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What would I do without you?

This post was originally published in November 2019

Thank you for all the kind thoughts and comments since I’ve been doing these posts on my CLL. I genuinely did start doing it as a way of letting off a bit of steam for my own benefit and wasn’t looking for responses. But they have been wonderful and so valuable to me and I hugely appreciate it.

So unsurprisingly, given that start, I’m going to talk about you lot this week – friends. The first and most obvious thing to say is that when you are told that someone close to you has a serious or in my case, terminal illness, no-one knows what to say or what to do. It leads to people feeling helpless or inadequate. They want to say or do something but just don’t know what to do/ say.

Well – don’t worry about it.

What you are feeling is the same as everybody else is feeling. There genuinely is nothing you can say. Don’t feel awkward or bad about that – it’s entirely natural.

Cancer/ leukaemia is completely egalitarian. It will strike anyone. So, while it is true that it will occasionally strike those who are narcissistic and want to do the whole ‘woe is me’ thing and wallow in their own self-pity and misery, the vast majority of people don’t actually want to talk about it. So generally, a quick “how are you doing” and then move on to the usual topics of conversation (golf, football, underwater basket weaving) is lovely and very much appreciated. If truth be told, we spend so much time talking with medical professionals and partners about the illness, we really don’t want to do it with our mates too!

To be honest, if it’s me, most of the time I’m going to say “good days and bad days” and then move on because I genuinely don’t know what to tell you. Discussing the infinite details of how I’m feeling and what treatment I’m having simply strikes me as utterly boring. And if I get bored talking about it, how much more boring must it be for you to listen to it? And you’re my friend – I don’t want to bore you (any more than I usually do, anyway😂)- I want to have fun and laughs with you so I’m more than likely going to move on to more interesting conversations that I know we’ll both enjoy.

My superchum of 20 years, Mags Privett, has it perfectly arranged. Paraphrasing her approach – “When we need to have those conversations, we’ll have them. The rest of the time, we’re going to keep laughing the way we always have”. Perfect. Anyway, I reckon some days her back gives her more pain than my CLL gives me!

My beloved, wonderful and devoted wife is without parallel. I have, quite simply, the best big sister and big brother in the world. Between the three of them, their love, support and generosity is constant, selfless and enduring. I would not still be here without them. Even someone who loves language and its power as much as I do cannot find strong enough words to adequately thank them. But they know. Of that I am certain.

But to you my friends, I owe to each and every one of you a debt of gratitude that I can never repay. Week in and week out you demonstrate your support and love by the simple things you do. Nothing more is needed. I will not embarrass you all by naming you but you know who you are. Never think I don’t value every iota of our relationship and every second of our time together. It is precious and special to me.

As are you.

You have my enduring and devoted love and gratitude. I suspect I speak for all of my friends who are fighting cancer or similar.

Stay strong. Fight hard. Smile lots.

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Mike Gibson
  • Mike Gibson
  • Mike Gibson is a chronic lymphocytic leukaemia patient who blogs about the physical, emotional and mental experience of having CLL, particularly in the early treatment phases. Mike believes the mental and emotional impact on such patients is often overlooked and actively works to help people in this position. You can e-mail Mike here.