We all talk and write and text and communicate in so many ways (en clichés, aussi!)
Sometimes people hold back so much emotion. In doing so, they hide their best and most lovable attributes.
Stifling human traits in communication: Is that lying? Is it from fear? Is it a dated pride of 'stiff upper lip'? Is it some weird survival skill? How do our closest friends perceive our holding back?
Personally, I like to think that emotional discretion falls into a polite "not wanting to overly burden others" category. But holding back emotion has its own effect.
Happy Cancer People cannot help our Worriers get a little relief until you let us know what you're worried about. You can actually be our "good deed for the day" if you're honest about your emotions--we can set you straight to ease your fears.
Your Happy Cancer Person is dying to get you to where you need to be emotionally with everything you're worried about, so jump in, dump in, let's go for honesty and openness. Talk. Ask away. To heck with discretion, we don't have time for that anymore. Be Blunt and Open. For many of us, "Later" is a fictitious idea. Now's your moment, go on, be brave.
Many times I have started to reply simply to an e-mail, then started having fun with creative writing, getting really into it, and finished by hitting the SEND button in an emotionally triumphant moment YES! Although we all know this is not a good thing to do. Ever.
Especially after a night at the pub or, in rural USA, a evening at a friend's home with a good fire and a nice bottle of wine. I wake up to a crumpled morning of unfolding sobriety and it takes an hour of red-eyed confusion before my mad dash to the "sent mail" box to assess any damage from the night before. Aaaagh!
But afterwards, too, I wonder whether these messages are probably more deeply honest (and much more interesting) than every other message that ever flies, from any of us.
We all need to Rethink Regret. Propriety can be a little dehumanizing.
There is no excuse for bad behavior, so nastygrams are ALWAYS inappropriate (Not Guilty!).
Some messages are like puppies who pee on the carpet while they're happily asking you to play and love them. Oops! It's OK (mostly OK). But most anything beats silence. Silence will come soon enough.
One of my sisters came to visit. (nothing to do with puppies peeing, and we weren't silent either).
My sisters are all perfect sisters, they really are.
As my sister and I were chatting, tears filled her beautiful eyes for awhile. She didn't break down into tears, she just kept up with the conversation while her eyes got really, really wet. Maybe a tear slid down her cheek but I don't think so. No hiding the wellspring of tears, though.
My husband and I do that a lot. Sometimes we just hang out on the bed for an afternoon nap and hold hands, and look at each other, and we're both thinking the same thoughts, and tears well up, and often stream down our cheeks with no words.
It's not really sadness. It's more just pure, overwhelming feeling.
My sister loves me. My husband wants me to stay, and not die.
The tears are a beautiful and subtle manifestation of the emotional honesty that comes with cancer. Beat That. New words that defy speaking.
Some of us still fight to find any words at all to express our emotions in the difficult situations we face and need to share. We need words to help ease us through it, and to find others who can relate. When it comes to verbalizing cancer, everything is 'Well Spoken'. A few words from shy strangers can add so much calm or beauty (or humor) to someone's last experiences.
So, in the spirit of "whatever you say is OK and we forgive you if you totally screw up," can anyone suggest a good response to someone who says that they have terminal cancer?
Readers, please provide me with better responses to these. . .
"Oh," (seeing my bald head) "are you a Survivor?"
"Um, no," I say, " I would be, but I'm Terminal."
(By golly, is that depressing or what? We can do better than this! )
Here is a frequent scenario:
"My drop-dead date is summer 2017."
"You mean, that's the last day they start treatment?"
"No, that's the day I drop dead."
"You mean, that's when they decide to stop treatment?"
Bless their hearts, it hurts to clarify to them. . .
"No, it's when all treatments have stopped working, and I die."
"Oh."
Oh. Heck, what are they supposed to say?
We have LOADS of cancer classes in my area--food, yoga, estate planning, caregivers, health, you name it. But "conversation with cancer patients" isn't there. It's a HUGE area where tact and wit (I think it should be more heavy on the wit) is needed. HELP!
When I left the cancer center a month ago, there was a woman by the door that I talked to briefly. She was fairly old, and really nice. She was having blood treatments to keep her alive for awhile, but she was terminal. I didn't know that day that I was also terminal. But then you can get into the "How Terminal are You?" competitions and I always lose, but with this lady I was not even within her competitive league. She probably had weeks to live.
I wished her the best, but thought that I sounded sweet but trite. What was I supposed to say?
"Have a good weekend"?
"I hope you have a nice rest-of-the-day"?
"Keep dry today"?
These all sound silly if it's the last thing you say to someone before they die, yeah?
"God Bless You" is good. But is there something we could add to that to give terminal cancer patients a little more of our God-given humor or insightfulness? I am one, and I'm stumped.
Reader suggestions are most welcome.
This is where all of you who offered to help with anything I needed get to show your stuff.
C'mon, let's play cancer. Let's risk saying the wrong thing for the right reasons, let's all read comments in the spirit of things with no offense intended.
And here's a fun song by Lauren Hill "Nothing Even Matters"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISgz5-XFklY
PS-comments to Laurie's fabulous facebook page might not make it here at all so please post your responses to this actual blog (stage4ovarian.blogspot.com). If you sign up to it, the responses to your comment will come to you. Should be safe, it's google-based.
Sometimes people hold back so much emotion. In doing so, they hide their best and most lovable attributes.
Stifling human traits in communication: Is that lying? Is it from fear? Is it a dated pride of 'stiff upper lip'? Is it some weird survival skill? How do our closest friends perceive our holding back?
Personally, I like to think that emotional discretion falls into a polite "not wanting to overly burden others" category. But holding back emotion has its own effect.
Happy Cancer People cannot help our Worriers get a little relief until you let us know what you're worried about. You can actually be our "good deed for the day" if you're honest about your emotions--we can set you straight to ease your fears.
Your Happy Cancer Person is dying to get you to where you need to be emotionally with everything you're worried about, so jump in, dump in, let's go for honesty and openness. Talk. Ask away. To heck with discretion, we don't have time for that anymore. Be Blunt and Open. For many of us, "Later" is a fictitious idea. Now's your moment, go on, be brave.
Many times I have started to reply simply to an e-mail, then started having fun with creative writing, getting really into it, and finished by hitting the SEND button in an emotionally triumphant moment YES! Although we all know this is not a good thing to do. Ever.
Especially after a night at the pub or, in rural USA, a evening at a friend's home with a good fire and a nice bottle of wine. I wake up to a crumpled morning of unfolding sobriety and it takes an hour of red-eyed confusion before my mad dash to the "sent mail" box to assess any damage from the night before. Aaaagh!
But afterwards, too, I wonder whether these messages are probably more deeply honest (and much more interesting) than every other message that ever flies, from any of us.
We all need to Rethink Regret. Propriety can be a little dehumanizing.
There is no excuse for bad behavior, so nastygrams are ALWAYS inappropriate (Not Guilty!).
Some messages are like puppies who pee on the carpet while they're happily asking you to play and love them. Oops! It's OK (mostly OK). But most anything beats silence. Silence will come soon enough.
One of my sisters came to visit. (nothing to do with puppies peeing, and we weren't silent either).
My sisters are all perfect sisters, they really are.
As my sister and I were chatting, tears filled her beautiful eyes for awhile. She didn't break down into tears, she just kept up with the conversation while her eyes got really, really wet. Maybe a tear slid down her cheek but I don't think so. No hiding the wellspring of tears, though.
My husband and I do that a lot. Sometimes we just hang out on the bed for an afternoon nap and hold hands, and look at each other, and we're both thinking the same thoughts, and tears well up, and often stream down our cheeks with no words.
It's not really sadness. It's more just pure, overwhelming feeling.
My sister loves me. My husband wants me to stay, and not die.
The tears are a beautiful and subtle manifestation of the emotional honesty that comes with cancer. Beat That. New words that defy speaking.
Some of us still fight to find any words at all to express our emotions in the difficult situations we face and need to share. We need words to help ease us through it, and to find others who can relate. When it comes to verbalizing cancer, everything is 'Well Spoken'. A few words from shy strangers can add so much calm or beauty (or humor) to someone's last experiences.
So, in the spirit of "whatever you say is OK and we forgive you if you totally screw up," can anyone suggest a good response to someone who says that they have terminal cancer?
Readers, please provide me with better responses to these. . .
"Oh," (seeing my bald head) "are you a Survivor?"
"Um, no," I say, " I would be, but I'm Terminal."
(By golly, is that depressing or what? We can do better than this! )
Here is a frequent scenario:
"My drop-dead date is summer 2017."
"You mean, that's the last day they start treatment?"
"No, that's the day I drop dead."
"You mean, that's when they decide to stop treatment?"
Bless their hearts, it hurts to clarify to them. . .
"No, it's when all treatments have stopped working, and I die."
"Oh."
Oh. Heck, what are they supposed to say?
We have LOADS of cancer classes in my area--food, yoga, estate planning, caregivers, health, you name it. But "conversation with cancer patients" isn't there. It's a HUGE area where tact and wit (I think it should be more heavy on the wit) is needed. HELP!
When I left the cancer center a month ago, there was a woman by the door that I talked to briefly. She was fairly old, and really nice. She was having blood treatments to keep her alive for awhile, but she was terminal. I didn't know that day that I was also terminal. But then you can get into the "How Terminal are You?" competitions and I always lose, but with this lady I was not even within her competitive league. She probably had weeks to live.
I wished her the best, but thought that I sounded sweet but trite. What was I supposed to say?
"Have a good weekend"?
"I hope you have a nice rest-of-the-day"?
"Keep dry today"?
These all sound silly if it's the last thing you say to someone before they die, yeah?
"God Bless You" is good. But is there something we could add to that to give terminal cancer patients a little more of our God-given humor or insightfulness? I am one, and I'm stumped.
Reader suggestions are most welcome.
This is where all of you who offered to help with anything I needed get to show your stuff.
C'mon, let's play cancer. Let's risk saying the wrong thing for the right reasons, let's all read comments in the spirit of things with no offense intended.
And here's a fun song by Lauren Hill "Nothing Even Matters"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISgz5-XFklY
PS-comments to Laurie's fabulous facebook page might not make it here at all so please post your responses to this actual blog (stage4ovarian.blogspot.com). If you sign up to it, the responses to your comment will come to you. Should be safe, it's google-based.
