Lifelines Through a Keyboard

Shock permeated my breast cancer diagnosis. I was too young and healthy for this disease, or so I thought. I was fooled by the longevity that ran in my family. Now chemotherapy ran through my veins, and radiation also took its toll on my body.

And I seemed to be one of the youngest patients going through this harrowing experience. But age was just one facet of my isolation.

My stellar oncology team worked hard to save my life, doling out a harsh treatment regimen. They listened to my concerns, but they took control over my own life because I had no say in my treatments or when they’d be administered. It seemed my voice was buried under the debris of illness.

The aftermath of cancer found me further isolated. Positive breast cancer slogans bombarded me throughout the year, but especially during Breast Cancer Awareness Month in October. My voice seemed lost in a sea of pink mantras.

Even worse, people wanted me to get over having had this medical crisis. They would tell me, “It’s over now,” “You can’t keep dwelling on this,” and “It’s time to get on with your life.” Such comments glossed over my breast cancer experience. I no longer spoke of the disease, feeling my voice snuffed out. When people asked me how I was doing, I nicely lied with “I’m doing fine.”

But, through my keyboard, my unexpected journey toward healing began when I found an online breast cancer community.

I noticed that people would write blogs on infinite topics, so one day I began blogging about my breast cancer experience. For a while no one read my posts, but I continued to write regularly, just to get my words out on the virtual page.

And then, a world of emotional healing opened up for me. Breast cancer survivors and patients would start leaving comments on my posts about their experiences. I started following their blogs and commenting on their posts, as well. And I found myself part of a vibrant breast cancer community. These individuals and I understood each other, and we regularly publicized our and others’ blogs through various social media platforms. I realized that my emotional healing depended so much on my being heard, bearing witness to others’ breast cancer experiences, and being part of a community.

I found my voice and no longer felt alone. And this was integral to my mental, emotional, and spiritual healing.

One day, I found out about a new weekly hour-long breast cancer-related tweet chat on what was then Twitter. Participants of this first-of-its-kind #BCSM (Breast Cancer social media) chat included breast cancer patients, as well as health professionals such as surgeons, radiation and medical oncologists, and psychologists. The purpose of this chat was to connect breast cancer patients with each other, as well as to promote conversation between patients and breast cancer professionals.

I now felt heard by many people, and I enjoyed hearing others’ perspectives. I participated as part of an entire community and felt I could express my experiences to doctors, who were interested in my breast cancer story. They would ask me about my experiences, and I would be open about them. And I felt comfortable asking these professionals questions. For years, the #BCSM tweet chats helped amplify my and so many other patient and survivor voices. I found myself continuing to heal, just by being part of a like-minded community.

Then I discovered Wildfire Journal & Writing Community, which regularly publishes in its magazine essays, poems, and artwork from creators who were diagnosed with breast cancer on the younger side. This publication spoke my language and provided a platform where I, too, shared my breast cancer experience through various Wildfire Journal issues, such as essays, a piece of art, and a poem.

I find that, for me, healing is related to expressing myself in writing. Although I write on a variety of topics on Substack, I still devote several essays a year to my breast cancer story. And the more I tell my story, the more I heal.