Melissa's Story: Finding Peace, Then Fighting for It

• Written by: Cancer Can't

 

Melissa's Story: Finding Peace, Then Fighting for It

Melissa had finally found peace.

After leaving a painful relationship, she and her two sons landed in Newport. She remembers the night they moved into their new home — the physical sensation of bricks lifting off her shoulders, the quiet settling in. She enrolled in school, took a job that let her work one or two days a week, and built her life around her kids. She made it to all their games. She was home.

It was peace. It was wonderful,” she says.

Then, in June 2024, Melissa was diagnosed with cancer. Everything went upside down.

For months, Melissa saw posters for Cancer Can't in her oncologist's office but didn't reach out. She's a private person. She doesn't tell many people about her diagnosis. But eventually, she thought: I think I need somebody to talk to.

She gave the support group a chance. If she didn’t like it, she didn’t have to go back. It was free.

Jennifer, who leads the peer-led group, made her feel comfortable. Melissa didn't talk much the first time. But she came back. And then she kept coming back. The groups meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays in Spokane — an hour’s drive from Newport — but it’s worth it.

“It was nice to know you’re not alone in your journey,” Melissa says. She’s made a friend there — someone who understands exactly what she’s going through. After their last meeting, they spent time together outside of group, deepening a friendship built on shared understanding.

Melissa is honest about the hard parts. When asked about the clichés people often say, she mentioned: If you had to get cancer, this was the one to get. Also: You’re so strong. She knows people mean well — they’re doing what feels right because they don’t know what else to say. But it doesn't make it easier to hear.

What gets left out of most cancer stories, Melissa thinks, is the ugliness. "A lot of stories are very sugar-coated to make them tolerable to read," she says. "But knowing the ugliness of it, too — I think that's important."

The ugliness looks like this: Melissa doesn’t have much energy anymore. She’s home a lot. She takes naps. She’s worked all her life, and now she doesn’t go to work or school. The rhythms of her days have changed entirely. She gets frustrated with her body for getting weaker. She still gets stuck in dark moments, in the depression part of it.

But ask Melissa about her support system, and she lights up.

Her parents take her to every single appointment. They bought a house a few blocks away just to help take care of her. Her medical team — Dr. Brent McGinty and Annie Petit-homme, APRN, NP-C — have been there since day one. Her chemo nurses go out of their way to be kind. Melissa made them little anxiety pillows — handheld hearts with buttons and crosses sewn on the outside, something to fidget with. She’s taken up sewing again now that she has so much time at home.

Her neighbors on either side of her house are there when she needs them. Her 83-year-old grandma is still around. Her childhood friends check on her all the time.

“I can’t tell you how lucky I am,” Melissa says. “My support system is solid.”

If she could go back to June 2024 and tell herself something, Melissa would say this:

Process it. Feel all the feelings that come up. Don't force them away, but don’t get stuck in them either. It’s important to feel and heal.

Everyone’s journey is different. Just because someone has the same cancer doesn’t mean your journey will be the same. Your body is different. Give yourself grace.

Be your own advocate. If you feel something, voice it. Not everyone gets amazing doctors who listen, but make sure you're heard. Do what’s right for you on your journey.

And give yourself grace. If you’re tired, rest. Your body is telling you what it needs. Don't get frustrated with yourself for the things you can’t do anymore.

Right now, Melissa is working on a bucket list. She’s looking into a couple of vacations. Her youngest son is really enjoying band, and she's looking forward to his concert soon.

She’s still fighting. She’s still doing chemo. She’s still finding peace where she can.





 

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