a radio was on.

What a thing of beauty is my support group.  Zoom allows us to meet in way seemingly impossible before the pandemic--those who are house or bed-bound, those of us in the hospital, those of us in hospice--we can all Zoom.  There we are each week, all of us lined up in rows--we could be a book club, but we are not.  We are bound to one another through the diagnosis of metastatic cancer.  We have our own separate group--we don't hobnob with the breast cancer group, unless and until someone's disease progresses; we aren't invited to the young people with cancer group; we will never make it into the post-treatment group (that ship sailed at diagnosis, even if it took some of us longer than others to realize the ship was far from shore, headed to different waters).  I'm sure the theory is that there are commonalties, fears, concerns, terrors that make the metastatic group a closed community. I'm sure that these other groups don't want to sit companionably with someone

What a thing of beauty is my support group.  Zoom allows us to meet in way seemingly impossible before the pandemic--those who are house or bed-bound, those of us in the hospital, those of us in hospice--we can all Zoom.  There we are each week, all of us lined up in rows--we could be a book club, but we are not.  We are bound to one another through the diagnosis of metastatic cancer.  We have our own separate group--we don't hobnob with the breast cancer group, unless and until someone's disease progresses; we aren't invited to the young people with cancer group; we will never make it into the post-treatment group (that ship sailed at diagnosis, even if it took some of us longer than others to realize the ship was far from shore, headed to different waters).  I'm sure the theory is that there are commonalties, fears, concerns, terrors that make the metastatic group a closed community. I'm sure that these other groups don't want to sit companionably with someone