Some cowgirls choose to hide the news, which can be difficult at times, especially when visible signs make your illness more obvious. Others want to write it in the sky. The most important thing to ask yourself is: Will telling this person create more harmony in my life or more dis-ease?

Sharing your cancer tale may lead to an overwhelming feeling of needing to take care of the fragile person in front of you. Once the death-reminder button gets pushed, everyone freaks, not just you. I let a lot of people cry on my shoulder in the beginning, and it was really weird and exhausting.

Take Aunt Lucy (the attention-demanding cat hoarder on your father’s side). You pray she never finds out because you know she’ll hijack your diagnosis and make it about her. As in all families, there is a scuttlebutt grapevine. Word travels to Aunt Lucy within hours. Overcome with (faux) sorrow she passes out, clonks her head on the coffee table, and gets carried off to the emergency room for stitches. This tap dances on your last nerve and makes you want to do bad things with bad people. Fearing the death threats from your mother, you visit Aunt Lucy and cringe as she proceeds to sob through an entire box of Kleenex (with aloe) tissues. No matter what you say, Aunt Lucy visualizes your hearse idling at the corner. What an energy drain!

In these situations I try to muster the courage to speak up for myself, politely pointing out the inappropriateness of the conversation. You are not responsible for other people’s happiness. You can share in their happiness, but you cannot create it. I gave up the happy-maker job long ago, but since I was so good at it my old employers still offer part-time work, especially around the holidays! Stress taxes your immune system. Your job as CEO of you is to do everything in your power to create abundance and health in your life. Anyone who isn’t on board gets voted off the island.

What about cancer chats around the office water cooler? That’s a tough one, but as you know, a healthy environment at home and at work will greatly contribute to your healing. Sick doesn’t necessarily mean ineffective and you may have to demolish that assumption for your obtuse boss. However if your illness is getting in the way of your workflow, then you should have an honest discussion and brainstorm a game plan.

PEOPLE WILL FOLLOW YOUR LEAD. IF YOU DEAL WELL, SO WILL THEY.

If they don’t—you are not responsible for mopping up their mania! Be blunt. Nobody knows what to say or how to start the conversation. It’s sticky and awkward. But telling your story does get easier over time. Sometimes it helps to come up with a fallback script for breaking the news. Keep a few standard lines and rehearsed answers holstered and ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

P.S. Dolling up like a hot tomato helps, too.

script tips

1. Your go-to line is a safety net. Don’t feel obligated to dish the specifics. Short and sweet, less is more. Your cancer journey is not a reality TV show where the audience gets to witness your gory details from a safe distance!

2. If you’d rather not talk about it, politely say that today is a cancer-free zone. Puppies, politics, and even prostitution would be delightful topics to discuss. Cancer not so much.

3. Once again, people take their cues from you. If you break the news and melt into a puddle, so will they. I always do my best to talk about my cancer in a bold and confident way. Stick with the facts and ditch the emotion, especially at someone else’s party. I do not let cancer unravel me. It is a fact of life (for now). Move on. Pass the crudités. Most people walk away with glazed-over expressions: Wow, what the hell is wrong with me? If she can cope with cancer then why am I so rattled by my hangnail? It’s a great reality check.

faux pas

Folks say the wackiest things. They mean well, they’re good people, but sometimes judgment knocks and no one’s home. There’s a perception that sick looks and sounds a certain way, like if my tumors were on the outside it would make sense. Because they are invisible and I’m sorta pretty, it’s awkward. Perhaps I should have a sick person accessory. I could pop an IV pole out of my trunk and wheel it around for clarification.

Here are a few other good ones: “You’re too young to have cancer.” Brilliant! How about that neurotic calorie-counting office mate who has the gall to tell you that you’re lucky? “I’ve been dieting for years and it’s sooo unfair that you get to lose tons of weight effortlessly.” Wanna switch? Perhaps your healing plan and choices have been criticized by a friend who continues to plant the “Hey dummy, that won’t work” seed. Way to sabotage the sunshine and send me under the covers. I think my next book should be a cancer Miss Manners. Wouldn’t that be a gas?

Listen, I know this journey can be downright awful and sad. Don’t waste your time enlightening people. Let the assumptions ricochet off your bulletproof vest. Sometimes I wish folks would think before they ask what witty words I’ll engrave on my tombstone. Most of the time I just have to laugh—you can, too.