10 Ways to Support Your Friends With Cancer

When I got diagnosed with cancer, everyone said two things:

1. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

2. “Let me know if you need anything.”

And listen, I get it. Most people mean well. But “let me know” is a passive invitation wrapped in polite guilt. It sounds more like “sucks to be you” than actual support. I didn’t have the energy to delegate, assign, or organize the emotional labor of letting people help. I was too busy trying to not die.

So here’s a guide—consider it your Cancer Friendship Bootcamp. If someone you care about is in the fight of their life, don’t ask how to help. Do something. These are 10 real, actionable, non-casserole ways to show up:

1. Just Show Up.

No big announcement. No warning text. Just drive over, sit on the porch, bring a folding chair, and exist in the same space. Let your presence be the gift. Let silence be safe. You don’t need to say anything profound—you just need to be there.

2. Venmo Without Asking.

Money is a monster during cancer. Medical bills, supplements, gas to appointments, weird teas from healers on YouTube—none of it is cheap. Don’t wait for a GoFundMe. Send $20 for gas. Send $200 if you’ve got it. Add a note: “For whatever the hell you need.”

3. Take the Mental Load Off.

Offer specifics. Say:

• “I’ll do your laundry Tuesday at 2.”

• “I’m coming over Thursday to clean your bathroom.”

• “Give me your grocery list. I’m at the store.”

Give them less to think about. Less to plan. Less to remember. Less to ask for.

4. Say “I’m Coming With You.”

Don’t wait to be invited. Chemo days, scan days, results days—these are some of the loneliest hours on earth. Say: “I’m free Friday. I’m driving you.” Even if they say no, the offer sticks like Velcro to their heart.

5. Normalize Their Rage, Their Silence, and Their Weird Coping Mechanisms.

They’re going to cry at weird times. Laugh at inappropriate things. Maybe get obsessed with enemas or mushroom documentaries. Don’t flinch. Be the person who doesn’t need them to be “positive” all the time. That’s not support. That’s pressure in a bow.

6. Stop Telling Them to Fight.

Cancer isn’t a war. It’s not about strength or positivity. Saying “you’re so strong” can feel like a leash around the neck of someone who’s exhausted. Instead, say, “I know this is brutal. I love you in it. I’m not going anywhere.”

7. Send Voice Memos, Not Texts.

Texting back can feel like climbing Everest in socks. A 30-second voice memo is intimacy without obligation. It lets them feel you, hear you, know you’re real. It doesn’t demand a response. It’s a breadcrumb back to the land of the living.

8. Don’t Vanish When the Newness Wears Off.

Week one: Everyone shows up. Month three? Crickets. Cancer doesn’t end after the announcement. Be the friend who still shows up when the hair falls out, the skin turns grey, and hope starts to feel like a scam.

9. Make Them Laugh.

Send memes. Shitty memes. Dark memes. Make jokes about tumors like they’re bad exes who won’t stop texting. Remind them that life can still be funny even when it’s unfair. Humor is holy when everything else is hell.

10. Ask What They Actually Need—But Ask Like You Mean It.

Not once. Not vaguely. Ask on a Tuesday at 4PM with intention in your voice. Say: “What can I do today to make things easier for you?” If they say “nothing,” do something anyway. Cancer doesn’t always make room for needs to be named.

Final Thought:

If you’re lucky enough to have a friend still alive and fighting, don’t make them teach you how to love them through it. Learn. Listen. Act. And stop asking what kind of casserole they like.

A blog post by Rachel Smak on grief, loss, and lessons from stage 3C rectal cancer