My grandfather passed away when I was in middle school. I remember getting dismissed early from class, and heading to my grandparents’ house with my family and cousins, where within hours, the food started coming.
Lots of it.
Chicken pot pies, cookies, trays of macaroni — you name it — all arriving in tinfoil, and placed on the dining room table.
And for some reason, I distinctly remember someone bringing … chicken wings?
They sat on a ceramic plate on the dining room table all afternoon. When it was time for dinner, the debate among the adults was, “We could order pizza, but we shouldn’t waste all of this food … ”
In my 12-year-old mind, all I could think was, “Please, don’t make me eat the chicken wings.”
Decades later, one of my best friends lost his mother, unexpectedly. A similar afternoon unfolded, and as people started to descend upon his family home in the city we grew up in, I did what we all do when the people we love endure sudden pain.
I brought food.
A buffalo chicken calzone to be exact — a choice rivaling the bizarreness of chicken wings. Why?
To feed people is to nurture them. And when the rug is ripped out from under someone you deeply love, there’s very little you can do to take their pain away. So we come with chicken wings and buffalo chicken calzones.
When I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer three years later, I wanted none of it.
Within days of my diagnosis, the questions about who was in charge of my meal train started coming, as did offers from many generous people in our life to take things off of our plates, and cook food to put on them. As someone who is used to being in command and in control, those closest to me reminded me to accept the help.
But I didn’t want it.
As someone who is used to being in command and in control, those closest to me reminded me to accept the help. But I didn’t want it.
What I really wanted, more than ever, was to build a cocoon within my home and swat people away from it.
Overnight I went from being a busy, full-time tech exec to a cancer patient. While to many that may sound like incredible loss of identity, for me it was the evolution of a new one: a mom who was home with her family. I knew my days of feeling good enough to do things like cook dinner were numbered, but until I started chemotherapy, that’s exactly what I wanted to do — and no one was going to take that away from me with their chicken wings.
I searched for words that didn’t sound ungrateful as the generous offers continued to pour in, and as I continued to swat them away. One day, a close friend asked me a question that hit me differently: “I’m not bringing you food. What do you actually want?”
I realized that no one had asked me that question. I hadn’t even asked myself what I wanted.
“Honestly,” I said. “I want you to take me for a walk on the beach.”
After that, I kept thinking about the power of her question. I didn’t want to keep rejecting the love and generosity from our family, friends and neighbors — I just didn’t want it to come in the form of food.
I sat down and poured onto paper what my family and I really needed from people.
I turned the list into a document called “How to Help the Hogans,” and sent it to our family and friends, and posted it to my social media accounts. Here’s what we asked for:
What We Need
Support of Our Kids
- Our No. 1 priority, aside from beating cancer, is shielding our kids from the fear and uncertainty associated with this diagnosis. With that, this is the language we are using to talk about my cancer with the kids. We’re asking everyone in our life to review these slides, and adopt the same language. The tone in our home is “Mom is healing,” not “Mom is sick,” and we talk about the cancer as “Barb” and the treatment as “Margot.” Thank you for adopting this mindset as well!
Beach Walk Buddies
- My goal is to stay as active as possible on the good days, and to get out to the local beaches/trails for walks (and give Dave a break from taking care of me!). Taking me for a walk is a huge way you can help us. Once I finalize my chemo schedule I’ll have a link with blocked times to sign up for here if you want to meet up! In the meantime, text or DM me.
Positive Energy & Music
- Dave and I are big believers in the power of positive energy and intention. Our mantras have been “She Will Survive & Thrive” and “She Will be Cancer Free!” If you are looking for a way to help us, we genuinely appreciate you putting a positive thought into the universe for us, however you choose to do so. Music is also helping us through this. We have a playlist we listened to during my first treatment, and are also using it for workouts. Please add it to this playlist here if you have any songs to help us stay strong, positive & motivated.
Equally important were the things we didn’t want and why.
Writing what we didn’t want was an incredibly helpful exercise. It gave us the opportunity to express our gratitude to the amazing people wanting to help us, while simultaneously sharing our honesty about what wouldn’t help us.
A lot of my conversations from that time sounded much like every SNL skit parody of people from Boston: “My friend’s mom’s cousin’s best friend had breast cancer. You should talk to her!”
In the first few weeks of being diagnosed, I took every introduction. But it was overwhelming. I was still learning so much about my own journey. I needed to sit in it and get ready to face it. I really struggled with this one, questioning my own humility and ego. You have no clue what you’re doing here — shouldn’t you listen to other people? I wasn’t ready, and it was OK to say no to the intros.
I also didn’t need rides. So many well-meaning people who loved us offered to take me to treatment, but my husband, Dave, and I didn’t want to be apart. Here’s exactly what we shared about what we didn’t need:
What We DON’T Need
Food
- Cooking for and feeding people is something Dave and I love to do together, and we have a really special routine around feeding our family that is important to us to continue. Personally, feeding my kids gives me a ton of purpose. Things may change, but as of now we are not planning on a meal train. Thank you for respecting this.
Introductions
- We’re grateful for all of the outreach we’ve received with introductions to people who have bravely navigated cancer journeys. We are still in the early stages of our own journey, and settling into these first steps of treatment. When we’re ready to talk to and learn from others, trust us, we will ask! We are not there yet. Thank you for understanding.
Rides
- If you’ve known us for a long time, you know Dave and I are a team. We are planning to tackle all of my treatments together. We’re beyond appreciative of people who have volunteered to take me, but this will be something Dave and I do together each week. We are also super fortunate to have a rotating schedule of child care with our moms. If we need help with the kids on treatment day, we will ask! That said, we are SUPER appreciative of people volunteering to spend time with our kids, given I won’t be as available, and Dave will have his hands full. Playdates, playground trips, baking cookies — please don’t hesitate to reach out if you are open to scooping them (or just one of them!) up to do something fun!
As much as people love to nurture others in times of need, people also love direction. As soon as I shared this document, I started getting EXACTLY what I needed. And for the first time since my diagnosis, I felt like I had some control back in my life.
I still have a long road ahead as I tackle radiation, ongoing chemo, reconstruction surgery and many more unknowns.
I also still have a lot to look forward to, as I catch up with friends over beach walks, cook new meals with my family and see new songs pop up on my Buzz off Barb playlist during treatment.
I’m beyond grateful for how the people I love continue to show up for me.
Just please, don’t show up with chicken wings. 😉
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