Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Understanding The Difference Between Pity, Empathy, And Sympathy


Regardless if you are a patient or survivor, or a caregiver, human beings are all capable of possessing 3 traits when it comes to care and seeking support: pity, empathy, and sympathy. Each of these qualities can be experienced during a health crisis and depending on which one can have a huge impact on all of those involved.

First, let’s understand one thing, There is no training or education to prepare for a diagnosis of a serious chronic illness or injury. Likewise, there is no training or education to care for someone faced with either of those same situations. No matter which side, we learn as we go. Some of us may end up experiencing both sides which gives us extraordinary insights to how we react as well as others.

So what exactly is pity? It’s simply feeling sorry for someone whether it is something you offer on your own, Or whether it is someone seeking out this type of attention themself. That person of attention is often perceived as being less fortunate or weaker and in some cases there is little emotional connection. Pity can unintentionally feel condescending. As those wanting to offer pity, we want to care and offer support, recognize their feelings, while we remain somewhat outside of their experience.

Empathy has to do with understanding and feeling what someone is experiencing. To have empathy with someone is to emotionally connect to their experience, to see things from their perspective, and it allows the development of a shared sense of caring. It is through empathy that builds the strongest connection between two people.

Sympathy is acknowledging someone’s pains or discomfort and expressing concern.  You care and you want to offer comfort, you recognize their feelings, and you remain somewhat outside of their experience.

A simple way to remember the difference between these three, pity equals “I feel bad for you” while allowing you to keep your distance.  Empathy translates to “I feel with you” recognizing a connection.  Sympathy he’s letting someone know “I care about you” also known as support. There is a real insightful distinction because 1 is about what someone is trying to get and the other is about how someone shows up for them.

This is what it looks like with someone seeking pity, Emphasizing hardship in a way that draws attention or validation, wanting others to say that’s awful or feel sorry for them, sometimes even repeating the same issue without wanting solutions. There could be an underlying motive, not always conscious, to feel seen, validated, or important, or to gain emotional reassurance or support. Occasionally pity is used to avoid responsibility or shift the blame. When dealing with someone seek pity we can feel left drained or that the situation is 1 sided, perhaps the other just wanting attention more than understanding. A person seeking pity is also more likely to rebuff any actual assistance or help, or continue to make another excuse after another, to continue seeking attention.  And to be clear, not everyone seeking pity is being manipulative. Sometimes they just don’t know how to ask for deeper support.

Someone who offers empathy is someone who listens without interrupting or judging, trying to understand the other person’s feelings and perspective, responding with care not superiority. The underlying intention of someone offering empathy is to connect, not fix or judge, to help the other person feel understood and not alone. A person offering empathy wants the other person to feel safe, validated, and most importantly humanized.

The core difference between these two is seeking pity equals “please feel bad for me” coming from the person in pain whereas the person offering empathy is saying “I’m here with you” coming from the person responding.

I hope this is helpful in any situation you find yourself in whether as a patient, survivor, or caregiver.

Peer To Peer Support On Social Media


When I was diagnosed with cancer in 1988, Hodgkin’s lymphoma, I could not have been any more alone. There was no social media, there was no Internet, I did not even have a computer. What little I could find about what I was about to experience came from encyclopedias and researching through old newspaper files, you remember microfiche?

37 years later, we have the Internet and a robust resource of peer-to-peer social media pages and websites. These resources are filled with access to information ranging from experiences to medical information and resources, and stories of long term survivorship, probably the only thing of concern when it comes to beating cancer second only to hearing the words “you are in remission”.

While all this technology can be a very good thing, it does not come without its risks, and a lot of misinformation. I express constantly that I am not a doctor and for that reason I do not give out medical advice. Besides that lack of medical degree, I have no personal knowledge of medical history of anyone reaching out to me to make any kind of decision. It is that same reason I do not give out legal advice as I am not an attorney. However, I am able to provide anecdotes, stories and personal testimonials, verified information and facts to direct anyone looking for support as they deal with one of the most traumatic things a person can deal with in their life. I have no problem telling anyone, take the information that you find, share it with your doctor, and together the two of you make that decision.

With “Paul’s heart” I have reached so many people literally around the world offering support and information and guidance. And while I am not a big national worldwide organization, it is my hope that those who have followed me all of these years, who have shared my posts and videos, that I have made a difference even if just one person at a time. It is my plan and my hope to continue doing this for many years to come. And as always please like my page, follow my page, and please share my page, As that is the only way that I can continue my mission, to make a difference in the survivorship of cancer.

Living Life After Cancer – Quantity Versus Quality


There are moments in life that divide everything into “before” and “after.” For many people, a cancer diagnosis is one of those moments. Cancer has a way of stripping life down to its most basic truths – what matters, what does not, and what we often take for granted. Life after cancer is not simply about survival. It is about transformation.

Before cancer, many of us just move through life, living on autopilot. We plan our futures, chase goals, have careers, buy “stuff”, and assume we have endless time – time to call friends, take trips, and time to say “I love you.” Cancer interrupts that allusion, taking it away from us. It forces us to confront something we all know intellectually but rarely feel deeply, time is not guaranteed. Once you truly understand that, everything begins to change.

One of the most profound shifts is how we thing about quantity of life versus quality of life. Before cancer, the focus is often on longevity, living longer, achieving more, adding years. But after cancer, the question becomes different. It becomes, “what are those years made of?” Is it a life filled with stress, rushing from one obligation to another? Or is it a life filled with meaning, connection, and presence?

Cancer has a way of teaching that more years do not automatically mean a better life. A shorter life filled with love, laughter, and purpose can be far richer than a longer life spend disconnected or distracted. It is not about how many days we are given. It is about how fully we live the days we have. This realization often leads to another powerful shift, the re-evaluation of what we value.

Before cancer, it is easy to place importance on material possessions, houses, cars, titles, and achievements. These things can feel like markers and measurements of success. But after cancer, their significance tends to fade, not because they are inherently bad, but because they are no longer enough. When you have faced your own mortality, you begin to ask, “will this matter in the end?” Rarely is the answer going to be a bigger house or a nicer car. Instead, what comes to the surface is something far more human; experiences, relationships, and memories.

You begin to value time spent with loved ones over times spent accumulating things. A quiet dinner with family becomes more meaningful than a busy schedule. A walk, a conversation, a shared laugh, these become the moments that define us. Cancer sharpens our awareness of presence. It teaches us to be where we are, fully. Not thinking about yesterday or worrying about tomorrow, but appreciating this moment, right now, because this moment is where life actually happens. And in that awareness, relationships often deepen.

You start to say the things you used to leave unsaid, You express gratitude more freely. You fortive more easily. You realize that the people in your life are not permanent fixtures, they are gifts. And like all gifts, they are meant to be appreciated while you have them.

Another important change is how you approach fear and priorities. Before cancer, fear held us back, fear of failure, fear of judgement, fear of stepping outside of our comfort zones. But after cancer, those fears often lose their power. When you have faced something as serious as your own health and survival, smaller fears seem, well, smaller. You become more willing to take chances. To pursue what truly matters, to let go of what does not matter.

You might choose to spend more time with family instead of chasing endless work hours. Or take that trip you’ve been putting off. You might finally do something you have always wanted to do, not because it is practical, but because it brings you happiness. In many ways, life after cancer becomes more intentional.

That does not mean it is always easy. There will be challenges, physical, emotional, and psychological. There may be lingering uncertainty, follow-up appointments, or moments of fear about the future. But alongside of those challenges is a deeper awareness, a clearer perspective, and often, a stronger appreciation for life itself. Gratitude becomes more than just a word, it becomes a daily mantra and practice. Gratitude for ordinary things; a sunrise, a meal, a conversation, a moment of peace. Things that once went unnoticed, now feel significant.

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons is this, life is not something to be postponed. We often live as if real life will begin later, after the next milestone, the next achievement, the next phase, But cancer teaches that life is happening right now.

So what does life after cancer ultimately teach us? It teaches us to choose quality over quantity, to choose people over possessions, experiences over accumulation. Cancer teaches us presence over distraction, and most importantly, to choose love, connection, and meaning over everything else. Because in the end, when we look back on our lives, it won’t be the things we owned that define us, it will be the lives we touched, the memories that we created, and the love that we shared.

Cancer changes us. It has to. But within that change, there is clarity, purpose. And there can be a deeper, richer way of living. Not just surviving, but truly living.

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