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cancer cancer fiction Cancer Treatment Centers of America colon cancer Michelle Hastings Mission:Remission

Would Real-Life Cancer Survivor Michelle Make a Great Character in a Novel?

I first met Michelle Hastings at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America facility in Goodyear, Arizona almost a year ago. I was sitting at a table in the conference room when in blew this vision in wildly colored, spiked hair, looking like a rock star. A generation younger, with a very positive energy, she bustled around with the confident air of a regular visitor to the hospital. That’s because she is.

Back in 2008, Michelle found out she had colon cancer, but she was determined to beat it. She wrote about her journey in her blog; once known as Michelle Will Win, it has transitioned to Mission: Remission. (It’s a great resource for anyone facing a tough cancer battle of any kind. Her spirit, her energy is uplifting and inspiring. Check it out.)

When you look at Michelle’s definition of herself, you’ll see this: wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend. She doesn’t talk about her career as an astronaut on the last space shuttle or her amazing stint as a famous movie star in Hollywood. She never mentions anything about winning the Miss Fabulous beauty contest or how she learned to conquer her fear of octopuses by scuba diving to 1000 meters without a spear gun. Oh, no. That’s because Michelle is a people person. It’s all about connections. It’s all about love, life, and loving life.

If you stuck her in an isolation tank, you would break her heart, not to mention the hearts of all those people who love her. That’s because Michelle embodies the very essence of humanity — the ability to connect with other people in a way that leaves you feeling like the world is a better place because she’s in it.

As a mystery writer, over the last few months, I’ve toyed with the idea of creating a new series, wondering if I could ever invent a character with her joie de vivre, her tenacity, and her single-mindedness to overcome adversity. Is it even possible? What kind of storyline would I write? And what would that character be like?

I can tell you this much. It would be a “cozy mystery”, without gruesome, bloodsucking beasts or insidious villains who practice unspeakable cruelty. It would be the perfect story to read while curled up in front of the fireplace on a rainy night with a cup of hot cocoa, because that’s the kind of person she is. Michelle was so happy the other day when the Christmas lights went up and she could revel in their twinkling glory. She even remarked that most people would think it was too soon to start decorating, but she didn’t care. She was going for it. This young woman knows too well that you must seize the moment when it presents itself. She does not procrastinate when it comes to embracing fun. She grabs it with both hands and holds on tight.

And as far as the action part of my tale, it would have to be a good match for Michelle’s vibrant persona to be believable. I’d give my heroine a warm, supportive family for her crime-solving activities, a fun cast of characters, and more than one wacky sidekick. Maybe I would send her off to Disneyland, and have her discover a lost child in the crowd. Michelle is the kind of woman who would recognize that “deer in the headlights” look from a frightened youngster in a crowd. She is, after all, a mother. I could have her search for the missing adult, letting the story take a thrilling, twisting trajectory, but with a happy ending, because that is what Michelle constantly seeks in life.

Or maybe I would send her fictional alter ego on a vacation to a dude ranch, and while on a trail ride, let her stumble upon an abandoned horse in the middle of nowhere. She could track down and rescue the rider. Michelle could certainly hold her own out in the Wild West. After all, she’s been battling cancer all these years. Why, I bet she could scare the rattle off a sidewinder with just a look and some of her fierce determination.

Then again, with her work as a cancer advocate, maybe I could create a mystery in a hospital, with a patient who is too overwhelmed to reconnect with family. Michelle’s character could reach out to all her social media contacts and help a patient reunite with a lost family member, someone who slipped away decades before, and they could come together when it matters most. It would have to be a heartwarming tale, because that’s the epitome of the real Michelle, overcoming adversity with gumption and guts. Perspective is half the battle when it comes to conquering cancer. You might not beat the disease, but you can beat the hold its terror has on you, and when you do that, another door opens, or another window, and you’re off on your next adventure in Cancer Land, finding those hidden moments of beauty, those tender minutes when the universe seems to stop spinning out of control and life, in that brief few seconds, all makes sense. We are here to love, to laugh, to share with one another, and nothing else really matters except what passes between united hearts.

As you can see, an inspirational character can drive a storyline in all kinds of wonderful directions for an author. A wise writer lets the heroine go her own way, in her own style. In Michelle’s case, her fictional counterpart would have all of her amazing qualities to lead her down the path to adventure, and she would take her ever-widening circle of family and friends, her “peeps”, along with her. They are so much a part of her that I can see them having a hand in solving the “cozy mystery”.

Oddly enough, in my vision for this mystery series, I wouldn’t want to bump off lots of victims, leaving a trail of dead bodies strewn across Arizona, California, Colorado, or anywhere else I sent her. I’d pack the stories with lots of frights, and maybe a few bang-ups, chills, and spills, but my fictional heroine would be about saving lives, not taking them. Michelle is, after all, a healer. She’s not here to destroy the world; she’s here to save it. The fictional Michelle would want to do the same.

But there’s only one problem with the idea of creating a heroine based on a real woman for a new mystery series. How can my character ever hope to compete with the real thing? She would be forever a poor substitute for Michelle Hastings. That’s because I never really know what I will find when I see she’s added a post on her Facebook page. It could be just about anything. One day, it might be that things are going great for her. Another day, it might be that her blood work is absolutely dismal. Michelle is a very real cancer survivor, struggling with managing the disease. She’s allowed people like me a glimpse into her visit to Cancer Park, where she sometimes gets to ride the Ferris Wheel and take in the pretty vista, and other times, goes into the House of Horrors, where the floor slips out from under her as she tries to navigate the dark and scary maze that is cancer. The hardest thing to watch is when she climbs into a car on the roller coaster and it leaves the platform. I never really know if she’s coming back in one piece. But as scary as it is for someone like me, that’s nothing compared to the whirlwind emotions that Michelle and those with her on that ride must experience.

And yet, I am still tempted to create a series with such a heroine. The truth is the world needs people like Michelle — to teach us what really matters about life, about living. We need to know that our circumstances aren’t always very fair, but that shouldn’t stop us from pushing back, from striving to be more tomorrow than what we are today. Could I create a cancer character that would move readers to embrace the good in life? I probably could, if I stick to the heart of what makes the real Michelle tick. She’s been a great teacher to many, a winner several times over, even through her toughest battles. That’s because she’s Michelle, one-of-a-kind and unique. I’m glad I had the chance to meet her in Arizona, all those months ago, but I’m delighted that I had the great wisdom and curiosity to listen to this voice of courage.

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cancer cancer caregiver cancer management caregiver individualized cancer treatment stalkers stress

Having Cancer Is Like Having a Stalker Stalk You

Anyone who has ever had a stalker knows the sheer fear, that tension in the pit of your stomach that pulls your gut into one tight knot that never seems to let go. While you’re looking behind for that telltale shadow, you get broad-sided by that sudden furtive movement as your stalker suddenly appears right in your face.

If you’re a cancer survivor or a cancer caregiver, take a few pages from the “Life with a Stalker Handbook”. Understanding and utilizing the lessons learned in fighting a stalker long-term can help cancer survivors function more fully in their lives.

There are a lot of similarities between cancer and stalkers. Cancer, like a stalker, can deceive, can pretend to be cooperative, when in fact it is setting up shop in another organ, sometimes even hiding in plain sight and masquerading as a benign being. It can throw its hands up in the air and appear to be walking away, all while it plots to find another tiny opening in the victim’s life that can be exploited. There can be distractions, lulls, and even periods of inactivity, when you think it’s finally done. You tell yourself you can get back to your life, get settled into the normal rhythms and routines, only to find your life erupting into confidence-shattering chaos and confusion once again.

Stalkers are, like cancer, very dangerous because of their unpredictability, mindset, and potential volatility. In order to fight a stalker, you have to understand the menacing behavior of the individual stalker. You can’t assume that every stalker is using the same playbook. What drives this particular individual to do what he does? What does he hope to get out of it? Why is he attacking in this particular way? What does his victim have that he needs? Stalkers have certain patterns in common, but other activities and motivators are unique to the individuals.

The same is true of cancer. We treat it like it’s one disease, when in fact it’s hundreds of different diseases, with different triggers, behaviors, and malignancy rates. One size does not fit all.

If you’ve ever been the victim of a stalker, you know that panic. “What did I do to make this happen?” You review the scenes over and over again in your head, trying to figure out what it was you did to attract the attention of your stalker. Were you just too handy? Was it something you said or did, or even didn’t do? Why you? Why not your neighbor down the hall? Why not someone else?

Isolated incidents involving violence can be overcome with directed and mindful cognitive exercises. You can look at a single traumatic event and put a face to it, a meaning to it that will eventually allow you to come to terms with it and make peace, provided you have the right support and psychological tools.

But how do you fight a stalker over time? So often, the stalker lurks in the shadows, hiding behind bigger obstacles while he’s stalking, but the rest of the time, he usually blends into the crowd. A stalker doesn’t want to get caught, because if caught, he can be apprehended, contained, neutralized, even paralyzed in his tracks — so he feigns being something he’s not. The philanthropist loves everyone. The average Joe who’s minding his own business. The good guy who just happened to be passing by. The upstanding citizen who’s no threat to anyone. Cancer’s a lot like that. The symptoms can mimic other diseases, other issues, and that can be distracting. Doctors very often take the symptoms presented and assign them a diagnosis that has nothing to do with cancer. If they don’t suspect it’s cancer, they don’t test for cancer.

Some stalkers are better than others at getting away with their crimes. They learn to wear rubber-soled shoes as they creep about. They get to know their victims inside and out, always in search of vulnerabilities. Victims often flee to escape their tormentors, only to find themselves in greater danger. What’s a cancer survivor to do when the potential for “someday” looms on the horizon? Run away? Disappear? Bury one’s head in the sand and hope it won’t hurt too much when the rest of the body is left vulnerable to attack?

Stalking is, in reality, a mind game first and foremost. It’s psychological warfare at its best. It’s predator after prey. Sometimes victims can give their stalkers too much credit for intelligence. We imagine their power is greater than our ability to overcome, so we don’t look for reasoned ways to fight back. We don’t use our greatest tool, the human mind. We flee, and in doing so, miss so many opportunities to enjoy life by staying in the game. When cancer survivors wrap their heads around the notion that cancer is as much a mental battle as a physical one, they begin to understand their foe. In any battle, knowing your enemy is the most important means of directing his defeat.

Many victims of stalkers learn to live off the grid, to fly under the radar, in the hopes that they can evade their pursuers. Imagine spending all that time and energy trying to not do the things that will alert the stalker to your whereabouts or arouse his interest again. You might constantly ask yourself, “Is he going to find me again? Is he going to come after me once more?” The constant stress and distress of living with the potential threat cuts the joy out of life. You’re always teetering on the edge of despair. “I have now, but what comes next?” It’s the unknowing-ness of the future that hurts the most. It’s the mistrust of the half-consumed moment. Fear can paralyze us. “In the blink of an eye, life can change, and I don’t want it to get worse.”

But that’s not the only problem. Denial can often rear its ugly head in stalking situations. What happens when the stalker is in plain sight and everyone knows you’re his victim? What happens when everyone around you can see the stalker, but they don’t believe he poses a threat any more? People throw deterrents at stalkers all the time, in the hopes of dissuading them from acting out on their need to prey, as if that’s enough. That’s a lot like tossing cancer therapies at patients willy-nilly, in the hopes that something, anything, will work. Once treatment is completed, cancer survivors are just supposed to move on with their lives. They’re not supposed to wonder if the radiation will create new complications, or think about the potential for a different kind of cancer because the body was weakened by the first. “Don’t worry about it till it happens!” Is that really the best advice for someone who lives under the threat of another bout with cancer or complications? If I know I might have a problem at some point in the future, won’t I be better able to deal with it if I am armed with the knowledge that will empower me to do battle?

The truth is the more you know about the specific threat, the better, because that’s when you can develop a strategy. Even if you never have the chance to completely contain the stalker or his dangerous behavior, you can manage the danger he poses by being able to act in ways that make a difference. That’s how you rebuild a realistic trust in yourself, those who support you, and even in the potential for a good life. Fear that once prevented you from taking chances gives way to confidence borne of wisdom. “Yes, cancer may come back, but if it does, I’m ready for it. I’m prepared. I have my people and I’m going to give it everything I have.”

The most effective way to handle a stalker is to know him, inside and out. What makes him tick? Why is he doing this? Too generalized an understanding puts the victim at greater risk of not only triggering another incident, but also in becoming more vulnerable. There is a world of difference between a stalker who has a fantasy life and a stalker who has a secret life. Someone who is mentally unbalanced might spiral out of control without rhyme or reason. Someone who is trying to protect a skeleton in a closet will be very driven and determined in attacking his victim. His motivation for acting is self-preservation and he is willing to kill to make that happen. But stalkers are, by virtue of their covert lives, secretive. They depend on people not knowing what they are up to in order to hide.

Cancer treatments that focus on the specifics of an individual’s cells, genes, overall health, and any of the factors that affect that particular type of cancer are the best type of threat management for cancer survivors. Every day, new developments in fighting the disease show that certain types of cells work in certain, somewhat predictable ways. As doctors learn more, they also learn ways to cut the cancer off from what feeds it. Just as you want to move a stalker away from his victim, to neutralize his ability to cause harm, doctors take cancer treatments to new levels every day — by starving tumors here or by empowering the immune system there.

But where does that leave cancer patients? Still battered by the stalking, still fearful of the future?Victims of stalkers often have difficulty living normal lives because they spend so much time and energy trying to survive, just like cancer patients — it’s often a matter of knowing when you can safely poke your head out of your hidey-hole. But it’s more than that. Those who have, over time, had their lives disrupted again and again, had to pick up and move once more when their stalkers located them, never really fully trust in anyone or anything. You always hold back a little part of yourself because you expect that disappointment to arrive on your doorstep once again, almost always when you least expect it. Stalkers love to terrify their victims, so they look for the chance to pop up out of the blue. Living with that stress over decades is tough. You never ever completely let your guard down. You never ever really get used to believing that life can be good. “It was good once, and it’s okay now,” becomes the new normal.

But in accepting how things have changed, in taking it one step at a time, and most of all, in having the right kinds of resources to identify real-time threats, victims become empowered and stalkers will, over time, lose their power to terrify. Even when you know in the back of your mind that there could be another incident, another blow, you’re already thinking of what you can do to deal with it, to get past it. That’s the strategy that a lot of victims use once they really come to terms with their predators. “I refuse to give you power over my life, my emotions, my heart. I will not live in fear anymore. I am willing to do what it takes to keep myself safe.”

For cancer patients, the knowledge that cancer can, and might, recur is often overwhelming. It’s hard to live with the maybes, the uncertainty, the possibilities. How do you manage it? How do you plan for it? Should you even consider it?

Take a lesson from victims of stalkers. Don’t isolate yourself. Running away is a dangerous strategy, because your stalker will hunt you down. If you have fled, you have probably cut yourself off from your best support network, those people who will look after you and fight for you. The bigger your team, the better your chances of reducing your risk of injury or worse.

Instead, surround yourself with people who are knowledgeable about your situation. Don’t be afraid to immerse yourself in the learning. Talk to other cancer survivors and learn what they know about the disease. Think of it as a self-defense strategy. If you’re going to kick cancer’s ass, do it right. Don’t raise a little finger when your assailant comes at you with a big stick, grab a crow bar and cripple him. Let him see you are not intimidated or weak in his presence. Toss the creep to the curb.

So many times, victims of isolated incidents think it’s just a one-time thing, so they never bother to learn how to look out for themselves. Lightning doesn’t strike twice, right? But when you have a stalker, that’s an ongoing threat, one that isn’t going to stop until the stalker is permanently neutralized in his tracks. Being vigilant doesn’t mean you’re always terrified. The more you learn about cancer, especially your type of cancer, the more you can understand its weaknesses, its needs, and even its goals. Some kinds of tumors consume hormones to live and starving them of the hormones can prevent new occurrences. But there are side effects, aren’t there? The tumor needs that same estrogen that you need to function well, and in preventing the cancer from receiving it, you suffer, too. How do you balance that?

Every day, new ways to fight cancer, to hold it back, to knock it down, are becoming available. What we knew last year is less than we know now. What we know now is less than we will know next year. By keeping up with information that can make a difference, by learning to recognize new symptoms as they sneak in, cancer survivors have a better chance of managing their disease in meaningful ways.

Just as you need to be vigilant in recognizing new signs that your stalker has resumed his bad behavior, whether you notice new scratches on your door lock or you find things have been moved in your car, those are signs you don’t ignore if you’ve been a victim. Every long-time Stage 4 cancer patient I ever met had one thing in common. They all were proactive in dealing with new symptoms and they were willing to fight hard to survive. Those “I can do this” muscles were developed over the years of battling their unseen, seemingly unknowable foe. The harder they fought, the more they learned about cancer’s cunning, and once they learned, they got busy.

Many times, cancer survivors want to turn their backs on the disease once it’s under control. And so often, their families and friends want them to move on. That “let’s just forget about it and act like it never happened” mindset is what often puts cancer survivors at greater risk. Tackling the potential threat is as important as taking your chemo drugs, being zapped with radiation, or even going under the knife to cut the cancer out of you. It’s your new “survival mode”.

Long ago, when cancer happened and options were few, people didn’t have to live with cancer as a stalker. Death was often swift and cruel, and time fleeting. By the time a patient was diagnosed, there might only be weeks or months. But now? Now the possibilities for survival and cure are better than ever, and growing every day. That requires a new way of thinking about cancer management. It’s imperative that you recognize your stalker, assess the threat posed, and handle the aftermath of a cancer diagnosis effectively. You want to direct yourself to act, not to react, and you best do that by understanding what is out there.

Anyone who has ever dealt with a stalker over time has to come to a decision: “Do I live my life as normally as possible, take advantage of the opportunities, and stay out in the open, vulnerable to attack, or do I hide myself away, in the hope that I might survive a little longer? Do I survive or do I thrive? Do I embrace life or embrace fear?”

True inner strength comes from understanding fear and uncertainty and taking steps to manage its impact on our lives. It’s the choice to sit it out or dance. Music lovers know how hard it is to not feel the rhythm, to sit still when the tune beckons. What is life without song? As the Irving Berlin song said, there may be trouble ahead, and the fidlers may flee when the going gets tough, but while we have moonlight, music, love, and romance, we should embrace the opportunities to dance. Don’t ever let cancer take that away from you.

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cancer cancer caregiver caregiver education caregiver psychology

Can’t Make a Real Difference for Cancer Families? Go Wait in the Truck — Part Three

I recently turned down an opportunity to be a guest on a cancer show. I had my reasons for doing that. So many cancer families feel alienated and alone, abandoned in their time of greatest need. I believe we can and should do a better job of helping those with cancer and the people who love them to connect. We do that by addressing the real issues. There’s no magic pill that will make things better for cancer families, but with real caregiver education and a concerted effort, I do believe we can bridge the gap for patients and their families. If cancer patients are now living longer, those lives can and should be filled with meaning that rises above the ugliness of the disease and its determination to destroy the body.

Sometimes it seems that everywhere you look on the Internet and beyond, you hear the word “cancer” bandied about — it’s pink, it’s popular, it’s presumptive. Not all people who utter that word have the same depth of understanding about how it truly impacts lives. When you see families struggle over the years as a loved one goes in and out of cancer treatment, you begin to understand how critical education is to a cancer caregiver. A good cancer caregiver is always one step ahead of the disease, aware that things can go bad at any time.

I’ve talked to a number of people who have had repeated bouts of the disease, and the one image that stays with me, the one real truth I take to heart is this — you have a far better shot at staying around and enjoying your life if you don’t keep yourself stuck in denial. Cancer is cancer, especially when it’s in the genes. That means cancer could come back at some point, even ten years down the road. When you know this as a cancer patient, it usually changes how you live your life. You change your decision-making processes to factor that in. You may even change your outlook on what you want to accomplish and how you want to get it done. Cancer caregivers must understand the changed reality of their loved ones — it’s more than just the physical effects of the cancer. It’s also the mental, emotional, and sometimes even spiritual impact that alters a cancer patient’s world, one that needs to be appreciated for what it is — the sometimes dreaded “new” normal. How can we help cancer patients feel as safe and secure as possible under these circumstances? That’s what real comfort care is.

Here are the questions I intended to tackle on that show. I hope that by the time you finish reading the answers, I will have challenged you to think about cancer caregiving in a new way, to see a new path or a new direction in which you can take that care and improve life for your loved ones.

1. Do different types of cancer require different kinds of caregiving?

Absolutely. For someone who is able to physically function independently, your job may require being there as an emotional supporter. For someone with issues such as chemo brain or who has brain cancer, you may be dealing with mental processing issues, such as confusion, lack of focus, inability to concentrate, or even loss of critical memories. That can have a huge impact on your loved one’s personality. Patients with lung cancer might feel like they are suffocating slowly, which will create tremendous anxiety if the physical symptoms aren’t well-managed. And for patients with “intimate cancers”, such as breast, cervical, ovarian, colon, and prostate, there are often complications that result from our loved ones’ new perceptions of themselves and even our own changing perceptions. Scars can be found on the body, but more often inside — in the heart and mind. Those unaddressed worries, fears, angers, and sorrows will do as much, if not more, damage to the relationship between cancer patient and caregiver as will the actual physical results of the cancer treatment.

A cancer caregiver actually needs some training to do the job effectively. We don’t let health care professionals work with patients until they have had training and certification, but somehow it’s expected that cancer patients will receive adequate care outside the hospital setting, by virtue of having a caregiver, usually a family member, minister to his or her needs. You don’t expect your general practitioner to set a compound fracture — you want a specialist to do this, someone who handles these types of breaks on a regular basis and can recognize when things aren’t right. Cancer caregivers need ongoing training as cancer warrants it. If a loved one’s cancer is caught in the early stages and the prognosis is good, that individual isn’t going to need much from the caregiver. On the other hand, when the cancer is found at a later stage, is aggressive in nature, or is complicated by other health issues, such as heart disease, diabetes, or affects independence, the cancer caregiver really needs to know the “what next”. Without it, you have two miserable people guessing at what might work, what could work, instead of implementing successful strategies that keep them headed in the same direction. That’s why caregivers need to understand the type of cancer involved and the most common complications and issues.

2. What’s the difference between a serial caregiver and a progressive caregiver when it comes to cancer?

A serial caregiver is someone who has to step in when a loved one’s health is challenged and step back when things shift back to the point where independence is realistically viable. It’s important to understand what kind of help is needed, to meet the real problems. Serial care is hard to plan for, because a cancer patient may experience a sudden down turn in treatment, or there might be a complication when the immune system is compromised. It’s up, it’s down, it’s up again….This can create problems for both the cancer patient, especially if he or she is still working, and the caregiver. If you know ahead of time that this might happen, you can develop your strategy as a caregiver. You can build your resources list, build your caregiver team, know who you can call on for what and when. That means actually being mindful of your potential issues, whether it’s emergency child and/or pet care, home maintenance, volunteers to spot you for respite time, or even who can drop off that gallon of double chocolate fudge ice cream you know is the only thing your loved one craves after chemo. A serial caregiver has to transition to the realization that having a caregiver team, a cadre of helpers to call upon, creates better options for everyone.

With a progressive illness, caregivers must be aware of the fact that over time, a loved one’s health will go into decline, eventually resulting in death. It’s important to plan ahead, to engage mindfully in activities that will make that journey as meaningful and positive as possible. Too often, when people hear the words “terminal”, they assume that life ends right there and then. We all will someday die. We should recognize the potential in having a chance to live knowing that our time is limited. A good progressive caregiver handles the heavy lifting in gentle, kind ways. “What would you like me to do about this? What should we do with that?” Very often, for terminally ill patients, the greatest challenge is overcoming the fear of death and dying. Many people fret away the hours. But sometimes knowing that it’s okay to talk things through, having a good listener really wanting to know the answers, a cancer patient can open up about what’s on his or her mind, and that’s when a caregiver has the chance to make good things happen. We all have a “Bucket List” in us. A good progressive caregiver starts ticking those items off, one by one, by finding ways to enable the cancer patient to continue living life out loud right up to the end.

Serial caregivers get the job done while still living their own lives in their “off-time”. You still maintain your social life, your interests, your activities, but you might pause them when your loved one needs care. That’s not an easy thing to do when your loved one is terminal and there’s no cure possible. As a progressive caregiver, you have to mentally shift your focus away from your own life to the needs of your loved one as the disease changes everything. You don’t want to skip the important things in life because there isn’t any “do over” once a loved one is gone. It takes real effort to focus on the knowledge that your days as a caregiver will end when your loved one dies. That reality can actually free a caregiver to put his or her own life on hold, for a year or more, with the realization that at some point, it will be time to begin a new life.

3. Do cancer patients with “intimate” cancers (such as breast, ovarian, cervical) have a greater need for peer support?

Honestly? I don’t know how we can expect them to cope without that kind of support. Unless you are a cancer survivor yourself, you need to let your loved one mix and mingle with other cancer survivors who have dealt with these specific symptoms and complications. There are many people out there who have been there and seen first hand how it changes one’s life. Very often, “intimate” cancers affect more than just one’s body image, especially if there has been serious surgery and scarring. It can be tremendously reassuring to have a mentor help you navigate the healing process. You benefit from the wisdom of knowing someone else faced these same problems and made it through. You need to know, as a cancer patient, that there are ways to work around the obstacles.

But sometimes cancer caregivers are a little reluctant to share their loved ones with peer supporters. There can be an over-developed sense of responsibility, that “…it’s my job to provide what my loved one needs!” Caregivers should never be the only one to give that care. In hospitals and medical centers, no single physician ever provides all the care. Health care professionals with varying levels of expertise and skills come and go in the patient relationship. Cancer caregivers don’t need to feel threatened by the idea that other people can make their loved ones feel better. It’s part of the whole-person healing process. Some cancer patients feel like such a burden, they hold back their true emotions from loved ones. We all need to vent our feelings to the point we can recognize what’s real and what’s not, so we can get to a healthy place. When cancer patients are free to share with others, it often helps them find that perspective. When they are stuck with a single caregiver, the result can be isolating.

Equally important, caregivers affected by their loved ones’ intimate cancers need to get peer support as well. It’s important to understand how to shift gears emotionally and to recognize that as tough as it is for you, it’s tougher for the cancer patient. By finding ways to alleviate your own pain and distress about the cancer, you’ll be in a far better position to really help your loved one. Talking to caregivers who have successfully navigated these mine fields can be tremendously empowering.

4. How does guilt get in the way for healthy cancer caregivers?

It’s survivor’s guilt that gets in the way most often. We feel bad that our loved ones are suffering, so we try the “misery loves company” strategy. If we suffer alongside our loved ones, they will know how much we care, won’t they? Cancer patients often feel guilty enough, and when they see their loved ones declining, it’s just an added weight on their shoulders.

Sometimes cancer patients can feel left out and resentful when they can’t participate in normal activities that their caregivers enjoy. When I left for respite time, I often took my camera with me into the woods or up the mountain. I shot photos of interesting things I thought my mother, the nature lover, would appreciate. She got to see them when I returned home. For her, it mattered that I was still thinking of her when I was out in the “real world”, even as she was stuck in her recliner. She got to see what I experienced, even as she knew she didn’t have the strength to make the trip herself. Sometimes it’s reassuring to know that caregivers aren’t “escaping” when they take respite time. If you need to “get away”, it can trigger panic in a cancer patient that you want to abandon him or her. There’s a difference between healthy respite activities, that leave you feeling refreshed and reinvigorated, and that desire to jump ship. We caregivers all have our moments of feeling like fleeing. That’s why you need your own support team, to talk you through it, to help you find solutions for that sense of being stuck. As much as caregivers feel their own lives are curtailed, it’s nothing compared to what cancer patients can experience.

Caregivers need to recognize that there are still ways to help cancer patients feel better, even if they can’t be made better by medicine. How many times have cancer patients been asked, “How are you feeling?” So often, the answer is, “Not so great.” Some people want to know. Some don’t. And some people just can’t cope with sick people. That’s where the isolation begins for many cancer patients — when the reality of cancer is that you just feel crummy. A friend was devastated by the obvious change in a cancer patient she knew. She didn’t know what to say. Do you ask? Do you ignore? A wise counselor told her this: say “I am so happy to see you.” Those words can and do ring true for a cancer patient. It says, “Regardless of what’s going on with your cancer at this moment in time, I am glad you are here.” In the end, all anyone really wants is to feel connected to genuine warmth and affection, isn’t it? That way, it doesn’t matter how a cancer patient looks or feels. What matters most is that the cancer patient still has people who care.

5. Why is communication between cancer patient and caregiver a critical tool in maintaining quality of life for both?

If a cancer patient can’t be honest with a caregiver, how will he or she get the right kind of help for what’s ailing the body, the mind, the heart, or the spirit? Some people just don’t handle a loved one’s cancer well. When a caregiver is so emotionally overwhelmed by his or her own perceptions and misperceptions about cancer, or there is a long troubled history between the two, that cancer patient is going to experience a lot of frustration in not being able to effectively communicate his or her real needs.

Some of the most successful relationships I’ve seen between cancer patients and their caregivers are the result of the caregivers “getting” their loved ones. When you feel understood as a cancer patient, when you can voice your fears, frustrations, or even anger to someone who is genuinely looking to find ways to make you more comfortable, you begin to develop trust for your caregiver. Caregivers really have to have thick skin sometimes. You can’t take the things your loved one is saying to heart, or feel wounded. It’s important to recognize when emotions are talking, and help your loved one work through them. Sometimes you have to step back and let a cancer peer step in. Sometimes you have to let your loved one vent without trying to “fix” it all. Very often, cancer patients need to become aware of their fears, and they do that by blurting things out in the heat of the moment. When the dust settles, the real issues begin to surface. And then there are those times when you really need to be honest with your loved one, to admit you don’t have all the answers, but you’re committed to finding what will work. It’s important that your loved one believes your efforts are genuine, even as you seek the appropriate answers.

6. Why do caregivers need to know what comes next for their loved one in terms of prognosis and options?

If you have no clue, you can be completely broadsided. I liken the need to know to storm preparedness. If you know there’s a chance that a hurricane can hit the coast, you can board up the windows, sandbag the perimeter, and get your food and water supplies ahead of time. You can get a generator, learn how to use it properly, and even plan an evacuation route should the storm turn more dangerous. We all can agree that’s a sensible course of action in the face of the potential for such a weather event. So, too, should we do this for cancer patients. It’s not that you are predicting a turn for the worst for a loved one. It’s that you’re educating yourself as a caregiver to the potential. You’re getting prepared. That means that if you begin to see signs that pressure is building up, you can act.

A number of cancer patients have told me that they fear every time they think they’re seeing changes in their bodies. Is that a new lump? Is that pain in the ribs now bone cancer? Is the forgetfulness an indication that cancer spread to the brain? Every day, cancer patients have to cope with new or existing fears about the disease. A cancer caregiver who is prepared can start to poke and prod information from the cancer patient, can be the supportive listener who says, “Let’s get it checked out.” And a really good cancer caregiver never poo-poos anything that a cancer patients says. We need to accept what our loved ones are telling us, even when we don’t want to think the cancer has spread. It’s important to recognize that when new symptoms seem to arise, very often these issues are just normal body changes. But for those few occasions they are something more sinister, we need to encourage our loved ones to act.

Every long-time cancer survivor I have ever met has one behavior in common with the other survivors. They all are proactive in treating the cancer. Some get to the point where they can actually recognize the tiniest of changes and they get right on it. We need to realize that being aware, as scary as it might be, usually gives our loved ones the best shot at not only having a longer life, but a better life. It’s not just about surviving with cancer. It’s about thriving with it.

7. Why is palliative care not just about death and dying, and how can it help cancer patients to survive and thrive?

I wish we could change the name from palliative care to comfort care. Palliative care has somehow become synonymous with death and dying. The reality is that pain management, symptom management is all about keeping cancer patients as comfortable as possible. It actually has been shown to lengthen life, rather than shorten it. Some cancer patients get treatment aimed at cure right up to the day they die. They spend all of their time getting whacked by chemotherapy, radiation, anything that will provide them with a potential cure. Patients and caregivers benefit from a reality check. If the cancer has spread, if there are new symptoms, sometimes it’s okay to switch from focusing on a cure to focusing on comfort. For some cancer patients who are at the point where there are no new miracles, enrolling in clinical trials and trying untested drugs may be a viable option. If a patient gets palliative care to handle the difficulties, it’s easier to partake in that opportunity. That’s a decision that every cancer patient needs to make by being fully informed about the status of his or her cancer. As terrible as that sounds, sometimes really good things can come of it. I’ve met cancer patients who were diagnosed as Stage 4, still alive more than five years later. By being as painfree and healthy as possible, these patients can better tolerate new treatments that offer the promise and hope of disease management, if not cure.

Palliative care is all about easing the distress a patient experiences, whether it’s physical, mental, or emotional. Managing nausea means food can be better ingested and digested. Dealing with nasty side effects, relieving the discomfort, can actually enable a cancer patient to better survive treatment. And sometimes cancer patients really need help to handle the anxiety of cancer. An agitated patient is less likely to comply with medications and nutritional needs. Some patients may be so depressed, they may assume death is so inevitable, they give up before the cancer treatment has had time to work. For them, getting that emotional roller coaster on a slower, less terrifying track, can mean the difference between trying to survive and abandoning all hope.

We should always strive, as cancer caregivers, to err on the side of being human. We should ask ourselves about how much we know of our loved ones, how they best function, what matters to them. Our goal is to enable them to be true to their real selves through the cancer experience, and how we get there is important. We should never just give lip service to cancer patients. Our words should matter. But even more important, our actions should speak volumes. Every move we make should send the message that we stand with those we love and we are willing to go the distance to get them the right kind of care that will make the most difference for them.

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cancer cancer caregiver caregiver education mind/body Reiki survivor's guilt vibrational healing

Can’t Make a Difference for Cancer Families? Go Wait in the Truck! (Part Two)

A Note from Sara M. Barton, The Practical Caregiver:

I recently met an incredible woman who offered me insight into what life is like for someone living with the disease. I found her to be a great motivator and a wonderful teacher — she makes such an effort to reach cancer survivors and to improve their lives in meaningful ways. That old cliche aside, this person really is a gift to the world. An amazing, sweet, thoughtful, funny package of wisdom and kindness, all rolled up into one very decent human being.

Life isn’t fair. Just when you think it’s all working out just fine, that word comes back again. Cancer. How I wish it were not so. How I wish I could make it better for her. The truth is we don’t really know where the road will take her, but we do know one thing. She will never be without love. Come what may, we are there and we care.

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Part Two:

I once dumped a social media and web designer for his unethical behavior. He actually thought it was appropriate for his clients to fabricate their credentials. As I sat in the trendy coffee shop and listened to his speech on how to embellish my profile for my website, as I watched that little shark smile glisten as the light landed on those pearly whites, I thought long and hard about how much I was willing to compromise myself. What was I willing to do to make a difference for families providing care to loved ones? I wasn’t willing to pretend to be something or someone I’m not.

I also dumped a business advisor, who made the mistake one day to, in his words, give me “a little tough love” — I had to formulate my business plan with the idea that I was going to build a local company, which I would then sell to some business people who had a vague background in managed care, no real commitment to caregiver education, and basically I would make some money, all while waving bye-bye to the people I most wanted to help. I have been working seven days a week for more than three years now, pulling together a plan for caregiver education that goes beyond the superficial efforts of agencies looking to sell a service. I spent years learning what I know, and I want that experience to matter in the real world. When I set out to share information, especially for cancer families, I have only one “sniff test” — when I put the information up, for all to see, can it actually help anyone?

Cancer is a very tricky business, especially now that cancer patients are becoming cancer survivors. There are so many issues involved in learning how to manage a disease over time. Cancer can be cruel. It can return again and again. How do families cope with that? How does a cancer patient stay motivated? What can we do to improve the quality of life for cancer patients and keep the joy handy?

I’m at that age where I know what I know. I was trained as an educator. I was trained in information science. I was trained in psychology. I did my first teaching practicum in the pediatrics department of a prestigious city hospital. I volunteered with cancer families. Over the years, I worked in a psychiatric admissions hospital with unmedicated and undermedicated psychiatric patients in crisis, in educational settings with students who have learning disabilities, and even with juvenile delinquents, some of whom were violent offenders. You won’t see a lot of degrees after my name or see me in the social pages with my arm around this socialite or that mucky-muck. I’ve been too busy in the trenches, trying to figure this thing out, using what I have learned about the human spirit over decades. My focus is specific — what can we do to improve the quality of life for cancer survivors and their families through education and information? How do we get this done and get it done right?

I’ve talked to cancer patients who think cancer caregivers are swell, but they just don’t really understand what it’s like to have cancer. I’ve talked to cancer caregivers who are at their wits’ end because they’re out of ideas on what to do. As an educator, I believe that there is a way to teach every concept under the sun. I know from working with students who have learning disabilities that the human mind is far more complex than we think and sometimes we have to bypass the usual routes to get the job done another way. What does this have to do with cancer? Think chemo brain and you begin to see the possibilities. Think about how the mind learns under stress and you begin to realize that we cannot afford to have fear drive the cancer bus, not if we want cancer families to thrive.

Some people are concrete in their thinking. These are typically goal-driven people. There is a challenge to be met and they meet it. In terms of managing cancer over time, these are the people who will look at milestones and markers. These are achievement people. They measure their success by what they manage to get done. How can we help them meet those goals while they survive cancer?

I also know that people who are creative thinkers are far more emotional in their approach to life. How they feel is more important than how things really are, because they want to enjoy life using all their senses. In terms of managing cancer over time, these are people who will look at the relationships they have and the satisfaction or lack of satisfaction they derive from them. These are experience people. How can we help them find the joy in life while they survive cancer?

And then there are the people who like to balance achievement and experience. They will look at the milestones and markers along side the experiences they have. They will be happy when the goals are met, but they will make an effort to stop and smell the roses. How can we help them to find satisfaction in the things they do and the relationships they have while they survive cancer?

These are three different educational modalities, when you are talking about teaching cancer families to thrive. Very often, there might be a cancer caregiver who is goal-oriented caring for a cancer survivor who is experience-oriented, or vice versa. The cancer caregiver focusing on milestones and markers can talk all he or she wants about how fabulous the numbers are, but when a cancer patient feels like crap, it really doesn’t matter. No amount of numbers talk is going to change how that patient faces the cancer. It’s an apples v. oranges situation. It’s not enough to provide fruit. You have to provide the right kind of fruit.

For a cancer patient who is too aware of the discomfort of cancer, whether it’s a physical symptom or an emotional reaction, it’s important to meet those needs, regardless of how good the Big Picture looks. Fatigue, nausea, an inability to eat, neuropathy…depression, isolation, frustration…these affect the perspective of a cancer patient in very real, very debilitating ways, and that is the need to be addressed. We should be asking, “Where does it hurt?” We should be addressing the real needs of the cancer patient in real time, whether it’s body, mind, or spirit. Talking about numbers when someone can’t think straight because of chemo brain doesn’t help. Tackling the issue of chemo brain does. Cancer caregivers can do more to help loved ones find real solutions to problems, but only if they are aware of the opportunities.

But what happens when a cancer patient is goal-driven and the caregiver is experience-driven? There’s still a disconnect. Some patients can take some really tough cancer symptoms and survive them because they see the light at the end of the tunnel in those milestones and markers. They’re in the zone, like marathoners, and they just rounded that last hill. Now they’re pacing themselves, keeping a little something in reserve. For caregivers who are focused on the experiences involved in cancer treatment, the sight of a loved one without hair, with that too pale skin stretched tight across the bones can produce real, palpable fear, a fear that won’t quit. “He’s really dying!” The truth is that cancer treatment can be extremely harsh and what it does to the human body can be scary. Managing the fear associated with cancer is critical, not only for the cancer patient, but for the caregiver. And far too many patients feel isolated. It’s not just that they withdraw because they are wounded by the devastation of the illness. Very often, they are pushed away, by people who just can’t handle cancer and its complications. We need to change that in real ways that make a difference.

And what role does survivor’s guilt play in cancer caregiving? How many cancer patients are helped by having their caregivers feel so helpless, so useless, that no one gets what’s needed? Cancer caregivers have to come to an understanding that the best way, the only way to truly help their loved ones is to be strong, to be the wind beneath the wings — birds gotta fly and so do cancer patients, but in their own way, with respect to their own capabilities. Cancer caregivers must empower their loved ones, not drag them down with guilt. Isn’t it better to find as many ways as you can to help your loved one be as comfortable and active with cancer than it is to sit in the dark together, feeling miserable? Do you help someone who is terrified by sharing that terror? Your job as a cancer caregiver is to spread light and to help a cancer patient navigate the rough terrain that is cancer. “Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down….” Your job is to be there, at those critical moments, to make sure cancer patients get past those obstacles that stand between existing and thriving. It’s all about quality of life with cancer. And there is no real way to do that without asking the hard questions and doing the hard work. It takes commitment, compassion, and a desire to provide true comfort for the body, mind, and soul.

That’s a very big part of why I am so “difficult”. I actually believe that the more cancer families understand about the disease and how to manage it, how it affects the lives we lead, the better able we will be to come together and find that inner strength necessary to thrive with cancer.

As someone who was there in the early days of a lot of New Age philosophy in cancer treatment, I can tell you a few things you need to know about so-called metaphysical practices like Reiki and vibrational healing in the cancer world — what does and doesn’t work. There is far more involved in mind/body healing than just having a self-proclaimed Reiki master focus on one’s chakras or a vibrational healer wave a magic wand. In the medical setting, I have repeatedly witnessed individuals declaring patients healed through Reiki “massages”. I have no problem with people meditating. I have no problem with people believing in a higher power. I have no problem with people aligning their chakras or tuning into the great cosmos. But when it comes to cancer patients, there must be accountability. Doctors, nurses, therapists — they hold licenses to practice. They are accountable for their claims and they are expected to produce results that are measurable.When a doctor practices bad medicine, his or her treatment techniques, diagnosis, medication protocols, and ethical behaviors are examined. It’s one thing to talk a cancer patient into a calm state, to suggest the universe is at peace, to encourage a cancer patient to imagine being part of that wonderful healing energy. But far too often, metaphysical healers proclaim cancer patients physically transformed by their magical energies that are invisible to the naked eye, to the microscope. Imagine what it feels like for a cancer patient to be told that he or she has had the aura healed, only to find the cancer is more aggressive than ever. If a metaphysical healing fails, who’s to blame — the patient or the healer? Who vouches for the metaphysical healers working their magic in medical settings? And how do you prove responsibility, good or bad?

I once sat in a chemo room on more than one occasion, listening to a man who was telling other patients he was a Reiki master who could heal them, even as his own cancer had advanced. He wasn’t suggesting that it was the spirit that would be healed. No. He was telling patients he could heal their physical bodies and rid them of cancer. Sadly, he was not the exception to the rule. There were healthy Reiki masters walking about in the same cancer center, making similar claims. The hospital executive I contacted insisted that the program was carefully monitored and the Reiki masters were professing no supernatural powers. And yet, in conversation after conversation, the reality was quite different.

Which raises a very ethical issue in cancer care —  if I claim, as I have witnessed many to do, that I have the proper energy to cleanse your aura, but your cancer returns, doesn’t that make you a double loser? Obviously you must have failed to accept my healing energy because you’re a person stuck in darkness. You allowed that cancer to grow back, despite my best efforts to heal you. How else is that recurrence explained?

When we employ metaphysical practices within medical centers inappropriately, we are sticking cancer families into a hole from which they cannot escape. It’s one thing to use it as a stress reliever, a symbolic gesture of mental and spiritual healing. It’s another to use it as a placebo for real medicine. We should be treating what really hurts by peeling away the layers of pain, panic, and perception.

So many cancer patients and their caregivers already wrestle with guilt over the disease. “What did I do to cause my cancer?” That’s about placing blame. It had to have happened for a reason, so what was the role of the patient in creating the climate that allowed cancer in? “Why did my loved one get it and I didn’t?” That’s about seeking some redress for the situation. The unfairness that is cancer isn’t really shared by the caregiver, and no amount of self-deprivation is going to balance the equation. It’s really all about finding healthy ways to empower the cancer patient by being strong as a cancer caregiver.

Real mind/body healing is far more complex than throwing cancer treatment and mind relaxation techniques together. We must deal with that darkness between — the fear, the worry, the rage. That’s all about communication. Cancer patients need to be able to talk about their feelings in a safe, secure environment. Cancer caregivers need to confront their own apprehension, guilt, disappointment, and sorrow in a safe, secure environment. When that relationship is tainted by preexisting difficulties, when things get so twisted that there is no way to de-tangle the mess, the loss is even greater. When the relationship between cancer patient and cancer caregiver is strengthened, the honesty can flow in positive, healthier ways. That’s real healing. When you hear a cancer patient say, “You get me…”, that’s when you know you’ve made a viable connection, a true bridge over troubled water.

So many cancer patients find their lives are changed by the disease in more than just physical ways. I’ve had cancer survivors tell me their families have written them out of the picture because it’s assumed they will die from the disease, sooner rather than later. How sad is that?

How many relationships have been imploded by a cancer diagnosis? “Do I stay or do I go?” It’s easy to say it’s wrong to walk away, but should anyone ever stay in a bad relationship because of guilt? Real mind/body work is all about fixing what’s actually broken, and that includes the perceptions and misperceptions about cancer and life before the disease crept in. Cancer is traumatic, and some cancers are more so than others. The better we understand the effects of the disease on the psyche, the better able we will be to meet the real needs of cancer families, especially as cancer patients are surviving longer.

My belief that we can and should do cancer caregiving better, my belief that it can be taught in more effective ways, my belief that we can better help cancer patients by understanding what they are going through in mind and body — that’s what makes me “difficult”. When I have an interviewer superficially charging through her schedule, looking for someone like me to “fill” an hour on her show, she’s not interested in what I have to say. I’m not a “name” in the cancer world. I’m no cancer VIP. She’s looking for someone who will talk about cancer for that time period. She’s more interested in the subject of cancer than in the actual conversation. In that sense, cancer becomes the tag, the label, the word bantered about.

I’m here to make a difference, a real difference. I know there are ways to help cancer families manage their lives in more meaningful ways, by coming together, by working together. I’m not prepared to go and sit in that truck, hoping someday things will get better. I’m not willing to settle for ordinary fixes, with people talking, talking, talking about cancer. I want to be there to make it happen. I want to teach real skills to real people, and I want to know these efforts make a positive difference for those who are willing to use them. That means opening up the world of cancer caregiving to share the knowledge and the learning.

For every cancer patient who has felt like a leper for having the bad fortune to contract the disease, believe that there are people like me out there who care. Every time your family falls short in supporting you, know that people like me are trying to bridge the gap. And for every cancer caregiver who is at a loss on what to do next and where to go, don’t stop trying to make life better for your loved one. Listen with your heart and your head. Hear the words. Read between the lines. Continue to reach out, even as you learn.

To all of you cancer families, this is my best advice. Learn from other cancer survivors. You will see failures and successes in varying degrees. Pay attention to what made them feel better. Pay attention to what made them feel worse. Pay attention to each other and know that cancer can be a lonely journey when it is not shared, so share it. Be there because it matters.

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cancer cancer caregiver caregiver education

Can’t Make a Real Difference for Cancer Families? Go Wait in the Truck! (Part One)

I got my fanny kicked today, and not by just anyone. No, it was by an expert interviewer. And I wasn’t even being interviewed at the time. I was doing the prep for a guest spot on a talk show. The way things look at the moment, it doesn’t look like I will be sitting in that hot seat.

I am a caregiver educator. My goal is to make a difference in the lives of people who need care and family members who provide it. I’m looking to fix the disconnects, so that everyone wins. The topic of the expected interview was cancer caregiving. It’s a subject that means a lot to me for many reasons. I’m always focused on making sure that cancer survivors get what they need as much as cancer caregivers. So much of what goes on after a loved one gets a cancer diagnosis is driven by the emotional impact on life. How can we make it better between cancer patient and caregiver? What can we do to bridge the gap, so cancer patients feel less lonely? Is there anything more heartbreaking than the losses, not only of the physical body to the disease, but the overwhelming sense of emotional isolation? How many cancer patients walk through life wounded? And how many caregivers feel helpless and frustrated, unable to find the right words to say, the right things to do?

I can see how the interviewer got off-track in our exchanged emails. She focused on one thing and ran with it, in the opposite direction from where I was headed. When I shared my talking points, I had a list of subjects that I am well-versed in. But she made up her mind as to what she wanted and it wasn’t what I had in mind. This wasn’t going to be a win-win situation. You see, this isn’t a cooperative relationship. It’s her job to set the perimeters and not my job to comment.

I gave her the benefit of the doubt, suggesting there was a miscommunication between us. That was an opportunity for her to scale it back a bit, to recognize that she wasn’t making her point effectively. After all, I’ve never been invited to be a guest on a show, only to be told later that it might be best to invite another guest to “help” with it. To help with what? Why? To me, that’s like being uninvited to a party.

The interviewer stated that she has never faced this problem with other guests. Apparently there are almost three hundred contented individuals in the last year alone and just one little, old, disgruntled me. I seem to be the only one who’s ever questioned her approach.

And then, to really drive home the point, she wanted me to know that she was just trying to put together a good show. I guess she’s telling me that I didn’t appreciate her hard work. Once more, my bad. Shame on me for taking umbrage with her efforts. I guess that makes me very difficult to work with and definitely unreasonable. How else can you explain it?

The irony? She still doesn’t see the problem, but I do. This is about effective communications. This is about really listening. This is about perceptions. You see, I’m at the point in my life where I expect to engage in a dialogue that goes back and forth. If I’m going to take an hour out of my life to have a conversation, I don’t want to talk at someone. I want to talk with someone. I want to be on the same page. I don’t want to feel like I’m on the short end of the stick, any more than I want to put someone in that position. We’re talking about cancer. I’ve seen the devastation — the broken relationships, the injured spirits.

From where she sits, I’m sure most people are thrilled to be guests on her show. That may be why they are okay with her style of conversation. I can even see that she might feel I am totally out in left field because I had the audacity to question her judgment. But from where I’m standing, I see an interviewer who is so focused on her own show, the guests are just the backdrop for her version of cancer life. It’s all packaged. This isn’t about educating people or sharing. This is a commercial enterprise. And that’s something I find a lot in the cancer world. Everyone’s out to make a buck off cancer families. This one has books. That one is selling a program. Bottom line? It’s really all about sales and marketing.

If you’ve ever really sat down with cancer survivors who have felt like strangers in a strange land, or with cancer caregivers who were baffled about how to make things better for the people they love, it’s nearly impossible to be casual about the subject. Every time I have a genuine conversation with a cancer survivor or a cancer caregiver, I am humbled. I am always hungry to learn more. Cancer isn’t a business enterprise, a money-maker, a means to a financial end. Most of the media people I know whose lives have been touched by cancer find it very hard to just play the game. They might do it when it comes to sports or politics or daily living, but the Big C is still the Big C. It matters that we get it right.

Every time I reach out to cancer families, I am mindful that there is so much more we can do, should do, to improve the quality of life for everyone. I want to get it right. I don’t want to talk for the sake of talking about cancer. I want to talk because Harry in Daytona Beach is feeling blue and wishes he knew what he could do to make a positive change. I want to talk because there is something I can say to make Mary in Philly feel a little less alone. I don’t ever want to waste the time of cancer families. But then, I know how important time is when it comes to this disease.

Am I overly sensitive? Probably. Could I have handled the miscommunication better? Probably. But I still think I hit the nail on the head on this one. When an interviewer goes plowing through guests like Grant took Richmond, it’s less about quality and more about quantity. When the script is written without any interest in having a real dialogue about cancer’s impact on families, count me out. I may be an idiot for handling things this way. Time will surely tell. But this is my passion. Life should be better for cancer families and I am committed to making that happen. If I can’t do that, I should shut up and go wait in the truck.

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cancer chemo brain chemotherapy practical caregiver video youtube

“This Is Your Brain, This Is Your Brain on Chemo” — Video

I wanted to figure out a way to put chemo brain into context for people going through cancer treatment. Some folks think it’s an imaginary thing, more psychological that physiological. The truth is that a number of chemo drugs (but not all) can affect the nervous system, and as such, they can affect the thought process. This YouTube video is my attempt to share some insight on how chemo brain can change a cancer patient’s life.

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Amanda McGovern cancer cancer management cancer recovery cancer treatment recreation Seas IT Todd McGovern

Todd McGovern’s Legacy — Seas IT

Todd McGovern died at home on January 29, 2013. I read the obituary in the New York Times and found the story very inspirational. I want to share it with you because I think it will encourage you and your loved one to be as involved in life as he was as he battled cancer. He outlasted his diagnosis by several years. He fought the good fight, as so many cancer patients do. But what he left behind, what goes on in his absence, is his legacy.

Todd was just thirty, married for all of two months, when he received his terminal cancer diagnosis. Imagine that blow. Here you are, starting out your new life with your new wife. The world is your oyster. You have just about all of your adult life ahead of you. You imagine growing old with the woman you love. You’re planning your future together. And then this has to happen.

Todd didn’t take it lying down. He fought back. He made decisions about what he, not the cancer, was going to do for him. I have little doubt that it was not an easy struggle. Anyone who’s been around a cancer treatment center knows what a tough foe cancer can be.

But this young man, still so full of promise, was determined to impact the trajectory of his life. He was not willing to surrender himself to the despair of the disease. Todd wanted to live life to the fullest.

Sometimes ordinary people become extraordinary through circumstances not of their own making. They reach deep inside and they pull out that rabbit from life’s hat. Todd was such a young man.

But Todd had a partner, a supporter like no other. Amanda was surely a big part of that whole enterprise. She started Seas IT, a cancer recreation program to help them stay focused and positive throughout Todd’s cancer treatment and management. She understood the beauty of the great outdoors, with all of its restorative energy. She understood that being involved and passionate about your life was a key to living, not just existing.

I get that. When I was pushed to the edge as a caregiver, especially during my mother’s declining days, hiking was my one real pleasure. Every time I discovered a new trail, I was reconnecting to life. Every time I took a break from my mother’s cancer, I was renewing my spirit in the sights, the sounds, and the pleasures of nature. I would come home and face my caregiver duties with a determination to start fresh. I left the house weighed down by my responsibilities and I returned refreshed. That’s what recreation is all about, whether it’s running a marathon, enjoying a play, or visiting a museum.

I recall lugging my mother’s medical equipment through more than one art exhibit, pushing her wheelchair. Nothing made her feel more human again that visiting an art museum. We made our way through the centuries in three very different bastions of art history. And every time we returned home, my mother was satisfied that her disease had not gotten the better of her. It had not kept her from the things she loved most.

Recreation is that respite time we save for ourselves, for our wounded spirits and our challenged bodies. It’s that time we throw ourselves into what makes us most happy because it helps us to be true to our souls. For some, it’s running. For others, it’s fishing, knitting, or maybe even finally getting around to taking those piano lessons you always wanted to have, but never got around to doing. Recreation is all about you, not your disease. It’s about working on your putt instead of fretting how long your bone cancer will take to kill you. It’s about throwing that clay onto your potter’s wheel and creating a masterpiece.

It’s about doing, not just dreaming. It’s about getting off that recliner and getting back out into the world, where you belong. It’s about shutting off that little voice in your head that says you should just raise the white flag and be done with it. It’s about shaking off the terror of having cancer and living your best life inspite of it. Todd had cancer, but Todd also had life and a woman who loved him. That’s a very powerful force that creates positive energy, that extends life even against the odds.

So often cancer patients find their lives limited by the rigors of treatment. They spend their lives going back and forth to the hospital, getting scanned, getting chemo and/or radiation. That’s really when a lot of people begin to give up. If all you see is your bed and your doctor, the message you receive is that life as you knew it is over.

Todd and Amanda McGovern saw past that limitation. They knew they needed more. They knew other cancer patients needed more. Seas IT is all about staying as active as is possible during cancer management. It’s about using recreation to keep spirits up, to keep hearts open, to keep hope alive.

Todd lived long enough to see his twin sons born last June. He lived long enough to pass along his passion for recreation to those cancer patients who walk in his footsteps, who come up behind him. He lived long enough to share with us a very important secret for cancer patients. The more normal your life is with cancer, the better you will survive it.

Why is this important? Any cancer patient can tell you that in each new day that dawns, the promise of a cure hides within the heart. That promise wasn’t there unendingly for Todd. His life ended too soon when his time ran out. But because he and Amanda shared their secret about the pleasures and the power of recreation, they may have saved countless other lives, not by Todd’s dying, but by his way of living. In surviving so long with his terminal cancer, Todd showed us that the individual has some personal power to overcome even the toughest of foes. Couple that with new cancer research and new medicines, and that is how a cure is discovered. One small step at a time will lead us to the end of this insidious disease.

Even as his small sons begin to find their way in this world, their father’s legacy will live on. As they grow, as they thrive, let them be inspired by a man who wasn’t willing or able to surrender to his cancer. He rose above it and was made better by it. He became an inspiration and a teacher, whose lessons live on now in Seas IT.

If you would like to know more about the organization Amanda and Todd McGovern created, follow this link:

Seas IT
 
 
Categories
cancer cancer humor cancer management cancer survivor laughter Suzanne Whang

Suzanne Whang — Still Feisty and Funny

Some time ago, when I wrote about her disappearance from House Hunters, a reader asked me what Suzanne Whang’s status was. This long-time cancer survivor with a few impressive psychology credentials to her name was still struggling to beat back the big beast. These days? Suzanne Whang is busy tweeting and posting. That’s good news for fans.

If you’re looking to find her and follow her on Twitter, her user name is @suzannewhang. Fair warning — this lady is NOT for burning. She’s not demure or dainty. She could easily beat back the toughest sailor on the waterfront with her salty language (Hey — cancer survivors HAVE to be tough!)

If you want to find her and follow her on Facebook, she’s Suzanne Whang:
Suzanne Whang on Facebook

Why do cancer survivors and those just starting out need to hear from her?  Because it takes real courage to fight a disease like this, and attitude is everything. Suzanne is NOT one to hold back on that front. That’s okay. Maybe, if nothing else, hearing it from her will spike your interest in not surrendering to this monster under the bed. You won’t be as afraid to confront the elephant in the room. And if you like to live vicariously, she’ll be happy to say all those incredibly rude, outrageous things you’ve been thinking. She might even get you to laugh. And laughter is always the best medicine for whatever ails you. There are real physical benefits from a belly laugh — you breathe better, your blood flows better, your mental health improves. But it’s what a good belly laugh does for the human spirit that counts the most. Rise above cancer, even just for a moment, and you are no longer in its grip. Set that disease aside and you get to live your life again because you choose to laugh, instead of cry. Take back the “remote control” on your life and fill it with mirth. You may not control the events you experience, but you sure control the replay action. Never forget that.

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Take a break and read a free ebook, just for fun. Get a copy for free (Amazon and Barnes & Noble charge a 99-cent fee, but you can get it at Smashwords in all popular formats — sign up with a free account):

 
 
Amazon — Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis
Apple — Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis
Barnes and Noble — Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis
Kobo — Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis
Smashwords — Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis
Sony — Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis

Categories
cancer cancer blog cancer caregiver caregiver education Must not Fear Tequila Sepulveda

Tequila’s Gift to the World — A Journey of Courage in the Face of Cancer

You will never get to meet Tequila Sepulveda. She died in the middle of March, earlier this year. But she left the world a wondrous gift, in the form of her blog, “Must not Fear”.

Must not Fear

Oh, I know what you might be thinking — you can’t bear to read the thoughts, hopes, and worries of yet another cancer victim. It’s too heartbreakingly painful to know that she failed to beat back the Beast. But you would be wrong. Tequila has left a glorious legacy. You see, she gave us lessons in how to live with cancer, how to make the best of the worst thing ever, and she did it with so much gusto, it’s hard not to feel her enthusiasm for love, family, and life.

If anyone ever embodied the concept of quality of life in the face of overwhelming odds, it is Tequila Sepulveda. Yes, she was given a diagnosis of Stage IV esophageal cancer in September of 2010, and yes, she was struck again in May of 2011 by even more disastrous news, adrenal gland cancer. You might expect that to have done her in, but Tequila was tested by many other issues along the way, including COPD and a much earlier bout with cancer that was successfully treated.

So, what will you find if you read her blog? You will find the quintessential primer on what helps a cancer patient survive against the odds. In those words she wrote, she gave us an understanding of how a person can rise above those terrifying obstacles and continue to enjoy life as best as possible, even as life slips away.

Tequila was a business analyst, and that’s a good part of why her blog is so helpful. She was constantly assessing her life, from the medications she took to the effects on her body, from her emotions to her hopes and desires. She was on a quest to vanquish the fear, and as you read back through all the many posts, you begin to understand what an amazing woman she really was. But she was made amazing by the circle that cared for her, and they were made amazing by her.

So often, cancer patients become bitter and angry with their circumstances, and the last few months of life can sometimes be full of rage, sadness, or even despair. Tequila chose not to live that way. She made a brave decision to fight the fear any way she could. And in doing so, she constantly reached out to remain connected to life. That connection is critical to quality of life. It’s what helps us understand that we can get through the painful and difficult times if we recognize the love. Tequila told us what helped her to get through her ordeal — it was all the family and friends who stood by her, who encouraged her, especially when the pain was great and she was at the point of “abysmal despair”. Heed those words, cancer caregivers. Understand what she is telling us. We can and we do make a difference when we reach out to our loved ones, when we light a candle in the darkness.

But it was more than that. Tequila was a “people person”, and even as she fought hard to battle the cancer, she worked with her medical team. She followed their advice and paid attention to what worked and what didn’t. She communicated back and forth in her effort to have the best quality of life. That’s important for cancer patients. If doctors and nurses are aware of a patient’s problems with medication, they can make adjustments. And when it’s not possible to make adjustments, sometimes they can help a patient cope. Palliative care is so critical for people managing such serious diseases. How well you feel affects your outlook on life, and even when there is no cure for the disease, comfort medicine can ease the stress.

This is a great blog to read when you’re feeling helpless because Tequila was filled with hope. Even as the cancer grew and began to take over, read between the lines. Listen to the human spirit at work. Whether it’s fretting about her vegetables, which her sisters protected from the cold, or her beloved dogs, Tequila spent every day engaged in the life around her. She was so appreciative of those who cared for her, but I suspect it was oh-so-very-mutual. That’s because Tequila was Tequila, a lover of life. She never seemed to lose her passion, her joie de vivre. She embraced everything good — chocolate, chihuahuas, wine, flowers, food, conversation, and especially time spent with those who mattered most to her. Appreciating the sweet things in life is an art, and Tequila was an experienced connoisseur.

Her words speak of more than just this mortal coil that keeps us grounded here on earth. She saw greater things beyond the fear she fought so hard to overcome. She saw the beauty in the human spirit. When you are filled with doubts, her genuine words will remind you to live in the here-and-now, to embrace the joy and use it to propel yourself above the fear, the doubts, and the anger.

There are no miracles beyond those contained within the human heart, no last-minute reprieve for Tequila or her circle of family and friends. She does die, and sadly, we know but a small portion of that loss. But that gift she left us — that we are what we are and who we are, with the power to rise above our misery –is important for those of us who strive to live life as well as possible. Her blog reminds us that cancer doesn’t always win. Tequila chose to vanquish her fear and she succeeded, by seeking out love every day she survived. She embraced it, embodied it, and encouraged it in others. And she left us with instructions that we, too, should reach out and grab it, share it, grow it. These are not empty words. By the end of her life, Tequila was a master who proved that love does really conquer all, for she brought people together in a world that is too often fractured by selfishness, self-loathing, and sorrow. Tequila was a light in this world, and even though she is now gone, that light lives on.

Categories
cancer cancer caregiver Suzanne Whang

Celebrity Cancer

People often reach out to me to share facets of their lives with cancer or with someone who has cancer. Sometimes it’s a company trying to market a product, service, or personality. Sometimes it’s a real human being with a comment that just about breaks your heart.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you can be as famous as all get out and still have a disease like cancer. Cancer doesn’t respect fame or fortune. It’s that fortune that cancer sometimes goes after. It can be tough to handle the price of cancer treatment, especially when you don’t have (enough) health insurance.

Ever since I wrote about Suzanne Whang’s cancer, I’ve had people contacting me. They seem to be coming out of the woodwork. Some want the opportunity to use my blog to publicize their own efforts. I am wary of people looking to make a buck on the backs of cancer patients.

I am also wary of providing opportunities to raise funds for specific cancer patients. That’s not really what I do.

When I write about a celebrity like Ms. Whang, I don’t do it because I’m looking to be her next best bud. I don’t do it to schmooze with the big fish. I do it because I have enjoyed her show on HGTV over the years and find her appealing.

More importantly, I’m impressed with her credentials, not just as a cancer patient, but as someone with a background in psychology. To me, that’s someone who has some specific tools to navigate the cancer conundrum, and I’m always curious, as an educator, of the ways that can help or hinder a cancer patient.

The reality is a lot of people have cancer. It’s often heartbreaking to hear the many, many stories. But there are sometimes moments in the lives of cancer patients that are truly inspiring. Cancer patients often share some wonderful insight on how they survived their experiences, how they coped, and what worked when they needed care.

As far as celebrities go, I’m not all that impressed with fame and fortune. I don’t think it’s going to change any cancer patient’s life to know that So-and-So went to Tahiti for a luxurious spa treatment. What I’m interested in is what gets people through those dark, lonely, terrifying times and helps them to feel involved in life again. It’s that “putting one foot in front of the other” that will make a difference in someone else’s life I care about.

The truth is I stink at political correctness. I’m not impressed with money or glamor. I’m skeptical and stubborn. I don’t want to be a celebrity. I don’t want to be a star. I want to bring a little sunshine into the lives of cancer patients and their caregivers. I want to give hope, real hope, that these are the moments in life that matter, that even when cancer strikes, it doesn’t have to take over our lives. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying, “For the next hour, I’m not going to think about cancer.” Sometimes it’s about turning your back on the scariest thing you’ve ever seen and thinking about other things.

The only time celebrity cancer can help cancer patients is when there are real tidbits of information, education, and inspiration that really have nothing to do with being famous and everything to do with spreading the word about sharing with cancer patients helpful ways to cope. Celebrities often have a public platform, and that platform can reach a lot of people.

As for me, I’m not looking to be an important cancer caregiver blogger. I’m looking for that caregiver at his or her wit’s end, trying to figure out how to help a loved one. I’ve been there, done that, and have the tee shirt, and because it’s now part of my experience, I want to make life better for those caregivers who come after me. That’s my motivation, my focus, my voice.

You don’t have to be famous to help a cancer caregiver or cancer patient. You can pass along your wisdom, hard-won though it may be. Never be afraid to reach out. Never be afraid to speak up. But most of all, never forget what it is like to be there with a cancer diagnosis, in yourself or someone you love. That’s far more important than being famous. It’s being human.

For more help with your cancer caregiving, visit The Practical Caregiver Guides