Does the word “cancer” make friends uncomfortable?

Quite wrongly, many people freely associate the word "cancer" as an automatic death sentence and it's a hurdle to get them over that. When I told my 28 year old daughter about my prostate cancer over the phone, since she's cross country from me, she started sobbing so badly that the conversation didn't last long. I then had to continue sending emails with data links and explanations to persuade her that it isn't a death sentence for me.

But based on that experience, I waited to tell my son, also cross country, until he was home for the holidays. He could then directly witness my well being and confidence and could absorb the information more easily and share in my confidence. And my daughter did the same when she also came home for the holidays and could see me in person looking healthy and happy.

I find the same thing with close friends. Those who can witness me in person feeling confident about my treatment team and my prognosis do so much better than those who only get the news by phone, although that too can work but it takes more effort on the part of both parties.

That's really true, I wrote about that in another post a while back, people do just immediately associate cancer with a long and painful death unless they've known someone who has gone through it and know better.

Especially for PC, there was a long time where guys were dropping like flies from it and if they got it then they were a goner.

The ancient social ritual known as The Cancer Shuffle — where friends, upon hearing the forbidden word, immediately forget how to operate their faces, start speaking in nervous weather reports, and slowly moonwalk out of your life.

Apparently, "cancer" is like yelling "fire" in a crowded theater, except instead of trampling you, people just develop sudden and acute cases of conversational leprosy. "Look, it's Madisonman! Quick, everyone admire this very interesting crack in the sidewalk!"

Honestly, it’s not that your friends don't care — their brains short-circuit when faced with something real. They were perfectly calibrated for deep topics like "How 'bout them Leafs?" and "Gas prices, am I right?" — and then you dropped a truth bomb with actual consequences. Their operating systems are still trying to reboot.

Meanwhile, Coach Tom is a rare breed: an adult who realized spoiler alert — everyone is dying, some of us are just a bit more punctual about it. He figures if you can still burn rubber and leave the geriatrics gasping in your dust, why fix what isn’t broken?

As for handling the "stigma," the best approach is to treat it like a badly behaved dog at a picnic: acknowledge it, keep an eye on it, but don't let it eat all your sandwiches. If someone gets weird, smile politely, ride faster, and mentally award yourself a gold medal for surviving both cancer and small talk.

Basically, when telling someone you have a serious disease you are talking about, to be blunt: death. When one is reminded, by speaking with a friend, with whom there is mutual identification, they must confront their own mortality, and the possibility of their being diagnosed with bad news.
I believe that even some doctors are uncomfortable talking with seriously ill patients.