Things Not to Say

I've covered this topic before, though it's been a while: the insensitive things that people say to someone with cancer, usually in an attempt to be sensitive.

(There -- I've already revealed my take on this whole subject. I always give people the benefit of the doubt, and assume they want to say the right thing, but just don't know what that is, or are too thrown by the whole "cancer" thing to think rationally. I know there's a real possibility that people who say insensitive things are just jerks. But giving them the benefit of the doubt helps keep me sane.)

The most recent discussion I have seen of this was just few days ago, from Hillary St. Pierre, a nurse and "Patient Advocate-Activist," as she is listed in her article, "Things to Never Do When Someone Tells You They Have Cancer."


I like her opening: "The first time someone uttered the words, "You still have hope" in response to my cancer, I almost slapped them. When an RN said these words -- meant to comfort me -- I raged. I was planning on a little more than hope."
 
Nice attitude. I love a fighter.
 
St. Pierre lists 17 things you should not say or do in this situation. I'm always amazed -- though I know I shouldn't be -- that I've had so many of the same things said or done to me. It's a universal experience, which is comforting, in its way (if you consider knowing that so many other people have cancer, and that so many other people are dumb or insensitive, at all comforting).
 
Some of the experiences I have in common with St. Pierre:
 
2. Do not say, "Oh, my great aunt Millie's cousin (or whoever) died from that."  Yeah, I've gotten that one a lot. I think it starts as an attempt to connect -- this person talking to you has had experience dealing with the situation you are in. But it breaks down quickly. It's supposed to be an expression of concern, I guess, that you will also have a hard time. I had someone tell me (as I was going through treatment) that her great Aunt Millie's cousin probably would have survived, but it was probably the chemo that killed her. Gee, thanks.

7. Do not ask if the disease comes from something the person did (Ex: "Don't people with STDs get that?"). Well, I've never had the STD thing come up, exactly, but I have been asked what caused my cancer. "I don't know, and it doesn't really matter" doesn't seem to get them to stop probing. This, too, I think is a genuine expression of concern, as if knowing what I did to get NHL might also make it go away, if only I stopped. And, hey, if I could stop my body from producing an excess of B cells, I would.

8. Do not suggest asparagus, shakes or any other miracle cure that is "proven to work."   Got this one, too, from someone who suggested she was in an industry that would know that it worked. She suggested some weird fruit juice that cost $60 a quart. Sorry. Not enough proof for me to spend that kind of money. I'm not desperate enough (yet).

12. Do not start on a rampage lecture about how someone somewhere has the cure and is hiding it in a conspiracy theory to make money from your suffering. While I, too, recognize the problems with income disparity in this country, and believe that those in power sometimes do things to remain in power, I cannot believe that someone is holding off on revealing a cure. I've met too many people who work on finding a cure for cancer because they've lost a loved one (or two) to cancer, and I can't believe that they would ever hold back on letting the world know about it if they'd found a cure.

St. Pierre offers some very sane advice for what to do/say instead. To sum up: Take a deep breath. Admit it if you don't know what to say. Be honest and open, and put the needs of the cancer patient first.

It's all good advice. And, to other patients, I say again: give people the benefit of the doubt. In the end, there's nothing truly good that can be said about cancer, or to a cancer patient. Let people's insensitivities slide. Put your energy into getting better, not seething at someone else's mistakes.