Hi, Carolyn. I’m having major spine surgery in a few weeks, and my husband will need to have chemo during the time I’m recovering from surgery and can’t drive. I have good friends who I know will help with the driving and other logistical issues. I haven’t told a couple of these people about the chemo yet because I don’t know how to handle their probable responses — lots of calls and texts with praying hands emojis, caring but almost unbearable words of sympathy. I know they mean well, and I don’t want to hurt their feelings. I just need some emotional space right now. I already put my phone on “do not disturb” much of the day and try to respond to texts late at night when I don’t think they’ll answer right away.
Is there anything I can say to ward off all this cloying communication, without hurting feelings and pushing people completely away? I truly appreciate their friendship, I just can’t think about this all day, every day.
— Anonymous
Anonymous: You can direct them — I promise.
Either in a group message, through a carefully chosen spokesfriend or on a CaringBridge page or similar, tell them how wonderful they’ve been, how grateful you are, and what you’ve got coming up. Then:
“I’m mass-notifying because I can’t bear to be the needy friend anymore. I may still ask for help with logistics (though I’ll try not to). But what I want most — I am absolutely 100 percent serious about this!!! — is for people to talk to me about something else. Please. Stop by and tell me what show you’re watching or who annoyed you at work or text me fart videos — truly, anything but bandaged hearts and prayer hands. I am that desperate to be normal again. Pretend with me, and I will love you even more for it, forever.
“Consider this written permission not to ask how I am. I swear. When I’m ready to talk health, then I’ll volunteer it.”
Close by reiterating your thanks for their supportive wonderfulness.
Will your friends be receptive, hurt, relieved, offended, unflinchingly fussy? I can’t promise outcomes. (See below: evidence of everyone’s certainty of something different.) My assurance is that it’s your prerogative to ask — plus, many of us do appreciate idiotproof guidelines in a crisis.
The person who totally gets it may surprise you; “crisis friend” can be a weirdly specific skill set, and sometimes it’s a more peripheral friend who comes through. You really need only one.
Hang in there.
Dear Carolyn: I was recently diagnosed with ovarian cancer. While it was a true gut-punch, I’m trying to be upbeat and am undergoing aggressive treatment. I have friends and family who check in often, offer help, etc., but some friends seem to have written me off, never calling or even texting. One with whom I had lunch recently (at my invitation, after limited contact from her) simply chattered on about her upcoming travels, never once asking how I feel. It was very strange. I never bring up the topic myself because I don’t want to bore or scare people. Am I off base here? Am I being too self-centered, selfish? Does my new diagnosis scare other women away?
— Off Base?
Off Base?: It’s not you, certainly, I’m sorry; it’s everyone. It’s cancer. It’s bad news in general. People react to it so differently that it’s hard to believe we’re all the same species responding to the same stimulus. You said it yourself: Some rush to help and some to the exits. Others babble about their trips. (Wut?)
Behold the preceding question from someone wishing friends would babble about trips.
The takeaway? Maybe it’s just that having complex organisms on both sides of a serious health issue plus social interaction can produce some wild outcomes.
