Reactions to Bad News Can Be Tragic
My 51-year-old husband just had colon cancer surgery. He has been in the hospital for 10 days. Each day for the last 4 weeks, we have received more depressing news. Attached to an IV, dressed in hospital garb and running shoes, he walks the hospital hallways attempting to dislodge a post surgery blockage. Meanwhile, I struggle for a private room, read the chart and pathology reports, confer with doctors, and mull over treatment options.
At home I attempt to manage the mercurial moods of our two teens and my growing fears. Yet in these beginning stages of our family marathon, I am struck by my reactions, our children’s actions and the incredibly varied responses of family, friends and neighbors.
I fight resurgent terror from my mother’s death from cancer when I was 8. My 12-year-old son has become very protective. He followed me into the bathroom one night and asked to run my bath water. He was afraid that I would “boil” if the water were too hot. My 15 year old daughter, who contemplates becoming a surgeon, refuses to visit her dad in the hospital. Yet she asked detailed questions about the surgery and tumor.
Amongst families and friends, many are incredibly kind and helpful while some are creatively self-absorbed. Our next door neighbor has brought us homemade cookies, granola and soup and offered to take my car to the shop when another neighbor hit it, today, while it was parked.
A dear childhood friend, who lives in Virginia, has emailed daily, invited me to call collect any time, and offered understanding wisdom on the exhasperating challenges of raising teens. She understands the fear behind my daughter’s suddenly messier room and hurtful comments.
Other friends and workmates carpool the children, listen, visit, give hugs, or send flowers and cards. A sister in law, who has 4 kids and a full-time job, sat with me during the long 10 hours of surgery day. Some say, “I’ll do anything, just ask”.
The unhelpful reactions include how I should learn meditation — right now — or get my teens to behave. I have been asked exhausting questions about my husband’s symptoms because people want to be reassured that they don’t have cancer. And some want the details to breathe a sigh of relief because their life is not so problematic.
And, thank goodness, there are the bizarre yet humorous comments. When I told one neighbor about the cancer, she changed the subject and said, “Can I ask you a favor? See the cage on my roof? We are trying to catch the raccoon that has been burrowing into our roof and urinating inside our walls. When you get up early to run, could you look to see if the raccoon is in the cage? If he is, could you ring the doorbell? We don’t get up early and Animal Control does not want the raccoon to sit in the sun too long.”
Cancer terrifies us all. And like in aging, when confronted with a possibly terminal illness, people just get more like themselves. The kind are kinder; the judgmental, bored, or self-centered are more so.
During my family’s long cancer marathon, I cannot take these sorts of reactions personally. If, somehow, I can remain calm and hopeful, accept the help of true friends, and maintain a sense of humor, I will make it. I cannot become angry or spiteful. But I must admit, I rather hope that rascally raccoon, who has yet to appear, is still urinating within the neighbor’s walls...