The Healing Power of Being Understood: Reflections from Rise Family Cancer Camp

This past weekend, I had the privilege of returning to Rise Family Cancer Camp at Camp Latona on Gambier Island for my second year as one of the camp counsellors. Rise brings together families who are navigating cancer and gives them an opportunity to spend time with other people who understand, in a way that can be difficult for friends and family outside of that experience to fully grasp.

It was lovely to be back. Over the weekend, families had time to connect, play, laugh, and simply spend time together. There was no need to explain why an appointment had been missed, why someone was tired, or why a family might be feeling overwhelmed. Cancer was part of the reason everyone was there, but it certainly wasn't the only thing that defined the weekend. Watching the kids get to be kids and seeing parents have a chance to relax and connect with one another is a big part of what makes the camp so special.

As one of the camp counsellors, my role is to support the families and help create a safe and welcoming environment throughout the weekend. I was also invited to facilitate a discussion group for parents and caregivers, where we talked about parenting, relationships, caregiving, identity, and some of the changes that happen within a family when cancer becomes part of daily life.

As a counsellor, I am used to facilitating conversations and creating space for people to talk about difficult things. What stood out to me during this session, though, was how much of the value came from the families talking with one another. My role was really just to help create the space and get the conversation started. From there, people shared their experiences, responded to one another, and found points of connection that I don't think could have been created in quite the same way in a typical counselling setting.

Some families were still relatively new to a cancer diagnosis and were trying to adjust to a life that had changed very quickly. Others had been living with cancer for years and had already experienced many of the things that newer families were beginning to anticipate: treatments, setbacks, long stretches of uncertainty, and the ways cancer can affect relationships, parenting, work, and everyday family life.

Having people at different points in their experience made the conversations particularly meaningful. Those who had been living with cancer longer didn't have a set of answers to offer, and no one was pretending that things become easy. But they could speak honestly about what they had experienced and, perhaps just as importantly, show that life continues to contain ordinary moments, connection, laughter, and joy alongside the difficult parts.

I could see how reassuring that was for some of the families who were earlier in their experience. When you are newly diagnosed or adjusting to a major change, it can be difficult to imagine what life will look like a year or two from now. Seeing people who have continued to live, parent, work, travel, and navigate relationships while carrying something incredibly difficult can offer a perspective that is hard to put into words.

Our conversation covered a lot of ground. People talked about how to speak with their children about cancer and how much information to share. They talked about trying to protect their children while also managing their own fears. There were conversations about relationships and how roles can shift when one person becomes a caregiver or when illness takes up more space in family life. People also spoke about identity and what happens when so much of your time and energy becomes focused on appointments, treatments, caregiving, and simply getting through the next stage.

What became apparent fairly quickly was that there was no single way these families were managing any of it.

Some parents had chosen to be very open with their children from the beginning, while others were taking things more gradually. Some families relied heavily on friends and extended family, while others preferred to keep their experience relatively private. For some people, maintaining routines was important, while others found that their family needed to adapt and change almost everything.

Listening to these different approaches was a good reminder that there isn't a formula for navigating something like cancer. Families make decisions based on their children, their relationships, their personalities, their values, and the particular circumstances they are facing. What works well for one family may not feel right for another.

I think many of us are uncomfortable with that uncertainty. When something difficult happens, we often want to know the right thing to do. We look for advice, reassurance, and some indication that we are making good decisions. That is especially true when children are involved and the stakes feel incredibly high.

But one of the things I took away from the afternoon was how much wisdom people already had about their own families. They may not have felt confident all the time, and many were questioning decisions or wondering whether they were handling things well. Still, they knew their children. They understood their family dynamics. They had a sense of what their children could manage and what their family needed, even if those needs continued to change over time.

Sometimes what people need is less about being told what to do and more about having the opportunity to talk things through with people who understand the context.

There were moments during the conversation when someone would share something they had been struggling with and several other people around the table would immediately recognize it. Sometimes there were suggestions or ideas exchanged, but often the most meaningful response was simply recognition.

Cancer can be incredibly isolating, even when someone has a supportive family and community around them. People can feel overwhelmed, frightened, exhausted, angry, hopeful, resentful, grateful, or uncertain, sometimes all within the same week or even the same day. It can be difficult to explain that complexity to someone who hasn't lived anything similar.

Being around other people who recognize those experiences can make a difference. The circumstances don't change, and the difficult decisions are still there, but there can be some relief in realizing that your reactions are not unusual and that other people are trying to navigate many of the same questions.

By the end of the session, several people spoke about appreciating the opportunity to talk openly with one another. I think that was what stayed with me most from the weekend.

Having now spent two years at Rise, I have been reminded again of how valuable this kind of community can be. The camp creates an opportunity for families to spend time together, but it also creates a community around an experience that can otherwise feel very lonely.

The conversations I was part of were only one small piece of the weekend, but they were a good reminder of the value of being able to sit with people who don't need the whole story explained before they understand why something feels difficult.

I left feeling very grateful to have been included for another year and to have met so many families who were willing to share a little of their experience with one another. I was also reminded that support does not always need to come in the form of advice or solutions.

Sometimes, having people around you who understand the context of what you are going through can be meaningful in its own right.

Advance Counselling offers in-person counselling and walk-and-talk counselling in North Vancouver, as well as secure online counselling across British Columbia, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Yukon, and the Northwest Territories.

This article was written by Ashleigh Gold, MA, RCC, co-owner of Advance Counselling. Ashleigh and co-owner Natasha Chalke provide compassionate, evidence-based counselling for couples, adults, teens, and families navigating anxiety, ADHD, trauma, relationship challenges, parenting, co-parenting, and life transitions.