Item 7. HOW FAMILIES MAKE CONNECTIONS

Talking to cancer-victim families is a different experience, much more different than working in the office, enjoying a ball game, or going to a party. As you sit in the waiting room or lounge area with other patients, a part of you wants to be quiet and respect their privacy, and the other part of you wants to make a connection and share thoughts. Before you can make that connection, you have to wait a few weeks and allow them to start the conversation. At first there’s the smile or laughter as the say “I just saw you down at the pharmacy, and now you’re here; It looks like we’re following each other.” Having broken the ice, we say to them some other nugget of small-talk: “And where are you folks from?” And so the conversation has started we all begin to relax. And it isn’t more than a couple of sentences into the conversation that immediately the big question comes up from their side: “And which one of you has the cancer….I can’t tell?” And next there’s always comes that second question: “And what kind of cancer do you have?” It’s a question that NEVER is asked in the outside world but is ALWAYS asked at M. D. Anderson Clinic. Putting a label on it and sharing it is what adds all the meaning and bonding and support that everyone needs. We now realize we all belong to the same club, we’re not alone, and it seems much easier to handle. Here’s another example I experienced. We’re riding the golf cart down the quarter-mile skywalk that takes us to another building. Two women, call them A and B, look at each other and say nothing during the whole trip. The cart finally arrives at its destination and A says to B, “It seems I know you from somewhere. Did you work for IBM or Enron at one time?” B replies, “Yes I worked at IBM, and I recognize you too. Can you believe….it’s been eight years?” They then exchange names and immediately A says to B, “So what kind of cancer is it?” B says, “Lymphoma….and you?” A replies, “Ovarian.” Then a little more chat, followed by “Sorry, I’ve got an appointment. Nice to have met you and good luck.” They part. Sounds like the expression in our language, “two giant freighters passing in the night”; quiet but powerful. All of us at some time have made a reconnection. Maybe it’s ten or twenties years later—maybe on a plane, at a party, or whatever. We exchange chat about the old days and then we part. It usually doesn’t have much meaning to either party because the old days are gone and somewhat meaningless. But for the cancer victims it’s sort of a re-charging of the spirit, an addition of another person to the big cancer network, the knowledge that we’re not alone but in this boat together.