When you are part of a cancer support group, you tend to lose friends perhaps a little more often than you might as part of the general, more-or-less-healthy population. Certainly that's been true for me, as my in-person group has lost four people to death this past calendar year. More than four have left the group for more pleasant reasons, typically because they feel well enough to no longer need the support.
But it's a funny thing to be part of a support group, perhaps especially as a member is clearly declining. Without violating confidence, I'll observe that we fill a rather distinctive role for each other in the in-person group, at any rate: several of us have said at various times that we tell each other stuff that we don't share with anyone else, not partner, spouse, best friend, sibling, or child.
Given that degree of intimacy, of a sort, it is poignant that at the end, we often have little to no idea of what is really going on. As people approach death, it's typical for their world to shrink dramatically, so that only the nearest and dearest are present and involved. I don't think it could be otherwise. And, to be honest, I don't think I would have welcomed being at a deathbed vigil for any of those we have lost, no matter how much I cared about them (and one, in particular, I still miss very much.) There would be too much of a discrepancy between those who were part of their everyday lives, and we who were set apart, meeting to share survivor stories as we all sought so hard to stay alive.
The woman who recently died had not been to a group meeting for several months, though we would hear little pieces of news from time to time from the group facilitator if she had any word. There was no question that she was terminal, unfortunately, because we knew she had exhausted all forms of treatment, and her cancer was relentless. Still, when one of us came up with the obituary by sheer chance, it was a cause of shock and dismay.
It's been some consolation to attend the services for those we've lost, to have a chance to meet their dear family members and to tell them how much their loved one wanted to stay with them. They know it already, but it cannot be said too much. All the same, I don't think any one of us in the group had a chance to say goodbye directly to any of these women. They were here; they may or may not have been absent for a time; then they were gone.
Would it have made a difference to any of us, the ones who died or the ones who remain, to have knowingly had a last conversation? Who can tell? One of the women who died this past year attended group for the last time only ten days before her death. In retrospect, I am very glad that I was at group that day! She was a lovely and loving woman, a wonderful presence in the group. However, she had had several months of worsening news, additional disease progression no matter what innovative treatment she tried, and so we knew that her time was getting short. Still. I know we were gracious and kind to her when she was there that last day; was there anything that we left unsaid? I wonder. I hope and trust that she knew how much she mattered to us. I think her family took pains to let us know that, in turn.
We here constitute a sort of support group for each other; meeting virtually doesn't mean we are any less caring. As far as I know, we're not at risk at the moment of losing any of the regulars. Would it make a difference if we knew? Would we behave any differently toward each other--say anything we want to have known--if this were our last opportunity?
I'm not trying to be morbid here. If I did humor well in any circumstance, I'd give it a try. But that's not my gift. Instead, without irony or much detachment, I bring my earnest self with this inchoate question tonight.
If you have any relevant experiences or thoughts on the matter, please feel free to share. Of course, no matter what you have to say, you're welcome. This is as always an Open Thread.
Monday Night Cancer Club is a Daily Kos group focused on dealing with cancer, primarily for cancer survivors and caregivers, though clinicians, researchers, and others with a special interest are also welcome. Volunteer diarists post Monday evenings between 7:30-8:30 PM ET on topics related to living with cancer, which is very broadly defined to include physical, spiritual, emotional and cognitive aspects. Mindful of the controversies endemic to cancer prevention and treatment, we ask that both diarists and commenters keep an open mind regarding strategies for surviving cancer, whether based in traditional, Eastern, Western, allopathic or other medical practices. This is a club no one wants to join, in truth, and compassion will help us make it through the challenge together.