Talking, reacting, understanding…….
Nov 11th 2008PostmasterCommunication & Friends & Family
Cancer is such a complicated thing and so difficult to talk about, even with close friends and family. I am continually amazed at the range of responses, types of questions, and reactions when the subject comes up. Here are a few recent examples to give you an idea.
Sometimes there is a message in the silence. Recently, my daughter moved from a basement apartment to a nice new condo. It was one of those situations where the timing all went wrong and she didn’t get all the help that she would normally have. So she and her roommate rented a truck and did it themselves, with Mom helping with the settling in after. Not once did she ask me for help. I would have in a heartbeat, but she didn’t ask and I know it is because she knew it would be hard on me (as I continue to struggle with pain and medication side effects). Normally, she doesn’t talk much about my situation anyway, but in this case, her silence said it all. It told me that she understands, and that she cares like the wonderful, grown-up young lady that she has begun. How great is that?
Here’s another one. I had a long overdue call from one of my relatives the other day, a man not normally short on words. Having had the experience of his own wife dying from cancer, he clearly understood the issues that I was facing. When I told him that my main hope was that they would find a cure for my cancer while my treatments were slowing down its advance, he said, “Well we know there’s a fat chance of that.” He said what he believed and that is just the way he is. Thankfully I’m not sensitive enough to have taking it badly, but I venture to guess that my friend Lori Hope would not have included that one in her wonderful book, “Help Me Live: 20 Things People with Cancer Want You to Know, which we profiled earlier. I think I just chuckled after I hung up the phone.
In a different vein, we had some good friends over for dinner the other night and one of my buddies started congratulating me on my “great news”. At first, I didn’t know what he was talking about but then I realized he was referring to the fact that my PSA had gone undetectable as a result of my hormone therapy. You see, I know that this is a temporary thing because this effect may only last for a few years (although it could last longer) but it became clear that he thought it might be something that would last permanently. I found myself not knowing exactly what to say and, in explaining the reality to him, I was uncomfortable and felt that I was taking something away from his gregarious hopefulness and well intentioned best wishes. I love him for his concern and thank him for his kind thoughts, but my point here is - if I was uncomfortable talking to him, how much more uncomfortable must it be for others to talk to me about it?
Complicated, isn’t it?
Posted by Doug
5 Comments »
Lori on 12 Nov 2008 at 1:34 pm #
Oh, Doug, you have such a gift for writing, and you have given the world such a lovely gift with your daughter, whose silence said it all.
And that call from your relative - should I send him a copy of my book?
You are so so right. It is complicated. It reminds me of the interview I did with the woman who had a rare cancer, and her friends thought she could just find a clinical trial or something. They just didn’t get it.
I guess all we can do is act out of love and compassion, speaking when we think we can do so kindly,and holding our tongues when it will do no good to make corrections. That’s why I wrote the book, though - so that we wouldn’t have to deal with these things!
Anyway, I’m glad I found this post. Will get on rss so I can read all your posts. I just love them. Thank you. And thank you for mentioning my book — it’s a way to keep it out there. I need to write more magazine articles, though, to read a larger audience.
Always hope,
Lori
One Mother With Cancer on 12 Nov 2008 at 3:54 pm #
Very!!
Ruth on 23 Nov 2008 at 10:15 pm #
That reminds me of the bank employee who noticed that I was wearing a pink ribbon. I mentioned that I was a BC survivor. She then proceeded to tell me about her friend whose cancer came back and she died. Oh, thanks for sharing! I feel really good now!
Liane on 29 Nov 2008 at 9:59 am #
So true! A few short months before my mom died she came home from the oncologists office with the announcement that the tumours on her liver were now undetectable. She was so elated and spoke as though she were cured. My sister and I sat there stunned, not knowing what to say as we knew also that this was only temporary. We didn’t have the heart to correct her. Still I feel guilty for not having hope at that stage and I pray that her elation that day was not tempered by my hopelessness.
Ronni Gordon on 03 Dec 2008 at 8:46 pm #
Just found your great blog through checking for an update by One Mother With Cancer. It’s good that you let the insensitive comment by your relative bounce off of you. Many times I just absorb whatever people say, even if they have no qualifications whatsoever. It’s hard work but important to sift the information that’s pertinent from all the comments and advice made by people. I’ve been writing about my own battle with leukemia (treatment, relapse, 3 transplants and, knock wood, remission) on my blog, Running for My Life, Fighting Cancer One Step at a Time (runnerwrites.blogspot.com). Will bookmark yours.