Spreading the word, asking for help
/After digesting the news of my diagnosis, I began to think about who I’d tell. The first obvious choice would appear to be, “Of course, my family.” But that can be problematic for some people. It certainly was for us.
Some close family members can be relied on to be helpful and sympathetic and others, less so. When you’re at your worst, do you want a difficult relative in the mix? And what about extended family? How many layers of cousins and in-laws need to be in on the news?
And then there are your friends. Who’s going to be helpful to you and who would be hurt if not included?
I’m self conscious about being the “poor cancer guy,” feeling like spreading the news could be an invitation for sympathy that’s undeserved given the severity of my disease. (I still have lingering doubts along these lines simply in publishing these stories.) Thankfully, a couple of friends who’d had their own bouts of cancer in the family told me to get over it. This is a time to focus on treatment and recovery, not social niceties and your insecurities.
In the end, we built our own family out of people we loved and who loved us, blood relatives or not.
Next up, what do you say to those who offer help? This one was easier for us. Much as I’m making this about me, there’s an additional twist to the story. Two weeks after my diagnosis, my wife was diagnosed with what was almost certainly a benign brain tumor. The thing about brain tumors is that while it makes a huge difference whether they’re benign or malignant, their location and size are also crucial. In her case, the tumor was slow growing, but it was starting to press against vital areas of her brain. Hell, high water, or her husband’s cancer, she also needed an operation. That was scheduled for 10 days after my procedure.
(Spoiler: Her pathology confirmed it was benign, they got it all, and she’s recovering beautifully.)
Normally, we’d be reluctant to accept help because we’re the kind of people who can manage, thank you very much. But with the double-whammy (triple, if you include Covid everywhere) we became proactive very quickly.
We’re aware that the natural reaction to news of a family disaster is to offer any help you can—we’ve certainly done plenty of that ourselves. But much of the time, the offerer wants to hear what kind of help the offeree needs. And when you have two members of the family on the disabled list, it’s just too much to manage. So we sat down prior to our surgeries and thought of what we’d need.
First, food. I prepare most of the dinners in our home and that just wasn’t going to happen. So we reached out to a collection of local friends and asked if they could work out a schedule to feed us for awhile. The response was overwhelming. One friend took over the scheduling and that person and others pitched in with amazing meals. They delivered them to us and then collected the containers the next time they came around.
They additionally considered what I could and couldn’t swallow. Our friend Linda brewed up some wonderful, protein-rich pureed soups that kept me alive for two weeks. Our friend Jen, who is a restaurant-quality chef, and her husband Nathan prepared some of the finest food I’ve ever eaten and, best of all, took requests. And friends who don’t live nearby purchased take-out meals for us, which our daughter graciously picked up.
And groceries. You know how the people you work with are just people you work with? Wait until you’re in crisis. Folks from each of our work teams pitched in with Instacart and GrubHub gift certificates. In the Covid age, having groceries and meals delivered, particularly when you’re vulnerable, is a godsend. Sure, we could have done this ourselves, but thanks to our coworkers’ generosity, we didn’t have to think about it. Friends Michelle and Rick make a Costco run every week and included any requests we had.
Stuff around the house. We live on a hill and when it’s time to take out the garbage, you have to drag three large bins down to the road at the bottom of that hill, then hike or drive back up. In a time where navigating a flight of stairs is a Herculean task, this wasn’t possible for us. Again, Jen and Nathan’s family stepped in. Sam, their son, came over three times a week to do things like water plants, clean the bunny cage, haul supplies, and deal with the garbage and recycling—all the while refusing pay and being positively cheerful throughout.
Three days before my wife’s surgery I had a bleeding incident and spent a few hours in the local emergency room. (Helpful hint: Gargle with 1 part Afrin, 1 part water, bleeding stops.) I was nervous about being the only adult in the house should something unexpected crop up again. Linda (of the wonderful soups and dinners) came to stay while my wife was in the hospital. In the end, she didn’t have to haul me off to the ER in the dead of night, but knowing she was ready to was so reassuring.
David, another friend whose family provided dinners, additionally offered to mask and glove up and clean our house once a week. We didn’t hesitate to take him up on it.
Stuff out of the house. My daughter has been home since March, attending college remotely. If you have a student in similar straits, you know how difficult this can be for them. Now add the worry over two parents with serious health concerns, plus the burden of additional chores. It’s too much. Linda and her husband Keith opened their home to our daughter to give her a break from the House of Infirmity. During a pandemic. We missed her terribly, but it meant we needn’t put on the reassuring good face when we felt horrible and she could live a normal life for awhile.
Transportation. Keith drove me to my post-op appointment when I could barely move or talk, then waited patiently the 90 minutes it took for the medical team to give me the once over. Later I was able to drive myself to most of my appointments “over the hill,” but for my radiation treatment I’d need 20 100-mile roundtrip trips. The members of my band and some local friends volunteered to help out and we started to plan how we might do this safely. I was unable to drive my wife to her surgery appointment so friend Costco Michelle showed up at 3 AM to make the journey.
Communication. Sometimes it’s nice to get a friendly word of concern from a family member or friend. We did and were glad for it. It’s easy to be squeamish about checking in with someone in crisis—things like cancer often seem too intimate to talk about and you don’t really want to bother the person who’s suffering.
Should you have a friend in need, I’d recommend moving past any shyness you have and get in touch. It’s easy enough to send an email or text to ask how things are going and offer well wishes with the understanding that you may not get a response for awhile. Friends of mine checked in routinely—some with email, others with text, and still others with YouTube links to videos they thought I’d enjoy (thanks Ben!). Although I couldn’t speak to them to express my thanks (ouch), I appreciated every word and link.
Summing up, thoughts and prayers are great, really. It matters. But best is the community you create offering “Here’s a list of things we can do. Which ones work for you?”
