In yesterday’s “What’s in Your Cup” podcast episode, Christen shared some big news with us that probably came as a huge surprise to everyone. The news of her sudden remarriage came rather quickly in comparison to her reluctance to announce her separation and divorce from Travis, which she waited months to confess. But more than the timing of her disclosures, I was confused by the methods she used. When she announced her divorce, she leaked bits of information informally to friends and family in private communications; however, she took months to announce it on the podcast and didn’t even want us to change her last name in the introductions. Her marriage, however, was a secret in its planning. Surprisingly, she went straight to social media and the podcast to announce it, but included very little detail and completely bypassed personal announcements to friends and family. She then suddenly disengaged, leaving me to answer all the questions.
I’m not throwing Christen under the bus; rather, I’m trying to understand why some people share news one way, and others completely the opposite. It takes me back to the way my husband, Mark, dealt with his cancer diagnosis versus how I revealed my own. I was very open and forthcoming about my experience, but Mark only shared with a few people, and he didn’t fully confess the severity and stage of his illness…at least not until the very end.
I decided quickly that I didn’t want to hide anything about having breast cancer. I had been an active champion of breast cancer causes for many years, having participated in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day since 2011, both as a walker and a member of the crew. So when I was diagnosed in 2016, I knew I had to share my story – it was just one more way to demonstrate the importance of the cause. I also recall being overwhelmed with emails, texts, and phone calls from friends and loved ones, who were asking for details and wanting more information. I wanted to share, but it was all so overwhelming. I quickly grew tired of repeating the same details multiple times a day, and I started to forget who had been told what.
I can’t remember how I found out about Caring Bridge, but it seemed like the perfect solution to my problem. I set up a page, shared the info about my diagnosis, and then shared it on my Facebook page and with my loved ones. Then all I had to do was update my page when I had any new information to share. My Caring Bridge page is still available for anyone who wants to read it, and I frequently recommend the site for others who are going through cancer themselves.
Likewise, when Mark was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer, I encouraged him to set up a Caring Bridge page as well, but he did not. He disclosed his diagnosis only reluctantly, and to a handful of close friends, instead preferring to carry on as though nothing was wrong. Despite a great deal of pain and fatigue, he went through chemo and radiation therapy, continued to promote his business, and built a brand new Dolby Atmos studio at Cake Mix Studios. Most of the people he dealt with on a day-to-day basis didn’t even know he was sick, and most of the people who did know were not aware it was terminal.
When the time came for hospice care, he did finally open up to a larger group of people, and the news gradually spread, which meant lots of phone calls and visits in the last weeks and days of his life. I think I’ve shared some of my misgivings about that. On the one hand, he got very little rest as the visitors often came back-to-back. I felt like it drained what little energy he had, and it most certainly robbed the family of what precious little time we had with him. At the same time, I know it was cathartic for him to have those final moments with loved ones, and for them to have that time with him as well. When I finally started waving people off to give him some rest, he seemed to decline more quickly, as though the visits were the one thing giving him energy to keep going.
Mark wasn’t the only one going through lung cancer at the time. When he told his friend, who happens to be our dentist, he pulled Mark aside into his office and disclosed that he had the same diagnosis, but that he hadn’t even shared the info with his office staff. They spoke about their treatment and prognosis often after that. He never shared that news with me, and although I’ve seen him and his son (also a dentist) at least twice a year since then, I’ve only been able to ask about his well-being in very general terms. The answers are always so generic that I’m not sure how he’s been doing, except that I haven’t seen him in the office lately. Last week, he sent out an email announcing his retirement, as he is turning his practice over to his son.
Similarly, towards the end of my 5-year treatment cycle, I was told by my medical oncologist that my breast surgeon, whom I still saw every 6 months, was planning to retire. I was surprised, since he had not notified me yet, so I just assumed that he would do so in writing, as other doctors had done in the past. Unfortunately for me, no notice ever came. A few short weeks later, I showed up for my semi-annual appointment to find the office locked and a note on the door with instructions on where to retrieve my medical records. I had no further contact from them.
I can’t guess at the reasons for the miscommunication about my surgeon’s retirement, but I think I understand why someone like Mark or my dentist might keep such knowledge close to the vest. You might call it pride, but I think it is something akin to the need to be treated as normally as possible. To continue on without pity or a change in the way people treat you. Mark wanted to live what was left of his life to the fullest, and in many ways, that could not happen if people felt like he was fragile or needed comforting. Just witness the way his friends turned out in droves to visit with him when he finally shared his prognosis. I think, too, there is a little bit of fear that everyone would start bombarding him with unsolicited advice. It happened. People want to fix things. Maybe there’s a treatment they’ve heard of that might help. It’s all too much.
I’ve read article after article about people who choose not to share a diagnosis or big news for that very reason. Human nature is to try and fix things – to give advice (see my article from last week, “What I am is What I am”) – especially when we can’t fix things ourselves. We don’t like feeling helpless, and giving out advice makes us feel useful.
Some news needs to be shared, whether we want to or not. The death of a friend or family member is one of those things that no one wants to pass on, but it has to be done. Sometimes, hard news can be made public by a spokesperson or family representative. When Mark died, I called a handful of close friends and family, but I asked them to share the news with others. One thing I did make clear was that nothing should be shared on Facebook or social media…only by individual contact. The reason I asked was simple – no one should find out about the death of a loved one through a text or social media post. That’s exactly what happened to me when my father died after a lengthy illness. My brother posted it on Facebook before anyone had a chance to call me. For Millennials and later generations, social media and text messaging are their preferred methods of communication, but we must keep in mind that particularly shocking news should not be spread so callously. We have to stop and think about who might see it and how that would make them feel to learn the news in that way. I also think it is important to ask whether a person is in a place to hear news, as suggested in an article on “Sharing a Difficult Diagnosis” in Experience Life magazine (March/April 2024). It is important to exercise “conversational consent” by making sure it is the right time and place for the recipient to hear such news and avoid blurting things out at the wrong time, like while they’re driving a car or in an important work meeting.
Likewise, make sure your spokesperson is okay with being the one to share the news. Sometimes the news is not theirs to deliver. I didn’t feel it was my place to share the news of Christen’s marriage, and I was thrust into that role when she avoided doing it herself, likely because she was afraid of what others would say or think about it. Her reluctance left me with a burden I did not want to bear, as I tried to answer questions I had no answer to, all while dealing with my own anxiety over the whole ordeal, and even though I had expressly requested she tell our friends so I could quit avoiding their questions. It was awkward and unfair. And I forgive her because I know she did the best she could.
\Whatever the reasons someone might choose to keep news private or share it with the world, it is ultimately their news, and it needs to be shared in a way that works best for them. There is no right or wrong way. We are all doing the best we can, and if we can all remember that, our cups might spill a little less.
