Not Knowing What to Say

Someone I care about a lot was diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago.

I remember those first few weeks myself. It was a very tough time. For me, the first 10 days or so was such a whirlwind -- getting the diagnosis, telling my young children, getting a bone marrow biopsy, seeing a specialist -- there was no time to think about it all, even as I was in the middle of it all. Once things slowed down a little, that's when things got real. That's when the fear really kicked in. That's when I held it all inside and fell into a deep, black well. It was not a good time.

My wife also remembers all of that, and, being a wonderful person, has been buying and mailing cards to our loved one since her diagnosis.

I bought a card, too, a few weeks ago. I felt like I should send one just myself, not one from our whole family.

But I haven't sent it. I just didn't know what to say.

Which is so strange. I mean, if anyone should know what to say, it should be me, right? I've heard the words "You have cancer." I've been through the testing, and some treatment, and the deep, dark well. I know.

But I've also been through all of that other stuff that comes with a cancer diagnosis -- the people saying nothing, or saying dumb things, or saying the exact wrong thing on the day that you really didn't need to hear it, and it throws you into another deep, dark well.

Fortunately, I saw my loved one yesterday. We don't live near each other (which is why we've been sending cards). And I got a chance to give a big hug (which often works better than any words can) and at least get a sense of how things are going (without coming out and asking, because we all get that question more then we want to hear).

Fortunately, my loved one is blessed with a what I think of as an Irish Outlook on the world -- knowing that life is hard sometimes, absurd most of the time, and best met with a big dose of humor. And an understanding that sometimes people say stupid things when they don't know what else to say, and that they mean well. Face-to-face, it was an easy conversation. My loved one is handling things.

But it still bothers me that sometimes I don't know what to say. Not just because I've been through this, but also because I've written a few thousand words about cancer every week for almost 10 years.  I learned that lesson, too, long ago -- sometimes people don't now what to say, but they say nothing, or they say something stupid. But in the end, they're saying what they think is the right thing to say.

Not many of complain about the words I use here, so I'm happy about that. But just in case, I'm sending a big hug to all of you, just in case. Sometimes that's better than words, anyway.