People react in all different ways when they learn about Brock’s cancer. My two least favourite responses are “has he tried [some random, slightly homeopathic suggestion]?”, and the folks who start to brainstorm why he’s been stricken.

Possible causes of cancer (according to these armchair physicians) include: too much red meat, exposure to cell phones or cordless phones or smart TVs or Smart Metres, or (the most offensive and hurtful so far) some hidden, negative core of feeling deep inside him.

I don’t understand the people who bother to ask “why?”. My sweetie and I joke about the why — too many Subway teriyaki chicken sandwiches, perhaps? The fact is: there is no known reason why my very healthy, fit, non-smoking husband, who has never been exposed to a significant dose of chemicals, would get cancer, much less a very aggressive and sudden form.

Maybe the “why”-askers have a need to assess and ameliorate their own risk. “He has a cordless phone and ate red meat once a week, so I should revert to a landline and only ever eat chicken, and then I will live forever.”

Maybe they need to believe, at some level, that Brock deserved to get cancer, as a consequence for his actions or decisions or innate evilness, and therefore life is fair.

But life isn’t fair.

My favourite response to get, by the way, is: “This is horrible news. I am very sorry for your family and what you’re going through. If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell me.” And then maybe a hug or a kind touch, for as long as I need it.