CHOMP empowers cancer patients (and their supporters) with info, rides and even makeup tips.

I know firsthand that cancer is painful for both patient and caretaker. I belong to the latter group, my dad to the former.

Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula (CHOMP)’s Cancer Center website describes a diagnosis as a difficult journey – but not one without help or hope. In my experience, they provided both: A victory bell to ring when my dad finished radiation treatment. The opportunity to get car rides to and from the hospital, since he couldn’t drive himself. Methods to help my mom and me become better caregivers.

The CHOMP Cancer Center is spacious and clean, and doesn’t have the sterile feel typical of a hospital. On one end of the room is a series of bookshelves, their contents well-thumbed. On the other, white mannequin heads wear a multicolored array of wigs and beanies. The ceiling lamps bask the room in friendly yellow light.

CHOMP has been running its cancer support system for over 20 years. First, educators evaluate prospective patients to determine what kind of support fits them best. CHOMP offers group classes, cancer literature and one-on-one sessions with oncology nurse educators.

As for the group sessions, there are upwards of 10 subject-specific classes. Some specialize in certain types of cancer (like breast cancer early support and prostate cancer self-help), while others focus on the side effects and difficult recovery from treatment (chronic pain support, radiation therapy orientation).

“VOLUNTEERING HELPS TO CULTIVATE A SENSE OF OPTIMISM.”

Registered nurses Joy Smith and Mary Welschmeyer facilitate several classes. Welschmeyer is a therapist who provides patient and family emotional support, and Smith is an educator.

Smith says she’s been working in this role since she was a young nurse. “If there is a skilled nurse to offer education and support, [the patients] do better,” she says. “They have less anxiety; they stay connected to the treatment. It’s the key to long life.”

Some classes go beyond education and support. Mary Welschmeyer’s Healing Art Retreat, a six-hour monthly class, allows patients to express themselves through watercolors, collage and clay.

“Often feelings that would otherwise be inaccessible percolate up through the art experience,” Welschmeyer says.

Cancer patient Ethel Arnold, a personal friend of mine, knows how chemotherapy takes a toll on one’s appearance. It doesn’t stop at hair loss. “You lose your eyebrows, your eyelashes,” she says. “It’s pretty bizarre.”

CHOMP’s “Look Good… Feel Better” class focuses on the cosmetic effects of cancer. In Arnold’s class, a Macy’s volunteer gave tips on makeup, head scarves and wigs. At the end of the session, participants received free do-it-yourself kits.

One thing the experts taught Arnold: how to locate where her eyebrows should be. “My husband would try to help me because my [drawn-on] eyebrows were always different from each other,” she says with a small laugh. “He would draw through a stencil.”

But CHOMP’s classes aren’t for everyone. Ethel’s husband, Jack Arnold, participated in a drop-in class for caregivers. He didn’t go back; he still hadn’t come to grips with his role as his wife’s primary physical and emotional support. “It was too soon to click with me,” he says.

Other patients opt out of classes because they feel they have enough support.

“I have a group of friends who are also breast cancer survivors. They always advised, comforted and supported me,” says Barbara Rees, a breast cancer patient (and one of my former high school teachers). “I don’t know what I would have done without them.”

As for me, an only child, I learned to shoulder a lot more responsibility when my dad had cancer. Mostly, I helped in small ways: getting things my dad couldn’t reach, mixing juice drinks when he didn’t have an appetite. When I came home from school, I talked about the day’s events with him. I think it helped take his mind off his illness.

Smith says just listening, and being heard, is one of the main benefits CHOMP’s classes can offer cancer patients. It’s not necessarily the education, or even the emotional help from therapists, but the support from others who can truly empathize.

Some fellow patients do more than just listen. Volunteers drive the transport system at CHOMP, giving rides to people who may otherwise be unable to get to and from treatment. Many volunteers are cancer patients in remission; some of them once used the transport system themselves.

“It helps to cultivate a sense of optimism,” Welschmeyer says.

That’s true for everybody involved: the educators, the survivors, the patients. And for me – the former caregiver.

Contact CHOMP’s Comprehensive Cancer Center at 831-625-4753. Find class info at www.chomp.org