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How are you? Well, er, actually ….
How are you? Well, er, actually ….
16th May 2006
I knew this would happen. I’d been thinking about what I’d say when the situation eventually arose. But I couldn’t settle on the most appropriate response. And sure enough, four times in the past two weeks I’ve met people I’d not seen for years. I’d rehearsed three responses to the inevitable greeting “how are you?”
1. “Well actually I have advanced bowel cancer”
2. “How do I look?”
3. “Just fine – how are you?”
Annie was with me when I had the opportunity to try out the first. We met someone in a supermarket checkout that I used to work with. He was visibly shocked by my response, so much so that Annie was concerned for “that poor man” as we made our way home.
I’ve always assumed honesty was the best policy. As I’ve said before, I’ve let people know so that they have a chance to work out a response that does not cause embarrassment or awkwardness. Very easy to do by email. Much more difficult face-to-face.
I find it difficult to deliver the second response without sounding confrontational – which is not my intention at all. It’s merely a device to open the conversation. This one went down reasonably well, but that may have had as much to do with the other person as me.
I briefly considered a variation on the second – “do you really want to know?” There is no way of saying that without sounding aggressive. I quickly abandoned the idea.
The third response is the classic British understatement – code for “you’re not really interested – and I don’t really want to talk about it”. I read somewhere in a book on etiquette that on no account should you take that question at face value. It is simply a form of greeting – a variation on “good morning” and has nothing to do with an interest in the other person’s health.
There is one thing though that face-to-face can do rather well; the way the line is delivered can let the other person know immediately whether I have a positive or a negative attitude to the disease. I have to sprinkle a few jokes or asides in an email (which the recipient may or may not get) in order to convey the fact that I see cancer as an inconvenience rather than anything else. And those who have read all my blogs will know that my biggest battle is with the *****!!!!! ***** bag.
When I had the line put in, the nurse asked if I wanted a gauze sleeve to put over my arm in case I was worried about people seeing it. I declined the offer – I’m not at all embarrassed about it. It was only driving home that I realised that this was as much about other people and it was about me. The line exits from the crook of my elbow and with the various attachments reaches down to my wrist. We’re fast approaching tee-shirt weather and so will be very visible. Maybe people going to one of our gigs, out for a good time, don’t want their evening spoiled by a reminder of the darker side of life. On the other hand, I want to show people that cancer need not stop you getting on with your life. It’s a tricky one.
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