What to say to a cancer caregiver

As I’ve said before, if there’s one thing you’re guaranteed to hear as a caregiver, it’s “you are so strong.” It’s a nice thought with a beautiful intention behind it. And while yes, it’s the thought that counts and yes, the intention is a good one, there are also a whole bunch of reasons why this is not something caregivers want or need to hear.

So what can you say when someone you care about is carrying the heavy, heavy load that is caregiving? How do you give them strength? How do you show your admiration for their burden and their ability to carry it?

Short answer: Share your admiration for their burden by helping alleviate it.

Caregivers need to be seen and acknowledged, but more than that they need someone to care for them. They need help—and not the offer of help. Do not, I repeat, do not say “Let me know how I can help.” This puts the burden back onto the caregiver and the last thing he or she wants is one more thing to have to do. Specific, tangible, actual relief is much more valuable.

Instead of telling a caregiver how strong they are, here are 5 things you can say instead.

1. I know you’re going through a lot and I’d like to help by __

[insert specific offers around FAMILY needs—what you can do, how often, for how long].

…
Consider:
Providing meals
Serving as a substitute patient appointment or kid school/activities driver
Taking your kids out for some fun ‘get their minds off it’ playdates
Providing already-packed lunches for school or ready-made breakfasts
Running errands
Spending time with the patient so the caregiver gets a break
…
And then after the offer, say “Would that be good for you or is there a way you’d like to adjust that to better fit with what you need?” By offering specifics and asking if that will work, you’ve given the caregiver something tangible to react to and adjust with grace if need be.

Meals are a great way to help families in need. Whether it’s delivery, gift cards for restaurants or meal trains—where multiple people contribute to a schedule of meals either homemade or delivered over a longer period of time—all are amazing. Just don’t leave the management of it to the caregiver. I’m a big proponent of mealtrain.com or a similar tool. During our first round of cancer, that site didn’t exist and an angel of a friend offered to organize the calendar of drop-offs for me; I would have been overwhelmed without her.

Also do not underestimate what every Southerner knows is a key component of providing meals: If it’s not a delivery for immediate consumption, make like Annelle and ensure it “freezes beautifully.” This gives families flexibility and autonomy within the calendar, because sometimes the best thing for the family is a spontaneous burger and fries over one more night of pasta and veg.

Side note: Kid help can be tricky. Depending on what the family is going through, kids may feel a need to cling to the healthy parent at all times. I had the loveliest offer from a pal to take my kids out that I never took her up on because my kids didn’t know her and I thought they’d feel uncomfortable. Thinking back, I wish I’d let her. Kids don’t care who takes them to a trampoline park for an hour as long as they get to jump. It’s a balance for sure, but one that can be worked around.

2. I know you’re still going through a lot and I’d like to help by __

[insert specific offers around HOUSEHOLD needs—what, how often, for how long].

Would that be good for you or is there a way you’d like to adjust that?

(Seeing a pattern here?)
…
Consider:
Mowing, weeding, mulching your lawn
Walking your dog
Hiring a temporary cleaning service
Supplying your weekly household staples
Organizing your fridge/freezer/pantry

Most family caregivers aren’t spending their down time resting and re-energizing. We’re taking care of our patients and simultaneously caring for the rest of our family, managing the household and working full-time. There’s a feeling of needing to do it all, to keep all of the balls in the air, everything moving along—it’s how we as caregivers maintain a (ahem, false) sense of control in the midst of uncontrollable circumstances.

This is where and how the priorities get super out of whack. For me, the list went something like:

Care for patient

Care for family

Care for work

Care for essential household things (bills, laundry, ensuring there’s food available, etc.)

Care for non-essential household things (maintenance, cleaning, etc.)

Care for every other thing you can possibly insert here

Care for myself

I fooled myself into thinking I could do it all and do it all well, but reality would beg to differ. One of the hardest things was seeing all the non-essential work that in my “control the controllable” mind needed to be done but that I had no energy for. The littlest tasks felt unmanageable and overwhelming, and because they were lower on the list and weren’t done as often, they served as nagging reminders of my failures.

Perfect example: the weeds. Oh god the fucking weeds. My husband typically maintained our lawn so when he was unable to, of course the weeds started to grow. And I would see them, more and more each day, cropping up and reminding me every freaking time we walked in the house that there was work to be done. That it would get worse each day. That the job would get bigger until it required hours of me and the kids tackling it together, hours that we didn’t have the mental space and did have infinitely better uses for.

And no, in the midst of all I was trying to control I did not have the ability to see or recognize that the weeds not only didn’t have to get done but truly didn’t matter. Survival mode in these circumstances isn’t necessarily logical.

By offering help on these niggling tasks that don’t require the caregiver’s knowledge or expertise, only a simple helping hand, you are doing wonders—WONDERS I tell you—for a caregiver’s mental state.

Even better if you can make a standing offer for things that need to be maintained instead of a one-time gig. “I’d like to come take care of your lawn this weekend” is fantastic. “I’d like to take care of your lawn on a regular basis until treatment is done” is jaw-droppingly miraculous.

This doesn’t always have to be the case, of course. During my husband’s first and most difficult recovery from surgery, we had wonderful friends who provided all kinds of meals and food for us on a regular cadence. So much so that it became difficult to keep track of what we had, what we didn’t, what groceries we needed and how and where to store it all.

A few of those friends offered to organize our fridge and to this day I can’t tell you how amazing it was and how bone deep my appreciation went. The simple act of a couple hours’ time going through what we had and what we needed brought order to what in my mind and mental state felt like overwhelming chaos. Best gift EVAH.

3. I know you’re going through a lot and I’d like to help by __

[insert specific offers around GIFT ideas].

Would that be good for you or is there a way you’d like to adjust that?

(I know you’re picking up what I’m putting down by this point, right?)
…
Consider:
Tickets (sporting events, movies, activities requiring ticketed admission)
Food basket
Gift cards (gas, restaurants, activities, favorite stores)
Personalized care packages (fun activities for kids, pampering/indulgence-type stuff for adults, even just goofy stuff to help them smile)

When you’re in the midst of a life-altering event, sometimes the last thing you want to think about is said life-altering event. There is much to be said for escaping your new normal and getting a chance to feel your old normal even if just for a little while.

Here’s where gifts can come in. Giving a family going through cancer a chance to do things that let them focus on something—anything—else for a couple of hours is golden. It’s all about distraction. Sporting event? YES. Movie tickets? YES. Gift basket of foods or things to rifle through and fawn over? YES. YES. Gift certificate to a favorite store or restaurant? YES YES YES.

I love books, bookstores, libraries, bookmobiles, book fairs—you name it. If it’s got words on paper, I can happily lose myself for hours on end. My daughter’s the same. My son not so much (a dagger to my heart) but give him money to spend at a dollar store and he’s gone.

A gift certificate in either of these cases is so much more than the dollar amount. It’s a break from thinking about what’s on our minds 24/7 and that respite is priceless. I kid you not, a friend sent my kids a care package that included a box of different sized googly eyes. Do you know how much googly eyes can do in the way of distraction? Let me assure you, the answer is TONS.

One note: I included gas cards above because sometimes what caregivers need most is financial help. It’s not just medical bills that add up; gas to and from appointments can eat into paychecks and savings at a phenomenal rate. This kind of aid may not take a caregiver’s mind off the situation as much as provide some relief from a constant worry. GoFundMe’s also offer a great opportunity to give financial relief, although you should absolutely talk to the caregiver and patient before creating one.

4. I know you’re going through a lot and I’d like to help by __

[insert specific offers around CARING FOR THE CAREGIVER—what, how often, for how long].

Would that be good for you or is there a way you’d like to adjust that to better suit your needs?

…
Consider:
Bringing you coffee
Taking you out to lunch one day
Bringing you more coffee
Picking you up to go on a walk
Bringing you ALL THE COFFEE

On a caregiver’s priority list, the caregiver always, ALWAYS comes last. It’s not right or healthy, but it’s the innate response we seem to have despite all the advice to do otherwise. (Helloooooo moms!)

Yet there’s this tiny little repressed voice that speaks up every once in a while and particularly when the mantle of caregiver is assumed. As we say, “I will take care of you,” to others, the voice whispers, “But who is going to take care of me?”

Unfortunately for many caregivers, that answer often turns out to be no one. (The answer should be “I will take care of myself too, as much as I take care of you,” but that thought is hard as hell to embrace, much less actually accomplish.)

Here’s where you can come in. Anything you do that is purely for the caregiver feels UH-MAZING. We’re already feeling alone and overwhelmed. In that environment, the smallest acts of kindness feel like miracles.

Embedded in all of these suggestions is the offer of a listening ear. Caregivers get such little attention or acknowledgment next to the patients they’re caring for. And often attention comes in the form of all kinds of unwanted guidance and advice. (Read: lectures.) Just showing up with an open heart and ready shoulder is a huge gift.

We may need to complain and get the negativity out in a safe space. We may need to ugly cry and get snot on your shirt. We may need to not talk at all and just have you there as a witness to our struggle. It’s all valid, it’s all ok, and it’s all so much better when you’re not alone.

To the friends that showed up for me, I am on my knees and humbled in gratitude:
To those who shared food, time, laughs and company: Thank you.
To the friend who brought me lunch while I was alone in a waiting room with only hours and ‘what ifs’ ahead of me: Thank you.
To the friend who delivered coffee at an ungodly surgery drop-off hour: Thank you.
To the friend who mailed me a surprise box of trashy romance novels for distraction: Thank you.
To the friend who created a handmade quilt emblazoned with NOPE and CANNOT: Thank you.
To the friend who listened as I complained and shared the worst parts of myself: Thank you.
To the friends who opened their hearts and their own personal healing place to us so we could have some moments of peace: Thank you.
To the friend who brought his whole family for a massive yardwork job and left us with a sidewalk chalk-painted wonderland: Thank you.
To the friend who came to stay, who took me out, who took care of me, who reminded me how to laugh: Thank you.
To them and so many others: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

5. I know you’re going through a lot and I’d like to help by __

[insert any other kind of help you can think of because in the end any help is great help]

Would that be good for you or is there a way you’d like to adjust that to better suit your needs?

By now you get the idea. The point here is that words are lovely, but most likely your caregiving friend or loved one is drowning and needs some relief. Anything tangible you can do will go so much farther than any words could: You’re providing a boost, support, love, a break.

I know it’s easy to just go for the sentiment, to say the “right” thing and be done with it. And yes, saying anything heartfelt, even if it’s the wrong thing, is better than saying nothing at all. (Silent friends do a whole other mind job on caregivers, trust me.) But let’s be real. Showing up speaks volumes to who you are and how much you care, no words needed.