What's Wrong With A White Lie?

Sometimes we all need some TLC. But what happens when the patient and the caregiver need to switch roles?

As sick and tired as I was after my last CT scan, Tracy was just as tired. Sure, when we got home from Stanford Medical Center, the dishes still needed washing, the plants needed watering and the laundry needed folding, along with a hundred other little things on the to-do list. Well, the dishes are clean now and the plants are watered, but the rest of it will have to wait.

Tracy, bless her, does her best to make sure I'm following doctor's orders. She makes sure I'm taking my medicine, getting my rest and am feeling no pain.

In return, I try to make things easy for her, especially when she comes home from a hard day's work in The City. I try to have dinner on the stove and the mail on the table (it just works out better that way) when she gets home.

So what happens when we're both feeling under the weather? When it takes all our energy just to dream about running? And what happens when the cancer patient needs to graduate to doctor?

That's what happened recently when, despite, having the energy level of a piece of lint, I was still in better shape than Tracy, who was laid low with a nasty 24-hour bug that nearly sent her to the ER. It was a scary flashback to the night she drove me to Marin General … soon afterward I was diagnosed with cancer. 

Tracy spends a lot of energy worrying about me, but we both need to remember that she needs attention too.

Medical social worker Sandy Schindler recently helped lead a discussion on "The impact of a cancer diagnosis on family and children" at the Marin Cancer Institute. The group included caregivers, cancer patients and family members, all with their own concerns and advice. 

Is it OK to hide the truth from someone you love in order to protect them? That's the question I had.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, the last thing I wanted to do was to tell Tracy. Of course, by the time I woke up from surgery, she already knew more than I did about it.

Even now, when she's struggling just to get through the day, I don't want to tell Tracy about all my aches and pains. On top of work, school and bills, she doesn't need another weight to bear on her soft shoulders.

So, even though pretty much everyone agreed that it's best to open up to your loved ones and let them help you fight the cancer, I still have to wonder if sometimes it's best just to keep some things to myself.

Do I always need to tell my family when I'm feeling nauseous? Or when I'm feeling abdominal pain? Or when my toes tingle? I'll tell my doctor because it's his job to listen to all that, but if I tell Tracy she might just worry even more. The best thing she can do for her health — and mine — is to stay positive. We both have to stay positive.

A dear friend of mine faced a tougher situation when he was recently diagnosed with stomach cancer. He didn't want to tell his young daughters that he wasn't well. How do you explain to a 6-year-old that daddy has cancer?

According to Schindler, it's best not to hide things from the kids, but rather to explain the situation to them in ways they can understand. They don't need to know everything all at once, but rather in gradual steps.

But when are they ready to hear about something that scares and confuses even adults? Is anyone every ready for news like that?

• I'd like to fondly remember Brian Hamlin, one of the greatest guys I've ever worked with. Brian, a longtime newsroom character at the Vacaville Reporter, died last week of cancer. I always keep a rubber rat on my desk to remember Brian, one of the quirkiest and most loyal friends I've ever known.

• The Marin Cancer Institute continues its speaker series on May 23 with "Laughter Yoga: Laughter is the best medicine" with Teresa Corrigan, RN.