Death, Sex, and You: The Cancer Edition

"Not Today."

There may be times in life when you find yourself interacting with someone with a scary, perhaps even life-threatening illness. Maybe you meet them at work. In class. At a bar. Making small talk with tact can be difficult amongst all that is icky and emotional. How does one discuss awkward topics like cancer without being awkward? How does one discuss all that is depressing and debilitating? 

Some initial tips:

- Don't insinuate fault. Don't mention karma, "life teaches us lessons", or any other potentially blame-laying notions. 

-  There is a fine line between being light-hearted and being facetious. It is best to assume you are 1. not funny and 2. any inferences you make regarding life expectancy will be wrong and/or insulting. It is also best to refrain from trying to parlay an anticipated life expectancy into a one night stand because "life is short as you know, lolz, yolo".

Or how about we just avoid the topic of death altogether? No dead relatives, no asking about how long I have left, or how I think I would be as a ghost (though I will credit the individual who came up with that particularly precious bit of pillow talk with the most creative take to date on discussions of impending mortality). I know it is super tempting to dive straight into anticipated funeral arrangements when a person you encounter reveals (s)he has been stamped with the "Big C" (or other life-threateningly fun diseases), but how about we all collectively decide to hold back on the er, charm until at least the 3rd date. Or 10th date. Or never.

Re: the dead relative comment. Yes, it can be brought up with a certain level of finesse. Let us assume you, and any of your friends, coworkers, drinking buddies, etc do not have that level of finesse and therefore should avoid mentioning someone who died from the same disease/disease family the person you are speaking with has recently revealed they have. Some of you may find this a bit silly, or unnecessary to address but you would be surprised by how quickly an acquaintance can turn around and say "Hodgkin's Lymphoma? My aunt/grandmother/aging rock star had that. She's dead though..." when you make the mistake of mentioning you are ill.

And on the topic of illness, how does one indicate interest without being intrusive? Follow their lead. 

For many of those recently diagnosed, they are completely terrified and haven't the faintest idea what to expect. They may not be the best resource for specific disease-related information, as they are likely overwhelmed by all the new medical jargon they have yet to become fluent in. Ask lightly and let them tell you what they feel like telling you. This is not the time to be pedantic or preachy. If you have suggestions, provide them gently. Everyone has an anecdote about some treatment x or some supplement y that cured z disease. Try prefacing each suggestion with "I'm not sure if you've heard of this, but..." or  "I'm not sure this is something you'd be into but..." If you want to share something, make it accessible. Or better, send them the bottle/box/book with the understanding they may never use said product at their doctor's request or simply because they forgot.

Comments on changes in appearance or hair style should be entertained with caution. Really, all opinions except those of the unwaveringly positive or life-affirming sort should be kept to yourself.  Chemo (among other treatments and medications) does funky things to all things hair, skin, and body and your sick friend is most likely fully, if not hyper-aware of any/all minute changes their treatment has caused. Whenever you feel compelled to make facial or verbal expressions of disgust towards your friend's deteriorating physical state you can instead choose to not be a completely selfish, emotionally destructive human being and keep it to yourself.

As a friend, it is not your responsibility to enumerate all the ways getting sick can inhibit social, academic, or professional success. Hours of waiting room visits provide plenty of time for sick kids to examine every possible angle, every missed opportunity, every friend who no longer calls, every trip that requires too much energy, every scenario that could end in rejection simply because it has been revealed one has a less-than-stellar immune system. Refrain from asking leading questions such as:

"Who will want you if you're infertile?" 

"Why won't you work/exercise/go out/drink?" 

"Shouldn't you be married/promoted/back in school by now?" 

This may be difficult for the Type A among us to grasp, but you don't get to decide what your friend's limitations are. Or what is an acceptable career, life path, or timeline. Even if it may seem that control over circumstances no longer falls with your sick friend, it most certainly does not fall with you.

But the least welcome comment (in my opinion) is a prediction of failure. Perhaps you feel you the sick friend needs to be "brought back down to earth" with some friendly statistics, risk profiles, or mortality rates. They don't. And they especially don't need it from you, defeatist-masquerading-as-realist, non-medical-expert. Unless you have the spy capacity of the NSA or are a mind reader (in which case I'm impressed), it is safe to say you do not know what your sick friend knows or doesn't know about their treatment or potential quality of life.

"But what if I'm the god of death?"
All you need to know is:
not today.

Love Gives You Lemons

I am ready to fall in love for the first time
to replace all other first times that were
forced first times,
unsure first times,
first of many times that all seem to be
the same.
A relationship is
letting someone hold a lemon wedge over your
heart’s paper cut and
trusting them not to squeeze, even the tiniest bit,
even by accident,
even when you make them flinch.
It means placing someone in the best possible position
to do the greatest amount of harm
and giving them a revolver.
It means trading in a bulletproof vest for a sign that says
“use me for target practice”
and hoping they never become bored enough
for a little game of Russian Roulette.

(Jersey) Girl Lament

Dear girls sitting at the table next to me at Starbucks: 

Yes, your boy(thing) is cheating on you. The girl you think he talks to about you is probably the culprit, and no she's probably doesn't know that you're going to "cut her" the next time you see her. Your friends that you think have successful relationships are, in fact, probably happier that you are, because they probably aren't spending 3 hours discussing the monotonous details of your interaction with some guy(s) who is/are probably with that girl you hate at this very moment. The repetitious conversation that you are having has covered almost every cliche comment related to boy gossip that makes even the most calm green-tea drinker's blood boil in frustration. 

I made a list for your records:

"Everyone likes what they can't have."

"It's the way it is."

"He just likes the chase."

roll eyes

"It's not you."

roll eyes

"He would just text me like randomly. On weekends."

unexpected?

"So that's life, what are you gonna do."

stop texting?

"We're nice girls, they know they can't do that to us."

oh, totally.

"He's just having his fun now, but when he meets that girl, which, like, could be me, he'll be different."

uh.

"This is what he wants to look at, that is what he wants to hear."

they are nice implants, actually.

"He says when he commits it's different, like he can only be with her so, like, that's why he won't commit."

sound logical reasoning.

"You can play the game for a little while, then everyone wants to settle down, be comfortable."

"Maybe we'll be friends in the future."

"Try it out."

read: have sex with him.

"I know he likes me, but I know he has other things, like whatever."

yep.

"I'm just going to tell him, I can't be your go-to girl. You need to leave you girlfriend....or I don't want to be involved."

you uh, tell him sister.

"I've had my fun, like .. but then again..."

"The more you look for it, the more you force it...I mean I never force anybody but..."

"I hate when they fuck around."

didn't you cheat on that other guy?

"So annoying. I hate that shit."

see above.

"I would never cheat again. When I first broke with him, like, like,likelikelikelikelikeGAAH"

STOP IT.

"Just to see what happens."

read: have sex with him.

"But like, you live and you learn."

translates to: you have sex with them and then...

"He crushed her ribs..but like he's a really nice guy, I've known him for..."

we call him bone crusher as a nickname. such a sweetheart

"They made out and like, he's a bad kisser but he pays, so like..."

dinner before dignity!

"But she made it clear that she wasn't interested, and like..."

translates to: but she'll still have sex with hm

"And then he texted me and said, 'LOL No', like what the hell, like..."

read: but then I had sex with him

"He deleted me."

boo.

"I'm glad I got to vent. You're the best."

IT'S OVER. BASKING IN THE QUIET. BASKING.

I would transcribe more, but my fingers actually have a quota for the amount of likes that can be typed in a single sentence. 

Thoughts:
-Oh dear god, you're going to eventually reproduce.

-You're 26 and having the exact. same. conversation that 16-year-old girls have about "relationships". 

-Your conversation mentioned facebook, texting, and drunken interactions about 30 times. 

-We have all had that conversation. Loudly. Probably in a Starbucks.(or cafe of choice) Fuck.

Notes to self:
Do not air dirty laundry in Starbucks. People can actually hear you.

Learn to use code names.
Kill whatever remnants of Jersey accent possible. 

As much as I want to ridicule these vapid, overly-bronzed waitresses with skinny vanilla lattes, I am stopped by the realization that they are currently having the most universal girl discussion in existence. The attempted deciphering of the male ego, and the ultimate failure. The resolve to not deal with the "bullshit," but the unspoken acknowledge they'll be answering so-and-so's texts come Thursday. 

The pathetic sort of comfort that comes from the mutually understood lie that the anxiety has an eventual "purpose". 

Resolution: NEVER HAVING THIS CONVERSATION AGAIN. If someone hears me utter any of the like-drenched words of "wisdom" above, feel free to beat me with a blunt object. 

Actually, I think if every, single girl aged 12-45 hears it from a few JersAY gravelly-voiced waitresses, the conversation(s) will cease. And across this fair nation, coffee shops goers will be saved from the stories "I just NEED to tell you, ohmygod..." 

Or we will simply continue having the same shared practices, perpetuated by a lack of good judgement and some expensive coffee.