Cancer rants part I

As noted, people sent in wonderful and insightful thoughts about living with cancer--and loving people who are living with cancer. First, a heartfelt cry of desperation that echoes the feelings of many of us who don't know what to say:

I have never had cancer. I have several friends and relatives who have died of cancer, survived cancer, are in the throes of cancer treatment. I agree that I will not know what it's like unless and until I get it. And that makes it IMPOSSIBLE for me to know the right thing to say. More importantly, I have known people who wanted sympathy, people who didn't want to talk about it at all, people who announced--keeping things positive--that they had the "good" kind of cancer, people who were grateful for help of any kind and people who wanted to pretend their lives hadn't changed a bit. That also makes it IMPOSSIBLE to know what to say or do.

I'm sure I've said some stupid things and I'm sure others do, too. God knows. But when you don't have cancer and someone you know does, you're also often afraid to say the wrong thing, so you say nothing. You're afraid to talk about the good things in your life because it seems rude in the face of your loved one's plight. You're afraid to talk about the bad things in your life, because it seems trivial (and probably is) in light of your loved one's plight. In fact, we're afraid of losing the person, of seeing her suffer. Are you supposed to notice the hair? Cheer her up about it? Cry over it? Send her web postings about it? Who knows? And it's different for each person. There are some people who always seem to know the right thing to say and do. Most of us don't have that knack. Having cancer sucks, there is nothing good about it. It's tough to have it, go through treatment, and ALSO have to tell your friends and relatives how to react. But if you don't tell us, we don't know.

It's a good point. Fair or not, it is up to people with a medical condition to take control and let the people around them know what kinds of support (verbal and practical) are welcome and what are not. This is also true for pregnant women: if you're getting asked nosy questions or are the butt of obnoxious statements, the best thing to do is say, as cheerfully as you can manage, "I don't really find that kind of talk very helpful. What I do want to talk about is (the latest childrearing book I read, how I plan to decorate the nursery, this amusing thing that happened at birthing class)."

Another reader gives additional insight into why we find it difficult to say the right thing:

People are afraid of feeling the pain of the cancer patient, either by empathy or the loss of the patient. Saying things like "you'll be okay," "it's not that bad," "my, your hair is different," or "my uncle's dog had cancer" all, in a way, are attempts to decrease the fear felt by the speaker. The things they really want to say or find hard to say are too honest for them to speak, and risk bringing about fear and other emotions. Talking about weight or your uncle's dog distracts from the primary fear of what it means to be on chemo and to have a life-threatening illness--the fear of death.

So what do we say to these people? As a survivor, I have few answers to this question either. I think being honest about how you feel and trying to go about everything as normally as possible is the best way to do it. Under normal circumstances, if your friend gains weight for no apparent reason, would you really say something as insensitive as "my, you've gained a lot of weight"? I doubt it. The comfort of normality is strong for everyone, including chemo patients.

Coming up, parts II and III: good practical advice, and the one that made me cry.