Tag Archives: help

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.

Random Acts of Kindness in Thrifty’s

I’m starting to lose track of all the nice things our friends, family and acquaintances have done to support us over the past few months.

Just today, while grocery shopping at Thrifty’s, a woman (a masseuse) I’ve known superficially for years offered me a free massage: I’m supposed to call to book an appointment. When I was checking out my groceries, another woman I know came by and asked if she could give me a hug.

In our cupboard right now are three different bags of cookies from family and friends. Our freezer is full of homemade soups, three kinds of lasagna, more pasta, half a chicken and numerous cuts of beef. I have a collection of dishes to return to folks who have brought us hot meals.

Brock and I have always been independent and reluctant to accept help, but there came a point after his cancer diagnosis, when his auntie asked if she could fundraise for us, when we decided to say “yes” instead of “no” to all offers of help. But it’s still hard to accept. We often have to remind each other of this rule. It goes against our habit and independent instinct. Over the past few months I’ve learned that people want to show their love and support in different ways: some people want to feed us, others want to help us financially. I’ve learned to identify jobs that we need help with, and to accept help from the people best suited to do those jobs.

Still, I’m wary of accepting too much help: I don’t want to wear out our supporters, or take advantage of their kindness. What if we are super lucky and Brock lives long past his expected expiration date? Will our friends and family regret signing up as our cheerleaders, if the game goes into overtime? How many lasagnas can one person leave at our door?

I feel like all our years of living here, of getting to know the people in our community, were somehow preparing us for a crisis like this. We have more supporters than we can count. It’s not just our immediate family that is horrified by this cancer. It’s everyone who knows us or knows about us.

I want to send a thank you card to every single one of them. They make this bearable, day by day.