Things People Say
I had to go to the chemo lab to get a nutrient bag today. I received chemo yesterday, so I sorely needed to get pumped up.
The joint was jumping, as it always is on Fridays. All the regulars were there: Ray, Diane, Gloria, Bitsy. A few others. Mike-who-only-comes-in-once-every-two-months now. Rosa, who seldom contributes. Bud, who contributes too much, at least in my opinion.
There was also a newbie, a woman in her thirties. She was pretty savvy for a newbie, though. She snagged the seat closest to the bathroom. I grabbed the one next to her. Ray plopped down next to me. Diana, on the other side of the newbie. We all waited for our various potions to be delivered. I knew from experience that mine would be first. The chemo always come last because it has to be measured by the pharmacy three times. The nutrient bags are pre-measured and hanging up, ready to go.
I was first. But, I did get stuck with Mindy, the new nurse. This can be dodgy. Most of us have ports and the older nurses could probably insert the needles in blindfolded. The newer nurses tend to have a little trouble and say things like, "Okay, one two, three, PINCH!" And it DOES pinch. This one did pinch, but it wasn't too bad.
Everyone else's bags came all at once, except for Mike's. His always take longer because he refuses to get a port put in and has tiny veins. No nurse wants to get stuck with him. I have a sneaking suspicion that they play rock-scissors-paper in the back room to see who gets stuck sticking him.
Diane set the conversation off.
"I have a stupid remark to add to our list," she said. Ray went to the desk and removed our notebook from it. At the top of the third page it said in huge letters
STUPID THINGS PEOPLE SAY TO TERMINAL CANCER PATIENTS.
Yes, we have a list. It was actually started years ago and has been handed down from patient to patient. The people who originally started it are all long gone.
A few items on the list:
1) Anyone could be hit by a bus today.
2) At least you can prepare for your death.
3) I wish that I could quit work and sit around watching TV all day.
4) God will save you if you pray hard enough.
5) It's all that junk you eat.
6) People have to be nice to you now.
7) Use this time to think about why karma is punishing you.
And so on and so on. Honestly? I can truly say that I have heard each and every one of these at some time by truly dimwitted souls.
1) Yes, you could be hit by a bus today. Your chances are 2 out of 4 million. My chance of living 5 years is 4%.
2) We should really all have a will by our 30th birthday.
3) I don't sit around watching TV all day. A lot of my time is spent sleeping, puking, and having the worst stomach and leg cramps of my life. I also have chemo fog. You don't want to know.
4) I am agnostic. Some days I believe in God, some days not. I have a lot of questions. But, if there is a God, I know this: he or she or it does not sit around deciding if your football team deserves to beat another team or causing you to cute meet your spouse, or helping you stay on that diet. If there is a God, he, she or it is your best and most trusted friend. Someone who listens whenever you need it and helps you be strong when you feel your weakest. God cannot take your pain away, but will be there when you need to have your hand held. And most of all: God did not give you cancer, nor can he take it away.
5) It does not matter what you ate, what you smoked, or what you drank. Genetics seem to play a big role. I have seen people who were strict vegans their entire adult life and they ended up with stomach cancer. I have seen non-smokers who got lung cancer. I have seen priests with brain cancer and non-athletic people with bone cancer and melanoma. And if that doesn't convince you, look at Keith Richards.
6) Some people will be nicer to you. Fake nice is meaningless. What is more worth noting? Some people will flat out desert you because they can't do cancer. Others will pretend that nothing is wrong with you and be mad when you can't come to their party because you just had chemo and are puking your lungs out. Cancer will sort out the real people from the frauds. That is one good thing.
7) Karma is not punishing you. Cancer is something that just happens to some people. Some very good, decent people get cancer and some real skanks get it, too. Cancer is non discriminating. It could not care less how old you are, how rich you are, what race you are, or your grade point average. Cancer doesn't give a shit if you are female or male or transgender. Cancer doesn't care if you just fell in love with the man of your dreams. Or if you just had a baby and have no time for this.
So, Diane. Ray asked her what she had to add to our list.
"My neighbor said I was cursed. That people with cancer have been cursed by aliens who come to earth to help with population overload."
We were all quiet for a while. And then there was the laugh. And then the pretend deep talk.
"Well, that guy at the grocery store DID look at me really funny that day last Spring."
"I have always suspected that my sister in law was an alien. I bet she did this. She always says at EVERY stinking Thanksgiving that her brother should have married Betty from college. They were SO cute together!
"I think that weird lady at church did it to me. She wears hats with flowers in them, even in the dead of Winter. And she once hit me on the head with a pamphlet for talking in church to my sister. Great. Now my sister is probably going to get cancer, too."
That was when the newbie spoke up. "I have something to add. But, maybe it's already on the list."
Ray told her to give it a go.
"When I told my mother in law that I had terminal cancer at a dinner out a few weeks ago, she said, 'Honey, look at me. I could go tomorrow. Do you think we all don't know we're dying?' I'm 38. She's 76. My kids are 10 and 6. Hers are grown."
Ray added it to the list. Word for word. A creep is a creep is a creep. And the newbie's name is Dorothy.
She's one of us now.
I know it is hard to know what to say to a cancer patient. ESPECIALLY someone who is terminal. Because cancer is a sticky wicket. Some of us die fast. Some of us die slowly. Some of us die kindly. Some of us...don't.
The best thing to do or say? Acknowledge the elephant in the room but no need to linger on elephants. Offer help. Don't say, "Call me if you need me." I promise you, that call will never come. Say what my dear sister said. Say, "I am bringing you chicken soup. Let's plan a good day for that."
One of the best conversations I ever had was with my cousin, Meg. She asked me that if it were possible, if I would come pat her shoulder on my way out. Kind of a goodbye. I agreed. We discussed the afterlife. What we thought was there or....not there. It was non-emotional, intelligent and so interesting. I listened to her views and she listened to mine.
Talk as you would if the person weren't dying, too. Good movies. Great books. You might want to stay away from things like traveling plans. We don't travel easily or well. Offer to drive to restaurants, to chemo, everywhere. Driving gets really hard for us.
If we indicate that we are tired, don't fuss. Don't talk in baby talk. We are adults. Say, "Yes. Good idea. Can I help you to bed or anything, get you some water before I go?" Ask if we'd like ice in our water. No one remembers shit like that.
And for godsakes, don't say, "Well, I could get hit by a car on the way home and go first!"
Because you won't. And you know it.
The joint was jumping, as it always is on Fridays. All the regulars were there: Ray, Diane, Gloria, Bitsy. A few others. Mike-who-only-comes-in-once-every-two-months now. Rosa, who seldom contributes. Bud, who contributes too much, at least in my opinion.
There was also a newbie, a woman in her thirties. She was pretty savvy for a newbie, though. She snagged the seat closest to the bathroom. I grabbed the one next to her. Ray plopped down next to me. Diana, on the other side of the newbie. We all waited for our various potions to be delivered. I knew from experience that mine would be first. The chemo always come last because it has to be measured by the pharmacy three times. The nutrient bags are pre-measured and hanging up, ready to go.
I was first. But, I did get stuck with Mindy, the new nurse. This can be dodgy. Most of us have ports and the older nurses could probably insert the needles in blindfolded. The newer nurses tend to have a little trouble and say things like, "Okay, one two, three, PINCH!" And it DOES pinch. This one did pinch, but it wasn't too bad.
Everyone else's bags came all at once, except for Mike's. His always take longer because he refuses to get a port put in and has tiny veins. No nurse wants to get stuck with him. I have a sneaking suspicion that they play rock-scissors-paper in the back room to see who gets stuck sticking him.
Diane set the conversation off.
"I have a stupid remark to add to our list," she said. Ray went to the desk and removed our notebook from it. At the top of the third page it said in huge letters
STUPID THINGS PEOPLE SAY TO TERMINAL CANCER PATIENTS.
Yes, we have a list. It was actually started years ago and has been handed down from patient to patient. The people who originally started it are all long gone.
A few items on the list:
1) Anyone could be hit by a bus today.
2) At least you can prepare for your death.
3) I wish that I could quit work and sit around watching TV all day.
4) God will save you if you pray hard enough.
5) It's all that junk you eat.
6) People have to be nice to you now.
7) Use this time to think about why karma is punishing you.
And so on and so on. Honestly? I can truly say that I have heard each and every one of these at some time by truly dimwitted souls.
1) Yes, you could be hit by a bus today. Your chances are 2 out of 4 million. My chance of living 5 years is 4%.
2) We should really all have a will by our 30th birthday.
3) I don't sit around watching TV all day. A lot of my time is spent sleeping, puking, and having the worst stomach and leg cramps of my life. I also have chemo fog. You don't want to know.
4) I am agnostic. Some days I believe in God, some days not. I have a lot of questions. But, if there is a God, I know this: he or she or it does not sit around deciding if your football team deserves to beat another team or causing you to cute meet your spouse, or helping you stay on that diet. If there is a God, he, she or it is your best and most trusted friend. Someone who listens whenever you need it and helps you be strong when you feel your weakest. God cannot take your pain away, but will be there when you need to have your hand held. And most of all: God did not give you cancer, nor can he take it away.
5) It does not matter what you ate, what you smoked, or what you drank. Genetics seem to play a big role. I have seen people who were strict vegans their entire adult life and they ended up with stomach cancer. I have seen non-smokers who got lung cancer. I have seen priests with brain cancer and non-athletic people with bone cancer and melanoma. And if that doesn't convince you, look at Keith Richards.
6) Some people will be nicer to you. Fake nice is meaningless. What is more worth noting? Some people will flat out desert you because they can't do cancer. Others will pretend that nothing is wrong with you and be mad when you can't come to their party because you just had chemo and are puking your lungs out. Cancer will sort out the real people from the frauds. That is one good thing.
7) Karma is not punishing you. Cancer is something that just happens to some people. Some very good, decent people get cancer and some real skanks get it, too. Cancer is non discriminating. It could not care less how old you are, how rich you are, what race you are, or your grade point average. Cancer doesn't give a shit if you are female or male or transgender. Cancer doesn't care if you just fell in love with the man of your dreams. Or if you just had a baby and have no time for this.
So, Diane. Ray asked her what she had to add to our list.
"My neighbor said I was cursed. That people with cancer have been cursed by aliens who come to earth to help with population overload."
We were all quiet for a while. And then there was the laugh. And then the pretend deep talk.
"Well, that guy at the grocery store DID look at me really funny that day last Spring."
"I have always suspected that my sister in law was an alien. I bet she did this. She always says at EVERY stinking Thanksgiving that her brother should have married Betty from college. They were SO cute together!
"I think that weird lady at church did it to me. She wears hats with flowers in them, even in the dead of Winter. And she once hit me on the head with a pamphlet for talking in church to my sister. Great. Now my sister is probably going to get cancer, too."
That was when the newbie spoke up. "I have something to add. But, maybe it's already on the list."
Ray told her to give it a go.
"When I told my mother in law that I had terminal cancer at a dinner out a few weeks ago, she said, 'Honey, look at me. I could go tomorrow. Do you think we all don't know we're dying?' I'm 38. She's 76. My kids are 10 and 6. Hers are grown."
Ray added it to the list. Word for word. A creep is a creep is a creep. And the newbie's name is Dorothy.
She's one of us now.
I know it is hard to know what to say to a cancer patient. ESPECIALLY someone who is terminal. Because cancer is a sticky wicket. Some of us die fast. Some of us die slowly. Some of us die kindly. Some of us...don't.
The best thing to do or say? Acknowledge the elephant in the room but no need to linger on elephants. Offer help. Don't say, "Call me if you need me." I promise you, that call will never come. Say what my dear sister said. Say, "I am bringing you chicken soup. Let's plan a good day for that."
One of the best conversations I ever had was with my cousin, Meg. She asked me that if it were possible, if I would come pat her shoulder on my way out. Kind of a goodbye. I agreed. We discussed the afterlife. What we thought was there or....not there. It was non-emotional, intelligent and so interesting. I listened to her views and she listened to mine.
Talk as you would if the person weren't dying, too. Good movies. Great books. You might want to stay away from things like traveling plans. We don't travel easily or well. Offer to drive to restaurants, to chemo, everywhere. Driving gets really hard for us.
If we indicate that we are tired, don't fuss. Don't talk in baby talk. We are adults. Say, "Yes. Good idea. Can I help you to bed or anything, get you some water before I go?" Ask if we'd like ice in our water. No one remembers shit like that.
And for godsakes, don't say, "Well, I could get hit by a car on the way home and go first!"
Because you won't. And you know it.
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