What Can I Do To Help?

I'm in what could only be described as the "ebb tide" of the three week chemo regimens. Cell counts are low, energy is low, appetite is low. Not a lot is getting done (by me). It's pretty much get up, shuffle down to the couch, lie there for a while, shuffle back up to bed, lie there for a while, rinse and repeat. Except without the rinse. Because taking a shower takes WAY too much energy.

In any case, I've really been anxious to write, but I just am reluctant to feel like the only thing I write about is this situation. It's hard to break out of the walls that it builds around you. Sometimes it feels like an iteration of CNN--24/7 with no break for anything normal. Not really my comfort zone.

I would like to point something out, though, and hope that I don't offend anyone in the process (and given that the readership of this is my family and a few friends, I'm certain I'm safe as none of you all do what I'm about to write about).

I'm fifty-one years old. I'm not really an embracer of confrontation. Never have been. But I have found my voice in the midst of this chaos. Interestingly, I found my voice because some people do not understand how not to use theirs appropriately.

People who see me daily, or at least a few times a week consistently, know that there is something going on. It's plainly evident. There was a period when I was wearing scarves on my head (sort of a giveaway of the whole chemo thing), I now wear a wig, I'm sure I look different and word gets around.

I do not mind people asking me how I'm doing. I really don't even mind people asking me what I have and what kind of treatment I'm going through.

I absolutely DO mind when people listen to my answers and then begin to tell me about someone they know who had "something similar". Two words:

Please don't.

First of all, I have no idea how your story is going to end. Perhaps your friend did great. Perhaps not. I've heard both versions. I actually don't want to hear either of them, because the anxiety it causes me to stand there and listen to your story, having no idea how it ends up, is debilitating. Please save your narrative for someone who is not currently undergoing treatment and frightened. Or maybe just don't actually tell it. Ever. It's not really yours to tell, to be honest.

I can only speak for myself. But I have found my voice, and when people begin to acquaint me with their story, I shut them down with something like, "No offense, but please don't tell me. I know everyone means well, but everyone's story is so unique and it's very difficult not to read into things, which does me no good."

And that's it. It may be a little abrupt. But it's necessary, for me. Because when you say, "She did great!" I have no idea if she's still doing great. When you say, "My friend's mom had that and she's still going strong," I do not know what treatment your friend's mom chose to undergo and whether I chose the wrong one.

So instead of offering an anecdote about someone who has had to go through this crazy madness, maybe instead just offer, "Hey, you look great and I'm thinking about you. I hope things go well, and let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

I will not shut that down. Ever.