The Friendship Test: How to Show Up When Cancer Calls

You find out who your friends are during tough times and cancer, I discovered, is the ultimate friendship test.

When I was diagnosed with prostate cancer, followed eighteen months later by Stage 3B colorectal cancer, I learned something profound: cancer doesn’t just change your body – it transforms every relationship in your life. Some friendships deepened in ways I never expected. Others surprised me with their limitations.

Most importantly, I discovered that showing up for someone with cancer isn’t about having the perfect words, making grand gestures or sitting vigil around the clock. It’s about understanding that sometimes love looks different than we imagine. If you’re playing catchup, this all started with two routine screenings that caught cancer early. That story begins here.

The Friendship Spectrum

Cancer taught me that friendships exist on a spectrum, and each person brings their unique strengths to the relationship. Some friends have the emotional fortitude to sit with you during the darkest moments, while others show their love and concern with practical support. Some demonstrate care by treating you exactly the same as before, providing normalcy when everything else feels chaotic.

I’m grateful that I kept the same friends throughout my cancer journey and if anything, those relationships grew stronger. But I also learned to appreciate different types of support rather than expecting everyone to show up in identical ways. That shift in perspective was part of a larger lesson in resilience I learned through both sport and survival, one I reflect on more in “8 Lessons About Resilience in the Face of Adversity“.

What NOT to Say (Trust Me on This)

Before I share what helps, let me save you from some well-meaning mistakes I heard repeatedly:

“I know how you feel.” No, you don’t. Even if you’ve had cancer, everyone’s experience is unique. Honor that.

“Call me if you need anything.” We’ll never call. If you want to help, just do it. Drop off a meal, offer to walk the dog, or show up with groceries.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.” How do you know? Even my oncologist made no guarantees.

“Stay positive!” Sometimes we need permission to feel scared, angry, or sad. Toxic positivity helps no one.

“Someone I know had cancer, and they’re doing great now.” Please don’t compare our cancers or share other people’s stories unless we ask.

“I can’t stop worrying about you.” Super. Now I’m worried about my cancer AND guilty about your stress.

The Power of Presence

The friends who helped me most understood that cancer is less about what you say and more about showing up consistently. That’s something endurance training teaches you too. More on the training ground mindset. Here’s what made the difference:

They remembered my schedule. Friends would text the night before chemo sessions or call the day after scans. That they remembered my treatment calendar meant everything.

They offered specific help. Instead of “let me know if you need anything,” they said, “I’m going to the grocery store, what can I grab for you?” or “I’m free Saturday afternoon to help with yard work.”

They let me be honest. When friends asked how I was doing, I believe they genuinely wanted to know and not just claim to be “fine.” They gave me space to admit when I felt terrible without trying to fix it.

They kept inviting me. Even when I had to cancel plans due to treatment side effects, they kept including me. The invitations themselves were gifts, even when I couldn’t accept.

How to Show Up (A Practical Guide)

If someone in your life receives a cancer diagnosis, here’s how to pass the friendship test:

Be consistent, not heroic. Small, regular gestures matter more than grand one-time efforts. A weekly check-in text carries more weight than an expensive gift.

Follow their lead. Some people want to talk about their cancer constantly; others need breaks from the topic. Pay attention to their cues.

Remember the details. Keep track of appointment dates, treatment schedules, and how they’re feeling. This shows you’re truly listening.

Include them normally. Don’t treat them like they’re fragile. Invite them to regular activities, understanding they might need to cancel.

Help practically. Offer specific assistance: driving to appointments, picking up prescriptions, cooking meals, or handling errands.

Listen without fixing. Sometimes we just need to be heard, not social worked or advised.

The Long Game

Here’s what many people don’t realize: cancer support – like treatment – isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon. And the so-called finish line isn’t always what it seems. I wrote more about that complicated moment here. The initial flood of concern and casseroles often dries up after a few weeks, but cancer treatment can last months or years. The friends who showed up six months into my treatment, when the novelty had worn off and I was struggling with cumulative side effects, were the ones who truly understood friendship.

A Final Thought

Cancer taught me that friendship isn’t about perfection, but presence. You don’t need to say the right thing every time or have all the answers. You just need to show up consistently, authentically, and with love.