When you get cancer, do you still have to follow rules of etiquette or do you get a free pass? Do I have to explain why I’m not coming to Thanksgiving, the day after my second surgery, or do people just “get it?” Do I have to return your casserole dish? Do I have to send thank you notes? 

When word got out that I was to have chemotherapy, I was the sudden recipient of many cards and care packages. I was quite literally inundated with tokens of comfort, gestures of humor and health, and wasn’t prepared to be so loved.

I also didn’t want so much love and effort to go unacknowledged. I received cards and gifts from random family members of my best friends, and from people I had not connected with in years. It was SO touching, and in my heart I needed to let them know it. Also, cancer treatment is a pretty all-consuming affair, so writing 65 thank you notes every three weeks wasn’t a task I was up for.

The care packages varied in size and content, but all were curated with such thoughtful regard. Hand lotions and chapsticks because people had heard that chemotherapy can be very drying and damaging to skin. Ginger chews and hard candies because people had heard that those can help with nausea. Sleep masks and fuzzy pajamas and books and stickers. Someone gave me a little handheld fan and I was like “what’s this for?” and she said “trust me, you’ll need it.” I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and she was right. So many cards and gifts! So much love!

Opening these offerings left me feeling touched and kind of vulnerable. I started to feel like people were giving me these gifts with such love, that it felt like they were trying to heal me with their givings. They sent sweet words of encouragement and promises of support, hand made cards and trinkets and personal offerings that I couldn’t help but feel like they were trying to will away the malignancies. Care-bear-stare that cancer into oblivion.

One day I thought to myself, “I should just tell them that their gift cured me– that should be thank you enough.” And I laughed. And then I thought “why not? You’re gift cured me! OMG Thanks!”  I mean. Maybe it did? Maybe it didn’t? Who knows? Technically, we don’t really even know if all this treatment works until I get another mammogram… maybe it was all the care packages, and not the burning poison coursing through my veins every three weeks that did the trick? It was the hand made orca whale your kid made out of play dough that did it, and not the 4 weeks of radiation. 

I couldn’t say for sure what it was, but it’s probably best if I didn’t mislead my loved ones into thinking their chapsticks had Jesus-like qualities.

Really, while people are actively “cancering” (read, dealing with cancer), they should get some grace on thank you notes and other social niceties. Go fight cancer and win, I’ll be looking for that follow up thank you note when you’re done. Don’t forget that I love you! I kid, I kid. 

But maybe for those who like to keep up the ruse with a little spice, they can acknowledge people’s efforts, and give them hope that their sentiments landed just so? Even if I’m the only one who ever sends these cards, it’s worth it. Thanks for caring about me enough to send anything. Your love cures of me of what ails me, in one way or another.