. You sit with them in waiting rooms. You start up conversations with them in hallways or in the parking lots. Over time, you share stories. Sometimes, when the news is good, you celebrate. When it's bad, you mourn.

As time goes on, you meet more and more people away from the cancer center, and when you find out they, too, have cancer, you feel connected to their struggle as well. The more immersed you are in the big cancer picture, the better you get at recognizing the signs of cancer in others -- that skin pallor that comes with chemotherapy, the weight loss from the disease and its treatment, and even the hair loss hidden by a cap or kerchief. These are the people in your community with cancer.

When I go to the gym, I often see cancer survivors. Some are doing well, working out. They've regained their lost muscle and they are looking healthy again. Others are moving slowly towards their recovery. You send up a silent prayer for them, hoping that whatever comes, they will have what they need.

Yesterday, I was working out on a climber, trying to keep myself motivated. Far across the gym floor, I spied a woman I know has been through cancer treatment. Her hair has grown back now, thick and full. She's no longer flesh and bones. But yesterday, as she walked through the gym, I saw something new. There was pain etched into her face and my first thought was she just received word her cancer has spread. This stranger, whom I've never even met, has had very grave news. As I watched her go through her half-hearted exercise routine, I thought about the change in her. She had been doing so well for so long. Perhaps the sadness that seemed to fill her soul wasn't about her cancer. There are other things in life beyond the disease, aren't there?

Why am I sharing this with you? Because cancer families should know that there are people who care in their communities, sending up silent prayers, hoping for the best. We are strangers who, when we see the signs of the disease and its treatment, can't help but feel connected, even if we never meet. We know the pain our own loved ones endured. We know their struggles, so we can understand the struggles of others we see. We hope they have better days ahead. Maybe the next time I see this woman, the pain will be gone from her face, and the sorrow that seemed so deep will have faded from her soul. But I will still wonder how she is doing. I will still hope for the best for her. That's what the cancer community is really all about.