Wondering what NOT to say to a cancer patient?

Here’s one: “How are things going?”

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that during my stage IV cancer journey, I’d take you and three of my best friends to Santa Fe’s Compound restaurant for lunch today. And lunch at the Compound isn’t cheap.

I know you mean well. You care. It’s frightening to hear that someone you know or love is ill, and your first instinct is to help. Let’s celebrate your generosity of spirit. And then let’s put your feelings aside. Because this isn’t about you.

When you ask “How are things going,” you’re assuming that you’ll get a straight answer. To which you can then reply with your best thoughts and an offer of help.

I had stage IV colon cancer. And guess what. Things were almost never going well.

There was always something. Thinning hair. Not enough Ambien to get through the month. My landlord threatening to sell the house I was renting in the middle of treatment. My mouth tasting like it was full of dirty nickels. Headaches. Terminal runny nose. Bleeding gums. And then at least one bloody nose per day. Watering eyes.

And then the really special gifts your body gives you: relentless, unexpected diarrhea. Or constipation from pain meds.

Don’t even get me started on the whole question of mortality.

There are a lot of things going on that you can’t see. And when someone asked me how things were going, the last response I wanted to give them was the truth. I only gave that to my daughter, who was my caretaker.

Who else in the world really wanted to hear from me about the diarrhea/constipation/sleeplessness? Who wanted to know that I spent every other minute thinking about money?

Because what’s the response to that?

When well-meaning friends (and I know they’re well-meaning, big-hearted folks who are bewildered about how to help) ask that question and get the truth, the only response that could mean anything is, “Let me write you a check for $3,000. I know you’re struggling in a scary way.” Or “Let me move in and scrub your toilets.” Maybe “Let me go to the doctor with you and fist fight them for an extra dose of serious sleep meds.”

Your best bet is to never ask questions of a cancer patient.

Instead say this: “I’m ordering meals to be delivered every Wednesday evening.” “Someone is coming to clean your yard this week.” “I’ve sent you a comfy, fuzzy blanket for staying warm during chemo.” “There’s a card on it’s way with a hundred bill enclosed.” “I’m here to go with you to treatment. Text me the day and time and I’ll pick you up then. You don’t even have to speak to me if you don’t want to.”

Or maybe one question: “What’s your Venmo account? I want to get some cash to you.”

Maybe just text them and say “I’m thinking about you. Here when you need me.”

Be well-meaning. But be well-meaning with a solution at hand.

Require nothing of your friend or family member who has cancer. Because, in my experience, they don’t have anything to give right now.

Looking for other tips on What Not to Say to a Cancer Patient? Here’s one. And here’s another.

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