Support Structure

I've been single for most of my adult life and have even developed a bit of a writing platform regarding the single life with a book (How to Date in a Post-Dating World), an anthology of essays (Single State of the Union) and a humor column (Single Shot), published by the now-defunct Seattle P-I.

For me, singledom is a natural state. Instead of being cloistered away as one half of a couple, I have a huge circle of friends -- people I've worked with, people I've gone to school with, fellow writers, gal pals, neighborhood buddies, drinking buddies, old boyfriends, sources that turned into friends, the list goes on and on. I also have four sisters, all of whom I'm close with. I had so many people I needed to tell about the breast cancer, in fact, I eventually started an email newsletter (the Cancertown Gazette). And then a blog (www.doublewhammied.com).

My sisters probably did most of the heavy lifting when it came to day-to-day support during my breast cancer treatment. They were there for me before and after surgery, even helping me with drain duty (and an apartment makeover). They also went to some of the early doctors' appointments (when things were still very dark and raw and scary), talked with me daily via phone, sat through a couple of sessions of chemo (and chemo recovery) with me and prepared a ton of meals for my freezer. My friends were equally supportive, doing everything from bringing me food (pie! lasagna! homemade soup!) to giving me lifts to radiation to sending flowers and other gifts to taking me on weekend getaways. Friends and family both chipped in financially to help me pay for a wig made from my own hair (and those are not cheap). They also stayed in contact with me regularly, took me for walks when the chemo knocked the legs out from under me, and in general, made me feel loved and appreciated and cared for at all times.

In addition to friends and family, I got a lot of support and info from other breast cancer survivors, including one woman (a friend of a friend) who gave me her prostheses (she'd only used them for about two weeks before she went through reconstruction) and my first pocketed bra. The breast cancer community on Twitter was another great place to connect with men and women going through the same (or similar) experiences. As a single person (and a journalist), I'm used to reaching out to others and the people on Twitter have been incredible. Ditto for my Facebook friends (although I didn't officially "come out" on Facebook until I was almost through with treatment).

To be honest, I don't think I would have received as much support and love and help if I were married. That's a tremendous burden for one person to shoulder which is why so many marriages buckle and break under the pressure of a cancer diagnosis. If anything, I feel like I grew closer to my friends and family (and even some heretofore casual acquaintances) after going through this cancer crap together. And if any of them ever has to go through something similar, I'm there (even if it means drain duty).

One last thing ... I can't help but feel that the fact that I've been single and self-sufficient for a long time was a huge boon to my recovery. While I did receive a lot of support from friends and family and Twitter buddies, etc., most of the strength/support came from within. I was the one who got myself up off the couch to go for walks and runs after surgery and during chemo and rads. I was the one who showed up for tap dance class while still wearing my drains. Not having one person to lean on made me lean on myself, which is what all of us -- ultimately -- need to do. I tried to be my own best friend and my own best advocate and I think it made a big difference with regard to kicking cancer's sorry ass. I've been single for most of my adult life and have even developed a bit of a writing platform regarding the single life with a book (How to Date in a Post-Dating World), an anthology of essays (Single State of the Union) and a humor column (Single Shot), published by the now-defunct Seattle P-I.

For me, singledom is a natural state. Instead of being cloistered away as one half of a couple, I have a huge circle of friends -- people I've worked with, people I've gone to school with, fellow writers, gal pals, neighborhood buddies, drinking buddies, old boyfriends, sources that turned into friends, the list goes on and on. I also have four sisters, all of whom I'm close with. I had so many people I needed to tell about the breast cancer, in fact, I eventually started an email newsletter (the Cancertown Gazette). And then a blog (www.doublewhammied.com).

My sisters probably did most of the heavy lifting when it came to day-to-day support during my breast cancer treatment. They were there for me before and after surgery, even helping me with drain duty (and an apartment makeover). They also went to some of the early doctors' appointments (when things were still very dark and raw and scary), talked with me daily via phone, sat through a couple of sessions of chemo (and chemo recovery) with me and prepared a ton of meals for my freezer. My friends were equally supportive, doing everything from bringing me food (pie! lasagna! homemade soup!) to giving me lifts to radiation to sending flowers and other gifts to taking me on weekend getaways. Friends and family both chipped in financially to help me pay for a wig made from my own hair (and those are not cheap). They also stayed in contact with me regularly, took me for walks when the chemo knocked the legs out from under me, and in general, made me feel loved and appreciated and cared for at all times.

In addition to friends and family, I got a lot of support and info from other breast cancer survivors, including one woman (a friend of a friend) who gave me her prostheses (she'd only used them for about two weeks before she went through reconstruction) and my first pocketed bra. The breast cancer community on Twitter was another great place to connect with men and women going through the same (or similar) experiences. As a single person (and a journalist), I'm used to reaching out to others and the people on Twitter have been incredible. Ditto for my Facebook friends (although I didn't officially "come out" on Facebook until I was almost through with treatment).

To be honest, I don't think I would have received as much support and love and help if I were married. That's a tremendous burden for one person to shoulder which is why so many marriages buckle and break under the pressure of a cancer diagnosis. If anything, I feel like I grew closer to my friends and family (and even some heretofore casual acquaintances) after going through this cancer crap together. And if any of them ever has to go through something similar, I'm there (even if it means drain duty).

One last thing ... I can't help but feel that the fact that I've been single and self-sufficient for a long time was a huge boon to my recovery. While I did receive a lot of support from friends and family and Twitter buddies, etc., most of the strength/support came from within. I was the one who got myself up off the couch to go for walks and runs after surgery and during chemo and rads. I was the one who showed up for tap dance class while still wearing my drains. Not having one person to lean on made me lean on myself, which is what all of us -- ultimately -- need to do. I tried to be my own best friend and my own best advocate and I think it made a big difference with regard to kicking cancer's sorry ass.