Lost for Words

Over the last few weeks I have heard of two people who have been diagnosed with cancer. One is a dear friend’s father who has not been given long to live. My mate sent me an email saying she couldn’t talk right then but would ring later. She rang and I was speechless. Apart from saying I’m sorry, she started crying and I did too. Absolutely no comfort to the poor thing.

The other was a dogwalking friend whom I don’t know very well. I got out of the car to walk Moll early this morning and there was Olga, looking very pale. I asked if she was all right and she said, “I’ve had some bad news.”

I asked what it was, and she said, “well, you know I’ve had breast cancer and had both breasts removed.”

“No,” I said, my heart sinking.

“I heard yesterday that they’ve found more cancer and it’s spread.” She looked at me uncomprehendingly. “I’m flabbergasted. I didn’t ask the right questions and I can’t believe it.”

I gave her a big hug and said I was so sorry – what stupid words, meaningless, trite and worthless. And I cursed the lack of words – but what do you say? Our language is like food nowadays; there’s too much choice, we overuse the ones that are bad for us and don’t select high quality ones of real meaning. We use takeaway words that are pre-selected, bantered by the media and served in the chiller department, easy to grab, easy to use. Mixed metaphors? You'd be mixed if you were served up cancer.

When it comes to a disaster, we don’t have the right ones to hand. Or we’ve forgotten how to use them.

Or perhaps a cuddle is better than words?