A Conversation with Javacia Harris Bowser
You’re young. Just starting a new, uncertain career. A global pandemic is raging. And you’re diagnosed with breast cancer. What do you do? If you’re type-A, go-getter, freelance writer extraordinaire Javacia Harris Bowser, you stay calm and carry on. But you also recognize and soak up the support of a loving husband and the small ways good friends can make big impressions.
Tell us about your cancer diagnosis and treatment and current status. On January 24, 2020, I was diagnosed with stage II invasive lobular carcinoma. For treatment, I had a lumpectomy, 16 rounds of chemotherapy and 36 rounds of radiation. The cancer was ER and PR positive, so I am currently taking Tamoxifen. I am currently NED (no evidence of disease).
What was your first thought when you heard the diagnosis? To be honest, I wasn’t scared or even sad. I am VERY type A, so I instantly just wanted a game plan. I wanted to know what I had to do next. But I was worried about how the diagnosis would affect my ability to work. In fact, the first question I asked the doctor who diagnosed me was, “Can I still work? “ I had just left my job as a teacher in May of 2019 to be a full-time freelance writer. So, I needed to continue to work through my treatment. Fortunately, I was able to do so.
Through the treatment process (and after), what did you want and need from your friends and family? I went through treatment during the pandemic, so friends and family couldn’t visit me. Instead, they showed love with small gifts—blankets for the cold chemo room, ginger chews and peppermint tea for nausea, graphic tees with inspirational messages, journals and adult coloring books. My husband was my rock. Because of the pandemic, it was just the two of us. He had to handle care giving all by himself and he was amazing.
I JUST INSTANTLY WANTED A GAME PLAN.
What forms of help and support really stood out? My cousin, who’s my best friend and like a sister, not only sent me gifts but also did little things that kept me from feeling alone despite the isolation that the pandemic mandated. She’d text me while I was in the chemo chair. She constantly sent me funny memes. Best of all, she didn’t treat me like a sick person. She gave me a sense of normalcy that I needed. I was also blown away by the love and support from the women of See Jane Write, the community for women writers that I organize. Because of them, there was a small gift on my doorstep every single day during treatment, so I always knew someone was thinking of me. One member even had a T-shirt made that read #SeeJavaciaBeatCancer.
What are some things friends and family should NOT say or do? Don’t tell your friend who’s just been diagnosed that your aunt or grandmother died from breast cancer. That’s not what she needs to hear right now. If you know someone alive and thriving after a diagnosis, tell her about that person instead. Don’t silence her with “Good Vibes Only” toxic positivity. If she needs to cry or vent, let her. Don’t tell her about some special diet you read about that you think she should try during chemo. Chances are, rice and apple sauce will be the only things she can keep down. As my treatment progressed, I couldn’t even stomach the scent of meat. So, this is definitely not the time to tell her to try keto!
What one thing that you’ve done and/or are doing for yourself has most helped you cope? Walking and writing got me through treatment. In 2020, I walked for at least 30 minutes every single day, even the day of my lumpectomy and even after chemo infusions. My oncologist believed that the walking helped my body tolerate and bounce back from chemo as well as it did. But honestly, I walked because it helped with my mental wellness. When you’re being poked and prodded by doctors constantly, you start to detach from your body. Walking helped me feel more grounded and more like myself. And I’ll tell anyone willing to listen that I wrote my way through breast cancer. Not only was my work a good distraction, but I journaled constantly, sometimes when I was sitting in the chemo chair. But what helped me even more was when I started journaling out loud—when I started sharing my story on social media, on blogs and in essays for both print and digital publications. Seeing my story’s positive impact on others helped me find a purpose for my pain.
What advice would you give others on how to approach and help their loved one going through cancer treatment? Just be present. Check on your loved one often, but remember that it's okay to talk to her about things other than cancer. Sometimes you won’t know what to say. And you’ll probably say something you shouldn’t. But that’s better than saying nothing at all. Your loved one needs you now more than ever. So be there.