Slow news day so let's talk about cancer.

My beautiful daughter is undergoing post-cancer treatment at the moment by way of chemotherapy. Pretty crappy topic, I know.

It amazed me at first to note the reactions to her predicament on her facebook page by her friends. Of course they were supportive, but many in that fluffy sort of way; (in her words) 'trying to turn shit into candy'. Blunt but oh so descriptive and true.  And what really saddened me is that none of us really knew how to help, what to say. What's the protocol? Has anyone come across a book; How to Talk to Cancer Sufferers Without Appearing a Completely Heartless Dolt or Stupid-Beyond-Belief-Prick"? Anyone? Or perhaps "101 Ways to be Helpful to Someone Who's Throwing Their Lunch Up Every Five Minutes"? For an enterprising author, this might make you millions given the statistics of cancer across the modern world. "Wise Words to give Wig Wearers" might be another. In fact there's probably quite a market for it and perhaps I've missed it- not that I've really looked.

My cousin's daughter had breast cancer a couple of years ago. What a beautiful woman she is; mother of 2 small children, wife, worker: all that a woman could be and a fucking amazing human being to boot. Of all the people in all the world she was the least deserving (not that anyone is- except those two psychopaths who accosted me in KFC that time). She is well now, but I remember that initial shock and hesitancy- do you speak about it? Do you go around and invade? She's not dead but it kind of feels like you have to tiptoe around like she is. What if she does die? What do you do? I know the feeling; I felt it. You feel so helpless. And useless beyond belief. Mainly because you have no idea of the Protocols of Dealing with the Possibly-Dying. You don’t want to go round there to support them and commit the most massive FAUX PAUS ever committed in all of Christendom and across time by SAYING THE WRONG THING. So you hide at home and say nothing. I was a coward; I admit it; I sent flowers. Fuck. Had no idea what to do. What do you say to parents who might be losing their daughter?

But all of us in our bid to overcome our horror and reach out to them (the victims of disease)- sorry don't mean to make it an 'us and them'; the healthy and unhealthy, or  alive and possibly-soon-not-to-be alive- we shiver and quake and slink around and just want to be positive. I mean you can't go in with "So. What shall I do with all your shoes? And that nice amethyst necklace- can I have that? Do you want pine or can we just go with a tasteful cardboard that’s so much more environmentally friendly? Have to think of the future. Not yours obviously, but the planet and for your children- you know. Is it time to talk about the flowers?”

When my dad was diagnosed with cancer some 20 years ago and given a year to live, the social worker who worked with the terminally ill told me to try to get him to talk about it. Shit. Thanks. Isn’t that your job? Why do I have to get all uncomfortable and make my 70 year old father cry and then break down all blubbery and snotty too. It’s all just too fucking horrible for words. But I’m a faithful daughter so I tried:

“Are you scared dad? Do you worry about it all the time?”

“No point in worrying about what you can’t change. Gotta die of something” (an early Stephen Covey convert and Oh so Irish).

I caught him one day pouring nutrigrain cereal into a bowl containing tinned pears, sliced avocado, icecream and banana. Concerned about early senility I ventured to question him. “Whatcha doing pa?”

“David (the local chemist) told me to live it up. I’m living it up.”

Fark, you gotta laugh. He’s fekkin’ funny my da.

But the topic of cancer crosses all social mores and delves into our deepest and darkest fears. As I wrote to her recently on her f/b page:

No one can know what it is to face death unless you have looked into the abyss and felt the black darkness staring back at you. Deep in your soul, at the core of your being where the blood flows in endless rivers pumping through your body, you feel the shaking, the queasy uneasiness, the edge of the panic and horror that peeks back at you with the knowledge that you will one day die and be no more.

The fear is palpable, a stranglehold on your throat and on your sanity. Perhaps this is the day, perhaps this malady is the one to strike you down. Anything can happen.
So we run from this truth, if we have ever glimpsed it. We race ahead down the winding roads of our lives and fill ourselves with everything and yet, nothing.
We speak in whispers of the diseases, black and creeping, terrifying and destructive, purveyors of wanton illness and death; like cancer. 

The very word makes us shiver and quake.

And to know one we love, one we know to be beautiful is marred by this, we feel sick inside.
And to know one we love, one we know to be a vibrant force of life and laughter is darkened by this, we feel the blade of sorrow piercing.
And to know one we love, one we know to be a forceful firebrand of personal power and passionate humanity is darkened by this, we feel the clench of our bowels as we shake in dismay at this thing that can bring such as her, to such a vulnerability.
To bring such a light so low is more terrifying than the infinite oceans of stars and planets beyond knowing to our puny existence.

And to all this despair and loathing of what is happening to her, we bring not only our own fear of our own mortality, but we bring our inadequateness.

We have no words to bring cheer, no drug to alleviate the pain, no advice on how to cope when this monster is an unknown to us.
And because she is so far from us, we have only our pitiful words to offer her, although we wish to hold her close, although we wish to kiss her cheek, although we wish to clasp her hand, although we wish to walk with her through this most miserable and painful journey she must yet again endure… 
We have only our tears to give her and these we cannot, because that is such a travesty; to take our pitiful tears of love and support to her, the strongest, most enduring, compassionate and wonderful person we know is like asking her to comfort us.

We can only apologise- all of us- for not knowing what to do; for not knowing what to say. Except we love you and if we could unwish this, we would in a heartbeat.