By: Annette McElhiney
I just turned 77 years old. As a 9 1/2 year ovarian cancer survivor, in the last 9 years I’ve particularly treasured each year I have lived. But I also realize many more years lie behind me than lie ahead. Realizing my time is narrowing leads me to thoughts about Death. In the article, What to Say When You Meet the Angel of Death at a Party, Katy Bowler shares her thoughts and informs my contemplation.
Kate Bowler was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer 2 years ago. Today and in her future, she will undergo countless medical and imaging tests documenting either the progression, regression or stasis of her.
“We all harbor the knowledge, however covertly, that we’re going to die, but when it comes to small talk, I am the angel of death. I have seen people try to swallow their own tongue after uttering the simple words “How are you?” I watch loved ones devolve into stammering good wishes and then devastating looks of pity. I can see how easily a well-meaning but ill-placed suggestion makes them want to throw themselves into oncoming traffic.”
Bowler brilliantly fleshes out the “inside and private” thoughts and feelings of many cancer survivors, including myself.
Personally I’ve been on both sides of the survivor and comforter exchange. I’ve been the “angel of death” and the observer who wants to comfort other cancer survivors coping with a life threatening disease. As an observer, I always face the problem of not knowing what to say to give comfort.
Bowler says, “What does the suffering person really want? How can you navigate the waters left churning in the wake of tragedy? I find that the people least likely to know the answer to these questions can be lumped into three categories: minimizers, teachers and solvers.”
I know Bowler is right. That knowledge brings me to two questions; While I want to give comfort, do I fall into one of these categories? and What can I do to avoid being bossy, prescriptive or preachy?
Bowler explains, “Some people minimize spiritually by reminding me that cosmically, death isn’t the ultimate end. “It doesn’t matter, in the end, whether we are here or ‘there.’ It’s all the same,” said a woman in the prime of her youth.”
She says sometimes Christians suggest that because our true home is with God, death isn’t bad but actually positive.
However, she also says, “Atheists can be equally bossy by demanding that I immediately give up any search for meaning. One told me that my faith was holding me hostage to an inscrutable God, that I should let go of this theological guesswork and realize that we are living in a neutral universe. But the message is the same: Stop complaining and accept the world as it is.”
Because I believe all peoples’ spiritual beliefs are sacrosanct and my own are still evolving, I am usually not tempted to go there.
Yet, because I’ve spent my professional life as a college professor, I’m afraid to be guilty of falling into the teacher category of, “focus on how this experience is supposed to be an education in mind, body and spirit.”
Of course I rationalize that stance by protesting that I’m not speaking from only a theoretical point of view, but from an experiential point of view. While most cancer survivors will agree that cancer is not the best thing that has ever happened to them, they admit they have gained countless insights into life and relationships because they have had cancer. Some of what we learn is good and some not. Yet coping with a life threatening disease forces you to peel back the layers of your life and look at its core.
Finally Bowler describes the third category, the solvers. She writes, “The hardest lessons come from the solutions people, who are already a little disappointed that I am not saving myself. There is always a nutritional supplement, Bible verse or mental process I have not adequately tried. Keep smiling! Your attitude determines your destiny!”
Falling into the trap of telling others how to cope is so very easy. As a writer, painter, speaker, and cancer advocate, I often find myself sharing my own cancer story including how I cope. I try not to preach or tell other survivors what they should do but I fear failure. Instead, I want to offer a “buffet.” What I mean is from listening to other survivors stories about their journeys, I know hundreds of strategies for coping with cancer are available and I want to share those strategies. However, I also know another’s strategy will not necessarily work for you or me. Each survivor needs to choose a strategy with which she or he is comfortable and practice that.
Note that minimizing, teaching, and solving are all physical actions on the part of the observer. Perhaps what might benefit cancer survivors the most is for those who want to comfort them to be more passive, to simply be a listener.
Bowler says, “A tragedy is like a fault line. A life is split into a before and an after, and most of the time, the before was better. Few people will let you admit that out loud. Sometimes those who love you best will skip that first horrible step of saying: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” Hope may prevent them from acknowledging how much has already been lost. But acknowledgment is also a mercy. It can be a smile or a simple “Oh, hon, what a year you’ve had.” It does not ask anything from me but makes a little space for me to stand there in that moment.”
Maybe what she is suggesting is that less is more! Perhaps instead of focusing on actively comforting with words, we as observers who want to help should focus on listening to the survivors and really hearing what they say. Then maybe all they need is simply for us to hear, to validate their feelings, and to reassure them that they, their contributions, and their loved ones will always be respected and remembered. I’m finding that being passive as a supporter is a huge challenge for me but I’m trying to learn.