Top 10 Things Not to Say (Part 2)
So, I’m still feeling tired, but the nausea has passed. As such, I hereby offer the Top 5 things I’d rather folks not say to me. As with the first 5, please keep in mind that you all have a “Pass” if you have said any these things to me previously. I hope this list is helpful for you moving forward.
5) “What’s your prognosis?” As with #9, in reality, my doctors cannot say what my prognosis is! As I have remarked in other posts, outcome data for my form of cancer are not great. If you could clone me 99 times, the data suggest that anywhere from 4-20 of these 100 Merle’s will survive to 5 years. Without knowing if I (the ‘real’ Merle) would be among these survivors, spending time wondering about what may be is something I chose not to do. In addition, I’m trying to stay present and asking me about my future is counterproductive to that activity. If you feel like finding out about my prognosis, do a Google search for “pancreas cancer, prognosis” and you’ll get more than enough information, but please do not ask me.
4) Some version of the “We all are going to die of something!” or the “You could step off the curb and get hit by a bus!” It’s absolutely true that we are all going to die (as Clive James has said, “Nobody gets out of this world alive.“) and absolutely unhelpful. As Lori Hope wrote in her book, “Oh great! Now, in addition to possibly dieing from cancer, I have to worry about possibly being hit by a bus!” As a friend from church pointed out to me, we all have to deal with our own mortality, it’s just I’m lucky enough to be reminded about it every day (’cause I have doctors appointments every day). Think of it this way, it’s the difference between knowing that you MAY be hit by a bus someday and seeing a bus hurtling toward you and wondering if you have enough time to jump out of the way before it hits you.
3) Anything that involves cancer war stories. When I first publicly announced my cancer at my church, a woman at church stood up and told a story about her son who had one form of cancer or the other and how hard his treatment was, but that he survived. I don’t need / want to hear about how difficult my treatments will be. I know! The last couple of days have been hard enough that I really do not want to have to worry about it getting worse (though, I’m sure it will). Similarly, my wife had found a website that was written very humorously (at least the first half was). The 2nd half (which she admittedly did not read) described the difficulties the author had with complications from her Whipple procedure (e.g., on 2 separate occasions she woke up covered in blood). I appreciate people wanting to raise my spirits with humorous stories and stories of successfully battling cancer; I just don’t need them if these stories include pain and suffering. The take home message here is: tell me positive stories of cancer (not scary stories) about people who have had pancreas cancer. I need hope, and horror stories don’t accomplish that.
2) “It happens for a reason” or that my cancer is “God’s will.” I can appreciate that some people need to believe in pre-destination. I am not sure I believe in it, but what I do believe is that there is not a higher power that is actively involved with my life. As I have said elsewhere in this blog, my theology is influenced by the book When Bad things happen to Good People
1) Nothing. I realize that one potential by-product of this kind of list is that people are afraid of saying anything to me for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. I want to encourage you not to be so afraid of saying the wrong thing or making a mistake that you avoid contact with me. Your support and contact is what is most important to me. I would rather have you say the wrong thing than to avoid me. If you absolutely cannot think of anything to ask me here are some suggestions: (a) What is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything? (b) What is your name? Your quest? Your favorite color? or (c) How ’bout them braves? The weather? The new episode of Law and Order: SVU? In the end, I need you if I’m going to successfully battle this cancer. Stick with me, y’all
Cheers,
Merle
I would have added “have a nice day” which I think slays people when they are struggling. I actually think what people in general need to learn to say is “I’m sorry. What can I do?” or even better “I can cook, do laundry, go with you to a treatment, drive you somewhere, babysit, go to a movie with you” and so on. The more concrete the better.
I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry that the treatment is getting tougher to handle. And I’m praying.
Merle – Good advise for all of us to remember, silence is never the best option. I am thinking of you often! I like the shaved look – very distinquished.
Hey Merle,
Good news- I’ve overcome my technology issues and figured out how to comment. I just wanted to say thanks for this list of things not to say (at least one of which I think I’ve said). I also love the 100 Merles example in the one about your prognosis, though I feel compelled to say that the idea of 100 Merles running around is just a bit scary!
Hopefully, they wouldn’t all have gone to CDC orientation with me, or we most certainly would have been thrown out and returned to contractor status!
The answer to the question of life, the universe and everything happens to be 42. I’m sure you know that the Super Computer has established this number as the correct answer after years and years of research, analysis and calculation. Unfortunately, the question has yet to be determined. But, coincidentally, your age is in direct line with that number, so I can conclude that as you ask this question, the answer must have some amendment as such: “Merle Hamburger and everything associated with his spirit, entity and existence, happens to be the answer to life, the universe and everything.” Don’t you feel noble now? Smile.