The Friends I Lost to ‘My’ Cancer

Rod and I went back years. Our paths crisscrossed. Interwoven at times, distant at other times. At times, I would help him through a rough patch. Often, he would help me. He knew all about my family, and our three girls, their ups and downs. I knew all about him and his wife, and their three boys. I thought we were friends for life, until we weren’t.

Over and over, I reached out to him to meet for a bite to eat to catch up. He told me he had a lot on his plate, but for the most part, he ghosted me, meaning I got no reply whatsoever. I wondered if I had said or texted something he took wrong. It wasn’t until about five years after I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer that it dawned on me it had nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with the bare reality that I might be coming to my end all too soon, and he didn’t know how to deal with this. Stuck for words, he did what so many of us do, he avoided me. Sadly, Rod wasn’t the only friend I lost to “my” cancer. There were others.

After having awkward conversations with some of my friends about “their” cancer, I more than understood how talking to someone whose life might be hitting the wall all too soon is not only hard, it’s damn hard.

What do you say? Cancer eclipses any and all small talk. Suddenly, my nitpicky issues seemed trivial. Where I could always find a solution to my petty issues, someone facing cancer can’t find a new life. When facing cancer, the often quoted saying, “You have one life to live, so live it,” takes on new meaning.

I wish I could say I had this friend-thing wired, but sadly, I don’t. When Randy, the men’s pastor at the church I attended, was stricken with brain cancer, I tried to be there for him. A visit to the hospital did not go as planned. It lasted less than a minute. As I stood in the doorway of his room, in the dim light, I could make out the contours of someone lying in a bed. I said, “Hey, I stopped by to see how you’re doing, Randy,” to which I heard a low groan. Not knowing what to say or do, I left. Later, I thought, what else could I do? Like many cancer patients, he had been sedated and was a shadow of himself. I vowed to do better next time.

While another Randy situation didn’t happen, I tried to be there for Jeanie, a wonderful lady who had been a member of a small group I led. Week to week, I followed her courageous four-year fight with ovarian cancer on CaringBridge, routinely offering her encouragement where I could. Nonetheless, I started my pancreatic cancer journey as hers was ending. Unable to face my own mortality, the day of her memorial service came and went. Again, I vowed to do better next time.

Then there was Michael, a good friend who had helped me work through things. After a summer swim, he found a small lump under his arm. This turned out to be an aggressive sarcoma, a cancer of the connective tissue. Treatment failed. I missed his memorial service, too. But a year later, I did send his widow a softly worded card about how much Michael meant to me. I also told her that she and their three teenagers had not been forgotten. While I got a nice note back from her, I still felt I had failed the friendship test.

So what are we supposed to do to be a “true” friend to someone who is facing cancer?

Recognize what is doable.

Every situation is different. There is a limit to what any of us can do. Take a look at how you fit into a friend’s life. Life-long friends are one thing, acquaintances are another. Where I can talk with my best, best 50-year friend about anything and everything, acquaintances limit what I can talk to them about. While I may think I know what they are feeling, I don’t know for sure.

Don’t over-commit.

It’s much better to offer to do something and then do more than promised. It’s never a good thing to offer to do something and then fail to do it. I’ve found, much like my own experience, that someone in active cancer treatment is already running themselves ragged. Their world is spinning. Questions like, “Will I make it?” run on endless repeat. They are emotionally fragile. Thus, not doing what we promised is a significant mess-up.

Do it.

No real need to say it, but follow through with what you promised to do.

Don’t second-guess yourself.

Supporting a friend facing cancer is challenging. There are many opportunities to second-guess ourselves, saying, “I wish I had never promised to do this.” Don’t.

If appropriate, tell the friend you are trying to help that you are struggling.

Honest conversations never hurt as long as they are delivered in a caring and careful manner. We are all human. No matter what we say, we all fear the so many unknowns of how it will end for us. We will all face death in different ways. Some like me have come to accept it, while others can’t even say the word, let alone ponder it. Given this, a lot depends on how a friend views their end. If they are accepting of it, telling them that you are struggling with how to come alongside them will be easier. If the friend is struggling to accept their end, discussing your struggles with them will likely not go well.

Being a good friend to someone in the heat of cancer is hard, but it is doable. Be the friend to them that you always needed (and wanted).

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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