Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Polite Doesn't Butter My Muffin

 


Being honest about our cancer.

After you discover you have cancer, it’s a daily dilemma about how honest to be when people ask how you’re doing. Saying “I’m fine” shares nothing of value. Being polite gets you none of the affirmation of a high five or the empathy of a long, warm hug.

If you have a relationship with the person in the grocery store who is asking, then a quick update is all that’s needed. They already know what you’ve been through so far. But, if the person has no clue about what’s been going on, you can say that you’re dealing with cancer, and let them decide if they want to know more. 

And yet, sometimes you don’t want to explain what having cancer is like because you’re exhausted, you want to buy your groceries and get home where you can collapse for the rest of the day.

Cancer strips politeness and formalities out of our lives. We don’t care that much if what we say makes other people uncomfortable. If they are going to ask how we are, we will tell them that we can’t get rid of the fatigue from radiation, that chemo is making us nauseous, that a drug used with surgery has fried our short term memory and we’re sorry but we can’t remember your name.

Cancer reveals the need to be honest — with ourselves and with others. We have no desire to hide our emotions because emotions are the juice that makes us want to stay alive.

Being polite does not create community. Without honesty, we remain strangers to each other. Even if we didn’t have cancer.

© 2026 Mark Liebenow


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