What not to say

Hidden behind all this jollity is my husband's illness. This time, I am very relieved to report, he is not in much pain and he is not wasting away while doctors drive me insane by telling me he must be fine. Instead, he is having difficulty walking. We do not as yet know officially why, but Dr. Google has given us a clue. 

Now I very much regret never having learned how to drive. I seem to recall staring at a black rotary phone on the wall when I was 16 or 17, phone book open on the kitchen table, and not having the courage to call a driving school. The four great fears of my childhood were 1. Drowning 2. Dogs 3. Adult strangers 4. Talking to adult strangers on the phone. (That's the order in which I got over them.) Childhood swimming lessons were hell, and I never learned to drive.  

The upshot is that we have had to ask a fellow TLM-goer for the favour of driving Benedict Ambrose from a bus stop on the way to church to actual church. So that is how we are. He's getting another scan this week, we're seeing his oncologist next week, what's new with you?

My preferred way to cope with BA's return to illness is not to think or talk about it. Seeing someone you love sick and sad is one of the worst things in life. The less I think or talk about it, the better. If someone outside our marital dyad wants to talk about it, I feel trespassed upon.

I am learning--the hard way--what not to say to someone whose spouse has cancer and hopefully what not to say to someone who does have cancer.  Very high up on the list of what not to say--and it turns out this occurs frequently enough to appear on cancer care websites--is that you know of a miracle cure. 

1. Don't impart your knowledge of a miracle cure.

The miracle cure can take four forms, in my experience. There is the secular mango smoothie miracle cure. There is the traditional Catholic holy oil cure. There is the palm-to-the-forehead-falling-backward TV evangelist cure that apparently some Catholics now indulge in. And then there is the summon-a-Medivac-helicopter-to-remove-him-from-the-satanic-schemes-of-the-NHS-and-take-him-across-the-ocean-to-the-Mayo-Clinic miracle cure. 

For the record, this last one is the worst, especially when accompanied by both the accusation that you are criminally negligent of your spouse and the fantasy that people who love him have agreed that you need an intervention. 

Do not impart your knowledge of a miracle cure to a sick person or his/her spouse unless you are their very best friend/beloved sibling, and they are now so desperate they will try anything. 

If you are a mere friend or even just an acquaintance but really cannot stop yourself, just send the holy oil by post with a nice letter. When B.A. was slowly sliding into a coma, I very much appreciated kind letters, and I even anointed B.A. with the holy oils that came along with them when it looked like he could be dying. It is important to note, however, that I was in the now so desperate they will try anything stage. I had also asked for kind letters over Facebook. And I'm also a traditional Catholic, so miraculous holy oil is almost obviously within my range of what is tasteful. 

Incidentally, someone once insisted in putting me in touch with a nun who sent me chalky gravel from a miraculous shrine where other infertile married ladies went to beg God for a child. I was told to put the gravel in a glass of water and drink it. Readers, I drank it. I'm lucky to be alive--and that nun is also lucky I'm alive, for otherwise my family would have sued her order into oblivion. 

Unhappy desperate people will do stupid things. Their families should keep an eye on them. 

2. Don't talk about another person who has cancer. 

Thinking about your loved one's cancer is bad enough. It is too much to have to think about other people's cancer, too. If you combine this with a miracle cure, it will intrude upon the thoughts of the patient or the spouse that God might love that other person more than them. Or that God already sent them a miracle, and now look what's happened. 

3. Don't ask the spouse how the sick person is when the sick person is around. 

If you really want to know how a sick person is, ask the sick person. If he's my sick person, he will appreciate you asking and will tell you some polite version of the truth. 

4. Don't ask the spouse how he/she is in a gloomy, caring voice. If the spouse looks cheerful, sound cheerful.

The spouse of a sick person is probably not really fine, but in Anglo-Saxon countries she or he can automatically say "I'm fine" and change the subject. In other countries, you probably shouldn't ask unless you really want to know. The answer could be "I'm stressed out of my mind, and I wake up in the middle of the night imagining the worse, and we've had to tear up our retirement plans, and I'm terrified we're going to end up on a council estate being terrorized by fentanyl dealers. How are you?"

5. Don't say "What can I do to help?" without having contemplated the wide range of what that could be. 

Horror of horrors, they might need a loan. Or a drive to the rubbish tip. Or a drive to Mass every Sunday. Or someone to call the Council about something complicated. Or to find out something to do with taxes. Or to make and bring a meal every Thursday. Or to mow their lawn and the next door neighbour's lawn, for he always used to mow her lawn, too. Or to babysit their sullen 10-year-old. Whatever it is, it will not be as easy and fun as one batch of cookies. 

If you are lucky, the answer will be "Please pray for us." At any rate, think hard about what it is you are willing and able to do for a sick person and his or her spouse before you offer, and be specific.

"If you need a drive next week, I'd be happy to pick you up from ...."

"If you'd like a lasagna, I made too many for my party and I could drive one or two over." 

"Listen, I'm going to the rubbish tip tomorrow, and I'm wondering if you have anything to go."

"Hey, it's a gorgeous day, and I'm dying for some exercise. Does your lawn need mowing?" 

That would be really very kind--but only if it's something that you very much would like to do, of course. Nobody likes feeling beholden. 

Meanwhile, I am truly very grateful for all the prayers and love to hear that children pray for us every night. My faith in the prayers of innocent little children is much stronger than my faith in Padre Pio holy oil, etc. 

6. Don't talk about it without first asking "Do you want to talk about it?" 

If he or she does, you won't be talking about it. You will be listening about it. Are you up for that? If not, don't ask. And you don't have to ask if it's not your job to listen. Me, I have a therapist, two priests and a mother.

Advice put into practice

The other day I noticed that an acquaintance had an elegant new haircut. It very much suited her, and I said so. She later volunteered that she had recently had chemotherapy and this was one of the few things she could now do with her hair. I said that I was sorry to hear about the chemo, and she thanked me. Then I said that her haircut was indeed very smart and that I was glad to see she was still [out and about]. "Oh, always," she said cheerfully.  

End of conversation. I did not mention BA.