You may want to avoid these if you’re trying to support someone with cancer
I remember standing at the computer trying to focus.
Trying to breathe.
Trying to find the strength to survive the next second.
I was staring at a screen displaying two side-by-side MRI images, one showing the lesion from one month ago when I collapsed from a seizure. The other image, taken earlier that day, showed a much larger spot on my brain, now officially diagnosed as a tumor.
It had tripled in size in one month. For the first time, I heard the word of which I had been so fearful.
Cancer.
I should have known it was coming. In recent days, I’d lost control of my left hand. The motor controls for my whole left side were getting crushed by the tumor, and the symptoms were worsening by the day.
I should have known.
But, we hold on to hope as humans.
Now, I was officially a brain cancer patient. I really don’t think I heard much else anyone said for the rest of the evening.
To make matters worse, My marriage of 25 years was ending. Attempts at an amicable split through mediation had recently degraded into a bitter court battle which is still unfinished over a year later. I didn’t think I could find the strength to handle both these terrible things at once.
Standing at the computer, my Neurologist hugged me as I cried. He prayed with me and assured me there was hope. “Don’t worry. I’m a fighter” he told me.
I remember thinking “Good for you, buddy. But am I?”
He was the first, but certainly not the last person to support me as a cancer patient.
I’m eternally grateful to everyone who offered to support me in any way as I fought this battle. Helping people through a traumatic illness is difficult, and it takes a degree of bravery to step up and acknowledge others’ pain.
Still, a few conversational themes kept coming up. Ones that I struggled to deal with at the time. My hope in writing this is to better equip people to support others going through similar situations.
Let’s explore these themes and why I found them to miss the mark.
1. Let’s Go Get a Drink
It wasn’t always a drink. Sometimes it was an offer to go fishing, come to a party, or do basically anything to distract me from what I was going through.
Why I didn’t find it supportive
To be sure, there were times when a distraction was welcome, and I appreciated the offer. There were also many times when I didn’t feel up to doing whatever I was invited to.
Sometimes chemo fatigue was kicking my butt. Other times, I couldn’t handle the emotions of my disease, my divorce proceedings, or both.
Occasionally I needed to talk through my feelings with a trusted friend. Often I needed solitude. Sometimes I just needed someone to meet me in the darkest moments and sit with me in the darkness.
Don’t assume the needs of the person you’re trying to support, and know they’ll need different things at different times.
Ask them how you can support them. But, be prepared. They may not know.
Let them know it’s OK if they don’t. Be there for them in those moments. They don’t have to figure out how you can be there for them. Just be there to listen, to sit with them, to let them know they aren’t alone.
2. Joe Had Liver Cancer
OK, I’m not sure who Joe is. But, I heard about so many people who had so many different cancers when I was going through treatment. If they were someone I knew and were presently fighting cancer, of course, I wanted to know.
If they were someone I didn’t know, or that wasn’t currently going through a cancer fight, it honestly felt like an undue burden.
Why I didn’t find it supportive
Confirmation bias is a bitch when you’re a cancer patient. It seems literally everyone has been touched by cancer somehow. You see it everywhere. It made it hard to stay positive.
Stories about others who had won their fight were more inspiring, but even then, there are many different types of cancers and every body responds uniquely to treatments.
One other point on this matter:
Please don’t ever tell cancer patients about people who passed away from cancer if it’s not relevant to their current situation.
I lost people to cancer while fighting my own battle. Of course, I needed to know about them, and I wanted to be there and be supportive, even though it was incredibly difficult at the time.
What baffles me, though, is how many people told me about someone they knew years ago who died from cancer. Many of these were people I had never met.
Neither relevant nor helpful, these stories only served to focus my energy negatively.
Trust me, cancer patients know the stakes.
They don’t need to be reminded of the potential outcomes.
3. How Are You? You Look Strong!
I had the blessing of tolerating chemo and my stem cell transplant very well. I never got sick, and I rarely dealt with nausea. Because of this, I didn’t look like the stereotypical cancer patient.
I actually gained a bit of weight during my treatments, probably because food felt good and I really needed anything to bring me some enjoyment.
I think this statement and question are borne of a genuine desire to celebrate the appearance of things going well. While the intent is positive, I found this to be the most difficult of the three themes.
Why I didn’t find it supportive
When you tag “you look strong” or “you look good” onto the question of how someone is doing, it sets an expectation. I felt I had to be good, making it more difficult to be truthful about how things were really going.
There were so many times I heard how strong I looked while barely keeping myself together on the inside. I wanted someone to reassure me it was OK if I wasn’t strong, it’s OK to not be OK.
I never responded to the statement “You look strong” with the truth of how I was actually feeling. Not once.
If you or someone you know is dealing with cancer or any other traumatic illness, I am truly sorry, and I hope something in this article enables you to provide or receive the support you and those around you truly need.
Thanks for reading!
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