Here’s What You Do: Take Their Mind Off of The Stupid Cancer, Unless They Want to Talk About The Stupid Cancer
I feel guilty about blogging about the friendships that went astray, in that last entry. I could have just let it go, knowing that some of the people who fell short of what I needed, sometimes read my blog. The flip side of that is that some of the people who fell short of what I needed read my blog and they still didn’t offer support. That taught me that I had some friends who just liked to watch me tread water but didn’t care enough to throw me a rope. So why should I feel guilty blogging about them? I didn’t use their names.
I suppose I could have addressed this issue with them instead of passive-aggressively blogging about it. But how does one address people who have disappeared? And in the one instance where this was addressed during and after the fact, it made no difference. No difference at all. And all I can figure out is that this is some sort of crazy narcissism that I was a witness to. Or that people I thought were my friends just really weren’t. I don’t know what they were.
I want to go positive here. Give some advice to any of you who have a friend going through crisis and crises. It’s not difficult. Not if you’re willing to make yourself vulnerable enough to make mistakes. My friend Floweer said to me, back at the beginning of the stupid cancer, “I don’t know what to do or say so forgive me if I make mistakes.”
Now I don’t recall that Floweer made any mistakes at all. Because I was so thankful that Floweer got my mind off of my stupid cancer often. And that, dear people, is the thing a person needs while going through cancer. Unless they want to talk about it, of course. Which is what Floweer and the friends who were there for me let me do. If I wanted to talk about it, they let me talk about it. If I didn’t want to talk about it, we talked about the donuts that were delivered to, and stored in the ladies restroom of a local gas station. For reals! And even if that conversation only lasted 4.3 minutes (but believe me, that was a much longer conversation) that was 4.3 minutes I didn’t think about my cancer. I was concerned about what the ladies’ restroom may have shared with the retail donuts.
If you live in my area and want to know where to not buy donuts, you e-mail me and I might just let you know!
What Floweer did right was to do it from her heart. If she had any fears about what to say to me, she didn’t let me know. Same thing with CiNDy and the other friends who did from their hearts.
Poor CiNDy. I really let her have it. I told her EVERY FINE DETAIL ABOUT CHEMO AND IT’S AFTERMATH. No details were left out. And she’s still here.
Although I haven’t heard from her since the satellite guy was there to install her new t.v. hook-up. I’m not worried that the satellite guy has her locked in the back of his truck. I’m sure it has something to do with CiNDy finding QVC. Or the Jersey Shore.
Which would be the second best thing you can do for a friend going through cancer, hook them up to a whole lot of television stations. Buy them premium channels. Even months after the chemo is over with. Sure, that’s a hint. I like to watch t.v.