It’s A Troubling World

woman in front of brick wall

This world is troubling on so many levels. I can typically handle one thing at a time but not a total shitstorm within two days. I will go ahead and warn this piece will talk about race in relation to cancer.

Believe it or not, race plays a part in the cancer experience. I’ve dealt with many nurses, staff at cancer support communities and fellow warriors in online support groups who automatically assume since I’m black that I must have triple negative breast cancer. They have sometimes talked down to me.

No, this is not my imagination. This is not me being overly sensitive.

I blogged about this particular incident when I first started my blog in November 2017. It’s worth repeating. Some will innately get the insult and frustration. Others will not see why it was a big deal. All I can do is speak my truth.

It was almost a month after I started chemo in October 2015. I decided I needed help processing what was happening. I’ve always been a big supporter of therapy and support groups. I’m a talker and like to talk things out. At that time, I didn’t know any other 39-year old’s going through this. I needed support.

I went to the Cancer Support Community in Atlanta, GA. In order to join a group, there is an intake session with one of the staff members. I had spoken with her on the phone and was really looking forward to meeting her. I was already fatigued, nauseous and had worked a full day by the time I arrived. I was expecting to feel relaxed and heard.

The woman, who was white, gave me paperwork to fill out. Once done, I handed it to her, and she reviewed. This is where my frustration begins.

She asked, “Are you sure you’re not triple negative?” I was puzzled by the question. I knew what my diagnosis was, and it was stage IIA invasive lobular breast cancer. Maybe she couldn’t read my writing, even though my writing is very neat and specific.

She asked again, “I just want to double check. Are you sure you’re not triple negative?”

This time I was annoyed and responded back sharply, “No, I wrote my diagnosis. Why are you questioning my answer?”

She said, “Well, most African American women who get breast cancer are triple negative. It’s very prevalent in your ethnic group.”

Now, her questions would’ve have been appropriate if I didn’t know my diagnosis or specifically asked about what type (s) of cancers are prevalent in the black community.

Only, I specifically wrote my diagnosis and verbally told her what I had, yet she still questioned me like I didn’t have a clue of what I was talking about.

It was that moment I realized she didn’t see me as a cancer patient. She saw me as a BLACK cancer patient. Understand the distinction?

Every question from that point was about race. I was there to talk about cancer and not the black experience. I left shortly after that exchange.

Cancer does not discriminate, so why was she?

Let’s fast forward to today.

Many cancer patients, whether in active or post treatment, spend much of their time going to the pharmacy to pick up medication. This pharmacy doesn’t have a drive thru. I was at Target. I needed to pick up my refill of the arthritis medicine. Yes, I have arthritis in my knees and hands. That’s a story for another day.

Though I was only there to pick up my medication, I got a cart to lean on since my fibromyalgia pain is a 12 today. There was a line and no place to sit down.

There was a white mother and her young son in front of me acting up.

She said, “See this BLACK woman? If you don’t hush, she’s going to hit you with her cart.” The kid starts crying. I’m speechless. I saw first-hand how racism is taught.

Now that little boy will associate black/brown women as harmful, cruel and punishing.

I was paralyzed and slowly backed away and went to another part of the store for a bit before circling back to get my meds. Keep in mind, there was a white woman behind me who witnessed this whole thing. She was conveniently looking down at her cart, not wanting to get involved.

I’ve experienced lots of racism but never in front of an impressionable child where a mother is saying because of my skin color that I would hurt her child.

I’ve even had the same thing said to me at a different pharmacy but that white woman said, “See THIS woman? If you don’t be quiet, she’s going to hit you with her cart.” That happened earlier this year.

What is it about threatening kids with carts?

I did say something in that instance, and she did a double take when I said it was not okay to say that.

This time was different because this white woman specifically mentioned my skin color. That’s why I felt paralyzed.

I posted this incident on my social media this afternoon. I received many comments of my friends, many white, saying they would’ve stuck up for me and said something to that racist woman. If I were a white woman, I think I would’ve said something.

As a woman of color, I knew to keep my mouth shut and walk away. There is no reasoning with people who have that mindset of hate.

Until next time,

Warrior Megsie

Megan-Claire Chase is a three-year breast cancer survivor in Atlanta, GA. She is a marketing project manager by day. In her spare time, she writes a blog called Life On The Cancer Train at www.warriormegsie.com and is a published cancer blogger for Lacuna Loft, IHadCancer.com, CancerBro, Humor Beats Cancer, GRYT Health, WILDFIRE Magazine and Rethink Breast Cancer just to name a few. One of her biggest achievements in 2019 was co-presenting an abstract on AYA perspectives on fertility preservation conversations with healthcare providers at the American Psychosocial Oncology Society (APOS) conference in Atlanta. She also has cat named Nathan Edgar who is her pride and joy.

This piece was first published at WarriorMegsie.com.

Your Task Is Not To Seek For Love…

rumi quote unspoken ink prompt

Am I unlovable?
Am I too different?
Am I too extra?
I wanted to start in my own rom-com and have someone fall head over heels for me.
Am I letting past hurts keep the wall up?
Am I not allowing myself to trust?
Am I too scared to be vulnerable?
Why is needing someone wrong? Why is wanting to feel needed so wrong?
Am I too set in my ways?
Am I too tainted to wear white?
Am I too hard to please?
I want that connection. I want to feel like I’ve come home.
Am I too sensitive?
Am I too zany?
Am I too clever?
Why is finding someone who can naturally banter and laugh so difficult? Is that saying in order to find love, you must love yourself first really true? Isn’t it more about timing and creating opportunities?
There is a heaviness to me that wasn’t there in the past. I now see that I will never be attracted to average or simple. I can’t connect with someone who hasn’t been through something earth shattering.
Am I asking too much?
Am I wanting too much?
Am I too much?

by Megan-Claire Chase

Megan-Claire Chase is a three-year breast cancer survivor in Atlanta, GA. She is a marketing project manager by day. In her spare time, she writes a blog called Life On The Cancer Train and is a published cancer blogger for Lacuna Loft, IHadCancer.com, CancerBro, Humor Beats Cancer, GRYT Health, WILDFIRE Magazine and Rethink Breast Cancer just to name a few. One of her biggest achievements in 2019 was co-presenting an abstract on AYA perspectives on fertility preservation conversations with healthcare providers at the American Psychosocial Oncology Society (APOS) conference in Atlanta. She also has cat named Nathan Edgar who is her pride and joy.

How would you respond to the writing prompt, Companion?

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 8 weeks during our Spring 2019 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  If you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.

Be My Companion

companion poem

We know all about you.
Your reputation precedes you.
You’re a destroyer of the good and bad.
You cause permanent damage to the body.
You wrap us in poison and dip us in pain.
You stomp hard on any strength that desperately tries to hold on.
You kill cancer but wreak so much havoc along the way.
You’re not the partner we choose.
Your tango is too complicated.
We don’t want to remember these twirls and drags across the floor.
Leave us be.
Unfortunately, your sounds linger.
They echo in every room.
Your music makes beads of sweat pour down the face.
Hearts beat faster.
Pulse runs rapid.
No, take your moves to another dance company.
Your technique is barbaric.
It’s not welcomed.
There is no comfort in you.
Take your final bow chemo.
Your time in the spotlight has come to an end.

by Megan-Claire Chase

Megan-Claire Chase is a three-year breast cancer survivor in Atlanta, GA. She is a marketing project manager by day. In her spare time, she writes a blog called Life On The Cancer Train and is a published cancer blogger for Lacuna Loft, IHadCancer.com, CancerBro, Humor Beats Cancer, GRYT Health, WILDFIRE Magazine and Rethink Breast Cancer just to name a few. One of her biggest achievements in 2019 was co-presenting an abstract on AYA perspectives on fertility preservation conversations with healthcare providers at the American Psychosocial Oncology Society (APOS) conference in Atlanta. She also has cat named Nathan Edgar who is her pride and joy.

How would you respond to the writing prompt, Companion?

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 8 weeks during our Spring 2019 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  If you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.

What Is It Like To Carry A Child?

ovary supression

Lately, the song by Peter Gabriel “I grieve” from the movie “City of Angels” plays on repeat when I see babies, baby clothes, little kids, blasted strollers and families in general while at the store, the mall, freaking Cracker Barrel.

I have to almost step outside of myself in order to NOT have a breakdown. Though some days are better than others, I can’t seem to fully accept this permanent loss.

What hurts the most is I will never have anyone who looks like me or inherits the way I tilt my head when I’m pondering or laughs like me.

As an only child, I have always enjoyed my own company. My imagination is huge. Now I wish I didn’t have such a huge imagination because I keep imagining what a son or daughter might’ve looked like.

I tend to focus my grief of being medically induced into menopause on not having anyone to look like me because I grew up just knowing my mother’s side of the family. Thanks to divorce when I was two, I never met anyone on my father’s side until I was 35 years old.

I look nothing like my mother. I look nothing like her side of the family. I have struggled with that.

There is no one to carry on my name. It literally stops with me.

What is it like to actually carry a child? Thanks to cancer, I will never know.

by Megan-Claire Chase

How would you respond to the writing prompt, ‘Ovary Suppression’?

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 8 weeks during our Summer 2018 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  If you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.

Silence Of Life

unspoken ink writing group

I miss the simplicity of just being. The hustle and bustle of this thing we call life is utterly stressful and noisy. All the distractions are blinking like neon lights. What’s amazing is when you pause and embrace the silence.

I never thought I could meditate, let alone make it a daily habit. Now I must have 15-20 minutes of pure silence a day, whether thru a guided meditation, music or just sitting. Once I understood that meditating and mindfulness does not mean totally clearing the mind, but it’s letting the thoughts come, release them and coming back to center. I truly see the value in it.

As a talker who used to work in radio and TV, noise used to fill the silence.

Now I see it’s the time in silence that is filling my soul.

by Megan-Claire Chase

You can read more of Megs writing at Life on the Cancer Train.

How would you respond to the writing prompt, From an animal’s point of view?

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 8 weeks during our Winter 2018 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  If you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.

Infertility

infertility after young adult cancer

I saw the cutest little boy at Target, maybe he was two or something, wearing the most darling sweater vest and bowtie. I couldn’t stop looking at him. Before I knew it, I was crying; just silent tears rolling down my cheeks. It was a punch in the gut because cancer took away my option to have my own child.

Yes, I know there are many children who need a home and could foster or adopt. I actually want to smack people when they make that insensitive comment. Why can’t they see how much it hurts me to know I’ll never have someone who favors me or inherits my talent?

What is my legacy?

I somehow ended up in the children’s section while at Target. I couldn’t stop the torture. Every tutu, dress, bowtie and little shoes caused a tear and my breath to catch in my throat.

It’s funny that I think about children at least once a day. I had convinced myself pre-cancer that I would never have any and didn’t want any. They are too expensive. What if they are premature like I was and filled with health problems? Plus, I’m single, so end of story.

Yet, when my oncologist and gynecologist said it’s best to have a hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo oophorectomy to lower my chances of a breast cancer recurrence since my body suffered such horrible sided effects from all the post treatment for pre-menopausal women, my heart stopped. The final step was to medically induce me into menopause many, many years early and hope my body will respond well to the post treatment for menopausal women. Plus, the surgery would completely prevent me getting cervical, ovarian, uterine cancer and endometriosis. Sigh.

I collapsed into tears. Do I want to live or die? Thanks to cancer, my insides are already dead.

by Megan-Claire Chase

How would you respond to the writing prompt, Reproductive Endocrinology & Infertility?

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants met for 2 hours each week, for 8 weeks during our Winter 2018 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  If you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.

Imagine

writing group for cancer survivors

I imagine a world where people see beyond color, shape and size.
I imagine a world where I can be accepted for ME and not be told I’m a sellout or that I “speak well.”
I imagine a world where employers work to understand how cancer affects us.
I imagine a world that loves and no one is homeless.
I imagine a world where hugs are a daily start to each day.
I imagine a world where the mind is free from the constant fear and anxiety of cancer coming back.
I imagine a world where all my true friends and I lived not only in the same state but same neighborhood.
I imagine a world where loneliness is a thing of the past.
Imagine that…

by Megan-Claire Chase

How would you respond to the writing prompt, imagine?

This writing comes directly from one of our participants in our Unspoken Ink Creative Writing Group for young adult cancer survivors.  The participants meet for 2 hours each week, for 8 weeks during our Winter 2018 session.  This writing has not been edited since its original creation, showing the wonderfully raw and powerful prose coming from the courageous writing group participants each week.  If you’d like to sign up for future sessions, please email info@lacunaloft.org or sign up on our interest form.