What Not to Say to Someone Diagnosed With Cancer
It's funny the things people say to you when they find out that you've been diagnosed with cancer. Since my own diagnosis, a few people have said things to me that make me want to stand there with my mouth open, but my sense of composure is too great to allow for that. I can only think that people don't know how it feels to hear those things. Perhaps I'm naïve, but I think if they understood, they wouldn't say them.
I thought I'd share some of these comments with you. Now, I didn't hear all of these myself, but from swapping stories with other cancer patients, I know how common the rest are. My own commentary follows.
"Don't worry! Nowadays, breast cancer is no big deal."
"At least you got an easy cancer."
"If you're going to get cancer, breast cancer is the one to get."
"Oh, well, good thing that's curable!"
It's really hard to go through a potentially life-changing illness when others are telling you that it's nothing to be concerned about. Call me crazy, but I don't think there are any easy cancers. There are cancers with higher survival rates, it's true, but even with those, treatment can be very difficult.
With breast cancer, the publicized line is that it is now curable. However, women (and men) are still dying from the disease. Plus, when a cure is defined as surviving for a mere five years past your diagnosis, you don't necessarily take the term "cure" so quickly to heart.
"Oh, I'm so sorry - my aunt died of that last year. It was horrible."
Reading it here, you can probably see why you wouldn't want to say this. When a person is diagnosed, they need stories of hope, not tragedy. I think that when people share about deaths like that, their personal grief is talking and they have something they need to get out. The unfortunate thing is that they are sharing it someone who needs to hear another message.
"If I were you, I'd just chop them off and be done with it."
What we do with our body parts is intensely personal. Some of us recoil at the thought of "chopping off" anything, no matter what our diagnosis. Maybe the speaker really would get a mastectomy without a second thought. Most people, though, don't find out how they really feel about losing body parts until they are faced with making the decision themselves.
"We're all going to die of something."
That's absolutely true and absolutely not helpful. There really is a difference between accepting that you might get hit by a bus at any moment and realizing that you may have just been diagnosed with something that will cut your life short. Considering your own mortality is a step most people go through in digesting their diagnosis; just because they can feel the gravity of these thoughts doesn't mean they need to be shaken free of the weight.
"Hey, you can get a free boob job!"
Yes, people really do say this, do you believe it? I'm lucky I didn't hear it first hand! I think we can agree that a mastectomy with reconstruction is not quite the same as having a breast lift or augmentation, even if insurance does pay for it.
"Well, but you caught it early, right?"
This sounds innocent and encouraging, I admit. Thing is, I've heard it being said to women who were diagnosed with advanced cancer seemingly out of the blue. For these women, the reminder that their cancer isn't early stage can be like a blow to their stomach. So, if you already know someone caught it early, go ahead and acknowledge that. But if you don't, keep quiet.
Enough of talking about conversational faux pas, though. What about the good things people say? Here are some of the comments that made a difference to me:
"Oh, wow, this really sucks. I am sorry this happened to you."
I pride myself on being self-sufficient, but I'll tell you, I really appreciate everyone who said something like this to me. Even perky people like me need compassion and, yes, sympathy on occasion.
"My neighbor was diagnosed with advanced cancer 20 years ago and she's still going strong!"
"I had cancer 5 years ago. I felt very sick during treatment, but now I feel great. Look how long my hair is!"
Success stories, whether first- or second-hand, are always welcome to me. People with stage IV (metastatic) cancer might not be as uplifted by survival stories of those with earlier-stage cancers (I'm not sure) but for other stages, I think success stories are almost always inspirational.
"We love you and we're going to make sure you get through this."
When friends gave me this message, it meant a lot to me. It doesn't matter if my friends and family don't know how they will support me; this kind of "we'll figure it out" comment is like a desperately-needed hug.
"You always look beautiful."
It's funny, but if people say I look good when I feel awful, I tend to mistrust them or feel invisible. But when people tell me I'm beautiful, even when I'm pale and hairless, I know they are talking about how they feel about me. I can help but feel my chest grow warm with delight as I smile gratefully.
When I think about the conversational land mines that I shared in the first set of comments, I can't help but wonder what those people were thinking. But, you know, they probably weren't thinking at all. What's even more ironic is that the people who made the comments that touched me may not have been thinking, either. What they were doing, though, is speaking from the heart, and maybe that's all we need to do to give people the comfort they need.
Additional resources:
Excuse Me? from Chemo Chicks, where cancer patients share the conversational faux pas they've experienced
More articles that I've written about cancer, with lots of useful information.
Feel free to leave a comment with your own tips!
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