Dropping a Seriously Ill Friend

Nurse Carol A. Miele writes about her life with Stage IV breast cancer to help people understand and talk about the challenges many such patients face in their efforts to embrace life.

In a recent HuffPost entry, The Well-Meaning Friend, Miele cattily castigates some friends who never contacted her again after learning she had metastatic breast cancer. She describes how gut wrenching it feels when a friend ditches you in a time of need. 

Miele experienced a healing sense of closure after emailing how terribly their abandonment had hurt. Her healing resulted from her act, independent of their response (or lack of one). 

She shared a poem with other patients living with metastatic cancer, hoping her "over-the-top, hypothetical, tongue-in-cheek scenario...will give you a chuckle.... [I]f we don't laugh at ourselves now and then, we may be given to crying." 

Miele characterizes her book, Kicking Cancer to the Curb, as "an eclectic collection of memories, innermost thoughts, future visions, constructive criticism, dreams and wistfulness. There is no central, overriding theme or moral."

The book reflects her truth about the tribulations and triumphs of striving to embrace life despite advanced cancer. Much of her unvarnished meanderings may upset patients. Other patients may experience an it's-not-just-me sense of validation that helps them heal.

Healthy Survivors do whatever it takes to get good care and live as fully as possible. As for what it takes, that's different for each person. But it's not a free pass to hurt others.  (Thank you, Joni, for your comment)

Comments

[Joni Rodgers]

I definitely experienced the 'conspicuous by their absence' phenomenon she speaks of, and of course, Wendy, you're right -- everyone has to handle these issues in the way that works for her/himself -- but I wonder if that email blast would do more harm than good in most situations. She says these are casual friends, not her besties, and she doesn't spend a moment wondering if some difficult thing might be going on in their lives. Phone lines go both ways. She could have reached out to them with a more compassionate response and saved the friendships, because I'd bet paper money it wasn't that her friends were actively avoiding her; they just didn't know what to say and didn't want to intrude or say the wrong thing. When people ask me what they should say to a friend with cancer, I tell them, "Anything you say is wrong, and if you say nothing, you're a terrible person." It's a minefield! Give a pal a break.

[Wendy S. Harpham, M.D.]

Thank you, Joni.

In my post, I relayed Miele's approach without sharing my discomfort. I just added a final line and will address more fully in future posts.

Unless clinical brain disease makes you unable to control what you say or do, illness is not a pass to be insensitive to the needs of others, including family, friends and the members of your healthcare team.

[susan chizeck]

It's hard to know what to say to someone with cancer other than how sorry you are they are going thru this. I said something to someone which was taken completely wrong and got yelled at, so decided to just not contact her again, feeling like I'd never say anything right and better not to say anything at all

[Wendy S. Harpham, M.D.]

Dear Susan,
I'm sorry you were yelled at when you were trying to be kind. And I understand your decision to let go and not contact her again.
In future posts I'll address the patient side of this, specifically what responsibilities come with being a patient.

In a heartfelt essay I wrote decades ago titled "Surviving How Are You?," I explain "Some days are good, some bad; sometimes I need to escape, sometimes I need to talk it all out; sometimes I need to be held, other times I need space, and I'm not always sure what I need (so they can't know, either.) http://tinyurl.com/bn2dxma

As Joni commented, that can be a landmine. So let's keep talking about it, with hope of diffusing that landmine, ok?

Thanks for sharing. With hope, Wendy