For days I’ve been trying to write through the fog of pain-med-induced numbness, which severely limits my emotional and intellectual reach. My goal was to craft something clever, entertaining, and useful for you about etiquette and what it means in the context of cancer. I was going to start with a cute story, a lesson I learned about manners when I was 19 and attended a very fancy wedding shower at a mansion with servants. I recall them wearing white gloves but that’s likely romance-enhanced memory.

I got so caught up in the writing and details that I almost missed the point. It’s not about the stories now, not to me anyway. I think I can share valuable insights without wowing you with words. I’ve always attempted to get beyond words anyway, whether in my documentary scripts, essays, or other work. Words have been a means, not a beautiful end in themselves.

So I’m moving ahead with a few tips – lessons I’ve learned and relearned and relearned (sigh) – to help you help others. If you see yourself in any of these tips, please know they’re not meant to hurt anyone. Remember that each of these “rules” – and as you know rules are meant to be broken and especially in this case, when people differ so much, even within themselves from day to day, are based on a few immutable truths:

• People need to feel heard.
• People need to feel hope.
• People need to feel loved, respected, validated, understood, and appreciated.
• People need to know they can count on their friends and loved ones to be reliable and trustworthy, especially when they are most vulnerable and easily let down