To the Ones With Cancer

Letters to my patients, day 31

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

To the ones with cancer,

I want to say I’m glad you’re here, but I’m not. Nobody should be here. This journey with cancer is one that you are on due to circumstance, not choice. In a perfect world, diseases wouldn’t even exist. We can wish all we want, but this is not a perfect world. I know, it frustrates me too.

So here you are, sitting in my clinic, and my heart fills with words that I need to share with you. Your eyes are wide with the fear of the unknown, your blood pressure is spiked and your heart is racing. You don’t know who to trust yet, what information is right, or where to start looking for help. Your kids sit beside you. Even though they are adults, they have always looked to you for guidance. Now they feel responsible to care for you without having any more experience in this area than you do. The silence is palpable.

But I hesitate to fill the silence.

If I said everything I wanted to, no matter how encouraging the words, you would still be overwhelmed.

Which is why I have written these 31 letters — letters to my patients. To you. May they serve to encourage you, your family, your friends along each stage of this journey. Let them empower you to ask for help, advocate for quality care, and take this one step at a time.

For today, I will review the topic at hand — your diagnosis. We will still go into details, because I believe you should be as informed as you are comfortable with. I remind you that it’s okay if this conversation is forgotten, if you don’t remember the specifics. We will talk about it all again, and every time you hear this it will make more sense. You can ask questions along the way — write them down and bring them to our visits. I will tell you the way things often go — with this stage, the surgery, the chemotherapy and side effects. But every patient is different.

I will remind you to take it one day, one week, one treatment at a time. I am here for you every step of the way. We have wonderful nurses, doctors, PA’s, medical assistants, and pharmacists who also want to help. Let us know what we can do for you.

And because I cannot help myself, I will add a few more words of encouragement before I let you go.

You never anticipated this would be you, it is natural to feel out of control.

The unknowns will eventually become knowns. Right now, it is okay to not know.

You can mourn the loss of the life you expected, the one cancer has taken from You. Life will look different now and that is okay.

Nobody is perfect. You do not know the future. Just do your best with the information you have and continue moving forward.

Grief is a process, a friend and a monster. It will ebb and flow, but ultimately it can bring healing if you let it.

Joy will choose you — make sure you are taking the time to look up, recognize her presence, and appreciate these little moments of light in the darkness.

You are not a burden, it is normal to need support. You have a team that wants to help you.

Take this journey one day at a time.

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As I journey with you through this diagnosis, whatever comes your way, I will keep encouraging you. The other 30 letters were written with you in mind, specifically for each step of this process. Read them when you are ready. They are best read during the silence of a still morning with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

Take the words to heart. Let them calm your mind and bring you peace for another day.

Thank you for being here,

Read the 31 Letters to My Patients here

These letters are also available in print form by request:

Print Letters

This is part of a 31-day series of letters to my patients — those undergoing a work-up, diagnosis, or treatment for cancer. Topics are also focused on those caregiving and supporting individuals affected by cancer. This is not an easy journey, but you do not have to do it alone.

Photo by Matthieu Gouiffes on Unsplash