Caring through cancer

Reporter Nikki Sullivan explains why support is more than drives to medical appointments

When someone you love is diagnosed with cancer, you worry and you vow to do whatever you can to help them.

When Tamara Corbett was diagnosed in May, I did just that and have been a constant part of her support team since.

Corbett and I met in 2013 when our daughters were in preschool. I sometimes joke the girls adopted each other, both are only children and their relationship is sometimes more like sisters than friends. When she was three, Corbett’s daughter, Stori, asked if I was her aunt. When I said no, she asked, “Could you be?”

Corbett’s husband, Patrick Corbett, works as a rig manager for oil companies in Saskatchewan and Alberta, depending on where the work is. Since Corbett’s diagnosis he has taken time off when he can, but life goes on, bills need to be paid and families need an income. When he is gone, her support team becomes even more important.

I have played the role of compassionate care support in hospital in May and for her April 2-4 round of chemotherapy in Halifax, after doctors told her they didn’t want her doing the trip alone anymore.

I’ve been soup maker, house cleaner and daily check-in gal but the main role I have played is stand-in mom, taking care of Stori, 8, when Corbett is away and dad is out West.

Stori will stay for one to four days, depending on the week, weather and mode of transportation Corbett is taking.

I’ve sent her off on her first day of school and threw a celebration of life party on her birthday — wanting Stori to feel special but not wanting to take the birthday party away from her mother.

I’ve heard the bedtime conversations between them, Corbett often exhausted from travel and treatments and Stori missing her mom’s tuck-in.

I’ve held both Stori and Corbett’s hand while they cried over how much they miss each other. Even when Corbett is too sick to leave her bed, it is easy to see Stori is just happy her mom is home. It is heartbreaking to know how much this disease can keep families apart at a time when they truly need to be together.

When Corbett first started her weekly trips, Stori would sit on her bed at my house with tears in her big blue eyes. She would worry about who would take care of her mom when she got sick and that her mom needed her to rub her back. This strong, determined little girl would break down in tears and tell me she only felt like crying for her mom at our house and wished she didn’t.

Recently she asked me why her mother had to get cancer. There were no words I could say besides, I don’t know, it’s not fair. We both cried for a minute, hugged and moved on.

It’s all you can do when you are part of the support team helping someone fight cancer and helping the family, the children, in whatever way you can.

While I have had other people in my life and my family battle cancer, this is the first time I have been involved at this level and it has been eyeopening.

Watching Corbett fight for her life in hospital, seeing how the chemotherapy is destroying her body and knowing how hard it has been for her and her family to travel for medical treatments is what inspired me to delve deeper into the subject for this series for the Cape Breton Post.

Tamara Corbett is proof there are warriors among us and that even the strongest of warriors sometimes need support.