talkingaboutcancer.com » Friends

Thoughtfulness

Postmaster — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 16:58:24 +0000

I’ve written before about how special and thoughtful some people can be in response to a cancer diagnosis or a continuing illness. Not everyone can express themselves in the same way and many people (friends and family included) just don’t know what to say or do. On several occasions, friends have dropped by to cook a dinner for us or shovel snow. These are quiet, thoughtful acts that speak louder than words.

This past weekend, we had the pleasure of a visit from my nephew, his wife and little boy. We love to have them visit and we wish we could see them more. They really define what family is all about. When they arrived, they gave me a beautiful card with the most heart-felt wishes for my health, which meant a lot to me. They were a little nervous about how to start a chat about my current status, but we opened up and shared everything with them. They genuinely wanted to know and it felt good to talk about it with them (I always worry about complaining too much). With the card, they also gave my dear wife and I a coupon that they had ordered on the Internet for a dinner at home. Apparently, the chef discusses your tastes and likes with you, does the shopping, prepares and serves the meal, and then cleans up after! We were so surprised and pleased at the gift but even more so at the thoughtfulness that went into it. In my current condition, it is very difficult to go out for an evening (I can do it, but it’s very painful and tiring) and they understood this. It’s difficult for them to do a meal for us because they are far away and have a baby to look after, so they found another way of doing it. The amazing thing is that these are young people in their 20′s who have shown us a degree of empathy and understanding that is, in fact, rare in much older people.

My brother did well in raising my nephew and he in turn did well in choosing his soul mate. We love them both (and little Levi) and look forward to them becoming an even greater part of our lives.

There is so much love in this world, and always hope.

Posted by Doug

Seasons Greetings

Postmaster — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 01:55:10 +0000

Seasons Greetings to all our loyal readers. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, a few months before the holiday season, I didn’t think that I wanted to celebrate Christmas. I just didn’t feel like it as there didn’t seem to be anything to celebrate. As we got closer to the time, my wife and I decided we needed to try to get some joy into our lives and we decorated and partied and celebrated and had a wonderful time. We were so glad we did.

Since our news has taken a turn for the worse, we realize even more how important it is to celebrate any special occasion and to find as many excuses as possible to be with friends and family. Having just completed our latest Christmas Eve and Christmas Day get togethers, we truly feel the gift of having our loved ones around us. And while the knowledge of my cancer is always on our minds, we were able to concentrate on having fun and found the time and energy to laugh, something we don’t do enough of.

So I wish you all the best for the holiday season and wish you good health and happiness in the new year…. including lots of laughter!

Posted by Doug

When someone you love has cancer…..

Postmaster — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 23:25:02 +0000

When someone you love has cancer

My brother-in-law (who is more aptly described as my friend) has cancer that has recurred and metastasized. It has spread to his bones and he is in a great deal of pain. We don’t know how long he will live – years – months?

He is dealing with his situation exactly the way that I would expect of him. Doug is highly intelligent and has an admirable sense of responsibility to his family. He is, as always, taking a lot on his shoulders and he is using his skills to organize and create a future for his wife and children when he’s gone.

Doug’s recurrence hit me like a blow to my core and raises all my worries about the possibility of a recurrence of my cancer. When my treatment ended I fretted about recurrence non-stop then at some point I minimized it and went on with dealing with life. The little voice inside me is quieter now, but the whispers become louder when I go to the doctor and on treatment anniversary dates.

I feel both selfish and foolish that I worry about my recurrence when Doug is forced to deal with its reality every single day. I worry a lot about my sister-in-law and how she is coping. She finds it difficult to share her feelings with others. Her best skill is empathy. I also feel helpless about what I can do to make things better for them.

What saddens me most about this situation is that Doug’s days are full of work demands, making money, looking for ways to leave a legacy, getting treatment and coping with the side effects of treatment.

This is not what I want for Doug. I guess that I assumed that if we knew our life was shortened by disease, we could be able to stop the merry-go-round and do all the things we wanted to do when we had the time. Cross off things in our bucket list, I guess. I’m hoping that Doug will be able to do that at some point in the future.

As we approach the holiday season we need to pause and take time to give thanks for what we have today.

Posted by Ruth

Talking, reacting, understanding…….

Postmaster — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 03:06:49 +0000

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 become. 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

The Stomach is tied to the Heart

Postmaster — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 12:16:06 +0000

I’ve written a number of posts about how important friends and family are when you are going through cancer treatments. It’s the little things, sometimes, that mean the most. Supporting someone with cancer is not all about talking and offering direct support, but sometimes just being a caring friend in other ways is enough.

The day I received my last CT Scan results is a case in point. It was a no-bad-news report so we treated it as good news – great news, in fact – and after sharing that with our great friends next door, they spontaneously invited us out for dinner. Their treat! We were thrilled at their gesture and found it a great way to cap off the day. We didn’t speak much about the tests or about my disease, but instead just enjoyed the company. When they insisted on paying the bill, I didn’t object, because it was their way of doing something for us and turning it into a polite, socially correct argument would have taken something away from them.

On two other occasions, my best friend Steve, dropped by and made us dinner. He loves to cook and, as much as he has trouble talking about my situation, he wants to be here for support and this is a great way of doing it. Each time, he didn’t stay too long as he knew we were tired and stressed and he knew that a couple of hours and a good meal were enough. I treasure this great friendship and know that he will always be there for me.

So, if someone you know our love has cancer, and if you can’t figure out how to provide support, think about this kind of gesture. It doesn’ have to be a meal in or out, but just dropping by for a visit can mean the world to them. And if they don’t think they are up to it, let them know that it’s okay to say no. There will be lots of opportunities to show your love and support. But don’t hesitate. Just do it, as they say!

Posted by Doug

Being Honest

Postmaster — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 00:17:53 +0000

My dear wife and I were talking about this recently, in the context of my previous post. I have a tendency, when people ask how I am, to say, “I’m fine,” even when I’m not. It’s a natural response and one that becomes almost automatic. Think about it….. when you meet someone on the street and say, “Hi. How are you?”, you’d be taken aback if they said, “Actually, I’ve been pretty crappy,” and then proceeded to describe their illness or misfortune or whatever. So we generally just go with the automatic, unconscious response. That’s what I do, and I find myself doing that even with good friends and family.

The fact is, I haven’t been fine. Bad test results and aggressive treatments have taken their toll on me, both physically and emotionally. I want my friends and family to ask after me because it shows that they care and that I have their support. So why to I say I’m fine when they ask. It’s that automatic thing. Or maybe I don’t want to burden them. Or bore them. Or bring them down. Or maybe all of that. But, as my wife pointed out, I can’t expect my loved ones to understand what I’m going through or to show their concern and compassion, if I tell them I’m fine. Maybe they will think that I’m not that badly off. Maybe they’ll wonder if I’ve been over exaggerating in the past. Maybe they’ll think that I am fine now and that they don’t have to worry any more. And, if they do that, I will likely wonder later why they don’t seem concerned anymore. How can I expect them to support me when I’m not truthful?

The message here is that it is very important to be honest and open with your friends and family. While you can tell your casual acquaintances that you’re fine, don’t minimize to those who love you. When they ask you how you are doing, they really want to know. And even if they are uncomfortable hearing the truth, they need to know. You need them to know.

Open communication is so important when you are facing a crisis such as a cancer diagnosis. It is a horrible disease that most of us are not familiar with and, unless you have experienced it yourself, you don’t know what to expect. If a close friend of mine is not well, I want to know about it. Only then can I be in a position to offer my concern and my help. So if I’m not well, I should let my loved ones know. They want to know, I want to know and, in fact, I need to know.

Thank you for caring.

Posted by Doug

Discomfort

Postmaster — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 17:46:51 +0000

There is lots to be said about how friends and family take the news of a cancer diagnosis or recurrence. Lori Hope’s book (covered in a previous post) covers this topic nicely in terms of what cancer patients/survivors need to hear and what they don’t want to hear. But what worries me most, is how the people close to you respond to the bad news. While many rush to your side to support you, many shy away because they don’t know what to say or they are uncomfortable with the notion that you are sick or dying. Even family members find it hard to speak to you, even though they should be there faster than anyone. I understand this. It’s not something we have a lot of experience with and I know it’s uncomfortable. But, come on, this may be the most critical thing that has ever happened to someone, so it shouldn’t be simply avoided.

I’ve heard it said that, when you get cancer, you quickly learn who your real friends are and who really loves you. I think there is a lot of truth in that, however, I am sure that there are friends/family who do love you but just can’t deal with it. That’s about them, not the person with the cancer.

I say (and I mean this), if you really love someone, get over it! Pick up the phone or knock on their door and say simply, “Hi. I love you and I know this sucks, but I am here for you”. You would want nothing less. We are nothing without love and friendship.

Posted by Doug

Who do you remember?

Postmaster — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 09:15:01 +0000

So many friends, relatives, work mates and loved ones are afflicted with cancer that it is hard to imagine that anyone over the age of twenty would not have had someone they know who survived or has died. For those who have lost someone, there is a hole in our hearts and the memories we cherish. There may also be sad memories of how the cancer ravaged their bodies and their minds in the late stages of their disease.

We hope that the departed are in some place better. We are left with our memories and our wondering of what might have been. And we are left more sensitive and more fearful to what cancer means and we can get much more personally familiar with it. Not necessarily what we want.

People support us, lift our spirits and help to define our own lives to some extent. The death of someone who you know can force you to question your own immortality, which can be good or bad depending on the individual.

But friends and loved ones who die can also inspire us and their memories can comfort us. The memories of my father do that for me.

Who do you remember and do you handle it?

Let’s talk……..

Posted by Doug

A Friend Indeed

Postmaster — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 00:12:04 +0000

I was speaking with Dr. Rob Buckman recently and, as always, it was meaningful, touching and uplifting. While I strive to find out what next-big-thing he is up to, it is hard to do that because he always manages to center the conversation on you. His level of interest and genuine compassion is almost intoxicating and, for someone with cancer, he can help you see things that are sometimes hazy or, all too often, beyond our grasp – things like hope, perspective and a sense of humor.

I mention this because it is very difficult to find people to talk about how you feel, how you can cope, or to talk through the difficult decision-making process around treatment. Some of us have “cancer buddies” or support groups or just plain good-old-friends who seem to understand. These confidants don’t have to be doctors or even know very much about cancer. All they really need is the capacity to listen and the ability to empathize. Most of the time, we just need to talk things out and it is the talking that is therapeutic. But talking to someone who isn’t listening, who isn’t opening their heart to yours, just doesn’t cut it.

The world needs more listeners, more empathizers, more people like Rob Buckman. If you have friends or loved ones who have cancer, please remember that all it takes is a willingness to listen and an open heart. Reach out to them. Be a true friend.

Rob tells me I’m handling things “perfectly”. Maybe I am (although there are times I wonder) but it made me feel good to hear him say it. He is a good listener and I am honored to call him my friend.

Posted by Doug

The Big “C”

Postmaster — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 01:46:26 +0000

There’s something about the word CANCER. When we hear that someone has cancer (regardless of the type or the prognosis) we drop our shoulders, tilt our heads and go, “Ooooohhhhh.” When we hear that we have cancer, our heart stops and we become deer in the headlights, imagining all of the horrors that we will be faced with – sugery, radiation, chemotherapy, weakness……. death. A lot of this is just ignorance, because few people know much about the 200+ kinds of cancer, staging, etc., but some of it is just the fact that the word itself has become synonymous with disease and, yes, with death. I see this all the time in the way that people react to the fact of my cancer, in the way they talk about it. People say, “you’ll be fine,” but they don’t know; they just want to make you feel better – or maybe it makes them feel better. I try to explain, as simply as I can, what is going on with me so they can understand the context of my feelings. For the most part, people take it well, even if they don’t know what to say, and I feel better for the sharing. But we have a long way to go.

This blog strives to help people understand the emotional impact of cancer so that they can be supportive and give strength to their friends and loved ones with cancer. For cancer survivors and those with cancer, it can show that they are not alone and they can derive strength from others who have been in their shoes.

I believe that anyone faced with a life-threatening illness experiences many of the same emotional stresses but that over-reaching specter of cancer adds another dimension by enveloping everyone close to us with a shared fear. This is why knowledge and understanding are so important. The doctors can fight the physical disease but we ourselves must fight the emotional disease by being open about what we are feeling and by helping others understand.

Cancer is not always a death sentence. It can be if it isn’t treated, but more than half the people diagnosed and treated will survive, some with little or no residual effect (at least physically). Rob Buckman discusses this in his book, Cancer is a word, not a sentence, by clearly explaining the impacts and outcomes of the different cancers. If we can better understand this and help others to understand, perhaps we can lessen the emotional stress and the pervasive feeling of gloom that prevents us from dealing with it in a more realistic way.

So read through all of the posts and comments on this site and visit the links we have posted, and follow the links on those sites. Read the books that are recommended and lend them to your friends and family. There are many of us out here who want to help. Post your comments so we can all benefit from your experience and insight.

Let’s talk.

Posted by Doug