Rebecca Ryan
2003 Andre Sobel Award - Honorable Mention Recipient

To My New Friend,

I just read your post on the Lymphoma Support group website, and I can't begin to describe how much what you wrote affected me. You have been newly diagnosed, and you mention feeling scared, angry, and confused. You asked if anyone could share some advice with you, if anyone could relate to what you are experiencing. I understand how you feel because I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, but after undergoing chemotherapy and radiation therapy, my disease was in remission. You said that this is the hardest thing you have ever gone through-I felt the same way. Unfortunately for me, a little less then a year ago I relapsed. When my doctor told me about the new course of chemo, and ultimately the stem cell transplant that I would have to receive, I was devastated. My worst nightmare had become a reality.

Feelings that had subsided since my original diagnosis began to resurface- feelings you mentioned in your post. It was hard for me to tell my friends and family that I was sick again. I dreaded the routine; putting on the fake smile and reciting the scripted speech in which I assured the person across from me that everything would be fine, when the truth was I had no idea if it would be. Ironically, my attempts to abate the nervousness of everyone around me only seemed to magnify my own doubts. Feeling completely uncomfortable in my own body was something I sort of learned to accept, but the anxiety of not knowing how a person would react once I told them I had cancer never got any easier. I received mixed reactions. While some promised that they would be with me throughout the fight, there were those who were too uncomfortable to even hug or touch me.

I am not writing to you as a cancer patient or survivor. I am not writing to you because I feel sorry for you or want to teach you what you should or shouldn't feel. I am writing to you with no intention of ever hearing from you or meeting you. I am writing to you because my own illness has taught me that friendship, in whatever form it exists, is limitless. It is more infectious than any disease and stronger than any medicine. I am not writing to you as a stranger, but as someone who might be able to relate to what you’re feeling. I am writing to you because you feel alone and I want you to know that you’re not. I am writing to you as a friend.

To say it has been easy for me to get to this day would be untrue. I wish I could tell you that winning the war makes the battles and their memories any less painful, but it doesn't. The luxury of seeing the world through rose tinted glasses was stolen from me and I have seen and experienced things that will haunt me forever. Battling, and now beating cancer has been a huge challenge, but with challenge comes experience and knowledge, and this illness is no exception. I didn’t choose to get sick, and neither did you, but I am choosing to take whatever I can from this disease- it has certainly taken enough from me.

Being isolated from the world, with premonitions of death constantly reminding me of my own mortality, my view of life changed. A world I was once so comfortable being a part of, so sure of where I had been and where I was going, ceased to exist. I felt like a prisoner, uncomfortable in my own skin, uncertain of where tomorrow might lead me. But amidst this confusion, no matter how hopeless I felt, when inconsistency was everywhere, I learned I could always rely on friendship.

I found friendship in places I never thought to look before I was sick. I found it in the smile of my nurse, in the kindness of the hospital librarian who sent books to my room when I was unable to get out of bed. I found a friend in the laughter of a man who snuck me extra jello every night because it was the only thing I could bear to eat, even though the limit was one per order. I found friendship in people I will never know, people who donated blood and saved my life. I found a friend in the night nurse who complemented my bandana, instead of avoiding the hair conversation like most people did. I found a friend in a little boy who smiled at me on the elevator, and made me forget for one moment that I felt like a monster. I found friends in family members I hadn't seen in months, but who traveled to New York to be with my family in anyway they could. I found friendship in people I never appreciated before- people who filled in the voids left by those who let me down.

Although my peers attended classes at expensive universities, I am the one who has learned the priceless lessons. The people who were too scared to stand by me, too preoccupied with their own insecurities to understand how much I needed them, have taught me as much as those who helped me push through and kept me standing when I was ready to collapse. I learned to let go of expectations that were weighing me down, and instead began to welcome surprises. I stopped letting the weaknesses of others hurt me, and embraced the strength in the wonderful people who stood by my side. When I felt scared and cowardly, my friends taught me that courage is not the lack of fear, but fighting in spite of it. When I was broken and tired, they carried me until I was able to soar on my own. My illness has taught me that friendship is about filling someone with hope when they are flooded with despair. A friend steps up when the world steps back, and is a pillar of strength when everything else seems to crumble. A friend is someone who reaches for your hand, but touches your heart and feels your pain, and that is why I am sharing all of this with you.

Cancer is a thief that steals and destroys. It is also a tool that can illuminate and strengthen your respect for life. We have been chosen to endure this test, but people in our lives share the struggle with us. These people, these friends, have given me the ability to see cancer for what it is- a hindrance, a mere obstacle to overcome, not an inevitable fate to succumb to. When I was first diagnosed I questioned God, and everything I believed in. I couldn't understand why I was being punished and what I had done to deserve feeling so alienated. As I got further into my treatment though, I realized that friends are God's way of making everything a little bit easier. No matter how far off course you are thrown, friends are gifts that help cushion your fall.

I used to see cancer as a death sentence, but now I understand that for me it has actually been a rebirth. I have been given a second chance at life, and I am using what I have learned and sharing it whenever I can. I know now that I am not invincible, that bad things happen to good people, that there are things in this life I will never understand. More importantly, my illness has taught me that although my body may be weakened or even destroyed by cancer, true friendships never have to be.

I hope this letter inspires you to appreciate the friends you have, to forgive the people who have disappointed you, and to never let the pain of your disease outshine the happiness you find in the people around you- this is my advice to you. Your disease will go into remission, but if you let cancer control your ability to love and be loved, you will always be a cancer victim. I feel blessed to be one of the lucky ones who can call themselves a survivor, and I attribute so much of my triumph to the people I have encountered throughout my journey. I wanted to share my story with you, to lift your spirits if just for one moment, to let you know that I understand what you are going through and what a hard fight this is. I wanted to share with you the lessons my illness has taught me, and give you the most precious gift of all, the gift of friendship. Cancer has shown me what it’s like to need a friend, and I hope I have shown you what it’s like to have one.

I wish you peace, strength, and an abundance of friends to walk by your side.

Your Friend,
Rebecca Ryan