It Takes a Village: A Collective of Caregivers

Quite often, there is truth to be found in an old adage. Think about the expression, “It takes a village.” Usually, this is said in reference to raising a child but I think this saying can also be applied to a cancer journey.

When my mom was diagnosed with cancer I got to see the incredible network of people around her and our family. This was inspiring to see. It made a difficult situation just a tiny bit easier. Not only for my mom, dad, and brother but also in some ways for me – the family member living too far away to witness the day-to-day reality of living with cancer.

Dealing with guilt while living abroad

Living far away from my parents, I was often left with a guilty feeling for not being there or not doing enough. But when I took a moment to reflect, I began to see all the people my family had around them. Their friends, our family, and the community really stepped up and got involved. Visiting frequently, helping with appointments, cooking. Offering to help with anything that would remove even just the tiniest bit of stress from their lives or help relieve the boredom my mom faced whilst in recovery from her RC and chemo. Once I realized how strong the network around my family back home was, I could feel more comfortable with my decision to live far away.

A blessing and a curse

Being far away from a situation can be both a blessing and a curse. When someone you love is facing something so difficult, it is natural to want to be there. But in reality, my presence would not have changed a damn thing. It was so infuriating to feel so powerless. I had to empower myself. And one way I found to do that was to utilize the network that had sprung up around my family – even if this was only digitally and usually only for one thing. I wanted to get ‘real’ updates on my mom’s progress from those who knew her and those who wouldn’t sugarcoat the situation.

Our parents generally want to protect us, their children. They’ve kissed our bruises. Cleaned our grazed knees. They’ve spent their lives comforting us, telling us everything will be ok, that things will work out. They're professionals at this sentimental and special performance. And my mom is no different.

But when the subject moved from childhood dramas to life-threatening diseases, this act got harder to play. I remember phone calls with my mom after her RC where she tried to put on her happy voice, tried to smile through the pain, and tell me everything is going to be ok. This was hard to hear because, at that moment, I knew it wasn't the truth. There were no certainties with the stage of cancer my mom had. And hearing otherwise didn't help at all.

Leaning on our network for honest updates

So how could I stop myself from going crazy when the statistics I searched for brought fear and researching survival rates didn't help either? There was only one thing I could do: Get real updates from those around her.

Luckily for us, the network around my mom was incredible. A collective of friends and family who really knew my mom. They would tell me honestly about her good days and her bad days instead of the rose-colored version my mom wanted to portray. In the beginning, this network was invaluable to my mom, dad, and brother. But in the long run, they were the ones who helped me deal with and process what was happening. For this, I’ll be forever grateful.