The impossible task: how to support a cancer patient.

I have been grappling with this concept for days now. Rehashing my past treatment, and the actions that took place within the last year to help aid me through chemotherapy. I have discussed with friends and family, their feelings, my beliefs, and acknowledging my tough exterior as some might see it.

Before, I begin. I must preface by stating that this post will include the utmost honesty, and vulnerability that I have.

I am aware that I am a very difficult person to support, during the diagnosis of cancer and treatment. I know that through my last round of chemotherapy I did not let too many people in to my cancer world, I kept people at arms length, even when they wanted to help, and I acted (like many first timers do), that I could take this head-on, by myself. Because I was strong. I believe there are times when this characteristic of strength is a good thing, but there are times, once we have matured as an individual that we must realize... Strength does not always mean pushing people out, and enduring pain on your own. Sometimes strength means, you have the knowledge and understanding of when to call upon others...

Therefore, instead of putting on a 'tough' face this time, and telling everyone that I am able to handle this next battle on my own. I have thought long and hard, and have decided that I need to be incredibly explicit about something that is impossible to do:

How do you support, someone, like bekah?

I'd like to give you some guidelines, that I feel are vital for you to understand me and the process I am about to go through. I hope you are able to read these, not take anything incredibly close to heart, and recognize that these are just a few of my needs that I did not express well during last treatment, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to do so, the second time around.

Please don't:

• Tell me it's going to be fine.. All of this, definitely can be fine - at the end. When chemotherapy and transplant are done. But please, don't tell me it is all going to end up 'fine,' or 'okay.' I need to be realistic, and so does my support system. We do not know what each day will bring, so for now. I remain positive, and hope for the best. We hope everything will be fine. But we do not know, for sure.

• Tell me Jesus or G-d or 'he' will save me, or it's in G-d's hands..This one is actually a little humorous, because, one, as some of you may know I am Jewish. Two, when I did believe in G-d, I believed she was a woman. I respect every single religious affiliation out there, trust me. Please, continue to practice your beliefs and religions, but for now. Respect me, and my beliefs. I will save me, you all, will save me, my doctors will save me... and that's all I need for now.
  

• Let me know that the world, or god, can only give me what I can handle.. Believe it or not, this is probably one of the most difficult things to hear. I have gone through a lot of medical treatment from my kidney disease, now to this relapse. When people say this to me, it makes me feel as though -- I deserve more pain, because I am strong. I'm sure none of you mean this. But that's the way it feels to me. So, if you believe I'm a tough cookie -- tell me. But stray away from any rationalizations.
  

I can say for the record, hardly any of these have been touched upon. But I wanted to be as explicit as possible, so you all know what you're in for ;)

Now! for the most amazing things, that you all are doing for me. I decided to form a list, and deeply thank you for all you have done, thus far.

Please continue to:

• Tell me this is worth it. I know, in my head that this treatment is worth it, but you have no idea how difficult it is facing another four months of treatment, with isolation treatment on top of that. I need to be reminded, I need to know, you, think this is worth it. Some days, I will forget... I need your voices.

• Your cards, phone calls, messages, and ims, make me day, in fact, they make my life. For the tons of you who have written me emails, cards, and called. I listen. I hear you. I may not respond back right away, or maybe not at all. But, good lord, I hear you. There are some nights, I pull up my computer and reread each one of your emails that tell me, I am strong enough to go on. I save phone messages, that tell you that you love me and you're right there with me 'mentally.' In the standstill of cancer treatment, these pieces of you - save me.

• When you tell me you're going to be there... you're there. When you are diagnosed with cancer for the first, or even second time. You completely feel as though your world is out of control. You have no control over your body, where your life is about to take you, how you will react to the medications, when chemo will be depending on your response. You are, out of control. Therefore, when plans, visits, or phone calls are made. And they are kept. It gives me a sense of control over my life. Something, I've planned is on schedule and consistent.
  

• Continue to be honest with me.. Some of you have made it very clear that you are in for the 'long haul,' that you will continue to call, write, visit, ect. Others have made it clear that they don't know what to say or do in this situation, that it is 'too much,' or 'too difficult.' Whatever your feelings are, my friends, be honest. At this point in time, if I know you are 'here' in spirit and in the fight with me. That's wonderful. If things are too rough for you - to put it bluntly, please jump ship now. It is important for me to know who I can draw strength from.

This is definitely not one of the most poetic concepts I've had in a while. But felt it was necessary before treatment began, since a lot of you have asked 'What can I do?' There isn't much -- but there is this.

I realize, I am incredibly difficult to support. I know that, for a fact. I am hoping as I process more of my thoughts, on what I need... I will be honest with you. And you will hear me.

- B

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Today I miss: my roomate, Jen

Today I smile for: my absolutely amazing friends who packed up my entire house in Boston, last weekend, put it into a uhaul, and unpacked my life, back here in Doylestown.

Today I am grateful for: your patience, with me.