How Not to Cheer Up a Cancer Patient

Glenn Rockowitz is a four-time (and counting) cancer survivor. His new memoir of battling the disease is called Rodeo in Joliet. He lives in Seattle.

Details

Third Place Books, 17171 Bothell Way N.E., Lake Forest Park, 366-3333, thirdplacebooks.com. 6:30 p.m. Fri., April 16.

Read Mark D. Fefer's profile of Glenn Rockowitz.

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More About

• Lance Armstrong
• Lionel Armstrong
• Glenn Rockowitz
• Joliet
• Cancer

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During my recovery from surgery a couple years ago, I received a basket of limes from my employer with a note that read "You'll do anything for attention." I assumed that it was a weak attempt at humor. I still assume it was. Because what other explanation is there, right? And, like you, I don't understand the significance of the limes either.

I wrote it off as some obscure Northwest version of anti-Semitism. And I've found that life is easier to compartmentalize when you assume everything you do that's not well-received is some form of anti-Semitism. It really simplifies things. I recommend it, even for non-Jews.

So to help you, the caring friend/co-worker/relative/barista of someone newly diagnosed with cancer, avoid any Lime Basket Incidents of your own, I'd like to offer up a few nuggets of advice for what works best, and what to avoid, when it comes to providing moral support:

It's Not About the Book

Over the course of my last couple of cancers, I think I have received exactly 42,489 copies of Lance Armstrong's book It's Not About the Bike. It really is a good book. And yes, his journey was, and still is, heroic and inspiring. To say the least. But let's be honest: Most of us (read: all of us) are not Lance Armstrong. Or even Lionel Armstrong, the Sea-Tac baggage handler with the bum prostate. As sweet as it is that you're trying to inspire me during a very dark time in my life, the weeks after a diagnosis are chaotic. And terrifying. And desperate. And there's not much time to read anything beyond the essentials. And if you still insist on going the book route, do your homework. Dead authors tend to be less inspiring.

You're Welcome

A few years ago, I sat in a Young Adult cancer support group, where a distraught friend was trying to figure out how to finish all his Thank You notes for the people who cooked for him while he was recovering from treatment. I told him that I was pretty sure they'd understand if he chose to blow it off. Seriously. If you cooked for a loved one while they were sick or if you walked their dog or helped clean up around the house with the expectation that a Thank You note would be forthcoming, you should probably take a closer look at your definition of love. Or consider a career in puppy-murdering or nun-punching. Of course what you did was incredible and sweet and loving. Please assume that your lumpy pal is extremely grateful. And not just lazy or thoughtless.

Be Straight

This applies to homosexuals and heterosexuals alike: Tell it like it is. I know you're afraid to ask how things are going. Or if there's anything you can do to help, but we Cancer People generally prefer the straightforward approach. If you don't know what to say, say just that. Something like "Sorry I'm such a total rod, but I don't know what to say. I love you and I want to help, so just say the word and I'm there." That's honest. And you're taking ownership of the most important part: You're a total rod. I'm kidding. I think you're the tops. And I'm sure your loved one will think so too.

Mean It

No empty gestures. If you offer to do something, follow through with it. That simple. Whether you're offering to drive me to a doctor appointment or do my yardwork or let me sleep with your wife last weekend, just make sure you follow through. I love that.

Ling Ling

One of the most common fear responses to the dreaded News is to e-mail the person you love with as much information you can gather on his/her particular cancer. The problem is this: The Internet was invented as a pornography delivery system. And for Nigerian princes to find your grandparents and convince them to go halfsies on a timeshare in Boca Raton. And of course for every jackass with a computer to offer up an opinion on the best way to cure cancer. Look, I know you mean well, but I have yet to see anyone pull out of a pancreatic cancer tailspin by sucking on a panda's claw for two hours a day. I'm all for alternative medicine or nontraditional ways of beating the shit out of this insidious beast, but sometimes I don't have enough time to take a few months off to try Bosco enemas and tickle classes.

Your Friend's Friend's Piano Teacher's Life Coach

Yes, I know your sister's neighbor's dog's master's hairdresser survived cancer 20 years ago. But I don't have ovarian cancer. Yet. Of course it's great to hear the success stories, and thank God they get more common every day, but unfortunately they don't erase the fear I deal with alone every night. I would never discourage you from sharing those stories, just make sure you balance them out by just showing up to lend an ear.

Smile!