Since my diagnosis, a few friends, some extended family members, and random acquaintances have said some downright peculiar things to me. They range from the bizarrely sympathetic: “I couldn’t bring myself to call you, but I cried like a baby when I found out you were sick,” a family friend told me. I actually felt bad for upsetting her. To the straight-up indifferent: “We’re all going to die,” wrote one guy in response to my first post. Uh, thanks, I guess.

Although slightly inelegant, shall we say, such comments are really just people’s way of showing they care. And while I appreciate the effort, it’s clear that it’s time for a cancer etiquette intervention.

Consider this list of dos and don’ts as a crash course to navigating your next cancer survivor encounter. Only the basics are covered here. Of course, there are some gray areas (is it okay to be mean to a crabby cancer patient?), mitigating circumstances (should you tell a friend that her drawn-on eyebrows aren’t in the right shade or shape?), and times when you just have to make fun of people, cancer or not. In those cases, my advice is do what you have to do. This is simply a primer, a blueprint to ensure that you stay within the bounds of appropriateness. It’s not hard. When in doubt, remember flattery is always your ace.

1. DON’T say I’m sorry. We know you mean well, but opt for something a bit more uplifting such as, “Let me buy you a drink for your bravery on the battlefield.”

2. DON’T send sappy or generic get-well cards. Is there anything more depressing than the Hallmark sympathy section? Ugh. A good sense of humor is crucial to conquering the cancer beast. Send messages filled with sarcasm and humor worthy of our valor.

3. DON’T say it’s only hair. We know it will grow back, but being bald with no eyebrows makes even the prettiest woman look like a Cabbage Patch Preemie. Refer to rule number 6 for more guidance here.

4. DON’T talk to us about survival rates. If I had a cash payout every time someone told me they had a friend whose outlook wasn’t so bright but went on to live for many years, I could cover my hospital bills. People battling cancer want to focus on living, period.

5. DON’T spout trite expressions like, “God won’t give you anything you can’t handle.” Trust me, that’s one we’ve figured out already. When overcome with the urge to utter said cliche, refer to rule number 10.

6. DO tell us how our real our wig looks. Good ones aren’t cheap. We’ll play along. If the cancer patient in your life prefers a bald head, tell her how nicely shaped it is.

7. DO invite us on a trip and foot the bill. It’s been a rough journey; sympathy vacations are always welcome.

8. DO expect us to play the “cancer card.” It’s the only good thing to come out of all this. We reserve the right to use it whenever it gives us an advantage with a cop, a bill collector…you get the idea.

9. DO throw parties in our honor. For mine, please extend an invitation to my gay boyfriend, my Hollywood crush, a certain phenomenal band that I liked way before everyone else, and my soon-to-be BFF. And somebody bring some Pabst Blue Ribbon.

10. DO tell us how fabulous we are. Going from sickly to simply fabulous is a lot of work. Feel free to compliment us regularly.

Now that you know the basics, charge forth with confidence. Tell a friend, tell a friend of a friend, and let’s put those awkward civilian-survivor moments behind us forever.