It’s so difficult to know what to say. Most people actually say the right thing, and everything that is said comes from the right place. Sometimes, though, people talk about other people they know who’ve had cancer – maybe even the same type of cancer – and then mention how the cancer came back, or (even worse) explain that the person is no longer with us.
I know it sounds obvious that this type of conversation should be avoided, but sometimes people just panic, make the connection, and blurt it out. Obviously, if that other friend is now running marathons or has done something spectacular, mention this, that is good!
Having chemotherapy for me was like having flu. Making a cup of tea was too much on some days. Replying to texts was also hard – and when you have cancer, everyone’s thinking of you a lot and asking many questions. Rather than trying to reply to everyone yourself, choose a friend who can relay messages back to everyone on your behalf. Make sure everyone knows that you appreciate their messages, but that sometimes you just don’t have the energy to reply.
Things I also found helpful …
“One day at a time…” This was probably one of the most helpful things I heard. Things change from day to day and sometimes hour to hour, literally it’s that unpredictable.
Tell them you are sorry to hear the news but try not to bombard them with questions. Send them a beautiful image or meme occasionally, and tell them that they don’t need to reply.
Offer to help with practical things. Offer to leave a meal on the doorstep – just ask what’s the preferred day, or start a rota with friends. The person might not feel hungry themselves but the guilt of not cooking a decent family meal is just another added stress. Offer to clean. People visit and it’s embarrassing for some if your house is a mess.
If they have children or a dog, offer to take them out. It will prevent them from feeling guilty as a parent or pet owner because their children’s or pets’ lives shouldn’t have to change too. Make sure it’s not going to be an effort for them (like preparing a packed lunch or cleaning the dog’s feet when they come back).
Think of something you can do together when that person feels better. Give them something to look forward to. Write it in a card and send it in the post. Maybe a trip to their favourite cafe or a walk on their favourite beach.
A friend who was 4 years on from having breast cancer said to me, “I’m actually glad it happened to me now.” That blew me away, but a few months on from the all-clear, I kind of feel the same. It changes you but you see life differently. Perhaps it might help your friend to hear this.
Remember they are going to have bad days, and if they confide in you maybe just pop round and make them tea, let them talk and just sit with them. You don’t need to solve anything. Just be there, and don’t expect to be entertained. The medication can make you feel up and down, remind them to take “one day at a time”. Tomorrow may feel completely different.
A Macmillan Nurse told me that often people who have had cancer go on to live longer lives than those who haven’t because they change their lifestyles drastically.
This I found very comforting.
Ernest Hemingway once said: In our darkest moments, we don’t need solutions or advice. What we yearn for is simply human connection—a quiet presence, a gentle touch. These small gestures are the anchors that hold us steady when life feels like too much.
Please don’t try to fix me. Don’t take on my pain or push away my shadows. Just sit beside me as I work through my own inner storms. Be the steady hand I can reach for as I find my way.
My pain is mine to carry, my battles mine to face. But your presence reminds me I’m not alone in this vast, sometimes frightening world. It’s a quiet reminder that I am worthy of love, even when I feel broken.
So, in those dark hours when I lose my way, will you just be here? Not as a rescuer, but as a companion. Hold my hand until the dawn arrives, helping me remember my strength.
Your silent support is the most precious gift you can give. It’s a love that helps me remember who I am, even when I forget.