This is the other side of the coin: after you tell someone you have cancer, their most likely response is “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” We’re not trained on what to say to bad news, and I can’t say I’ve come up with anything better. The thing is, though, that it puts all of the responsibility back onto the person at the center of the bad news.
The way I figure it, this post can go two ways. If you’ve recently been diagnosed with breast cancer, it can give you some ideas if you’re looking to plan ahead. It can also be shared with the people who say to let them know if there’s anything they can do because … well, it’s a list of things that helped me.
I will say that, sadly, having a list doesn’t always help. I made a similar Facebook post shortly after my diagnosis with some ideas and a wish list link, and a couple people apparently decided I either didn’t really mean it, or that they should get me something even more special. They said yes, of course, they saw the list … but what did I really want? So it’s not foolproof, but also, if someone you know has cancer and made a list, buy them something off it.
For clarity’s sake, none of these are sponsored items. I don’t earn or get anything if you click the links. It’s just me trying to share in the hopes that it will make someone else’s journey reasonable.
Feed me
This is a case of knowing what’s really going to help someone and their household. My husband likes cooking, so my close friends asked what they could do that wouldn’t interfere with that part of it. They didn’t want to take that away from him. I suggested gift cards for our preferred meal box, Blue Apron; Misfits Market, where we also frequently order; or to our local grocery store. We live in a very rural area, so I made sure people knew that cards to places like Walmart wouldn’t be as helpful – the closest one is still over 50 miles away. Keep in mind, too, that not every place has something like Uber Eats, although that would absolutely be useful for anyone who lives where they can order that way.
It’s also totally the time for comforting favorites. We didn’t have a local cafe, but if someone loves getting a coffee or a treat and you know their favorite spot, get them a gift card to use there. Some days even just leaving the house to go get a latte or a smoothie was worth the effort of getting ready … because it wasn’t leaving the house for another appointment. Heck, get someone a gift card for avocado toast.
Stress alone can make it difficult to eat, even outside of the side effects from treatment. I stocked up on Soylent, which is my preferred meal replacement drink. The original flavor is oaty but not as sweet as most meal replacement shakes. I needed something I could just drink and be done with when I really didn’t feel like eating, and Soylent is the one I can chug. It’s helpful to have a supply on hand for the times when nothing sounds good, but you know you’re just going to feel worse if you don’t eat.
Microwavable and other ready meals also help. I had a lot of comfort food: macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, pizza rolls … Yes, on the one hand you want to eat healthy, but on the other, seriously, some days it’s hard to eat anything at all. Sometimes you’re microwaving another breakfast burrito and chanting “Fed is best” as it spins around. Reality is what it is, and you really don’t have the time or the energy to waste wishing things were different or that you could be “better” about your diet.
Creature comforts
Get a seatbelt cover before your surgery date. Even if you’re sure your incision isn’t going to end up in seatbelt range, bodies aren’t logical. It’s really weird sometimes what will make things hurt, and you don’t want to aggravate it. Sometimes even a short encounter can have effects that last for days.
I wore a SheFit bra on my surgery day. The front closure makes for easy on and off, and I already had some for exercise, so I knew I’d get a lot of use out of them. The closure ended up irritating my incision, though, so I switched to Yana Dee bras. They’re easy to step into and comfy for all-day wear. And I’m also still wearing them four months after surgery – I tried one of my previously comfortable everyday bras once and had to take it off after an hour, so I’m willing to wait a while before trying again. It’s good to have choices, because you don’t really know what things will be like when you wake up.
I had mug warmers long before this, but they’re lovely to have when you’re not sure if you want to keep getting up and moving around. This one has three different temperature settings so you can keep your drink just as hot as you like. It’s a small thing, but in the middle of trying to just get through another minute, the small things add up.
Part of the exhaustion will mean napping at all hours of the day, so you’ll want a good eye mask. Overstimulation is also real, so consider some earplugs – this version from Loop lets you pick exactly how much ambient nose you want to hear. And speaking of bed, you’ll end up wanting different blankets: a fuzzy comforting one, and also a cooling blanket for when you start getting hot flashes. I’ve got a cooling pillowcase, too.
Time after time
If you’re not good at being patient – and who really is? – then you’ll want to prepare for all the waiting. I knew that this would be particularly difficult for me, in part because everything was happening during summer vacation. I didn’t have to worry about my job, but I also had to figure out how to fill up the time myself when I didn’t have enough concentration or energy for everything I’d planned to do.
Audiobooks are one good way for me to reassure myself that time’s passing even if it doesn’t feel like it. I started with audio versions of books that I’d already read and branched out from there. Dan Stevens is one of my favorite narrators, and his version of And Then There Were None is one of my comfort listens. I could go lie down, not sure if I was tired enough to sleep or just not awake enough to sit up anymore, hit play, and it didn’t matter if I fell asleep because I know the story so well.
The main thing I suggested for people who wanted to help was craft kits. All kinds of craft kits. I’m already a knitter and have plenty of yarn, but I branched out to brick painting, mosaics, window clings, latch hook, and more. Basically if it came all together in a kit, I’d take it. Some of them took less time and energy, so I’d pick those when I needed to feel a sense of having accomplished something. Others took longer, so I’d have to figure out a good time to put it down and pick it back up again later. Mostly I just had so many hours to fill, and I needed to do my best to take my mind off of what was coming next or why I was so darn exhausted all the time.
And of course, if all else fails, there are gift cards. Get them to a specific place, or give someone a card with money to spend wherever will help the most. This is absolutely the time to let people have little treats because hey, we’re fighting for our lives. Even if we didn’t realize we had cancer and that wasn’t making us sick, the treatment packs a huge punch.
And if you don’t have money, give time
It doesn’t even have to be much time. People sent me text to let me know they were thinking of me. They shared memes at 3am for me to find later. It’s called pebbling, and it’s a solid way to support someone. Listen, it’s morbid, but we need to know for sure that someone’s going to miss us if we die. In the darkest moments in the middle of treatment, when it’s just absolutely so freaking unfair that it’s the cure that’s making us sick, we’ll cling to whatever we can get. Send the stupid meme.
I believe that last part so much that I’m making it your action item: send a message, meme, or gif to someone you care about. Let them know you’re thinking about them even when they’re not around to remind you they exist. Memento vivere, and may they send you a 3am meme in return.
Rebecca Frost 