advocacy

Just When I Thought I Was Out….

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Last July, the last time I published a blog post, I talked about how I was ‘breaking-up’ with advocacy. Between the pandemic and the death of my partner in crime, Tori Geib, I didn’t have the stomach for it the way I did in previous years. The constant (it sure felt constant) petty drama between advocates was also pretty draining. In addition, my son graduating from college, his wedding, and the announcement of their first child. My priorities had shifted.

Since January 2022, my life has revolved around my perfectly perfect beautiful peanut of a granddaughter, Piper. I had no idea my cold black heart could love a tiny person I didn’t personally birth as much as I love her. She smiles SO big I literally could cry. I shouldn’t know her and for reasons I may never understand, the universe had other plans. I’m super cool with that.

Kathryn & Beautiful Piper

But I digress…..

Then on August 8th, they pulled me back in. An iconic celebrity, Olivia Newton-John, died from Metastatic Breast Cancer. It was widely known that she had been diagnosed in 1992 with breast cancer. She went through all the standards of care – mastectomy, chemo, and reconstruction. She was considered ‘cured’ (insert eye-roll). In 2013, she discovered cancer had spread to her bones. Specifically, her shoulder. Then in 2017, metastasis was found in her spine. It was then, in 2017, that Stage 4 was mentioned, but let me be clear – Olivia Newton-John was diagnosed with Metastatic Breast Cancer in 2013. The same year I was diagnosed. However, when she died, the media reported she had a 30 yr (choke) ‘battle’ with breast cancer. I had expected to see battle language from the media but what I didn’t expect was all the inaccurate information that followed. Dame Olivia did not have active breast cancer for THIRTY YEARS. There were 21 yrs that she had no evidence of disease – meaning she was not in active treatment. It was only in 2013 when cancer metastasized to her shoulder and again in 2017 when it spread to her spine did she have active cancer.

The media reported that she had ‘spine cancer’ or she died from breast cancer when it was metastatic breast cancer. Words matter here because breast cancer that doesn’t leave the breast isn’t lethal. When it spreads to a major organ like bones, well, then it’s incurable. It’s Stage 4. There isn’t a Stage 5. Reading all of this inaccurate information made my head want to explode. I couldn’t hold it in. I couldn’t stay silent. So, I took to Twitter and created a thread of five tweets to make some points clear. I had no idea that almost 15K people would end up seeing that thread or that it would be re-tweeted 60 times.

https://twitter.com/stickit2stage4/status/1556765429112229890?s=21&t=JdoiMs1I29y2aAqZnWq_xA

I definitely didn’t expect to get an email from journalist Beth Greenfield, Senior Editor at Yahoo.com on August 10th. She saw my tweet thread. She wanted to talk to me. It took me 3 seconds to email her back. I am no stranger to interviews. I know that sometimes what I want to be included and published doesn’t happen. We talked later that day. She truly understood where I was coming from because she had lived through a breast cancer diagnosis. I felt really good after our conversation. While I wouldn’t know for sure until I read her article, I was confident that she wanted her readers to understand what I was trying to convey on Twitter.

The article came out late on August 17th. I didn’t see it until the following morning via a tweet from a friend and fellow advocate Jo Taylor. I am super proud of this article and cannot thank Beth Greenfield enough for writing it. What I am most proud of is that she included the organizations I told her about that the public should seriously consider if they want to help further research for metastatic breast cancer. Those organizations are: BCRF, Metavivor & The Cancer Couch Foundation

I haven’t changed my mind about actively advocating. While I did get worked up over this ridiculous confusion about metastatic breast cancer, I don’t have the bandwidth to get back into being an advocate and traveling full time. I plan on spending time with family, my husband and (as much time as possible my kids will allow) with Piper.

If you missed it, you can read the article featured in Yahoo Life

Dear Advocacy, It’s Not You; It’s Me

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At the end of last year, I made the difficult decision to stop all active advocacy in the Metastatic Community. In February, I officially resigned as METUP’s President. I haven’t disappeared completely, I am still available for individuals that need advice or help. I feel I will be more effective that way.

I threw myself into advocacy because I felt it was the right thing to do. My intention was to try to make meaningful change for those that may come after I’m gone. I diversified my activities. If it felt right, I would say yes when asked to take part in something new. I’m not someone who craves attention or wants any recognition. I’ve always preferred to be in the background; part of the scenery if you will. That didn’t always happen. I allowed myself to be out of my comfort zone a few times in group projects and while I am thankful for those experiences, I promise you, I hated every minute of it.

I, unfortunately, allowed my mental health to suffer because of my advocacy. I didn’t want the deaths of the men and women I knew to be in vain. I felt an overwhelming responsibility to keep going while my physical health was reasonably good. Meanwhile, I felt like a fraud. Who’s going to take me seriously when I’m still here after 8 yrs? I certainly don’t look sick, hell I wouldn’t even believe I had cancer so how can expect strangers to? Add a healthy dose of survivor guilt and top it off with a global pandemic that cuts us all off from socialization. I was low. I was unhappy.

Advocacy has changed so much. There is less and less that feeling of: “how are WE going to fix this” and a whole lot more in-fighting, cattiness, and “you’re doing it wrong.” There are these pockets of small groups that want nothing to do with each other for the stupidest reasons. I can only imagine how it looks from the outside but from the inside, it feels like there is this constant unofficial fight to be the top dog of advocacy.

It all changed when Beth Caldwell died. She truly was the matriarch of the community. The sad thing is there is still so much more to be done: pharmaceutical price gouging, restructuring clinical trials, research disparity but the center of attention right now is the systematic discrediting of a fellow MBC patient. I can hear Beth’s voice asking: “Who’s life is that going to save?”

In the past, I have tried to help. I’ve taken it upon myself and tried to be a voice of reason. We are more powerful & effective when we all work together, aren’t we? The fire I once had in my belly was gone. It isn’t empowering to me anymore. I cannot be around people that have these other agendas that have nothing to do with advocacy while boasting how awesome they are. In my experience, if you have to keep repeating your perceived status, it’s not as awesome as you think and no more than what others have/are doing. Any respect you may have had is been decimated by your own words and actions.

I’ve given MBC advocacy all I had. I’m proud of all the things I have done and I don’t regret any of it. I made incredible friendships because of it. Now, it’s time for me to focus on my family and the people I love the most in this world. I am turning my attention to the future. More specifically my Granddaughter: Piper Olivia who will enter this world in January. I am not going to squander this amazing gift the universe has bestowed on our family.

Miss Minnie in charge of the gender reveal!

It’s Not Just Broken, it’s Fractured

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When I first learned of my diagnosis, it was essential to my husband and me that we consider a cancer center that would offer cutting-edge research and clinical trials. We wanted to make sure that I would have every treatment option available. That’s why I am also a patient at Memorial Sloan Kettering. At my first meeting with my oncologist there, we discussed clinical trials. I had even asked if there was one I could get into immediately. That’s how important I felt they were. Now, I’m not as confident as I was then.

Research Matters

While I didn’t know a lot about cancer research, I knew that research would be my only hope to keep on living. I counted on whatever clinicians were currently working on would be FDA approved and for my specific pathology before I exhausted my options. In the beginning, doctors told me I might have 2-3 yrs with the current standard of treatment. I wanted longer – a lot longer. I wasn’t going to accept what was “my fate,” and I became a vocal advocate for metastatic research. I was disgusted with how little money was going to metastatic breast cancer research. Large non-profits known for bringing awareness to breast cancer were mainly focused on preventing and treating early-stage disease. That’s great, but where does that leave me and others like me? It left us forgotten and ignored. We were the misfit toys on the island far out at sea.

After all, we are dying, and research typically moves at a snail’s pace. Doctors were treating us and keeping us as comfortable as possible. Another organization bluntly stated that metastatic breast cancer is just too complicated for research to focus on. Prevention was the key to save future generations, and we should accept that because it was too late for us. Whelp, the joke is on them. Shortly after my diagnosis, in 2014/2015, the first CDK4/6 inhibitor was on the market. Ibrance was the game-changer for estrogen-driven breast cancer. Maybe research wasn’t as slow as I thought. Little did I know.

There Is A Process

Over the last eight years, I have had extensive education in all things MBC. If one wants to create change, one must learn all about what needs to be changed. What I learned was disturbing. Clinical trials are a complicated process. There are four main phases each new drug must go through before getting acceptance from the FDA. Here is the cliff notes version for those that aren’t familiar with them. 

 Phase 1 is for figuring out what dosage is enough without being toxic and whether or not the drug effectively treats cancer in humans.

Phase 2 takes that dosage Phase 1 resulted in and monitors the drug’s safety and possibly pair it with existing drugs. 

Phase 3 tests against the current standard of care. Patients are usually randomized, so clinicians can assess patients by which group they are in. 

Phase 4 tests drugs that the FDA approves. These people are monitored to get better data on side effects previously seen in earlier phases. 

This entire process can take YEARS—five to ten years in some cases. 

Before ANY of that can happen, clinicians need people to qualify for the trials. It’s not just a matter of identifying people with a particular kind of illness. If it were, every clinical trial would be full. Patients must meet a laundry list of qualifications & parameters set by drug companies. The number of inclusionary criteria can be (and usually are) in the double digits. There are also exclusionary criteria that can deem you as not acceptable. That list can be just as long or longer, including previous biologic (cytotoxic) chemotherapy, having brain mets, prior radiation, etc. Scans have to be done, forms have to be filled out, and patients must adhere to a washout period. Patients can not have any trace of treatment drugs in their system before starting a trial. However, this “period” can be as long as six weeks or, in some cases, even longer. Think about that for a moment. Do you know how fast metastatic cancer can progress in six weeks? When the cancer is already active, not being on any treatment can make it progress exponentially quicker. Some patients die during this washout period. Next time you hear there aren’t enough people for clinical trials, remember that washout period.

What I find unacceptable is when clinical trial parameters don’t/won’t make reasonable accommodations for patients who have common and real-world contraindications because “it’s how other locations are doing it.” Even something as simple as how the stability of disease is measured can add another layer of anxiety to a patient participating in a clinical trial. Imagine a patient whose PET scans have previously been monitored due to a common iodine allergy to CT dye unable to have contrast in scan required to monitor the patient in the study. The only way they will monitor if the trial drug is working is with a CT WITHOUT contrast. PET scans are not allowed because the other locations/countries involved don’t do PET scans. Having a scan without contrast is similar to being in a room with the lights off and trying to get around. Something is bound to be overlooked. Even things as simple as blood work for the trial can require the patient to travel to the trial’s location weekly, or in some cases even more, JUST to get a basic CBC Blood test that is common enough to be run at home. What could be a local trip now requires commuter patients to potentially drive hours or find a flight to have a basic lab draw. Sure it’s good and convenient for the trial, but it can be utterly prohibitive for the patients, even if it’s their last hope.

The High Cost of Trials

Not all trials are local to where patients live. They often require regular travel, extended stays in the city the clinical trial is in, which means money for food. The clinical trial doesn’t always cover all of these expenses, so there is a component of financial toxicity that can be very overwhelming on top of everything else. Hotels haven’t gotten cheaper during the pandemic. Many of the free or reduced lodging programs through major cancer centers have stopped during the pandemic making it nearly impossible to find free or deeply discounted lodging for the patient. You would think by now we would be in a place where people could participate in a trial from their home base and have doctors communicate with each other. 

So, what if you’re in a trial that’s located at a different hospital? Who is responsible for your care above and beyond the clinical trial? If you develop a problem while you’re home, do you go to your doctor? I would assume it to be yes. I found that it’s not that simple. Clinical trials can complicate things. If you need a medication for a separate issue, will it kick you out of the clinical trial? Maybe.

In one situation, a patient currently in a clinical trial has all but been dropped by her local medical team. When she called her oncologist about a new infection that is not a side effect of the trial, her doctor told her to let the people overseeing the clinical trial know or go to urgent care. As far as they are concerned, she’s now under the care of the clinical trial 4 hrs away. The clinical trial folks instruct her to see her regular doctors. Palliative care has all but been stripped from her. Imagine having breathing issues with oxygen levels that don’t even reach in the ’90s, and NO ONE is monitoring you. She’s now in cancer limbo. You’d be OK with that. No, no, you would not.

Now when I hear there’s “not enough people for clinical trials,” I think, no shit. Why would anyone enroll? The burden on us patients is too high a cost -financially, physically, and emotionally. It outweighs the benefits. Becoming a human hot potato tossed back and forth between doctors while they cry “not it” is very unappealing.

It’s not a secret that the clinical trial process is broken. Those involved in advocacy have been trying to make changes with clinical trials – making them more inclusionary, basing the washout period on the most recent drug the patient has been on (they don’t require the same amount of time to leave the body). From my perspective, it’s not only broken; it’s fractured. In order to remedy this, drug companies must make clinical trials easier on the patients they need. After all – the goal is to help extend the lives of people, right? Maybe by allowing for basic accommodations, we can reiterate that the data points in studies all have faces, families, and stories that shouldn’t include extra barriers beyond their diagnosis to survive. The following MUST be part of the clinical trial protocol:

  • Provide a clear understanding of the financial toxicity in and outside the clinic to participate in the trial and were to apply for grants or assistance if the clinical trial doesn’t help pay these costs.
  • Make reasonable testing accommodations. 
  • Regular communication between the patient’s medical team to ensure proper care is provided.
  • Have palliative care continue or be available to those that need it.
  • Assign a navigator that patients can address questions or concerns.

I still support funding research; howthefuckever, something has to give for the clinical trials themselves. We are people who are sick that want more time. We do not need to be spending the extra time we are gaining, falling into crippling debt, or pushing to have our humanity acknowledged. 

We deserve better.

And God Laughs

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I should be sleeping. It’s 2:33am. I have to be up in four hours.

I am in Albany as part of a campaign for New York’s Medical Aid in Dying Act. The campaign, 50 Reasons by Compassion & Choices, highlights 50 stories of real people and their reasons why they support the bill. Its genius. The people included aren’t just terminally ill patients; they are members of the clergy, doctors, caregivers, loved ones. They all have personal stories; reasons that provide their perspective.

Today is my day to share my reason.

Normally, I can do this with my eyes closed. I’ve been coming to Albany and have been involved in this advocacy for years. I’ve blogged about it in the past. My reasons then were very clear. I didn’t want my son to see me actively dying, lying in bed for who knows how long and remember me that way. I was working hard to create special memories for him. I wasn’t going to have the end of my life strip that all away. While that’s still true, he’s much older now. There is another reason that has moved to the top of my list.

(This is the most unnerving coincidence – I know God is laughing)

Exactly one year ago, I published a blog What The Fuck Is The Reason. My dear friend Melissa died the night before from metastatic breast cancer. I had sat with her family, her best friend Chrysta, and watched countless others come and go as they checked on her or said their goodbye’s. There were a few nights I stayed with her Aunt and close family friends so Melissa wasn’t alone.

Facebook Memories Suck

Melissa lingered for nine days. There were times she was in pain but unable to communicate beyond calling out. She was visibly restless, and fluid was building up in her lungs. It was incredibly frustrating for those of us sitting there bearing witness. We were mad. We were upset. We felt helpless. I can’t fathom how Melissa felt being trapped in a body shutting down and not being able to communicate what she needed.

Death is not how it is in the movies or on TV. It’s not a natural, peaceful, falling asleep death. If you’ve never sat bedside for anyone while they died and thought that’s what it was like – you’re greatly mistaken. Cancer patients who have been on pain medications for a long time have it the worst. There is a level of tolerance that develops. A false understanding exists that with the right ”formula” of morphine, any pain can be managed. That may be true for some, but not everyone. The line between palliative coma and death is razor-thin.

Those days and nights I spent in Melissa’s hospital room gutted me; not to mention how it impacted her family, those that loved her and her sweet daughter. I don’t ever want to be trapped in my body like that. To put my loved ones through that. Those nights reinforced to me how important it is that there be Medical Aid in Dying laws in every State. Everyone with a terminal illness should have access to this option if they want it.

It’s not a religious issue – It’s a personal choice.

It’s not suicide (OMG It’s NOT) – I want to live. Cancer has other plans.

I think I always knew about the correlation in dates between yesterday/today and last year. I just never let my mind REALLY go there until it forced me. Always the middle of the night. Thanks, brain. While it will be familiar, it will also be different as I see staffers and lawmakers. The tears I know will come will be about Melissa.

I’m livin’ the dream, Melissa.

Livin it for you babe.

Two hours until I have to be up…..

The Couch That Love Built

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If you’re a regular reader here, you know I’ve talked about The Cancer Couch, and it’s founder, Rebecca Timlin-Scalara. In case a refresher is needed, Rebecca started a nonprofit as she was recovering from treatments she was receiving for breast cancer. The irony in her choosing the name of her foundation comes from the fact that she, a neuropsychologist, literally went from one side of the couch to the other.

Rebecca initially was told she had Stage 4, metastatic breast cancer, but after having additional scans, it was determined she was Stage 3C. When her doctor told her she had a chance at a cure (being 3C), she decided then and there she had to do something about the fact that MBC is woefully underfunded. She wasn’t going to leave those of us dying behind.

Rebecca and I met and began working together in the summer of 2016. We had a “small world” family connection that Italian families are known for. It wouldn’t surprise me if our “ancestries DNA” held similar leaves on some of the same branches of our family trees too but I digress.

Rebecca could hustle. She formed relationships with just about everyone she met and if there was a way to partner up to raise money for her foundation, which meant MBC research – she made it happen. Fun Fact: There are only two organizations that are focused 100% on MBC research; however, every single donation gets matched, which makes volunteer-run TCCF unique. That’s right – MATCHED – Dollar for Dollar.

Cancer is a sonofabitch. It doesn’t care who you are; it doesn’t discriminate. A sobering statistic I have mentioned here before is that up to 30% of those successfully treated for breast cancer will recur with metastatic disease. It may not happen immediately; it could be up to 15-20 yrs later. When Rebecca found out hers had spread, it didn’t slow her down. As I write this TCCF has funded over 3 Million Dollars for MBC Research.

This incredible woman, this champion for metastatic breast cancer patients, my friend, died on Saturday, December 14th. Please keep Rebecca’s family and friends; especially her husband and children during this unimaginable time.

Below is Rebecca’s obituary, as written by her husband, Tom. As much as I hate that it had to be written, it’s the most magnificent tribute that encompasses the essence of who she was.

Dr. Rebecca M. Timlin Scalera
August 20, 1972 – December 14, 2019

The Radiant:

A Radiant Mother, Wife, Daughter, Sister, Aunt, Friend, Neuropsychologist, Breast Cancer Activist, Division 1 Athlete, Coach, Captain, Comedienne, Traveler and Writer. A True Force of Nature and A Whole-Hearted Lover of Everybody and Everything in this Life.

The Angels:

A beautiful blue-eyed angel was made on December 14, 2019. Dr. Rebecca (Reb) Timlin Scalera was the wife of the incredibly lucky (she wanted me to write that), Tom Scalera, and the loving mother of her amazing children on this earth, Bella and Luca, that are a daily reflection of their Mom’s radiant energy, beauty, and intense love for them. We are all comforted to know that she will now be with our heavenly son, Angel.

The Magical Days:

Reb was born August 20, 1972 and grew up in Windsor Connecticut. But there was even more family magic on that date…33 Years later she birthed her beautiful cosmic twin, Bella, on the very same day and (wait for it)…the same minute. It is a day of miracles in our family and it shows how uniquely and freakishly strong Reb’s connections have always been and will always be to her children. She also continues to have a life-long connection to her special childhood friends from Windsor that have been faithful traveling companions through every stage of life with her.

The Smarty Pants:

Reb was insanely intelligent, that rare combination of IQ and EQ – yes she had it all and she had the lighting-quick processing speed to use it. So not only did Miss Smarty pants get a B.A. in Psychology from Fairfield University, she went on to Fordham University to get her Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology and then added on a Professional Diploma in School Psychology from Fordham University for good measure. She made neuropsychology her career choice and ultimately became a partner at Neuropsychology Consultants in Norwalk, CT because her spirit could not bear to see anyone in pain (store that one for later). Reb was born inside out, her soul was on the outside, you could immediately feel it when you were in her presence. A brutal 4 year war with Breast Cancer ravaged her body, but her Mind and Soul just grew stronger and more magnificent every day. She lived a daily life of passionate enjoyment – to Reb everything was amazing. And while she did not have very much time on this earth in this form, she enjoyed it twice as long and twice as hard as anyone I know.

The FU:

Going back to our beginning, it was at a Fairfield University beach party (just 10 houses away from the dream home we just built), that we first met and fell in love. She said she was hit by a lightning bolt and immediately knew we were soul-mates (remember soul on the outside). Some of her other amazing memories and accomplishments from the Fairfield University days included being named All Scholar Athlete on the Women’s Division 1 Soccer Team, experiencing a life changing semester abroad in Spain, engaging in a decent amount of partying and forging life-long friendships and connections within the amazing Fairfield University Community.

The Couch:

So after a dream vacation in August 2015, Reb was diagnosed with Breast Cancer and the long battle officially started. She, like so many others, thought that all breast cancer is curable, but she quickly learned that it is not. It is not! So she directed her energy, passion and intellect to increase funding for cutting edge research for Metastatic Breast Cancer – the one that ultimately takes 42,000 lives a year in the US alone. So the former psychologist started the 100% volunteer managed Cancer Couch Foundation from her own recovery couch. In just 4 short years, the Cancer Couch has funded over $3 million in research at Dana Farber and Memorial Sloan Kettering. She proudly represented the Foundation on ESPN, the NBC Today Show and countless other news and radio broadcasts. The Foundation also hosted 4 of the best party fundraisers in Fairfield County – Reb made sure that everyone had a crazy blast while combating this deadly disease – that’s how she rolled. While there is much more work still to be done, we are so very thankful to the thousands of supporters of the Couch’s mission all around the world.

The Reb:

Rebecca constantly amazed the many, many people who loved her with her boundless energy, optimism, smarts, and thoughtfulness. She made devoted friends in every stage of life, and kept them, always one to reach out and bring people together with great warmth, humor and enthusiasm. She had many interests and talents that she pursued passionately, often inspiring those around her to pursue them as well. Among her many loves were the sea (she was the Lady S Captain, not me), the beach, traveling, writing, blogging, raising millions, live music, reading, tons of movie popcorn, watching shows and snuggling. She was notoriously the last one to the party and the last one to leave – she never wanted to fun to stop. As exciting and accomplished as she was, there was no one better in the world to do absolutely nothing with.

The Family:

Reb is survived by the incredible Tom and Rosalie Timlin, her three indomitable siblings: Vivian Ciampi, Sean Timlin, Paula Cunningham; her 4 super-cool siblings-in-law: Marc Ciampi, Jim Cunningham and Nicholas Vasquez Scalera and Carolyn Vasquez Scalera. She will remain a constant presence in the lives of her 8 adorable nieces and nephews: Zachary, Carina and Colby Ciampi; James, Makayla, Thomas and Kendall Cunningham; Briana Timlin and Amelie Scalera. The Family would like to thank the countless, nurses, doctors and support staff that lovingly cared for her and often received a personalized rap song as a gift of her appreciation (yes that really happened often). And we’d like to extend a very special thank you to Dr. Andy Seidman, Reb’s Rock-star oncologist and trusted friend and her dream team of researchers at Sloan led by Dr. Sarat Chandarlapaty and at Dana by Dr. Nikhil Wagle. The Family would also like to thank the extensive and highly capable network of family and friends for the countless acts of kindness and love shown to us all in so many ways.

Those wishing to make a donation in her memory to her foundation can click HERE.

Rebecca established an Angel Fund at The Pluta Cancer Center in Rochester, NY (where I go locally) for metastatic breast cancer patients in financial need. Those who would like to make a donation in Rebecca’s memory to that fund can click the link above and scroll to the bottom of the page until you see my photo.

Writers Block is Real

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Nine months. I have been relatively silent for the past nine months. Even now, as I begin, the words are difficult to find. So for record-keeping purposes today is Tuesday, November 26, 2019. It’s 2:16 PM.

The Circle of Life is a Never-Ending Tail-Spin

Death is a part of life, and over the last 6 yrs, I have experienced more of my fair share; a lot more. That part of my emotions should be numb like a hardened callous by now from being overworked. It would be SO much easier, but what is it they say? If it were easy, everyone would do it. I chose to get involved in advocacy, and in doing so, I’ve had the honor of meeting some fantastic people. Some were a significant part of my life, albeit a short time. I wouldn’t change that, but dammit, ENOUGH ALREADY!

My circle has gotten smaller. Partly for self-preservation, the other part from death. A small circle means the losses are much more challenging to overcome; to get one’s head back into the game. All I want to do is save my friends when they start to slip into the metastatic quicksand that’s trying to swallow them as their treatments stop working. It makes me furious that I can’t and feeling defeated that after everything I’ve been attempting to accomplish, participated in, I don’t see the needle moving. Not as fast as it should, as it needs to.

In Memory of Social Graces

Social media has become a dreadful place that I now avoid. When there aren’t posts of shitty news regarding someone’s health, others are doling out bad medical advice, or there will be hundreds of comments under posts for the intention of instigating a verbal beat down. The worst are self-righteous soapbox posts scolding everyone or instructing us how to act. HARDFUCKINGPASS.

This advocacy world I live in isn’t the same anymore. (Please take note: I specifically avoided the term “cancerland” because people don’t use it to reference the work that Champagne busted her ass for; it’s cheapened to sounds like a fucking amusement park). It used to be a place where we could all count on each other. When we had to rally the troops (virtually) – they came. No question. People just showed up. We had chat groups where we shared information and strategized. It’s different now; It makes me sad. The goal hasn’t changed. Our mission is the same. The atmosphere is more of a “too many cooks in the kitchen.” We all may not have always agreed, but there was a basic level of understanding. Now you can expect to be treated as an exiled pariah or begrudgingly called out in public. Issues don’t get handled by two people at that moment who disagree but are drawn out into lengthy grudges that people feel they have to gain strength in numbers like a schoolyard confrontation. It just leads to more animosity, divisiveness, and people getting canceled because they don’t fall in line with what one person’s idea of what this “community” should be.

There is no privacy or loyalty to those that are outside of individual social cliques (which often congregate in small private groups or chats) even to the point where advocates have been through character assassination publicly. Things they have asked to stay private have been spread outside of private groups (where people assume a false sense of safety and privacy) to enhance gossip and drama. And for what?

We used to have movie nights where, at a set time, we would watch a movie; we’d start it at the same time and hang. People who couldn’t get out of bed were still part of us, and it helped us remember why we were doing this, not for self-glory or fame, but to save the lives of people who became a community from our shared experience. Unfortunately, we aren’t a community anymore; we’re becoming only individuals. There are groups of friends and advocates, but they function much more like high school cliques with their relative queen bees who decide where they are focusing and can swiftly scold or cancel anyone who falls out of line. The vibe is no longer grown adults working together for a common goal, and it’s hurting all of us in the long run.

You Can’t Do It All – Stop Trying

When you find out your time has been significantly cut short, the desire to make an impact on the world becomes more important. You want to leave a legacy behind your family can be proud of. One problem with that is it’s impossible to do everything. I know, I tried. At one point, I had to step away from METUP, of which I am currently active again because trying to be everything to everyone in all of my advocacy roles became wearing. More importantly, be proud of what you hitch your wagon to or rather your name. If you’re keeping the things you’re doing off of your social media (and those things aren’t tied to a confidentiality agreement), maybe reconsider your choices. Otherwise, own your shit.

Advocacy isn’t about elevating yourself to be the lofty and look down at people who may not be doing things your way. Or filling your Facebook Friends List to the brim with people you’ve never met; it’s about representation and speaking up for yourself and using platforms whenever they are given to you to further your cause – not yourself. Advocacy isn’t about celebrity; it’s about philanthropy and making sure our collective voices are being heard.

While I’m sad and disheartened right now, I am thankful for the connections I have made; the people I know who are honestly great advocates. I don’t know if we will ever get back to where we were or if it’s even possible. I do know one thing, we would be a much bigger force if we could.

It’s now Wednesday, November 27, 2019, 12:13, PM.

Happy Thanksgiving