"Hugs" come in all kinds of forms.
PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER 25, 2018
Brenda Denzler is a writer and editor living in North Carolina. She received her doctorate from Duke University and worked as an editor at UNC-Chapel Hill before she was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer in 2009. Since then, she has devoted a great deal of her time and energy to understanding and writing about cancer, cancer treatment and the impact of pre-existing PTSD on the ability of doctors to give and patients to receive medical treatment.
We cancer patients are frequently drawn into the “Ritual of the Kleenex.” It's a ritual of sympathy and caring, I think, that may be unique to modern Western culture, where certain individuals have taken on the role of being professional carers. It goes something like this:
For one reason or another, I begin talking about the depression and anxiety I've been feeling in the wake of what has just happened to me, what did happen so many years ago and what could happen again in the future. I get upset; I start to choke up, to tear up or, frankly, sob.
At this point, someone reaches for the box of Kleenex and hands it to me. They don't pull out a Kleenex and hand it to me. They hand me the entire box.
For one reason or another, I begin talking about the depression and anxiety I've been feeling in the wake of what has just happened to me, what did happen so many years ago and what could happen again in the future. I get upset; I start to choke up, to tear up or, frankly, sob.
At this point, someone reaches for the box of Kleenex and hands it to me. They don't pull out a Kleenex and hand it to me. They hand me the entire box.
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