Eileen Kennedy

Cooking for friends during their cancer journey is a way to express love and support.

I have learned that my friends naturally embrace the role of caretaker in times of trouble. Dog walking, visits, running errands and childcare are helpful, but again and again, we turn to food. Nourishment: a basic need to address; to feel that you are doing something when so little can be done. The act of cooking can make room for reflection. Recipes chosen with care. Time spent chopping, mixing, sautéing, seasoning, while thinking of the intended recipients. Sending love through calories. Feeding our souls by feeding others.

Twenty plus years ago, when I learned of a friend’s husband’s cancer diagnosis, I was shocked and sad. I did the obvious. Baked a pan of brownies for my chocolate-loving friend and delivered them with a note of sympathy and support. Next, I made a big batch of gazpacho using the freshest ingredients from the farmer’s market, only to learn that patients receiving chemotherapy should not eat raw vegetables. Though I’d spent a good chunk of time on the gazpacho, I immediately headed back to the kitchen to make an alternative meal, fully cooked. As if the diligence of my response was the measure of my concern.

My book club is a tight-knit group, so when Sandra was dealing with cancer, we quickly assembled a dinner delivery schedule. She’s a fantastic cook, and we knew her family would be lost without her. She appreciated that she didn't need to think about feeding them when she had no appetite herself.

When, months later, she was able to attend our meetings again, she thanked us, but I found her next statement jarring: “I’ll help when it happens to the next person.” Not if but when. Chalk up this no-nonsense response to her worldview as a scientist. And of course, it was just a matter of time before more meals were required for other members.

In a different friend group, we had to talk Cathy, who was dealing with her husband’s decline, into letting us help her. “Just once a week. Just let us. Please let us take care of you,” we said. The unspoken subtext, “Because we can’t make your husband well.” The difficult reality is that sometimes there is nothing we can do. But it’s as if admitting that is admitting defeat. If I cook long and hard enough, surely something will happen.

Yet, there are limits. One friend not only declined my offers of food after his wife died but sent me home with the excess that he’d received from others. The abundance was stressful. He didn’t have the refrigerator space or appetite for it.

There are ways of making the process easier, especially if it goes on for several weeks or months. I’ve participated in drop offs that were set up with online sign ups. Likes, dislikes and allergies are all communicated. Coolers for hot and cold items can be left on porches, so recipients don’t need to be home or don’t need to be disturbed if they are.

CaringBridge is a helpful internet site. They describe themselves as an organization that “Offers tools to share and document a health journey, simplify care coordination, and connect caregivers with a supportive community.” It is easy to set up an account and provide updates which go to everyone on the support list all at once.

It can be a hard call between asserting oneself as a ready helper vs annoying or distracting someone who needs to focus limited energy on healing or grieving a loved one. Sometimes people really don’t want anything. It’s important to read the signals and make sure we are acting on the needs of the other person, not our own desire to do something to make ourselves feel better.

When my dad died, a ringing doorbell might mean a friend or neighbor dropping off a random casserole or sweet. My mom has recalled her friend Shirley’s contribution of homemade pecan rolls. “People don’t usually bring things for breakfast,” she said. “I’m going to remember that.” Like Sandra, she was already thinking ahead. Despite her pain, she knew there would be a next time when she would be the giver.

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Articles

In times of crisis, friends often assume the role of caretakers, frequently turning to food as a means of support. Cooking becomes a way to express care and provide nourishment, even when little else can be done. However, it's crucial to consider the recipient's needs and preferences, as excessive food can be overwhelming. Tools like online sign-ups and CaringBridge can streamline support efforts. Ultimately, it's important to balance the desire to help with respecting the recipient's wishes and ensuring actions are genuinely beneficial.

I've learned that cooking for friends during their cancer journey is a way to express love and support, even if it doesn't cure them.

Eileen Kennedy

Feeding Souls: A Cancer Journey Through the Lens of Food

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