Let me ask you this, have you ever been stopped dead in your tracks when you received the news that someone you care about has been diagnosed with cancer? The “c” word, it can be so paralyzing when you hear it uttered over the phone. As you start to process the situation, you feel like you have to do something, but the problem is you're caught in this dilemma of trying to support while at the same time giving them the “space they need”. You reassure them that you are there for and ready to provide support whenever they call, and patiently wait for them to text in their request. A request that never comes. The reality is, oftentimes cancer patients and their immediate caregivers don’t know what they want, but you can provide something they need. One of the interesting things about our cancer journey was the people that made up our cancer team. Some of our friends who were separated by geographical distance seemed fairly absent throughout the entire treatment- not because they didn’t care, but rather because they weren’t sure how they could support us and didn’t want to “clutter our inbox.” On the other hand, total strangers would swing by the house with random acts of kindness such as washing and folding our laundry. They became an integral part of our team and were instrumental in providing an environment where Nikki had the best chance of a positive outcome. I want to encourage you not to be shy, don’t assume people don’t want to be bothered. People need to know they aren’t alone. Don’t let anything stop you from joining someone’s team, especially if you know them well. People going through a cancer journey NEED a team of support, people outside their medical professionals. This is where you come in. 

Just show up

     A lot of times people feel awkward about reaching out to someone with cancer. There’s a desire to respect their space as they process such a significant event, but a cancer patient doesn’t have the time to go through their iPhone contacts and individually tell each person what they need. You’re never going to receive an invitation to be part of someone’s cancer team, it just doesn’t work that way.  The patient is drowning in a mountain of information and emotions, they can barely keep their head above water let alone grab the phone for help. So just tell them, “I am now part of your team. I don’t know what that looks like other than I will be present from now until you ring that bell for your last treatment. I am your teammate throughout this entire process.” And that’s enough. You don’t have to solve anything, you just have to show up. For Nikki’s cancer journey, our family and friends made this promise to us in many ways. They had several custom made T-shirts distributed to those who wanted them. The two words written on the front “Team Nikki” carried more weight than any attempt to fix our situation. We received photos of people wearing the shirt from all over the place and it just felt like we had an army of people surrounding us. Another group of our team had a limo show up to our house on Nikki's last day of treatment. She went to her last radiation treatment in style! These people committed to showing up whether they lived near or far. Respecting privacy and showing up can coexist with a little creativity, so find a way to show up in your friend’s life.

Clutter their Mailbox

     After you have joined someone’s team, the question becomes, “How do I continue to show support?” Let’s be honest, it’s difficult to sustain support over the course of a long cancer journey. You have your own life, family, and difficult circumstances. Many times you aren’t even in the same timezone as the patient. But that’s the value of being part of a team, you don’t have to lift monumental boulders, you just need to find something that you are capable of doing over a long period of time. I’ve often thought that the best way to accomplish this is by cluttering someone’s mailbox. Notice I deliberately used the word mailbox, not inbox. There’s something about getting a handwritten letter, something written in your own font with scratched out words, smiley faces, x’s and o’s. With such a simple gesture you are saying I took the time to sit down, think through my words, and express that I am still on your team even though life seems like it left you behind. 

     We were uniquely blessed to watch the unboxing of one of our care packages and we could feel the positive energy as each item was unwrapped. What really stood out was when the patient got to the handwritten note at the end, he just lost it. His tears said there’s at least someone else that actually cares about my plight, and there are no words that can express how much that means. Whether literally or figuratively, find ways to continue to clutter people’s mailboxes.  

Listen Carefully

     One of the most common reservations we hear from people is that they simply don’t know what to do. This is completely understandable, nobody does, it’s CANCER! I would offer another way of thinking about it. Instead of thinking, “What can I do?” Be a curious listener and observer. That’s what teammates do both proactively and subconsciously.  A proactive element to listening and that is known as investigating. This can look like researching the blogs of people’s cancer journeys, reading through well thought out articles on a patient's needs, or simply talking to someone that is willing to tell their cancer story. This approach can help you educate yourself on what they might need or be helpful.  In fact, what you will find is that when you “just show up” and start “cluttering mailboxes”, the needs of the patient present themselves. Now, suddenly it becomes glaringly obvious what you can do to help. Nikki often tells of one of the most impactful gifts that she received during treatment, a port pillow. Before cancer I didn’t even know what a port was! The lady that sent the pillow did, she knew that chemotherapy patients will often get ports implanted below their skin near the clavicle to provide a way to receive treatment without getting an IV every time. So when Nikki wrote about getting a port in her blog, this lady immediately sent her a port pillow. As fate would have it, the pillow arrived at the most opportune time.  Nikki finally felt well enough to drive and noticed that the seatbelt felt so uncomfortable because it put pressure on the port. As she arrived at school to pick up the kids, someone handed her a care package. “My aunt sent this to you after reading your blog”. Nikki opened the box and cried. The gift was a result of someone listening carefully, and that’s really all it takes. 

     Don’t be shy as you step into someone’s journey. It may feel awkward or even daunting for you, but just think about how the patient feels and you’ll be inspired to move forward. Remove the burden of trying to cure their cancer, that’s not your job. Just show up on their team, clutter their mailbox with reassurances, and then listen and observe carefully to what they are communicating.