During treatment, having specific support is helpful. Most of our friends and family want to be helpful, but don’t know what to do or say, so they end up saying, “If you need anything, just let me know.” While the comment is sincere, it leaves us uncertain about what to say back to them. Many times, we don’t even know what we need until the need is upon us.

Those who have walked in our shoes have experienced what helps and what doesn’t. Through their experiences, we can explore what we want and don’t want. Knowing what we want can help us know what to say when someone says, “What do you need?”

Support That Is Helpful

People dropping by made it more pleasant when I was in the hospital. –DH

Two close friends organized much-needed meals. Caring friends signed up and dropped off dinner in the cooler at the front door. It was so helpful to have the meals and have them coordinated by someone other than us. –CS

There were plenty of times I didn’t feel like talking about my health, treatment, or what I was going through. I was grateful for my friends who didn’t push me to talk when I didn’t want to. –XR

I didn’t need people to be there 24/7, but I did appreciate phone calls and cards. –MT

They showed their love for me and were present. Cards and emails were all appreciated. –MF

Receiving practical support, such as raked leaves and shoveled snow, was so helpful. Such favors and gestures became amplified in their meaning during this time. –LO

My dearest friend kept our dog for us whenever I was in hospital (a total of 28 days). Not only did it save us a load of money, our dog was happy and my husband could come and go to the hospital whenever he needed to. Luckily, they love my dog and he loves them. –SR

People dropped off food, books, music, and talked to me about things other than illness. –BR

Friends came to visit, knit, or discuss books we were reading. Sometimes we would just hang out and chat. It gave my husband a break that he really needed. I needed the distraction. –SR

 

One friend sent me a video a day to check out. Sweet. –GM

I had an aide three days a week who came for four hours a day. She did laundry, took me grocery shopping, and stayed with me when I was really sick. That was very helpful. –MT

My husband was wonderful. He went to every appointment with me. He supported my decisions and helped me talk through the thinking that I had to go through to make each decision. His theory was that it was my body and I got to make all the decisions. I will always be thankful to him for that. –SR

My husband’s openness and acceptance of bilateral mastectomy as a choice for treatment was so important to me. He was a “breast man,” and mine certainly attracted him when we first met. Throughout our relationship, my breasts had brought both of us much sexual pleasure, yet he made it clear that he’d rather have me without breasts than a roomful of them without me. –LO

My wife was there for all the treatments in spite of my “I’m fine” attitude. –DP

My husband made me a deal. He would cook delicious food for me. I would try to eat what I could. If I couldn’t eat, he would not force me, nor would he get his feelings hurt. I think I am the only person in history who gained weight on chemo. I had made him the same deal when he was having chemo and then he returned the favor. –SR

I wanted to talk about the “what if” scenarios, particularly what if I died. Only my rabbi would listen. I didn’t think I was really going to die, but I wanted to be prepared. –LL

 

“I’m thinking of you.”  That is all that needs to be said. -TZ

What Doesn’t Help

“At least depression isn’t life threatening.” Oh, really? –TS

Whether I can have children of my own or not remains to be seen. The cervical cancer treatment can affect carrying a child into this world. It doesn’t help when people ask why I don’t have children since I’ve been married for over four years. –AB

I felt lonely because people didn’t check in. I think the solution is either emailing or texting something like, “Just checking in. I’m here to listen or make a meal or whatever, if you need me, but I understand if you’d rather be left alone right now.” –SH

I wish that more people had been aware of my husband’s suffering and offered him support too. –JN

Don’t avoid me. –RM

Some people don’t know how to process trauma. They ended up ignoring me or leaving me behind. –AB

It astounded me when people would tell me why my situation wasn’t so bad.  When I gave birth to a much-wanted child who was stillborn, I was frequently met with, ‘The baby would have been disabled’. ‘At least you know you can get pregnant’.  –TZ

Treatment is a journey no one wants to take. It is a prolonged experience of trauma, and being aware of our tendencies to fight, flee, or freeze can be useful. Navigating side effects and processing emotions are a crucial part of our experience and are inextricably intertwined with accepting support from the circles of relationships and networks in our lives.

There is no right or wrong way to get through a medical crisis. We didn’t opt to go on this journey — but it’s important that we show up.

Cindy’s Journey  Ring That Bell

I see the ­­­seven-year-old faces beam with pride on receiving their “participation” award at the end of the Little League season. The merits of receiving a reward for just showing up have been debated over the years, as some claim giving an award for lack of true achievement makes our newer generations soft, less motivated, losing out on the pride of accomplishment, and the like. However, sometimes showing up is exactly what we need to do.

I finished radiation today: 20 days, 20 sessions, 20 series of a collection of rays pointed at specific locations in my body. I didn’t feel the rays as they invisibly penetrated my body, but I can tell it has helped. My bone pain is less. Yes, there are some side effects. Could I get more fatigued? Well, radiation proved I could.

Bonds form quickly in the women’s waiting area as nonverbal understanding is created. No hair: breast cancer. Robe open in back: lung cancer. Pants: uterine/cervical cancer. Then there is me: full head of hair with the robe open in back, reflexively moaning as I lean back in the chair…multiple myeloma. Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter why one is in that waiting room; we are sharing an experience none of us want.

Over the course of the month, I came to recognize the regulars with whom I share similar appointment times. Then there are the new folks, who sheepishly ask, “Do I take my purse with me?” “Do I have my gown on right?” “The key isn’t working in the locker.” “Does it hurt?” Such inquiries are quickly responded to by those of us who are more seasoned, as a couple of visits gives a sense of knowing and expertise. Lessons are quickly learned here.

Across the sessions, I hear the clanging of a bell. A large brass bell attached to the wall is rung when one completes the requisite radiation sessions. The bell rings and the radiation therapists applaud, quickly joined by those of us in the waiting area. A rite of passage.

While I supportively cheer for those ringing the bell, I feel funny. Do I want to ring the bell? Seems silly. What did I do? I didn’t have regular workouts in order to complete the race. I didn’t help anyone. I didn’t pass a test. I didn’t leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Did I do anything bell worthy? They tell me to be there at 9:30, so I am. I sign in, change my clothes, wait to be called, and chat with the therapists as they line me up for the treatment. None of that seems bell-worthy.

What did I do that was bell-worthy? As I move through treatment today, the answer resounds through me. I showed up.

By showing up, I made a statement that I am giving healing my best shot. By showing up, I recognize and appreciate the advances brilliant minds have created. By showing up, I thank the doctors, nurses, therapists, and technicians for giving of themselves. By showing up, I support others who are “in waiting.” By showing up, I moved forward.

So, get out of my way. I am going to ring the damn bell!

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Featured image courtesy of teamworkdefinition on Pixabay.