A Word of Thanks (and a Few of Advice)

Before I begin, let me fill you all in on some info that you may or may not have known: Jen and I are sisters, and so this hellish cancer is consuming my days and nights as well.

There now. Let me begin.

I want to thank everyone out there (in my ‘real’ life and online, too) who has reached out to say "I’m so sorry" or to offer up help. I want to thank all my friends who’ve sat and listened to the litany of fear, sorrow and hope that is all I can muster anymore.

I want, especially, to thank Laura, who listens without judgment and answers whenever (whenEVER) I call.

And Michelle, who has opened up her heart and arms to me – listening and understanding and giving me hugs when I need them most.

And also Valerie, who lets me sit in her warm car and says only wise and kind things. And pats me on the back at the exact right moments.

And above and beyond all others, my two beautiful and wonderful sisters, and my unbeatable Mom and Dad. We are incredibly lucky to have one another, and I ache at the distance between us, counting the seconds until we can be reunited.

And now for my words of advice:

First, let me assure you – if a loved one of yours has never been through a serious illness, you do NOT know how I feel, so please don’t say "I know, I know" or "I know how you feel". You simply don’t.

If you don’t know what to say, there are two acceptable possibilities:

1. "I don’t know what to say."
2. "I am sorry."

Please don’t say anything else. Don’t tell me about Uncle Henry’s fourth wife’s mother’s next-door-neighbour who had a miraculous and complete recovery after her doctors pronounced her incurable. Don’t tell me about an article you read about cancer, or what does or doesn’t cause it. Don’t tell me about Mexican clinics that cure cancer with betel nuts and aloe leaves. Please. Just say, "I’m sorry" and then maybe offer to help – if you really intend to follow-through on the offer.

At this point I must interrupt myself and offer up a general apology to anyone out there I know who may have gone through something similar in case I may have offered advice or ridiculous cure stories or news of crackpot treatments – let me now say what I should simply have said then: "I’m so sorry."

Just listen. And be there.

It’s at these extreme moments in our lives when those closest to us
have the opportunity to prove themselves. Some will be up to the
challenge of being empathetic and patient, understanding and
supportive. Others will not. But then that’s one of the positive things
we can all take from the serious illness of a loved one – it can act as
a lens we focus on our own lives and the people we choose to
have in them. It may be a heart-crushingly sad lesson, but it would be
a squandering waste not to heed it.

It really is simple, after all: Listen. Be there.

As my dear friend Andrea quoted to me: "where there’s life, there’s hope." Indeed there is Andrea, and thank you for reminding me of it.

We love you, Gramma!