There are people who love you through cancer.
They drive you to appointments. They sit beside you while you wait for results. They listen when you're scared. They take care of you when you're sick. They tell you that you're going to get through it even when neither of you really knows what the next few months will bring.
But I learned something else during my cancer journey.
Sometimes you also need someone who doesn't just love you.
You need someone who understands.
Someone who has sat in that chemotherapy chair.
Someone who knows what it feels like to look at your body after surgery.
Someone who understands the questions that seem impossible to explain to anyone else.
Someone who can look at you and say:
“I know. I've been there.”
Finding People Who Understood
Almost immediately after I found out I had cancer, my husband, Paul, started encouraging me to connect with other people who had been through it.
He thought I needed people I could talk to—people who could give me advice, share information and help me understand what I might experience during the process.
At first, I don't think I completely understood why that would matter so much.
Paul reached out to one of his former military friends who had experienced cancer and shared my information with her.
She was incredibly sweet.
She was attentive, encouraging and willing to share her story with me.
Talking with her helped me understand what Paul had been trying to tell me.
My doctors could explain cancer medically.
My husband and family could love me through it.
But I also needed people in my life who knew exactly what I was going through because they had lived it themselves.
And I needed them for more than emotional support.
I wanted to know:
What should I expect?
What Movies Don't Show You About Chemotherapy
After my first surgery, chemotherapy began.
We've all seen chemotherapy portrayed in movies.
We have an image in our minds of what it's supposed to look like.
And yes, chemotherapy is hard.
But I quickly realized that watching someone go through chemotherapy in a movie is very different from actually living through it.
There are feelings, fears and physical experiences that are difficult to understand until you're the person sitting in that chair.
One of the treatments I particularly wanted to understand better was the chemotherapy commonly nicknamed the “Red Devil.”
Let me tell you—the name is exactly what that chemotherapy deserves.
I wanted to know what other people had experienced.
What should I expect?
What was normal?
What wasn't?
What helped them?
What did they wish they had known beforehand?
That's when I started looking beyond my immediate circle for people who had already walked this road.
Looking for Answers From People Who Had Been There
On Facebook, I began finding private groups where people affected by cancer could ask questions and share their experiences.
There was so much information.
Some of it helped me prepare for what I was experiencing at that moment.
But while I was going through chemotherapy and later radiation, another part of my cancer journey was already occupying my mind.
Reconstruction.
And that frightened me.
As I have written about before, one of the things I learned very quickly after being diagnosed with cancer is that doctors don't always simply tell you what to do.
They explain your options.
They explain what is medically possible.
They tell you what they believe may be a good fit for your particular circumstances.
They answer your questions.
But ultimately, there are decisions that you have to make.
Reconstruction was another one of those decisions.
Deciding What Would Happen to My Body
There were different possibilities for reconstruction.
Paul and I talked about them.
I asked for his opinion because I wanted to know what he thought. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of silicone implants.
But his opinion was something I had asked him to share with me.
Ultimately, this was still my body and my decision.
The problem was that I needed to understand what the alternatives actually meant—not only medically, but in real life.
During chemotherapy and radiation, while I was already trying to survive what was happening to my body in the present, I was researching what I might choose to put my body through in the future.
And that's when I found an incredible Facebook community:
DIEP FLAP Support Group.
I joined because I needed information about reconstruction.
I stayed because I found something much bigger.
Seeing What Courage Actually Looks Like
If you spend time reading the posts in that group, you begin to understand what women really go through during DIEP flap reconstruction.
Not the medical illustration.
Not the explanation on a website.
Not simply a surgeon telling you how the procedure works.
The reality.
Women shared what surgery looked like.
They shared recovery.
They shared pictures.
They shared scars.
They talked about pain, fear, complications and difficult days.
They asked questions that other women might have been afraid or embarrassed to ask anywhere else.
And they showed something else too:
Life after cancer.
There were stories of wins.
There were stories of loss.
There were women celebrating milestones and women going through incredibly difficult moments.
But everyone was together.
They supported one another.
They answered questions.
They celebrated each other's progress.
And they kept showing up.
That group completely changed my perspective on women's strength and courage.
It showed me what it means to have a reason to keep living.
To refuse to give up.
To continue fighting.
They Gave Me the Courage to Do It
DIEP flap reconstruction terrified me.
It was one of the most intimidating surgeries I could imagine choosing to go through.
But I kept watching these women.
I watched women prepare for surgery.
I watched them go through it.
I watched their recoveries.
I watched what their bodies looked like afterward.
I watched them return to their lives.
And because these women were brave enough to show the reality—not only the beautiful outcomes but also the difficult parts—I began believing that maybe I could do it too.
Eventually, I found the courage to undergo DIEP flap reconstruction myself.
And throughout that process, the group remained there.
Whatever question I asked, they were there.
Whatever worry I had, they were there.
Whatever accomplishment I reached, they were there.
That's something a Google search could never have given me.
Google could explain what DIEP flap reconstruction was.
My doctors could explain the surgery.
My surgeon could explain what would happen to my body.
But these women could tell me:
“I've done it.”
They could show me what came afterward.
And when you're frightened, sometimes seeing another person standing on the other side of what you're about to face gives you something medical information alone cannot provide.
It gives you courage.
Then Something Changed
After my surgeries and some of the scariest moments of my cancer journey were behind me, I realized something.
I wasn't only the frightened woman reading other women's posts anymore.
I had become one of the women posting.
I found myself encouraging women who were standing where I had once stood.
Women who were scared.
Women preparing for surgery.
Women with questions.
Women wondering what their bodies might look like afterward.
Women wondering whether they were strong enough to do it.
I tried to give them encouragement during those difficult moments.
I shared what I had learned.
And as time passed, I shared pictures of my own results—one year after my DIEP flap reconstruction and then two years after.
I wanted another woman preparing for surgery to be able to look at my pictures the same way I had once looked at the women who came before me and think:
Maybe I can do this too.
And something beautiful happened.
The same women who had encouraged me when I was frightened were still there.
They cheered for me again.
You Become the Courage Someone Else Needs
That's when I understood something about communities like this.
You may arrive because you're terrified.
You arrive with questions.
You look at women who seem incredibly brave and wonder how they did it.
You borrow a little of their courage because you haven't found all of your own yet.
Then you go through the surgery.
You recover.
Time passes.
And one day another frightened woman arrives.
She's asking some of the same questions you once asked.
She's afraid of the same things that once kept you awake.
And suddenly, without realizing exactly when it happened, you have become one of the women she is looking at.
You arrive needing someone else's courage.
And eventually, you become part of the courage someone else needs.
A Dedication to the Women Who Were There
Chapter & Changes exists because my life has been filled with exactly that—chapters and changes.
Cancer was one of the biggest.
I created this blog because I want to share what I have gone through, not only during cancer but throughout the many changes that have shaped my life.
I don't share these experiences because I believe my story is more important than anyone else's.
I share them because sometimes when you're going through something frightening, hearing from someone who has already walked through it can make you feel a little less alone.
And that's exactly what other women did for me.
So this particular article is not only part of my story.
I want to dedicate it to the administrator who created the DIEP FLAP Support Group and built a place where frightened women like me could find information, understanding, encouragement and hope.
And I dedicate it to every woman who has been part of that community in the past, every woman who is there today, and every woman who will find it in the future.
To the women who posted when they were scared.
To the women who answered questions they had probably answered a hundred times before.
To the women who were brave enough to show what surgery and recovery really looked like.
To the women who shared their scars.
To the women who shared their victories.
To the women who shared complications and difficult days so someone else could be better prepared.
To the women who celebrated one another's milestones.
And to the women who stayed beside each other through the stories that didn't have the endings everyone hoped for.
You may never know how many women found courage because you were brave enough to share your own story.
I was one of them.
Whatever question I had, you were there.
Whatever worry I had, you were there.
Whatever accomplishment I reached, you were there.
And eventually, because you showed me what courage looked like when I needed it most, I was able to be there for someone else.
That may be one of the most beautiful things women can do for one another.
Support. Share. Cheer. Help.
And when another frightened woman arrives tomorrow looking for answers, someone will be there to tell her:
You are scared right now. I was too.
Let me show you what came next.
This article reflects my personal experience with breast cancer treatment and DIEP flap reconstruction. Every person's diagnosis, treatment and reconstruction options are different. Personal experiences and support communities can be valuable sources of encouragement, but medical decisions should be made with qualified healthcare professionals based on your individual circumstances.
