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cancer caregiver caregiver education caregiver strategy caregiver stress caregiver support carer support grocery shopping time constraints

Grocery Pick-Up Is a Desperate Caregiver’s Best Option

There I was, bringing my dad home from the hospital. Long hours by his bedside. Little free time. No food in the house.

What’s a desperate caregiver to do?

Order groceries online. Oh, what a godsend!

I was nervous at first, mostly because I normally do my buying at another grocery chain. I like to clip coupons. I know the products and the aisles.

But I had no way to slip away for the hour or more I needed to shop at my favorite store. Rats. My envelope of coupons would go to waste.

Still, I needed to feed my dad…and me. I needed staples like toilet paper.

Other times, I have used a delivery service (Peapod) to bring the groceries to me. But to tell the truth, it’s not always convenient. The driver could show up when I am doing a caregiver task for my dad.

And then I remembered that Peapod also offers curbside pick-up. For just $2.95, someone would actually schlepp the aisles and gather all the groceries on my list, pack them into paper bags, and deliver them to my car at a time I could select for myself. Seriously…$2.95? That’s a small price to pay for keeping my sanity.

The downside? It took a really long time to master the online ordering process. Waiting for products to load from the weekly sales or from a department took too long. I finally got the hang of using my shopping list to select products, thus limiting the number of items I was offered. It helps, if you have preferred brands, to add them to the search.

And yes, I did shop for sales items, but only if they were products I planned to buy anyway. I learned this lesson the hard way. My first order took almost three hours to do because I scrolled through too many products. Going in with a plan and sticking to it is a busy caregiver’s best option. It’s the fastest way through the process.

So, the next time you find yourself strapped for time, low on extra energy, or just not in the mood to drag yourself to the grocery store, consider doing a pick-up run to a local store. For a very reasonable fee, you will save your sanity and free up some time to do something that really needs doing.

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caregiver caregiver education carer

Caregiving Isn’t Real Work?

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had people remark that I don’t really work. I’d like to, but I can’t. It’s happened too often.

I’m always amazed, and to this day, I’m still stunned by that widely held belief. How do people think I pay my bills? And yes, I do have bills to pay.

What folks never see is all the time, energy, and effort that goes into being a good caregiver. I am constantly putting my own work and needs aside to handle this crisis or that crisis. I don’t know what I will face when I wake up in the morning, or go to bed at night.

The last two and a half months have been a case in point. My 92-year-old father woke up one morning, unable to walk. Things went downhill quickly from there. It took weeks to determine that he had spinal stenosis. He spent nearly every waking hour in agony, all because he can’t take the pain medications that would relieve it. A medical miscommunication turned out to have difficult consequences for him. Imagine being immobile for two months before you finally get back on your feet. It takes a toll on your heart, your muscles, your psyche….

The pain center was a godsend, but the staff is very busy and there’s a wait to be evaluated. I had to push for them to expedite treatment because of all my dad’s suffering. Once he had the procedure, he began walking again. He’s finally just about pain-free, but now he’s got to go through physical therapy again. That means I schlep him to the pool twice a week. All totaled, it’s two hours out of my day times two, but a great investment in my dad’s independence.

So, picture me pushing him in a wheelchair, loaded down with his swim gear bag, my purse, and his walker, which I sling over my shoulder on a luggage strap. I park the car in the parking garage, wheel him onto the elevator, push him through the maze of halls to the swim facility, wait for him to get into the pool, run upstairs to pay the insurance co-pay to the rehab facility, and then run back down to the pool to wait for him.

When I get home, I don’t just go back to my work. I have to do things like straighten out the billing errors from doctors. It’s amazing how many times I have been told that it’s the insurance company’s fault, only to prove otherwise. I’m not looking for a “told you so” moment. I’m looking for the magic fix that will straighten out the ongoing problem. Last month, we were told there was money due back to my father. Yesterday, a new bill arrived from the same office with new billing code errors and no refund. The billing department has trouble straightening out their own work again and again. If we had just gone ahead and paid all the overages this year alone, it would have been hundreds of dollars wasted. Caregivers and patients really do have to pay attention to bills.

But what really has me flummoxed is the popular notion that I need to take care of people, and therefore, people are giving me the opportunity by showing up. A few years ago, a relative invited herself over for dinner. Upon arriving, she took down the Christmas wreath and told me it was time to put it away. When you’re a caregiver dealing with serious medical issues, it’s really not a priority.

And then there was the relative who got all huffy when I said we couldn’t welcome a big group of people to the house. At the time, I was dealing with bleeding issues surrounding my dad’s cancer surgery. We had just lost my brother to brain cancer. Instead of the normal reaction of saying, “Is there anything I can do to help?”, or even acknowledging my brother’s death (that would have been the decent thing to do), I was on the receiving end of some very unpleasant behavior by a disgruntled relative who thought I was at fault. Why? Because I was already having the immediate family over for dinner. What was wrong with serving another ten or fifteen people?

People who are not full-time caregivers have trouble comprehending the concept that it’s real work. I recently found fingerprints on the dusty buffet, as a message from a family member that it was time to dust. This same relative goes around telling people I don’t have a real job. And yet, I’m the one person who does all the “fixing”, whether it’s with the bank, the lawyers, the utility companies, or any of the other entities who pop up at the most inopportune times.

I am the person who has to make sure that all of the medications are tracked, dispensed, and taken properly. At one point recently, my father had twenty four pills to swallow in a day, and that doesn’t count the weekly medications. Which pills have refills? Which don’t? Which doctor treats what conditions?

And that doesn’t count all of the loads of laundry I wash and special meals I cook. With so many medications, there are serious issues that need to be accommodated, food-wise. Can’t have the sodium found in processed foods. Fiber overload causes serious problems, especially with certain medications. Have to avoid certain foods with certain medications. The list goes on.

I’m up every morning at the same time, following the usual protocols. I work when I can on my own projects, constantly interrupted by this crisis or that crisis. Some nights, I don’t finish working on my own projects until midnight. When his health improves, it’s crunch time for me. I get as much done on my own projects as I can, because I know that I can hit a major roadblock at any bend in the road.

As a caregiver, I always have a bigger “to do” list than I have time to complete it. I haven’t worked much lately on my own Bucket List because my dad’s limitations are all too real. He needs care. He needs compassion. He needs comfort. I’m not a caregiver because I have a psychological need to care for people. I’m a caregiver because I love my dad and I want him to remain as independent and active as he can, for as long as he can be. It’s about quality of life, not quantity. I work with him to get him over the bumps and humps on the road of life. That’s really the key word. I work with him. I don’t do for him, I do with him. It’s a cooperative effort that makes sure he has a voice in what goes on in his life.

So, if you’re a caregiver and you can relate to what I have written here, take heart. Don’t let the “civilians” who don’t understand what life in the trenches is like get you down. You know how hard you work while you toil at home. You know why you do it. And you know that at some point, everyone is going to need help living. What goes around, comes around. Be kind to your fellow caregivers and offer real support. And don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself. It’s not an easy job we do, but we do it out of love and respect. There’s no shame in that.

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caregiver education medications

A Practical Caregiver Mindful Minute


Here’s a tip for people who are taking lots of pills every day:
 

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caregiver education time management

When the Time Crunch Crunches a Family Caregiver

Time. Oh, I wish I had some! Between the constant issues that crop up and the emergencies that can’t be predicted….

That is the usual plight of the family caregiver. Every day, I wake up thinking I’m going to take on the world. I have so many goals to accomplish. I have my “to do” list prioritized. But then real life takes over.

It took me a long time to figure out how to do what I needed to do, what my loved one needed me to do, and how to deal with all of the rigmarole that pops up unexpectedly, monkey-wrenching my life.

Short and sweet. Fifteen minutes here. Twenty minutes there. It’s the only way I can juggle all of the tasks, errands, and chores of my day and night as a family caregiver.

I was talking to a high school classmate the other day. She admitted she struggles with this issue too. She has her own house forty minutes from her mother’s. Back and forth she goes, taking care of meals, the house, and other assorted issues.

How best to describe a typical day for a family caregiver? It’s like “Groundhog Day” over and over again. And again. And again. And again….

She asked me if I do a lot of cooking. I looked at her and laughed. I cook, but like a restaurant chef. I only make dishes that take me less than fifteen minutes to prepare. I don’t have time to do elaborate meals, although I’m a good cook. I don’t have time to fuss. My mind is set on fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there.

Even when I pull the crockpot out to make my own spaghetti sauce, it only takes me fifteen minutes to chop my ingredients, pop the lids on the cans of tomatoes, and add my herbs and spices. Sure, it cooks for hours, but it doesn’t need my help. And the best part is that I use what I need and freeze the rest for another night.

I learned that I can throw together a single apple tartlet with a quarter wedge of a Pillsbury pie crust, an apple, some sugar and spices, and a little butter. I peel and chop that apple like nobody’s business, while the rest of my dinner is in the oven. Peach cobbler? No problem. I mix flour, old-fashioned oats, brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon together for a topping to go on a chopped, spiced, sugared, and floured peach. My dad gets to have a nice dessert that is still warm from the oven. The aroma is lovely, but it takes me less than fifteen minutes to prepare. Nom-nom-nom.

I break up my work day by squeezing my father’s priorities into my schedule. What is on his “to do” list? Am I taking him to a medical appointment, the bank, or Town Hall? What task does he need to accomplish today?

And what is he going to do for socialization? Usually, we walk the dog in the park. It gives him exercise and the chance to chat with people. It helps him feel connected to this world. That’s fifteen minutes well spent for both of us. The dog enjoys it too.

But I also have to take care of the house and yard, in between dealing with insurance issues, prescriptions, the technical glitches with his current project (oh, those pesky formatting problems are going to drive me bonkers!), and other assorted conundrums that seem to trip me up just when I am hitting my stride.

So I focus on fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there. These little snippets of time allow me to create some semblance of sanity in the middle of an unpredictable and chaotic day. They allow me to dedicate serious time to my own work, so I can pay my bills, while still getting things done that need to get done.

You can’t really call this glamorous work. This week, I tackled the mouse problem. In an old house that was built in the 1700’s, it’s not unusual to have the little critters creeping into the little nooks and crannies of the old root cellar, and from there, making their way up to the kitchen. But I refuse to share space with them. When I found they had invaded the insulation in the basement and used it for a comfy mouse house, I ripped it out, set traps, and began to evict them. As soon as I have controlled the rodent population, I will install mouse repellent, because I don’t want to have to go through this all winter long. I admit this chore took me longer than fifteen minutes to accomplish, but I did it in fifteen-minute increments, breaking the task up over the day. Fifteen minutes for the hardware store. Fifteen minutes for the cleaning, heavy-duty disinfecting, and trap-setting.

Sometimes, when I finally get around to moving a chore up on my “to do” list, it makes me laugh. Today was no exception. I had a few minutes at the beginning of my day and used them to tidy up the laundry room. Lo and behold, that laundry cart caught my eye, with all its dust. I admit that, unlike my late mother, I don’t fuss with laundry issues. Everything I need to wash a load is right there on the top shelf.

Imagine my surprise when I wheeled out that little cart and found all the laundry doodads my mom left behind when she went to that big, fluffy, pristinely white cloud in the sky. She had ammonia, glass cleaner, bleach pens, and stain sticks there, collecting dust. I found a whole bottle of Febreze, half a box of Snowy Bleach, measuring cups, and lots of those sample packets that you get in your Sunday newspaper or at the grocery store, some of which had exploded all over the shelf. Yes, they do apparently expire eventually….

It felt good to throw out all of the items I don’t use. But I admit that seeing my mom’s handwritten note on the half-empty bottle of Resolve made me pause. I might as well find a use for that.

I did, however, dump the mega box of baking soda. I think that after seven years, there’s not much pizzazz left in the powder.

I got it all cleaned up in fifteen minutes. And yes, I will go back to just using the top shelf of the cart. That’s the reality for a busy family caregiver. But that’s okay. I got to laugh, thinking about my mom looking down and shaking her head in wonder at my laundry skills. She would have appreciated my “fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there” philosophy. In fact, I think she would have come to embrace it. Every time a busy family caregiver chips away at the “to do” list, it helps to maintain the balance between work, home, and family. We can’t do it all, so we prioritize. It’s how we build a little success into every day.

The challenges of caring for a loved one can sometimes seem insurmountable. But when you are able to find the balance between meeting your own goals as a person and caring for your loved one, it all becomes doable. You should never lose yourself in the chaos and confusion of caring. Whenever you start to lose sight of your own goals and your goals as a family caregiver, break down the tasks into manageable units of “fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there.” You might be amazed at how much you can accomplish.

And don’t forget to reward yourself with a break. Grab a cup of tea and sit a bit. Go for a walk around the block and clear your head. Fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there….

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cancer caregiver cancer management caregiver education

Caregiver Strategies for Continuous Cancer Management



“Cancer police! Freeze, sucker!”….Imagine finding out that your late-stage cancer has been chased down throughout your body by your cancer team and stopped. With its hands in the air and no place to go, the disease that has ravished your body and soul just stands there like a surly, unrepentant career criminal, contained for the moment and hopefully going away for a long stretch in a maximum security prison. What happens now?
 

In real life, a criminal investigation is followed by a trial, with prosecutors and defense attorneys arguing back and forth, presenting motion after motion, deposition after deposition, and witness after witness. There are forensics, surveillance videos, and phone records introduced as evidence. Some cases can drag on for years before they get to trial and the judge hands down some semblance of justice. Victims can feel victimized over and over again by these brutal and unfair circumstances and often face the prospect of living with that terror on an ongoing basis, never knowing what dangers lurk in the shadows.

Most cancer patients get treatment that either works or doesn’t. Doctors make their decisions based on what’s going on in the body at that moment in time. Standard protocols are carefully monitored. Everything is based on what has been learned through clinical studies. There are patient scans and tests to determine the extent of the damage caused by cancer. Doctors will argue for or against this treatment or that one, often with contradictory opinions.

But new research that arrests cancer in its tracks is churning out a new kind of cancer patient who needs ongoing treatment to maintain the status quo. You’re no closer to a cure, but you’re also no closer to death — you’re in limbo as the ongoing treatment process continues to hold cancer at bay. It’s like serving some kind of twisted “life sentence without parole” for the person most affected by the disease.


How does this work? What if the doctors told you that you could continue living, but only if you stay on a harsh chemotherapy regimen for the rest of your life? Instead of a set number of chemo rounds, followed by months of recovery time, you’re told you will now going to have ongoing treatment every month. Expect to deal with significant side effects with every dose of chemo. How do you cope as a cancer patient and find peace in the face of such a cruel reality, especially when you know there will be no reprieve any time soon? And how does your caregiver give you the kind of care and support you need to get through that rigorous routine? 

I first came across this dilemma more than five years ago, when I met a Stage IV stomach cancer patient, who talked about the rigors of his cancer survival plan. Every day, for the rest of his life, he would have to face the side effects of a very powerful drug that left him with balance issues, muscle weakness, nausea, and other unpleasant hurdles to leap over on an ongoing basis. Every night, right after dinner, he would take his medication and hit the sack, totally wiped out. This once-vital man still took vacations with his wife, still tried to work part-time, but it was a genuine struggle just to maintain that status quo and get through the day with continuous cancer treatment. His wife was his dedicated caregiver. It was easy to see just how committed they were to each other. He had once saved her life after a horrific car accident; now she was returning the favor. What was their secret for success? They consciously accepted the harsh realities of the treatment he faced and together they conscientiously worked their way through the problems, one issue at a time, making adaptations as needed.
Since then, I’ve had conversations with other cancer patients in similar straits because I want to know how we cancer caregivers can improve the care we provide. We need to understand the pitfalls and benefits of ongoing cancer treatment, what it does to the quality of life for those we love, and how it affects daily life for those directly impacted by it.
Now, thanks to cutting edge research, some cancer patients are finding out that having an incurable cancer is no longer a certain death sentence. In some instances, the disease can be contained, but that option comes at a great personal cost. There will be ups and downs during continuous cancer treatment. Just as one round ends, another will begin; when that one ends, another will follow. That means no break from the grueling side effects, no time off for “good behavior”. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to decide to proceed forward with that kind of treatment plan.
We caregivers need to mitigate as many of the debilitating aspects of this as possible, so that our loved ones can continue to achieve their goals, follow their dreams, and be involved in the activities that make them feel whole. We want them to have enough quality of life so that they feel satisfaction in their lives and they are able to cope. We must work to tamp down the negative outcomes and boost the positive outcomes.
I’m convinced this calls upon us to become a new breed of proactive caregivers — wiser helpers who provide more effective support for patients whose treatments are continuously evolving. Good cancer caregivers understand that there are some necessities we must provide to our loved ones if we are to be successful. These include:
Comfort for the physical and psychological pain — 
When we know what is causing the greatest distress to our loved ones, we can better reach out to the cancer team to identify the solutions and apply them quicker, whether it’s palliative care for pain, better nutrition options that make food more palatable and digestible, or adaptive tools to overcome physical and mental limitations that interfere with the normal activities our loved ones want to take on

Companionship that continually nurtures the soul —
When our loved ones constantly need help from us in order to function physically, we caregivers give it; it’s important to recognize that this creates a serious imbalance in our non-cancer relationship and we need to periodically return to that on good days, to embrace the essence of our “old” selves again, to laugh and have fun together like in “the old days”, throughout the caregiving process
Compassion for all the frustrations, worries, anger, and sadness that get in the way of living a normal life with continuous cancer management — 
When we know what hinders our loved ones the most, we can seek ways to overcome these challenges in meaningful ways that empower our loved ones again and again, by tapping into the hidden strengths and minimizing the weaknesses that get in the way of success; in this way, we empower our loved ones to experience moments of satisfaction that are born of their hard-fought determination to succeed despite the obstacles that stand in their way
Commitment to making this partnership work for patient and caregiver —
As we focus on the role we play as facilitators, we recognize our responsibility to do what our loved ones need done and we don’t take charge of the disease; we consciously put control back in the hands of the people who most need it — the cancer patients who have been thwarted in their efforts to live their lives as they so choose; at the same time, we must also recognize our own need to stay healthy and active, so that we can function as effective help mates
I’ve talked about the four stages of care on my website, The Practical Caregiver Guides. They are:

Temporary
Serial
Progressive
Permanent


Learn more here: Four Types of Care

Many cancer patients need temporary caregiving, especially when the cancer or the treatment side effects hamper normal activities, but once that’s over, so is the need for a cancer caregiver.
Some patients need serial caregiving over time, especially when the cancer recurs or metastasizes. The caregiver steps in to help when a loved one is struggling, but when things are good, the caregiver steps back, with the understanding that there may be a need again in the future.
Some, especially people with late-stage cancers, need progressive caregiving. They know they are likely to continue to lose function because the disease is gaining on them. Eventually, they will enter a hospice program, for end-of-life care.
But what comes between serial and progressive care, when a loved one’s cancer is still present, but managed with continuous treatment? Your loved one will be repeatedly going through the same cycles of treatment and side effects over and over again, without being able to go off the medications. As harsh as this will be on the body, it will be even tougher on the psyche. Life has to be “good enough” to endure the hardships. It becomes more important than ever for the cancer patient to feel invested in his or her life, to able to achieve personal goals, make dreams come true, and experience a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment.
The biggest challenge for a cancer patient and caregiver over time is likely to be the cumulative effect of the rigorous, never-ending treatment on daily life. It will be important to stay focused on the positive and find ways to remain aware of what is working, in order to help your loved one face a future of living in limbo. The better you understand the physical, psychological, and personal aspects of this situation, the more likely you will be to attend to issues as soon as they creep into the picture. Being proactive means understanding as much about your loved one’s cancer as possible.
What are the side effects of the particular treatment your loved one must undergo to keep the cancer in check?
If you knew that once a month, you would have to indure a horrible week in order to have two or three good weeks, would you be confident that you could get through it over the next month, the next year, or the next decade? When you’re facing a cancer diagnosis that includes rounds of chemo, radiation, and even some surgery, you are likely to talk yourself into getting through the treatment because you expect a positive outcome when it’s all over. But for cancer patients who have a “life sentence without parole”, there is no real light at the end of the tunnel, no pot of gold on the other end of the rainbow. It’s important that we, as caregivers, we recognize the real hardship of this kind of life, and it’s vital that we find ways to help our loved ones achieve as much quality of life as they can under the circumstances.
What are the actual cycles of these side effects and how can you help to alleviate the brunt of the rigorous treatment?
As overwhelming as it is for our loved ones to contemplate a seemingly endless life of ongoing cancer treatment, our efforts to recognize their worries and find meaningful solutions not only provide comfort, both physical and emotional, but also keep us focused on seeking answers. Sometimes a little medical information can make a difference. What if your loved one is not hydrating as much as the body needs? That’s likely to make chemotherapy more difficult to endure. What if your loved one isn’t able to eat? Working with a palliative physician to control physical symptoms and a cancer nutritionist to tweak food choices can make a huge difference.
But what if your loved one is terrified about the future and is convinced that continuous treatment is a losing proposition? By recognizing the emotional chaos and sorrow that this kind of diagnosis brings to a cancer patient, you are more likely to find ways to help your loved one remain engaged in the effort. Patients who feel satisfaction with what what they are doing will feel life is worth living. Patients who don’t have that are more likely to quit.
How big a factor does guilt play in your loved one’s cancer experience?

Believe it or not, cancer patients often feel guilty that they need the help of caregivers. They can often convince themselves that we are wasting our time, our energy, and our talents on caring for them. When guilt interferes with our efforts to assist, our loved ones will sometimes withdraw, believing that they must do things for themselves, even when they don’t have the strength or stamina to do that. How can we help them to let go of their anxieties? We can share our honest thoughts and feelings.
There are times that caregiving becomes difficult for us — that’s a given. But for those of us committed to the process, we want to be there for our loved ones. That’s why we need to find our own support system, one that will continually help to recharge our batteries and to empower us in our responsibilities. If your loved one feels guilty that you are spending too much time providing care, those feelings are likely to resolve if he or she sees that you are still achieving your own goals and finding satisfaction in your own activities.
What can you do to live as healthy and active a life while your loved one undergoes this treatment?
Tired and frazzled caregivers can actually pile stress onto overwhelmed cancer patients. By taking responsibility for our own limitations, be they time constraints or too many responsibilities, and for our attitudes, which can negatively affect the people who need our help, we are forced to look for better resources. Sometimes it means we have to reorder our priorities and let go of things on our “to do” lists that just aren’t that important. And sometimes it means we must really go deep and analyze the way we are providing care to our loved ones, so that we can better meet his or her REAL needs.
How can you help yourself to understand how your loved one’s cancer impacts the quality of life for him or her?
With an eye towards making things work better, you can ask yourself what your observations are about your loved one under the circumstances. Believe it or not, a lot of cancer patients are proud of their own efforts to get through difficult experiences without breaking. Just as an experienced marathon runner takes the race in stride, sweating out the hill climbing and breathing a sigh of relief on the downhill descents, cancer patients can and should recognize just how amazing they really are in times of trouble. Don’t be afraid to praise real efforts your loved one makes. Don’t be afraid to admit that you are in awe of your loved one’s determination to live life out loud!
You can find more help for cancer caregiving at The Practical Caregiver Guides

 

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cancer cancer caregiver cancer psychology caregiver education health psychology

Don’t Flee the Cancer Community! Embrace It!

Life isn’t fair. It never really was. Some people seem to live charmed lives, enjoying idyllic days and happily ever after. Others seem destined to live in chaotic times, with moments of heart-pounding terror, when everything seems to be up in the air, the outcome can go either way, and life becomes a game of chance. It can turn on a dime, when you least expect it, ruining the best laid plans.

Cancer is a terrible disease. Well, actually cancer is a label for several hundred different diseases that we call by this one name, but it’s still horrible. And the outcome, depending on the type and stage, can be positive or negative. If you think I’m talking solely in terms of life and death, black and white, you’re wrong. I’m talking about how we face cancer. Our reactions, our actions, even our inactions — they all define us. Cancer may choose among us, but how we choose to manage this disease can make all the difference in the world.

Each of us knows someone who died from cancer of one form or another. Each of us knows many survivors in varying stages. But we are human, and in that humanness, there is a tendency to want to flee the sick. Maybe it’s a survival thing. Maybe we just don’t want to be reminded of our own mortality. Inevitably, many cancer patients find their social circle growing smaller when their cancer grows larger, as friends and family sometimes turn away, unable to face the expected heartache of saying goodbye to someone presumed to be on the road to death.

Is it the bald head of chemotherapy and the pallor that makes one look like a prisoner from Auschwitz that we can’t stand to see? Maybe that’s part of it. Or is it that we can’t seem to bear the struggle of day-to-day living with cancer, the inability to eat, to walk, to function? What if that impression is wrong? What if, rather than seeing the worst of life, we might see some of the most glorious moments of human spirit and endurance? What if there’s another way to look at cancer patients that will help us to live better, more meaningful lives?

When we embrace the cancer community, it’s not all pink ribbons and “life is good”. We know that as surely as we know some people will not be cured and their lives will end too quickly, some people will manage their disease for a while and we will have those precious months and years to enjoy, and some people will survive the disease and eventually die of other causes. But when you or someone you love lives with cancer, the quality of that life becomes paramount, no matter how much time on this earth is left.

The pain of having cancer is never more apparent than at the holidays. This is the time of year we so love to celebrate, and when someone we love can’t find the energy to do normal things, it’s a tough reminder that magic doesn’t happen for everyone. This is the season of miracles and the sharp jab to our hearts might make us hesitate or turn away. But we should never turn away from a cancer patient or from the cancer community, especially at this time of year. Why? Because we might miss some of the most important lessons of spirit and courage and love.

I say this as I follow several long-distance friends with cancer. Some have found success this year. Remission is a glorious word, one we celebrated with great expectations for continued success. It makes us want to do the happy dance.

Others haven’t been as lucky. New tumors arrived with a ferocity that is both stunning and terrifying. Old treatments failed, new treatments failed, and we watched as friends fell into that black hole of uncertainty. Every time another person teeters on the edge of life, we ache, but we ache together. Every time a member of the cancer community dies, we die a little too, but we’re there for each other. There is strength in numbers.

Recently, I read a heart-wrenching message from one long-distance friend. Someone she cared about lost the battle and she raged against the unfairness of it all. She was angry. She was passionate. I took heart from her diatribe against cancer. I thought about the young woman who passed away and what she would have taken from this. To know that you matter, that you were someone special in the eyes of such an eloquent and fiery champion, who wouldn’t want that kind of friend? No one is ever really gone with so many wonderful people to insist on remembering.

But the most glorious lesson I’ve learned in recent months comes from a young mother who has faced some enormous obstacles in her cancer journey. She has young children who depend on her. She has a husband, parents, in-laws, siblings, other relatives, friends, and even strangers hanging on her every word. We follow the ups and downs of her cancer treatment with hands on our hearts and prayers on our lips. “Please let this go well for her.”

Cancer really is a soap opera of the heart. We never know when an infection might set in and spoil everything or some tiny miracle might be found as a tumor is pushed back. In some ways, living with cancer is the ultimate melodrama. Sometimes that’s where the human spirit makes the most progress, whether we want it or not, whether we’re ready for it or not.

During Christmas week, I followed the postings of this long-distance friend as she tried to pack as much fun into the holiday as she could, not for herself, but for her kids. “They deserve this,” she insisted, and she’s right. She reached out to her following, explaining what she wanted to do, asking for help to make it happen. People responded. It was more than just hopes and prayers. It was a community’s belief that good things can still happen, even when cancer knocks you on your fanny. That’s why it’s so important for cancer families to remain connected to the support circle at every stage of cancer treatment and management.

A mother really can fight tooth and nail for her kids, even as this disease continues to smack her to the ground. Why is that important? Because she still has power to change the world. Every time my long-distance friend stands up to get something for her kids, she’s stronger than the disease. Her body may not be able to support her at this moment in time. She may feel unable to do the very simple things in life. But there’s still a fighting spirit here who demands to be heard, who insists on succeeding. She is motivated by love to give her children what they most need, the very best of her, and in that effort, everyone wins.

Her children will carry these lessons with them through life. The tough times have shaped them in ways that other children will never know. Was it unfair? Absolutely. Was it painful? Without a doubt. But these children have the gift of love like no other children have it. Come what may, they will know that you keep fighting to do right by those you love. They will know that when the chips are down, you find ways to get around the obstacles. They will know that love matters, family matters, and you don’t walk away. That’s because they have an amazing mother. Cancer didn’t make her that way. She was amazing before cancer. But when the disease took hold of her body, she decided how she would live her life with cancer. She recognized that she had the power and she grabbed it, refusing to let go. Cancer would not defeat her, because her spirit was greater than a disease. And she was right. She is so much more than cancer. That is what we celebrate with her. That’s what we learn when we follow her journey. And that’s what we can apply in our own lives.

When we come together, when we share, we’re learning to help each other rise above the hardships, the brutality of cancer, to embrace what really matters and to leave behind those ordinary things that have no real value in the struggle of life over death. It’s the triumph of spirit over sorrow, of determination over despair. A cancer community really isn’t just about cancer or about living with cancer. It’s about surviving and thriving despite the cancer and about not letting cancer have the power to decide how you find the true joy in life. Fate may have brought cancer to your doorstep without your permission, but your destiny is still your own to make. Learn from the cancer community and choose wisely. Live life, love life, and love.

Wishing you all a Happy, Healthy New Year.

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cancer caregiver caregiver education

Cancer Taught Me Not to Sweat the Small Stuff

It’s been a tough couple of weeks for me. I was hit with some rather unsavory cyber stalking. My FB account’s been repeatedly manipulated by some creep with too much time on his hands and no conscience to speak of. Some strange woman has decided to launch a very nasty Internet rally of her like-minded friends because I don’t recognize her telepathic powers. (She’s decided I’m some kind of menace to humanity and she’s going to wage an epic battle to save the planet….) I’ve got bills to pay and things to do, but someone’s always stepping into my path as I try to get there. And today, I received news that my beloved cousin passed away. No more sweet letters. No more cards with that familiar handwriting. No “one last time” to say I love you. Life is so fragile at times, so unexpectedly fraught with ugly surprises and uncertainty.

Last night I started the preparations for Thanksgiving dinner, even as I tried to meet a publishing deadline for a holiday novella. I’m so far behind in my housekeeping, the Dust Bunnies have their own zip code. I decided that rather than try to squeeze all my work into one day, I would multi-task and do what I could in the time frame I had. I got my turkey ready (I know it sounds odd, but I’m not really expecting a huge crowd and I have a little trick I like to do with the bird, the stuffing, and some gravy). I cooked my carrots, made the glaze, and then got busy with the broccoli with cheddar sauce. I even prepared my potatoes. And I did it even though the microwave conked out on me. That’s right. My carousel popped a wheel. It’s the harried cook’s equivalent of a flat tire.

There was a time I probably would have thrown up my hands and walked away from the kitchen. I certainly did consider having a pity party for myself. After all, preparing the Thanksgiving meal is a lot of work for me and I have so many other things that need doing. But then my father mentioned my late mother and how she used to do Thanksgiving. His favorite thing? Helping her lift the big turkey out of the fridge, onto the counter, and then into the oven. We forget sometimes that it’s the little things that matter most, those tiny moments when we have a place in the world.

That’s part of why I cooked the turkey yesterday. I want my dad to be able to slice it with his carving set, to feel like he’s a part of the effort. He misses my mother, no more so than at the holidays. The idea of rushing him, of being tense and crazy as I try to put dinner on the table, made me want to shuck that nonsense and concentrate on what really matters.

My life as a cancer caregiver taught me to multitask in ways I never thought possible, to focus on what has to get done and forget about what isn’t really viable or necessary. I am, after all, just one person. I don’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. I can’t heal the sick with a wave of my hand. I wish I could, because I would use those powers to help the people who really make a difference in this world.

With all of my frustrations over the past few weeks, it’s easy to get wrapped up in my own drama, to feel frustrated. But I sit here now on Thanksgiving knowing that my mother’s cancer experience changed me as a human being. On this day, I do give thanks for the many blessings. For all the strange people who feel compelled to trip me on life’s highway, there are so many more who have offered me a hand up, who have shared a kind word or thought, who have impressed me with their grace under fire. I have met many cancer survivors who have done incredible things with their lives as the result of their experiences with the disease. Would they have tried so hard or dug so deep without that cancer? Maybe not. Sometimes it’s the hardships in life that define us as human beings.

I’m so glad that I didn’t walk away from the cancer community after my mother died. I certainly could have. But those people who share with me are my teachers. They constantly remind me that tomorrow is promised to no one and we must take advantage of today. When I think of the young mother trying to boost her immune system so she can survive to see her kids grow up, when I think of the cancer survivor who shopped for a fancy pair of shoes for a cancer gala with such delight, when I think of each and every cancer widow and widower,and the children left behind, struggling to find the joy in the holiday without a beloved spouse or parent, I am reminded that I am blessed with more than I realize.

Cancer is a cruel disease. It can wreak havoc and ravage the beautiful landscape of the human body. But in those moments of choice, when we men, women and children stand on the precipice, looking down on what is right there in front of us, across at what is out of reach, and above at what we aspire to overcome, perspective is everything. Sometimes it’s not what we expect to do that makes us amazing human beings. Many of us don’t set out to be heroes. But every time we reach out to other human beings and push back at that darkness, we do more than just gain some ground in the fight against cancer. We come back stronger, wiser.

Cancer doesn’t just affect the human body, it shapes the spirit. Fate hands us the circumstances of our lives, but destiny forces us to choose the path, even when we don’t know the outcome. When we take charge of our own selves and how the world affects us, we are no longer victims — we are survivors of the Great Lemon Wars, servers of the world’s best lemonades, sweetened with our compassion and commitment to do right by those we love.

We forget that cancer survivors are sometimes the greatest givers of love. Even when a cancer patient can’t do all the things he or she wants to do, the hand can reach out and touch another human being in need. For many cancer survivors, time becomes a tool for a purpose-driven life; they are thrust into the realization that “it’s now or never!” Until that final breath, there is time for one more moment of joy.

When a disease like cancer robs people of options to achieve their dreams, it’s easy to believe that there is nothing left to work for, to strive for, to hunger for; and yet, wise teachers that some cancer survivors are, there are those who show us that dreams can and do evolve when the spirit is determined to make the best of a bad situation. For every frustration, every failure, every fluke of nature, we can and should look for hope, for help, and most of all, for happiness.

To all of you cancer families out there, I wish you a bountiful Thanksgiving. Eat at the table, but don’t forget to feed your soul. Believe in something bigger than this senseless disease. We have much to be thankful for on this day. It’s not about a boatload of people who stumbled onto the shores of Plymouth Rock and sat down to share a meal with the Native Americans they met. It’s about life and the people we treasure. Without them, our world is a lonelier, colder, darker place. Long after they are gone from this earth, they still remain with us, We will treasure this day and what we make of it, so go have some fun today. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Hug and be hugged. Laugh. Share. Even if it means shifting your path for just a moment, make one person happier today. Life is for the living, but it’s also for the loving. We have this moment in time, so savor it. God bless you.

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cancer caregiver caregiver education caregiver psychology holidays Thanksgiving

What Do Cancer Patients Need for a Happy Thanksgiving?

Oh, I’ll bet you’re expecting me to tell you all about how to teach your loved one with cancer to appreciate being alive at Thanksgiving, how to embrace the mood, the moment, the celebration. After all, we gather to give thanks for what we have, as extended families bring green bean casseroles and pumpkin pies in Pyrex and Tupperware. What could be a bigger downer than having a loved one with cancer at Thanksgiving? I’ll tell you. It’s having a loved one who is disrespected at Thanksgiving.

That’s right. Disrespected. Flat out disrespected.

How can I even suggest that, when everyone is trying so hard to be inclusive of someone who’s struggling with survival? I’ll tell you how. That’s because I’ve witnessed it more than once. (I’ve also heard it from a number of cancer survivors, how the family dynamics change.) The loved one with cancer becomes overwhelmed, physically and emotionally, trying to keep up with the party, and suddenly it’s an up-in-your-face reminder that you’re dining with the Big C.

The trouble is that healthy folks, who may not have any insights into how cancer takes its toll, are still in B. C. mode (that’s “before cancer” for those of you who are new to the game.) They often like to eat themselves silly with all of the classic Thanksgiving Day staples, like cheddar broccoli and stuffing with sausage. They can’t wait to get their hands on the drumsticks, the dinner rolls, and especially the desserts. Nothing is going to stop them from partaking in all the food and fun. They’re on a mission, a Thanksgiving Day mission.

Meanwhile, your loved one may be struggling with some very real physical and emotional issues that need addressing. Now that cancer has rocked your loved one’s world, it’s time to adapt to the reality of those changes.

Does that sound complicated? Do yourself a favor and don’t over-think it. Concentrate on two things. Food and rest. It’s really that simple.

For a cancer patient, especially one still undergoing chemotherapy, the holidays can be exhausting in many ways you have probably never experienced. Here are some important questions to answer:

1. What time of day does your loved one have the most energy?
2. What time of day does your loved one have the least energy?
3. What time of day is your loved one best able to enjoy a meal?
4. Will your loved one’s chemo fatigue kick in, and will he/she need to take a break?

Bottom line? It’s just possible that your loved one just doesn’t have the stamina to endure the Thanksgiving Day celebration. Are you hosting or are you visiting? If you’re hosting, it’s fairly easy for your loved one to slip away and lie down when he/she is tired. But if you’re visiting, you’ll need to speak to the hosts ahead of your arrival. Ask if there is a quiet room where your loved one can rest, should the need arise. Sometimes just lying down for an hour or so can keep a loved one at the party.

Some cancer patients make special arrangements for chemo treatment to accommodate the holiday, so that they don’t “crash and burn” on Thanksgiving. They talk to their oncology team early and discuss strategies to cope with this issue. Encourage your loved one to do this and sit in on the discussion, so you understand what’s going on in chemo treatment.

Remember to err on the side of caution if your loved one’s immune system is conked out. Better safe than sorry, especially during flu season. Hand washing by guests is critical. Avoid kissing and hugging. If the risk of infection is too high, consider staying home and having a video chat with those near and dear.

If you and your loved one have a long drive to make, be sure to bring along a pillow and a lap blanket, so your loved one can get comfortable. Consider the drive to be “rest time” and make it relaxing for him/her.

When it comes to the Thanksgiving meal, know what your loved one is able to tolerate. Many cancer patients can’t eat certain foods. If you’re hosting or you have a good relationship with the hosts, work on a menu that will please the turkey traditionalists, but will also provide foods your loved one can and will eat.

Very often, families aren’t aware that cancer patients find eating to be an exhausting process. Chewing will actually tire them out. The nutrition team at your loved one’s cancer center can help you plan a banquet that includes foods that will provide the necessary calories and be easily digested. They often have all kinds of tricks for adapting foods to make them even better. Not every cancer patient is going to have the same diet. Different chemo drugs and different types of cancer create different dietary needs. If your loved one is experiencing diarrhea, for example, greasy foods may exacerbate that situation and cause distress. That’s why it’s important to sit down with a cancer nutrition expert and understand how best to meet your loved one’s specific dietary issues. Consider it part of the medical treatment plan.

Got a good recipe for butternut squash soup that you know your loved one enjoys eating? Serve it as part of the family meal, so your loved one won’t feel singled out for special treatment. Will there be appetizers before dinner? Cancer patients sometimes do better when they nibble than when they sit down for a huge meal. In this case, he/she won’t “ruin” his/her appetite. Don’t draw a lot of attention to your loved one’s eating. With healthy, digestible food choices present, your loved one can eat as he/she sees fit.

Understand that chemotherapy can change how foods are digested. It can also change how they taste to your loved one, and that can and will affect appetite. This is usually a temporary thing. Some cancer patients who love dairy develop lactose intolerance, much to their dismay. Some patients can’t digest raw vegetables, so cooking them can make a difference. Some fruits go down easier than others. Very often, the recommendation from nutritionists is to puree foods, to make them easier for cancer patients to eat. Smoothies don’t require chewing and they’re usually quite soothing to sip. (Have I convinced you yet to talk to the cancer center’s nutrition team yet? I hope so. They’re more than willing to help you feed your loved one.)

Remember to leave the food police at the door when guests arrive for the Thanksgiving celebration. No one should be commenting on your loved one’s food intake, insisting he/she eat this or skip that. Sometimes a spoonful of sugar, in the form of human compassion, is the best medicine to go down. If you and your loved one know ahead of time what foods will work and what will not, there’s no need to explain or defend yourselves. Just smile and say, “Thank you for your concern, but we’re following doctor’s orders.”

With all this talk about food and fatigue for cancer patients, I don’t want to neglect a very delicate subject. Holidays can bring out the worst in some people. Tensions run high with elevated expectations of “instant happiness”. Some families bicker. Some families think there are only certain ways of doing things. A cancer patient’s needs can and should come first. Work around them. Adjust the celebration to accommodate your loved one at that moment in time. If that means you eat an hour or two earlier or later, so be it.

What do you say if a family member balks? You say this: “I know we normally do things that way, but this year, we’re going to do it this way. And I’m sure when our loved one is back on his/her feet, we’ll go right back to doing it the way we’ve always done it.” Treat any changes in holiday traditions as temporary, because they usually are. When families know that you’re not throwing out the time-honored traditions permanently, you’ll often find greater cooperation and willingness to sacrifice.

Most of all, when you all sit down and look across the table at each other, focus on why it’s so good to be there. Appreciate the family for the people in it. Take the time to laugh, to share stories, to toast another year of life for all of you. You have this time, this moment to share. Make memories.

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cancer caregiver cancer management caregiver education caregiver psychology caregiver strategy

Match the Cancer Support to the Cancer Needs

I remember a very trying time, when my mother was dying of lung cancer. Someone who knew that she had been treated for cancer asked how things were going. Short answer? Not good.

Normally, most people might ask if there’s anything they can do to help. In this case, the person proceeded to launch into a long description of her husband’s long-time prostate cancer situation, and ruminated about his once-in-awhile pill treatment regimen. At the time, I was spending my days and nights providing physical, emotional, and even mental support for a woman who was very frail as the result of the progression of her cancer.

What do you do when someone “ups” you after inquiring about a loved one’s cancer? Walk away. In this case, I learned the hard way that this woman was claiming her husband’s cancer as some kind of badge of honor. She was in her glory, suffering alongside him. Guess what…after another five years, her husband’s still going strong, still living a great life, without any serious health issues. And she’s still playing the cancer card, to make herself seem important. Goes to show you that not all cancer is equal and that cancer survival depends on the type, stage, and treatment options.

It’s sad, but true. Many people who have loved ones managing what we might term “highly survivable” cancers often lump themselves into the same group as those of us who are struggling to help our loved ones with progressive cancer. What does this mean? We have two very different kinds of caregivers.

If you are providing physical care to a cancer survivor who is not thriving, especially if the treatment is harsh and the side effects are debilitating, it’s important for you to recognize the stress you and your loved one are under and to acknowledge it. This is not a death sentence for your loved one — far from it. You may be on that roller coaster as a family, riding the ups and downs of cancer management. When you accept the reality, that your loved one is struggling, you can take advantage of a very important caregiver tool — the chance to decide how your relationship will be defined.

For those of us who have walked in these shoes, we know that having the chance to make these decisions allows us to find peace at a critical time in cancer care. When we see the struggles of our loved ones, when we understand their impact on the family and our extended social circles, we take actions that often times make an enormous difference for all of us.

Not all cancer is equal, so when cancer becomes the greater part of a loved one’s life, that is the time to up the family bonds. In the short summer of sunshine and butterflies, we move about easily, finding food abundant and life pleasant. In the long winter of despair, we need warmth, comfort food, and laughter to see us through the dark hours.

Having a woman compare her husband’s non-debilitating prostate cancer to my mother’s debilitating lung cancer was a real eye-opener. It was hurtful, to boot. I knew I wasn’t going to change her opinion or mindset. That was too wrapped up in her personality and her need for attention, both of which existed before her husband’s cancer came along. But it did give me a good kick in the fanny that I needed. It made me determined to fit my caregiving to what my mother really needed. More enabled activities to please her through difficult hours. More emphasis on asking her what she needed to do, rather than focusing on my own needs. More determination to make good things happen for her while she had the energy to accomplish things on her “to do” list.  Knowing that my sacrifices would soon end enabled me to make greater sacrifices  for her while there was still time.

There is honor in helping another person live. It’s easier to defer one’s own satisfaction for a year when one knows that life is finite, to put goals and plans on hold. We can make better decisions that produce better results and greater rewards by being mindful of reality. We are not waving the white flag of surrender. We are living in the moment and making the moment count. If anything, my mother lived longer because she was able to do what mattered to her, instead of spending her days feeling like a helpless victim. And I was able to get through the trying times by constantly reminding myself that my days as a cancer caregiver would soon end. Like a marathon runner, I learned to pace myself as I ran up the hills and around the curves in the cancer road. I took advantage of the good days to make progress, to find the joy. When you look for something to celebrate, some little snippet of goodness, you will often find it. When you assume there is no light, you will see only the black night of the soul. Choose wisely. What does the heart need, even as the body fails? What does the spirit seek, even as the body fails? When we give a loved one wings to rise above the mortal limitations, we enrich our bonds in amazing ways. This is the time to build lasting memories to remind us that love is a powerful thing.

The fact is, sadly, that for some cancer patients, there is no cure, no magic wand to wipe away this hideous disease. When we are mindful of the level of struggle our loved ones are currently experiencing, we are able to take advantage of the information in ways that can be life-changing. By realizing just how far my mother’s health had deteriorated, I was able to understand that the cancer and related complications were progressing. That meant that the hourglass was running out. As a caregiver, I would soon be out of a job. I needed to know that, in order to maximize the support my mother needed and to pace myself, to accommodate my own life.

A cancer caregiver may go through a number of periods of providing care, and that care may be of varying degrees of hands-on involvement. Very often, especially for the newly diagnosed, the treatment itself is overwhelming to the physical body. Our loved ones look like the Walking Dead until the impact of chemotherapy, radiation, and even surgery kicks in. We may go back to our normal lives and forget about cancer until the next scan shows something or a new symptom appears. Then we jump in again and help out until our loved ones are back on their feet again. But if and when there comes a time that the cancer proves too great a foe, we need to accept the reality and maximize what time we have left with our loved ones. We need to take the trips, have the parties, be together in ways that allow our loved ones to embrace the life that is still with us.

Some people think it’s best to soldier on, to pretend things are good when they are not. Denial prevents us from embracing the love, from finding the opportunities to live life out loud. When you see the changes in your loved one, when you feel that dread in the pit of your stomach because you can recognize the physical signs, consider this the winter of your loved one’s life. Don’t run away or hide. Build a mental refuge where the family can gather. Fill it with warmth, laughter, and comfort, with people who love your cancer survivor. Reach out to those who are receptive to your loved one’s plight. Ignore those who are not.

What did we find in my mother’s last months? The good friends who cared about her kept calling. The fair weather friends fell away. The relatives who understood the importance of sharing the love came calling. The ones who didn’t stayed away. The real tears were shed outside my mother’s room. The crocodile tears were shed for effect, with a lot of hand-wringing, lamenting the situation in public settings.

When people ask a cancer caregiver what is needed for a loved one whose condition has deteriorated, it’s hard to sometimes say. I can tell you what my mother told me. She wanted cards and letters. She wanted to know that, even as she was confined to home, she was not a forgotten prisoner, locked away. Did she still matter to people? Did they think of her? Did they want to share what mattered most, in their hearts, their minds?

When a cancer survivor begins that last descent, it doesn’t happen overnight. It happens over time. Months, weeks, and finally days. If a cancer caregiver recognizes the signs when death is still months away, there is time to build some very wonderful memories. If a cancer caregiver only pays attention in the final weeks, there can be a great rush to get so many important things done, it’s exhausting. And if a cancer caregiver only wakes up to the reality days before a loved one takes his or her last breath, the result can be devastating for everyone.

My mother benefited from being able to express her worries, her hopes, and even her dreams as her life drew to a close. That enabled us as a family to find ways to comfort her, to encourage her to speak up about what she wanted, for herself and for the family, and even to address the future without her. Many people think that speaking of death is a grim subject that only hastens the end of life. But for many cancer patients, having the opportunity to live the reality means freedom to enjoy the time that is left. Life becomes a great gift, all the sweeter because we know we will soon say farewell, and in the knowing, we have the chance for that one last dance.

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cancer book cancer caregiver caregiver education Dr. Dan Silverman Idelle Davidson Your Brain After Chemo

Book Review — “Your Brain After Chemo: A Practical Guide to Lifting the Fog and Getting Back Your Focus”

“Your Brain After Chemo: A Practical Guide to Lifting the Fog and Getting Back Your Focus”
by Dan Silverman, MD, PhD, and Idelle Davidson
Da Capo Press (Perseus Books Group)

Let me start out by saying I loved this book. Chock full of important and useful information about chemotherapy and other factors in cancer treatment that can affect memory and the ability to function…all good. Even now, a few years after publication, the information appears to hold up to the test of time.

I say this as an educator, who has some background in how the mind learns, and sometimes relearns information. Having worked with students who have a wide range of learning and behavioral disabilities, I know that the brain can be a complex and challenging organ.

As a former librarian, who regularly compiled bibliographies on subject matter, I would put this book on just about any cancer book list, but especially on one for people interested in breast cancer and lymphoma material. The authors really focus a lot of attention on how these patients endure the cognitive difficulties of chemotherapy, often due to specific medications used to treat certain types of these cancers.

Dr. Dan Silverman has an extensive background in the field of neuronuclear imaging, as well as molecular and medical pharmacology, and is involved in brain studies that seek to demystify neuropsychiatric symptoms of dementia, depression, and even the effects on hormones on the mind. His research aims to better optimize cancer treatments on a biochemical level, while minimizing the invasive impact on cancer patients.

Idelle Davidson, an award-winning journalist who has experience in reporting on health and medicine, had a first-hand encounter with the cognitive difficulties involved in undergoing chemotherapy, and she clearly uses this as a means to help her give voice to cancer patients with similar difficulties.

One thing I’ve had several cancer patients share with me is just how hard it was to experience the mental fog, only to be told it’s nothing to worry about. If cancer patients find it to be a problem, it’s a problem. It’s sometimes tempting to think that endurance is key in surviving cancer and that patients must take the bad with the good. Some doctors may take a “wait and see” view and expect patients to just sweat it out, but by approaching the subject of how the brain is affected during and after cancer treatment, the authors open a new pathway for treating the whole person. For that reason, I can see this book as being an extremely helpful resource to oncology professionals, including patient navigators in cancer centers.

What sets this book apart? Many people today have gone from talking about “chemo brain” to talking about a generalized “cancer brain”. When Dr. Silverman and Ms. Davidson talk about how the specific drugs affect specific regions of the brain, they don’t stop there. The authors peel back the layers of scientific research, citing many studies that identify specific chemotherapy agents and measure changes they create in cognitive function. They also produce information on changes that can be directly attributed to hormone therapy for cancer patients. What is measurable? What is not? When you understand that the authors are using hard data to formulate their conclusions about how the brain is affected by cancer, you can appreciate the solid, scientific approach.

For a newly-diagnosed cancer patient and caregiver, this book may start off on the intense side, especially when reading chapters such as the “Q and A With Your Doctor”. I personally found all the chemotherapy information a bit daunting, not because it wasn’t solid and useful, but because there was so much of it. And yet, when I got further into the book, it all began to make wonderful sense.

My experience as a caregiver for a lung cancer patient put me at somewhat of a disadvantage in understanding this subject matter as it pertains to breast cancer patients, because of differences in the type of chemotherapy regimens. Most breast cancer patients can cite their numbers (HER-2, etc.), their chemotherapy drugs, and even the specifics of their hormonal treatments. In order to better understand, I asked for some perspective from a circle of cancer activists I know, to find out if they would do things differently, had they known what might happen to their cognitive functioning because of cancer treatment. One woman told me she was relieved to find out she wasn’t losing her mind, because it felt like that for her. Another said she’s just really glad she’s alive and it was all worth it for her. She cited Dr. Patricia Ganz as an expert she respected in the field. Ironically, Dr. Silverman also cited Dr. Ganz as one of his trusted resources on the subject.

As the authors explain later in the book, one of the reasons why there is so much material on breast cancer and lymphoma patients is because these are the long-term survivors who are alive to participate in studies of people most affected by “chemo brain”. That’s a very important point in understanding the value of this book. Cancer that is managed over years can be stressful, and having a strategy that addresses long-term goals, especially in recovering from cognitive disability, is life-changing.

Dr. Silverman and Ms. Davidson offer a nine-step daily program of activities that will help re-pattern the brain to function more effectively and efficiently, as a means to recover what was lost to cancer treatment. They also offer advice on healthy choices. I especially liked the information on nutrition because the authors explained how the nutritional intake affects the mental processes in terms of firing up the brain, the role of protein and amino acids, and even why milk is a good choice of liquid to drink. Their list of resources provides readers with contact information and types of services offered.

One of the strengths of this book is that the authors recognize many cancer patients are emotionally overwhelmed by their experience with the disease, and there is much information on the types of psychological support that can help, while cautioning that some issues are actually the result of how the medication works in the body, thus creating a physiological issue that may masquerade as a psychological one. I found the discussion of the role of the thyroid gland helpful, because of its regulatory abilities within the body, including mental processing. What kinds of psychiatric drugs can minimize the despair or help patients concentrate better? What can yoga, meditation, and even reconnecting with nature do for patients? Some people get swallowed up in “learned helplessness” and that sense of futility when cancer strikes. What can cognitive therapy do for them? The authors guide readers through this maze in depth.

The authors present information on a number of programs that address options to train, retrain and/or strengthen the brain, such as “Memory and Attention Adaption Training”. This is a light at the end of the very long tunnel. When a reader learns that there are steps that will help a cancer patient recoup mental fluidity and understands that the process takes time, it’s possible to begin to set realistic goals in cancer recovery.

In the future, perhaps treatment for cognitive difficulties will become standard protocol for every affected patient, through physical and occupational therapies. The more we understand about how the brain is changed by cancer treatment, the better we can work to prevent the damage. This book goes a long way towards making that happen.

Note — I received a copy of this book from the author, Idelle Davidson. She offered it to me as professional reading in my capacity as the Practical Caregiver. I felt compelled to share my thoughts on it in the form of a review, not because I received any kind of compensation, but because I found it has worth for cancer families and health care professionals.

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Idelle Davidson shares more on the subject at her blog, Your Brain After Chemo. It’s well worth stopping by, especially if you or someone you love is struggling with “chemo brain”.