Don't become a stranger to any family or friends hwo have been diagnosed with cancer. They need you more than ever now, writes FIONOLA MEREDITH
KNOWING WHAT to say and do when someone you’re close to is diagnosed with cancer can be very difficult. The sense of shock and fear at hearing the news can be overwhelming and, while most people want to do everything they can to support their ill friend or family member, they are often unsure how to go about it.
Sometimes, the sadness, helplessness and confusion caused by the diagnosis is so intense that people shy away from mentioning the illness altogether.
Others might go to the opposite extreme, trying to be overly upbeat and encouraging to the ill person, in a way that – although well intentioned – can be tiresome and patronising. Being “jollied along” is emotionally exhausting for a person with cancer.
Susan Delaney, bereavement services manager with the Irish Hospice Foundation, says “the most important thing in communicating with a seriously ill person is to take your cue from them. Even the most open person will have times during their illness when they wish to focus on other things or enjoy a bit of gossip or fun. At other times they may be tired or feeling poorly, so on any given day their needs will be different.
“Allowing them to set the tone of the conversation and watching for signs of fatigue or weariness is important.”
Delaney advises friends and family to adapt their responses to the ill person’s normal character: “most of us have preferred ways of coping with difficult situations and we employ these coping strategies across different situations. So someone who likes to talk and share their feelings will likely continue to do this when facing a serious illness.
“Likewise someone who tends to be more private, or prefers to focus on actions rather than feelings, may be slower to want to talk openly about what is happening, or may consider questions intrusive.”
But strenuously avoiding the topic of cancer for fear of saying the wrong thing, or because of a selfish desire to protect yourself, is definitely not recommended.
As Delaney notes, “this can leave the person feeling unsupported or unable to talk about their fears and worries”.
One breast cancer sufferer felt deeply hurt when her brother made himself unavailable: “when my op was cancelled last week I tried to get hold of my brother to tell him. In the end I e-mailed him but got no reply so I sent a text. He said he didn’t reply to my e-mail because he’d had a cold the previous week and was feeling too tired to go on the computer. Later he sent a text wishing me a speedy recovery and that’s all I heard from him.”
The writer Lionel Shriver has written frankly about her own failings when a close friend, Terri, was diagnosed with cancer. She started off enthusiastically, with daily phone calls and fervent promises of support: “on the heels of her diagnosis, I was doting.I’m not tooting my own horn. I suspect being a paragon at the very start of a loved one’s illness is pretty much the form”. But as time went on, Shriver became reluctant to get in touch with Terri. “I stuck a Post-it note on the edge of my desk: ‘RING TERRI!’ Over the months, the note faded, much like my resolve. On the too-rare occasions I acted on the reminder, I had to put a mental gun to my head. But why? This was one of my closest friends, and she was dying. While she was still on this earth, why was I not battling to maximise every moment?”
Too late, Shriver eventually realised that “there will always be something you’d rather do than confront the agony, anxiety and exile of serious illness . . . But nothing is more pressing than someone you love who’s suffering, and whose continuing existence you can no longer take for granted”.
And Shriver has blunt advice for those whose inclination is towards head-in-the-sand avoidance: “never vow to ring ‘tomorrow’ – pick up the bloody phone”.
Once you’ve resolved to help an ill friend or relative, getting past the sense of awkwardness that can come with the diagnosis is vital. According to Macmillan Cancer Support, the key thing to realise is that “there are no magic formulae, phrases or approaches which are ‘The Right Thing’ to say or do in all circumstances and for all situations. If you really want to help your friend, then your own wish to help is the most important thing, not some perfect script that you should follow, word for word”.
Delaney says that, in communicating with someone who has a serious illness, it’s important to “meet them where you find them”. Don’t weigh in with unsolicited advice, but indicate a willingness to listen. She suggests simple statements such as “I am no expert, but I am happy to listen if you ever want to talk about things”.
And don’t forget that, behind the illness, there’s a real person in there: “As in all relationships, what is most valued is feeling accepted for who we are and how we find ourselves; not just a person with a serious illness, but a whole person with likes, dislikes and opinions.”
Sometimes, simply being with the ill person, showing your empathy and support by your presence alone, can be enough. As Delaney says, it’s often a case of “don’t just do something, sit there”.
What NOT to say to someone with cancer
“Everything is going to be okay” – what you really mean is “I hope everything will be okay”. Avoid it – attempted reassurances like this can end up sounding trite and meaningless. Besides, it’s not possible to predict the outcome, and the ill person knows that.
“Keep positive” – beating cancer is not as easy as “mind over matter”, and you don’t want to pile pressure on the patient to stay upbeat. Instead, try to find out what’s worrying him or her and help them with that.
“I know how you feel” – unless you’ve been through it yourself, this simply isn’t true, and can come across as patronising. It’s better to ask how the patient feels and respond accordingly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry – my aunt died of that last year, it was awful” – people need stories of encouragement and hope, not tragedy.
