By Diana Dyer, MS, RD
Three-time cancer survivor
12-1999

Two cancer survivors have recently been collecting reflections from other cancer survivors regarding The Best Thing Someone Said to Me and also The Worst Thing Someone Said to Me after the cancer diagnosis. I had lots to choose from, but these are my two favorites.

Best Comment

As I wound my way through the medical system after the diagnosis of my second breast cancer, I had extensive contact with multiple healthcare professionals. Yet, only one person (a physician) with whom I came in contact actually initiated the conversation by saying, "I'm Dr. "X", and I'm sorry that this diagnosis has happened to you. However, here is how I can help you." I soooo appreciated that open concern and compassion.

All my friends responded this way — by saying how sorry they were and offering to help in any way I needed. As a healthcare professional myself, I began to wonder why we aren't trained to use this simple technique. When I went back to work after my chemotherapy was finished, I changed my own initial approach with my patients and their families. I very openly showed them my concern and compassion and instead of shaking their hand as I introduced myself, I held their hand. These people gripped me as if I was a lifeline in the middle of the Atlantic. I understood at the deepest level their need to have their healthcare providers truly care for them. This awareness and experiences were profound and have made me a far better clinician than I had been. I am forever grateful for that understanding.

Worst Comment

I have many, but here is short vignette that represents the absolute worst and insensitive (albeit unintentional) manner by which doctors try to relate to the patient.

I was having my pre-op anesthesia work up by an anesthesiology resident. After flipping through my medical record, he looked up at me to say, "You and I have lots in common." "Really?" I said, "How's that?" "Oh, I've had most of the tests you've had done in the past while I was in medical school." "Really? What's wrong with you?" I asked, hesitantly but compassionately. "Oh nothing, I was paid to have them done as part of various medical research studies." "WELL", I answered incredulously, but in my sweetest voice possible, "Sorry to break this to you, but let me inform you that you and I have absolutely NOTHING in common. After you have endured the pain of all of these tests and procedures because you have needed them and gone through them filled with cold fear of what the results could mean to you and your family, THEN we will have something in common." (Cancer patients can say the most candid things!)

To this young doctor's credit, he became quite flustered and apologetic, and he said I gave him lots to think about. I hope he does think about my response to his casual comments. I also hope that any doctor who has my life in their hands would have deeply felt compassion for both the pain and fear associated with illness and hold in reverence the acquired skills of his specialty that help the healing process.

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