Back when I was first diagnosed in October/November 2016, I was looking for different ways to let people know about the new journey I was facing. While browsing, I found a leather bracelet that says “stupidcancer” on the Stupid Cancer online store. This bracelet spoke to me - I had wanted something that was subtle about my ongoing fight against testicular cancer, but also poignant enough to spark a conversation. Bonus points—I could wear it around my students and it wouldn’t be inappropriate.

My ABSOT partner-in-crime, Katie, bought it for me, most likely as a way to shut me up about whining about not having it. Ever since then, it’s been a mainstay in my wardrobe. Rounding out my wrist ensemble is my “SURVIVE” bracelet (why it’s not SURVIVOR is explained in this post) and my brand new “Carpe Scrotiem” bracelet (you can get one for yourself here).

After getting the bracelet and following them on Instagram, Stupid Cancer was one place where I started my journey in finding a community of cancer patients and survivors. I continued searching and I found “my people” is on cancer Instagram (or Cancergram as I like to call it). This community shares a special bond. No one gets cancer like other survivors and patients. I enjoy connecting with people with my ABSOT Instagram account, but I still found myself wishing to go deeper.

Imagine my joy when I was surfing Cancergram and saw that Stupid Cancer had just released a new app designed to match you with similar young adults facing cancer. I immediately signed up.

The intake questions reminded me of when I signed up for, although this one was a little more direct in asking about my private areas. The app asked about my relationship with cancer (whether I was a patient, survivor, caregiver or friend), as well as my type of cancer, staging and current status (in treatment or completed). It also recorded what treatments I had received, as well as more general information like my age and gender. In my profile, I found I could also add a mini-bio and customize an avatar. While browsing, I mistakenly thought one avatar was a person with blue hair, but it was actually a person with a blue bandana on.

After setting up my profile, I was presented with some matches, based on my intake info. My first couple of matches were men with testicular cancer, and further down the list were both men and women with different cancers, but of a similar age.

This blog post originally appeared on A Ballsy Sense of Tumor. It is republished with permission.