What a thing to say!
Did you really say that?
A couple of days ago, I received an exciting call. The editor of CURE magazine contacted me about a story for their Fall issue. She wants to interview me Monday, along with some survivors from my book.
I’ve been in PR long enough to know not to count my chickens before they’re hatched. Many a time I’ve set up interviews with reporters and not be included. But it’s an exciting opportunity to be in such a distinguished national publication!
One of the things Kathy, the editor, told me they’ll be featuring is a sidebar about strange things people say to survivors who have a bad prognosis. I thought I’d share what I’ve prepared for this blog post (sorry for scooping you, Kathy!):
When you have a bad prognosis, people often don’t know what to say. I have found most people to be incredibly supportive, but I’ve had my share of comments I found hurtful and insensitive.
The day I found out I had Stage IV breast cancer, I told one of my coworkers I was going to take a leave of absence. She replied, “Well I guess you want to make the most of the time you have left.” She was a very nice person, and a physician to boot. I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt me; but it did.
I try not to dwell on stupid or weird things people say to me. Life is too short to dwell on the negative. I think it’s important to feel the feelings, be it anger or pain, then let it go. Playing it back in your head over and over again, I feel is detrimental to my emotional, spiritual and physical health. I’m all about moving forward.
It’s difficult when you are first diagnosed because you are so vulnerable, then you have to share this awful news. I found myself repeating it over and over again, and I would brace myself for a person’s reaction. That’s why my husband and I started a blog. Then when someone wanted an update, we’d tell them to go to the blog.
I think the worst thing people can do is isolate themselves and not tell people what you’re experiencing. You may protect yourself from the rare person who says something insensitive, but you’re also cutting yourself off from the majority of people who are supportive. It’s like the proverbial throwing the baby out with the bath water.
An insensitive comment from a doctor can be the most hurtful. When a doctor gives a patient a death sentence, it takes away their hope. They do not realize the power of their words. It can be a self-fulfilling prophecy for the patient: “the doctor says I have six months to live; I guess I should prepare myself to die.”
The people I’ve interviewed for my book share a common attribute: they didn’t buy into doctors’ predictions and did everything they could to beat the odds. Statistics don’t tell the whole story; everyone in my book is living proof of that.
What do you think? Is there anything you would add?
Jill Hafner says:
Tami – you always speak from the heart and think your words continue to be perfect. Let me know how it goes…funny how you are now on the other side of PR.
PS: Lunch soon and I owe you those pics from Burger Farms!!
Larry says:
Comments I heard:
After recovery-”It always comes back. It’s true!” (In that case, I could consider the source….)
“I thought you were dead!” (1 year later)
Jo says:
Tami – what I love about your approach is that you always share and coach others to take back their power.
With my sister’s BC diagnosis, she gave away all her power to her doctor. At first she was marvelously supported emotionally, but when the gaps, miscommunications and linear advice about how to face the issue came into full view (as they always do) it was so clear how damaged she was by the process.
I have wanted to start a center to coach others through that very process since then. You are an awesome example of empowerment and taking back control and vitality. You’re aware that you know much more about how to heal yourself than any oncologist on the planet. You go girl!
Jo says:
PS: The worst comment my sister got was from her man’s ex-girlfriend. Upon hearing the news, “Oh good, I hope you die.” was her comment.
Jody Schoger says:
Great post, Tami. And I completely agree — you have to try to let the weird comments roll off your back. I actually have one that makes me laugh now.
A few days after my diagnosis a number of us were in my office. I made a comment about the number of women diagnosed every year with breast cancer. Then one of the more reactive women suddenly exclaims, “OH GOD, WHO”S NEXT!!”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, “You are.”
Fortunately I kept my mouth shut, but it wasn’t easy.
Looking forward to the CURE article!!
hugs,
jody
sam elliston says:
I am glad you are being noticed and interviewed and I find your discussion about comments made when you are diagnosed to be interesting. As someone who has absolutely no idea of what to say when I am told, I am curious about what you wish people would say. That would be helpful to me, at least.
Rose Paul says:
3 years ago, I gave the “Survivor’s” Speech at our local Relay for Life. After explaining to the crowd that I was (at that time) a 24 year survivor and gave my story and all. A woman walked up to me as I was getting ready for the survivor’s lap and asked rather incredulously, “You really had cancer when you were 21?” I told her yes I did. and she says to me, perfectly straight faced “And you survived it?!”
My husband later said that I should have asked her, “Why do I look dead?”
tamilb says:
Sam, that is a hard question to answer because everyone is different. Some people like me want encouragement; some people want sympathy.
I think my husband Mike answers this well, “Just listen.” I think people are quick to throw out something because they are uncomfortable and think they should say something. By listening to how the person feels, you’ll be better able to gauge the appropriate response.
Maybe a question would be a good response, such as “What can I do to support you?” Or a simple statement, “I’m here for you, and I care.” Hell, I’m no expert. But that’s how I see it.
Dee says:
Tami
Great Post! We often speak about insensitive comments in my support group.
The worse comment I got was really a look.
I had just finished treatment and was bald and pretty pale.
I took my elderly Aunt to her doctor. My Aunt introduced me and said”This is my other niece and she just finished cancer treatment” . The doctor asked me what type of cancer. When I told her ovarian she said “OHHHH” and got this awful look on her face and turned away. Never said anything else to me.
Honestly I wanted to walk right out. But of course I couldn’t.