The Milan News-Leader
A Heritage Newspaper
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How to help a friend, loved one with cancer
AlisonMarable
PUBLISHED: January 24, 2008
Every person's preferences are unique, but for me, there were specific actions that people took that meant a great deal to me during my breast cancer treatment and recovery.
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The support and interaction of others brought me such great rewards, pulling me out of a dark place and providing hope to someone who never before had trouble being an optimist.
Having cancer is an isolating experience. I suddenly felt like a foreigner, out of my element, in a strange land. Familiar places and common activities no longer felt ordinary; it felt as though I had never seen or done these simple things before. The eyes of others seemed to linger on me as if I wore a garment bearing a scarlet letter "C."
Often, I was so exhausted or in so much pain that I would lie on the couch for days or weeks at a time. For the first time, I was missing the daily contact of other people. The hustle and bustle of a crowded store now seemed like a far-off vacation destination. This isolation only enlarged my sadness and feelings of hopelessness.
The cards, gifts and flowers that arrived almost daily were of huge importance. They may sound like such insignificant trinkets, but, in fact, they were the opposite. My table was so packed with a variety of blooms in vases and spring bulbs in baskets that we had to place some of the arrangements in other rooms.
I kept the greeting cards in a stack, wrapped up in the extra piece of yarn that accompanied my prayer shawl that I received from a friend and pastor at Chelsea Community Hospital. The envelopes were in bright colors of greens, blues and purples. Sometimes I would count the cards, noting how many people cared about me and dreaming of when I would see them next.
My husband set me up with a laptop, arranged carefully next to the couch so that I could reach it and still maneuver around my medical equipment. E-mail allowed me another opportunity to communicate with the outside world.
Most of the people who I would e-mail had full-time jobs, were full-time students or were the typical busy individuals with plenty to do. I typed, often with one hand, in short sentences, which led to longer and more coherent sentences as time went on. My friends thoughtfully took the time to read my garbled and most-likely bleak e-mails and chose to write me back.
Like a puppy, I wanted to go on car rides. My husband drove me around Chelsea and with amazement I stared out the windows at the landmarks I had not seen in weeks. There was my son's school, there was a pair of cranes standing in a field and there was Cottage Inn, the best pizza in the world for post-surgery binges.
One set of friends bought me and my husband concert tickets scheduled for several months in the future. The alluring evening of a double date with close friends, people-watching in the pavilion, and the energetic music of the Barenaked Ladies beckoned me to work toward getting off that couch. The concert was far enough in the future that ideally I would be well enough to attend at that point, and indeed I was.
Those people who focused their efforts on my children put me at peace during a time when I was unable to do many things myself. The little gifts in the mail from Nain (the Welsh name for grandmother), the trips to restaurants and shops and the fun evenings at their friends' houses went a long way in keeping their spirits up. Knowing that my kids were able to continue with normal activities and have some well-deserved attention gave me one less thing to stress about.
There were a few things that I don't recommend anyone do for the cancer patient in your life. If you are uncomfortable with the idea of cancer, find a way to communicate that won't reveal your uneasiness.
There were a couple of people who either were unable to mention the word cancer or thought that I wanted to pretend nothing was going on, so they ignored the elephant in the room. This actually made me feel awkward and out of place. On the other hand, I adored hearing stories about my friends' lives, so don't feel that all we can talk about is cancer.
This might be a good opportunity for an individual to face something frightening and grow as a person, or perhaps it's better to back off and leave the patient in the hands of those who can deal with the disease.
Often I was asked if it was all right to hug me. I welcomed hugs and often that show of affection indicated that I was not "untouchable." As a cancer patient, the last thing I wanted was to be transformed into an oddity.
There were a few times that I wanted to be left alone and the thought of talking on the phone or answering the door was unimaginable. Please understand that cancer takes an emotional toll on a person. I know that a couple of people felt insulted, but please believe me when I say that I value your effort, but another time is better.
A good idea is to call and ask what the family of a cancer patient needs. Maybe it's a meal for the family, an errand that desperately needs running or the kids need a ride to an activity. Your help is needed and appreciated, but providing the right thing at the right time is more meaningful than guessing.
One woman whom I barely knew showed up as we arrived home from the hospital with a gigantic, piping-hot dish of aromatic macaroni and cheese. For anyone who has ever experienced post-anesthesia nausea, you might understand that food was not on my mind. In addition, there was no room in the refrigerator for the dish and I was on a strict diet that prohibited dairy products that weren't organic.
There are occasions that warrant telling another person that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. However, spreading the word for the mere sake of needing a topic of conversation is not acceptable. You might think that we won't find out, but we usually do.
Some of the people who learned of my disease called me right up or e-mailed me to let me know they were thinking of me. That felt like the right response, as opposed to the ones who suddenly avoided us, stared or acted awkwardly at our next interaction. Children are acutely aware of unspoken messages and your actions or what you tell your own children can impact the children of a cancer patient.
So many people helped out the four of us during my breast cancer that there is simply not enough room and no adequate way to thank everyone for their contributions. My hope is that by sharing which activities brightened my day and which actions were not as positive, that I might inspire friends and family members with ideas to assist the cancer patient in their lives.
Alison Marable is a breast cancer survivor and has a master's degree in social work from Eastern Michigan University. She can be reached at alimarabelle@yahoo.com. Comment on her column via our staff blog, "Inside the Newsroom," at heritageweststaffblog.blogspot.com under the Nov. 13 posting "Cancer touches so many lives."
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