As Jessica Pooley tells it, there was nothing remarkable about her childhood in Waldoboro, down to having a mother, a single mom, who waitressed at Moody’s. Like other kids, she did her homework, hung out with friends, helped out behind the scenes for the Medomak Valley sports teams and graduated from high school. After, she married. She had children. And everything was normal. Then, out of the blue, she learned she had Stage 3B cancer. Her life shifted. Jessica wasn’t supposed to survive it, but she did. In the process, she became a different person. Life took on a certain urgency. She went to school and became a Nursing Certified Assistant. She met her soulmate, musician Daniel Danzilla Roy and traveled on the road with him for ten short months until he suddenly died of a blood clot. She founded Tripolar Foundation, named after his band, to support the next generation of musicians. It launched a number of Maine bands. After five years. Jessica shuttered it to enroll and earn her MA in Leadership and Organizational Studies. That led to her work in cooperative development where she assisted mobile home communities to organize their own cooperatives. However, things really clicked when she started doing residential real estate. If you don’t know Jessica already, she’s the designated broker of Pooley Realty Group in Waldoboro and PRG Realty in Boothbay Harbor. She’s the Secretary of the Waldoboro Business Association, the Treasurer of the Waldoborough Historical Society, and the Secretary of the Lions Club. And she is often the face behind the numerous food, blanket and toiletry drives for Waldoboro’s homeless students and families.
I was 33 years old when I found out I had cervical cancer, with a grapefruit-sized tumor under my diaphragm and infected lymph nodes.
You have four stages. Mine was at the last stop before the end. They told me they could throw everything at it including the kitchen sink and hope for the best. And then they said, “If you survive it, you’re going to get a lot of side effects afterward.”
But I had three young children: Tiffany, 11, Dylan, 8, and Tristan, 6. I said, “Do it.”
For a year and a half, I spent long stays at Maine Medical, sometimes for a week or more, to be sent home for about ten days to recover, then to turn around and go back for more. There were lots of surgeries. And a couple of blood transfusions.
The whole time, I was actively fighting the cancer. In radiation, I’d lay on the table and visualize the radiation beams as rows of soldiers zapping cancer cells like space invaders.
I kept advocating for myself, too – things like insisting on a scan so I could see what was happening. That was a thing they didn’t like to do because sometimes scans showed no improvement. But mine showed remarkable progress. It made everybody re-engage in the fight.
All the time, I kept living. I went to sports games and school functions for the kids like at Miller School. I remember Tristan telling the class, “My mom is coming in, and everybody needs to wash their hands.’ He was worried about my immunity. But I went, to class events and to sports games.
At home I read. And I studied because I’d gone back to college. I was taking care of myself and my children. And I got my things in order. I did everything I could.
One thing I couldn’t do, however, was hold down a job. So, my sister organized a huge fundraiser to help us get through the trips for treatment. That was 22 years ago. I’m still emotional about it.
When you have cancer, you learn about this whole underground of people who are just there to support you. I couldn’t believe how much other human beings, people who didn’t know each other well, cared for and supported each other. It’s a whole network of love that regular people have no idea exists. And if I hadn’t had cancer, I never would have known it either. It’s something that gives me faith in the kindness of humans.
In cancer I also found out what it was like to be worried about paying the electric bill or having the same meal of pasta three nights in a row because the food stamp card hadn’t arrived. I went through a lot of humbling. I am grateful for it. I don’t know who I would have been, but I wouldn’t be this person. Cancer made me into a fighter.
I know it’s what makes me fight for Waldoboro and its people. I know what it’s like to suffer pain. I know what it’s like to be poor.
I’m not a community leader, but I am the kind of person who sees how things can be improved and then builds on that. When people are hungry or homeless, it’s urgent. That’s why, when there’s a void, I say, “Okay, give me the keys. I’ll do it.”
I feel the same way about my work in real estate. My job is counseling people through the most important periods of their life, whether it’s moving for a job, or trying to sort out the priorities for a family that’s splitting up or assisting the beneficiaries of someone who has died. All of these are emotional for people. And, real estate is a really big decision. It’s not only about money – it’s about home, too. Navigating these waters with people is by far the most important part of my job.
This may sound strange, but sometimes the best advice I can give someone is not to sell their home. Like the widow whose husband had passed. For her, it meant our diving into her financial resources. Talking through about what family support she had. And where she was going to go next. For her, it would have been easy to meet, go see the house, and say, “Here’s the paperwork,” without getting involved. But that is not providing the best service to her.
Selling a home here is very personal to me. I want newcomers to love it here and love it like I do. I want newcomers to become part of Waldoboro’s fabric. After all, they are going to be our neighbors. That’s why we give each new homeowner a basket filled with goodies made in Waldoboro, lots of information of town resources and contacts. We are inviting them. We are saying, “Be part of our town.”
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