| By MICHAEL RILEY
STAFF WRITER
The diagnosis of an uncommon form of bone cancer was surprising enough for Pat Corliss.
The course of chemotherapy the doctors have recommended is even now taking its toll on her body and spirit.
Sometimes, she says, her mind is filled with thoughts and possibilities and questions that no one can answer, questions like "How long do I have?"
"You wish your mind could be like a blackboard and you could erase those thoughts when you try to go to sleep."
In spite of that, she says, there are good nights.
And the days can be good, too.
"It's like you've become a member of club you never wanted to join," she says. "But I find if I'm with people, I'm better. If I can play bridge with friends, or go to a play or movie, it allows me to concentrate on something other than the cancer."
By and large, then, her friends have been a real balm for Corliss.
But she knows that some have not called - out of fear, she believes, or because they are unsure of what to say.
But maybe even worse are those friends who call and say precisely the wrong thing.
Corliss does not mind discussing her illness or the ordeal she is undergoing, but she has been brought up short when friends call, and the first words out of their mouths are "Have you lost your hair yet?" or "Are you sure you have faith in your doctor?" or "Have the doctors given you a time line?"
Dr. Susan Greenberg is an oncologist with a practice in Little Silver who understands the trouble some people have in dealing with friends or loved ones with serious illnesses.
Sometimes, she says, it's even in the tone of voice, when a friend's "How are you?" can sound condescending. Sometimes it gets worse, she says, as when someone says, "Oh, my brother had what you had and he's dead."
Her suggestions are simple:
"You should think before you talk, try to be empathetic, and if you ask a question, be prepared to hear the answer," Greenberg says. And while the Internet can be a great source of information, it can also be a repository of the kind of quackery that friends feel free to share.
"Cancer can't be cured with an herb. Or shark cartilage," Greenberg says.
Still, some people get it right.
Greenberg admires the friends of her patients who will write a brief handwritten note saying something as brief as, "My thoughts are with you," or make a concrete offer of help, such as to pick up the kids from school.
She also believes that humor can be a good tool in her patients' hands. She mentions that if someone makes a comment about hair loss from the rigors of treatment, a proper response might be, "Every time a hair falls out, it means I've killed a cancer cell."
Nancy Conn-Levin is a nine-year brain tumor survivor, and co-founder of the Monmouth/Ocean County branch of the Central New Jersey Brain Tumor Support Group. She understands how profoundly the news of a friend's serious illness can affect people.
"People can be threatened by someone else's serious illness," Conn-Levin says. "It's a reminder of their own mortality," she says. "But the seriously ill don't want to be a burden, don't want to be talked down to, ignored, avoided, thought of as contagious."
Many times, she says, patients long for a sense of normalcy, and anything that can help achieve that is much appreciated.
Rabbi Ephraim Karp, Community Chaplain for the Jewish Federation of Greater Monmouth County, with offices in Ocean Township and Manalapan, spends his days in local hospitals bringing what comfort he can to the patients he visits.
"We walk with people in their nightmares," he says. "We know the terrain, and can hold their hand."
Lisa Lancaster is chaplain and director of pastoral services at CentraState Health Care System in Freehold Township.
She says that one thing she hears over and over again from the people she visits, in one way or another is this message: "I'm me; I'm not my illness." |
