Leukemia

The Circle of Hope

By Joe L.

 

          Hello. My name is Gordon Anderson. My friends and family call me Gordy. I live on Whipple Avenue in the Greenwood Apartment Complex, room number 555. The complex is snuggled within the neighborhoods of the South Side of Milwaukee. It’s fall right now here in Wisconsin, which is a pleasant season. However, I’m not originally from Wisconsin. Actually, I am not even from the Midwest region of the United States. I’m from Florida and you may ask, why would you move from the sunshine and ocean to the tundra of Wisconsin? Well, there are a couple reasons. First, my grandparents live here and I decided to move in with them and try to make memories before they pass away. Second, I heard the fishing here was fun and I make an effort to do so whenever I have some time for myself. Third, I have an amazing job. A job that I love. And my job is the reason I am telling you my story. Enjoy.

          I had just graduated from Florida State University in August of 2012. I finally earned my degree in sociology, I was sleep deprived the last couple months but I thankfully survived. College was a great experience and I made many close friends along the way but I felt it was time for me to leave Florida. However, I had no idea where to go, running on little money and no leads for a job. My parents kept on begging for me to stay in Florida and just work somewhere in town until I had more money but I told them I needed to take my life beyond the borders of the Sunshine State. Along with my memories and dreams, I packed up many of my belongings in my old grey Jeep: fly rod and fishing gear, swiss army knife, clothes and two pairs of shoes, white snapback hat, electronics,  $7,000, pocket watch with my name inscribed onto the back of it, and of course food and beverages.

          I hit the highway and headed north. I sped through Georgia for a couple days, sleeping in my car. The summer heat was just about unbearable and my Jeep almost overheated a couple times so I decided to stay in a hotel in Nashville, Tennessee but I eventually had to sleep in a parking lot while in my Jeep and use the McDonald’s Wi-Fi for my laptop to try to look up jobs that would suit my degree, however, many available jobs were boring to my liking and my options began to run extremely thin. I tried some fishing around the area, not so good.  After being on the road for about two and a half weeks, my mother called to check up on me. I explained the struggle and how I was kind of stuck in Nashville due to being low on money. She said Florida was good and that my little brother made varsity basketball. She also mentioned something about my grandparents that lived in Wisconsin, who I haven’t seen for about five years. She thought it would be nice to visit them if I ever was up that way.

          I sat in my Jeep for a while after that phone call. Windows were down, breeze flowing through and tickling my face. Beads of sweat began to form along the top of my forehead as I began to think about a risky decision. Keep moping across Nashville and just hope for a job to pop up or make the bold move of selling my Jeep in order to buy a plane ticket straight to Wisconsin. I called my mom and asked for my grandparents’ address. The choice was difficult but I decided head even more northward. It would be nice to stay with my grandparents and hopefully get closer to them. Plus, Wisconsin in the summer is amazing for fishing, at least that’s what I read. So I sold my trusty Jeep to a used-car dealership, bought a ticket for Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and I was on my way.

          I arrived at the airport around noon a couple days later and took a taxi to their apartment complex: Greenwood. It was a fairly new set of buildings within an older neighborhood of the Milwaukee area. My heart was racing out of nervousness as I made my way up the stairway to room number 555, at the end of the building on the second floor. I hesitated for a second before I knocked, wondering if I should had came but I told myself that I made it this far and I had nothing to lose. So I knocked a couple times and the door swung open with a little old lady standing there.

          “Gordon!” she exclaimed, “How have you been sweetie?”

          “I’ve been great Grandma Peggy,” I replied, “It’s been a long time.”

          “John come here and see your grandson!”

          “I’m making my way over,” my grandfather replied, “No need to rush me.”

          My grandmother took my hand and walked inside. The apartment looked fantastic. New furniture, new appliances, new everything. It was all spread out and felt cozy, like home. There were pictures of their friends and family hung on the walls and paintings that Grandma Peggy made when she was younger. I sat on the couch as my grandparents sat across from me in recliners. I spoke to them about my situation of having trouble with finding a job that I would like to do. They listened carefully. I eventually asked if I could stay with them for a while until I could find a job and they were delighted. They said they would help me on my search since they were both retired.

          Weeks went by as I spent day after day looking around the suburbs of Milwaukee without any luck. Whenever I wasn’t on the hunt, I was either fishing or eating Grandma Peggy’s home cooking. Plus, I haven’t really met anybody new, so my social life was pretty embarrassing. I mostly did nothing on the weekends while Grandma Peggy went shopping with her friends and Grandpa John did….whatever old guys do. So one Friday night I decided to join Grandpa John and spend some time with him. He explained to me that every Friday night after he goes to his favorite diner, he goes to this meeting at the public library to talk about life. This interested me but I do not think much of it because I assumed it would be old people. The nice part about it was that the diner and the library are within walking distance of Greenwood. After we hit up the diner, we made our way through the warm September night to the meeting.

          The place was awkwardly quiet as we made our way to this wide open room with several chairs made into a large circle. People began to come in with most of them looking much younger than I thought there would be, about twenty to twenty-five, with the sound of whispers filling the room. The room settled down as a tall, slim man entered. He wore white polo shirt with khaki pants and white tennis shoes. He seemed to be about fifty years old as his hair and small beard were a bit grey. He body was somewhat slumped and he had a tired facial expression.

           “Welcome everyone to our Cancer Circle,” he said with a deep voice,” For those who do not know me, my name is Carl Tanz. I am the coordinator of this circle. We talk about our views and stories of how cancer has affected us in our lives.”

          A man started with his story about his wife dying of cancer only a few months ago. He had breast cancer and he explained the pain he saw but also the strength she had. Other people followed and I listened to each one of their stories. Grandpa John did not say anything much other than a few comments here and there.

          After the meeting, I asked Grandpa John several questions about the circle and why he goes there and how found it. He said he goes there because his mother passed away from breast cancer many years ago and he found out about because he saw a flyer. He also mentioned it helps him feel better about life.

          I became very curious about this circle. It seemed like a place of connection or a haven to get away from the bad things in life. I researched about the importance and effects of support groups on people. I found that support groups are more than just discussions, it’s a place to cope with problems but also sharing and supporting each other on similar situations in life. I went to more meetings and it seemed they were a bit dull, in my opinion. I approached Mr. Tanz after a meeting and asked if I could be an assistant coordinator or somehow get involved.

          “Are you questioning my work?” Tanz asked sharply.

          “No, not at all sir,” I replied, “I just thought a couple things could be improved, that’s all.”

          “Well if you want this so good, why don’t you take charge?”

          With that, he shoved a clipboard with paper and pencil into my chest, giving me the dirtiest look a person has ever given me, and stomped out the front doors. I looked down at the clipboard, the paper with the list of people that are a part of the circle. I slowly walked out the doors, where Grandpa John was waiting out front. We walked back to Greenwood, without a word spoken between the two of us. We were just outside the door of the apartment when he said:

          “Can you handle it?”

          “Handle what?”

          “Being coordinator.”

          “Yeah, I think so.”

          “Well, we need you there. Those people need a leader, Gordy.”

          “I’ll try my best”

          He opened the door and headed inside, going straight to bed. I couldn’t sleep that night. I finally had a job, in a way. That whole week I made up an itinerary for next Friday’s meeting, researching ways to get people more involved and have the group be more meaningful to them. However, the closer Friday came, nervousness began to take over. Grandpa John and Grandma Peggy were excited for me, helping me with brainstorming ideas and making suggestions. When the night finally came,  I felt prepared to lead this group.

          The room was a bit more louder than usual, due to the gossip of having a new coordinator. As I stepped into the center the circle, the people hushed. I introduced myself, shared my story about how I got to Milwaukee and what my goals were for the group.

          “I know this is a hard change for all of you but I firmly believe that I can make a positive experience for all of you through this group. Some of you may decide to leave and others may come and join but memories will not be lost and I can promise you that if you are a part of this support group, we will always be here for you. If you feel alone or helpless, we are here for one another. If you have questions or concerns, they will be answered. We are in this together”

          There was a long silence that followed my speech and I felt a bit awkward. Did I say something wrong? What next? But the silence was lifted when people began to applaud and cheer. A smile drew across my face and I finally felt I was in the right place.

          Things launched from there, with one great meeting after another. People enjoyed the activities I brought as they participated more and more each week. Members began to bring friends and family, increasing our numbers to about fifty. It forced me to hold mini sessions in my grandparents’ apartment on Wednesdays just to keep up with the amount of people attending. Some days were stressful, trying to make up new activities or producing quality plans to maintain morale of the group. However, the circle became a part of my daily life, becoming a part of me. It relieved me from stress and anxiety, bringing my own mind into positive thoughts on life. I saw progress within the group as well, less tension and more bright conversations. However, the credit shouldn’t go all to me. The members had been motivated to improve themselves and help others at the same time.

          I made new friendships, which created new memories that would live with me the rest of my entire life. I heard their stories and I felt their struggle, triumph, and every other emotion. Yogi, who lost his mother to breast cancer and his sister was fighting cancer. Pauly, had cancer and it only twenty-nine years old. Louis and his twin brother Owen currently have cancer and reflect off of each other to motivate one another. The list goes on, with story having it’s own unique point of view.

          Studies have shown that social support is pretty successful for patients and people related to patients. However, the results depend on the individual within the group and how they emotionally cope. The thing that has caught my eye is that everyone has improved. Everyone. A time would come though as another job opportunity opened up in California to be an instructor and teach people on how to lead groups.

          However, I looked back on how this circle gave me the opportunity, just after six months. It was the start of my goals of finding something I love to, not just using a job to get through life but instead become my life, my focus. The decision was a difficult one due to the fact of actually getting paid. Also, it was in California. Pretty good fishing out there too. But my mind kept on going back to my grandparents and all these friendships I made. The stories I collected in my mind. My dreams made me want to go but my guts were saying no. Stay.

          So I am telling you my story from my grandparents’ apartment, where I have been staying the last year. The circle has been doing amazing. There are more members but now I do more sessions to keep up with the demand, with the help of Grandpa John. I still am not paid but I receive donations from the members to pay for my clothes and to help pay the rent for my grandparents. I love my life, my job, and my family. The love I have toward the circle is unmeasurable . It has brought so much happiness into my life and hope into the increasing number of members that I decided to rename the group. I now call it the Circle of Hope. Hope and passion brought us all together. No matter what changes, the memories will stay forever in the hearts of the circle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited

References at bottom of page. "Support Groups." American Cancer Society. The American Cancer Society, 16 Jan. 2013. Web. 19 May 2014. <http://www.cancer.org/treatment/treatmentsandsideeffects/complementaryandalternativemedicine/mindbodyandspirit/support-groups-cam>.

Sheard, T., and P. Maguire. "The effect of psychological interventions." Cancer Research Campaign. British Journal of Cancer, 1999. Web. 19 May 2014. <http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2363129/pdf/80-6690596a.pdf>.