Tag Archives: anger

Mushrooms and Hemp Oil and Prayer — oh my!

Seth Godin has blogged about how we can emotionally ignore ill-informed critics by giving them the same leeway as we would to a toddler. I think this same approach could assuage my fury when well-intentioned friends/family/acquaintances/strangers advise my husband to cure his cancer with oregano oil, marijuana and other tomfoolery.

(I would have posted this on Facebook, but some of my Facebook friends are among the offenders.)

My instinctual reaction, when yet another person corners my sweetie into an uncomfortable conversation about a miracle cure, is to break their nose, then offer the choice of a trip to the hospital or a spit poultice.

Why do some people think they have more expertise on cancer cures then the people who actually live with the disease? Which of us is meeting with oncologists and other cancer experts regularly? Which of us is more motivated to ask questions about potential cures? It seems obvious to me that the person dying from the disease will inevitably be more studied up on options than the random person who saw a poorly-sourced link their second cousin posted on Facebook.

I resist breaking noses because I understand that these ill-informed, often ridiculous suggestions for treatment are made with sympathy and sometimes love. We all want to help others in crisis. We want sick people to get better and live. There is that tiny (tiny!!!!) chance that the news clip we saw last week mentioned a treatment that the sick person hasn’t yet tried, and which might be exactly the thing that cures them.

Here’s my suggestion for anyone who wants to propose a “solution” to a sick person (or, in fact, to anyone in any life circumstance): ask if the person would like to hear any suggestions.

“I’m so sorry to hear that you’re not well. Would you like me to tell you about how my uncle survived a similar form of cancer? No? Okay.”

The most respectful “helpers”, in our experience so far, have been the religious people. I’ve been asked numerous times by churchgoing folks if they may pray for my husband. We aren’t religious (or even spiritual) but we always say yes. One couple asked for permission to “lay hands” on my sweetie, and when he said yes they stood and prayed on the spot, reaching to heaven for a healthy kidney to come down from the sky. He felt very uncomfortable, but it made for a great story and it was heartwarming to see how much these people cared.

How to Spend the Rest of Our Lives

I expect that different people respond to a terminal diagnosis in different ways. No doubt depression, anger and fear are natural reactions.

We haven’t experienced many of these feelings. Instead, we seem to have found a way of living, both me and Brock, that is working beautifully for us. In fact, I’m happier these days than I have been for years.

One of my hospice books says that dying people tend to become a more concentrated version of who they were before: spiritual people become more spiritual, angry people become angrier. My man and I are even-keeled, loving, pragmatic individuals with a sense of humour. And this approach to life just happens to be wonderfully suitable for living with terminal cancer.

When we go out these days, we order alcoholic drinks if we feel inclined, regardless of the time of day, plus the most interesting item on the menu, and always dessert. We make cancer jokes all the time. Our conversations include tidbits of final wishes and the funeral and palliative care preferences and how Isaac should be raised and educated.

We just returned from our friend-sponsored holiday and Brock did things he’s never done before: joined us in the huge soaker tub for a family bath, initiated a family bike ride on the beach. First-time activities after 9 years together. I’m happy to see him being more spontaneous and open to experiences. He seems to be enjoying “family time” more these days.

I hope we can keep this up for a long time. This approach and attitude to life is saving us.