by Gail Hamm, Program Director
There is a certain tension between caregivers and patients- a delicate dance, if you will. Each tries to protect the other. And even if communication was good before the need for caregiving, there may still be times of conflict and hurt feelings. Important things may not be said because it is difficult to talk about the â€œelephant in the living room.â€ At other times, it is difficult to understand each otherâ€™s perspective.
I have watched this dance play out in many ways. From the perspective of the cancer survivor (a person is a survivor from the day of diagnosis, by the way)â€¦ I have heard this person ask, â€œHow do I get my family to accept the new me?â€ Sometimes the “new me” looks, acts, sounds, ambulates, or eats differently from the “me” before diagnosis and treatment. The â€œnew meâ€ is who he is now, and cannot go back. There is no choice. The survivor is making accommodations to survive and thrive in his new way of living. It takes a lot of time and perseverance to assume the new mantle of self, find meaning from the experience, and survive day-to-day. In addition, he may also be short- tempered and frustrated, and just plain not feeling well.
It can be difficult for the caregiver to accept the â€œnew me,â€ precisely because there is a â€œnew me.â€ Out of love, the caregiver offers food and advice. And when the survivor refuses or only eats a little, the caregiver can become extremely frustrated. There may also be the unspoken fear that, â€œIf I donâ€™t feed him, he will dieâ€¦. itâ€™s my responsibility to nurture my husband and keep him alive.â€ There is a certain feeling of impotency and helplessness in not being able to protect and save our loved ones.
Caregivers, out of their love for the survivors, are struggling to provide assistance, but what they are offering may be rebuffedâ€¦not out of diminished love or caring, but because the survivor wants to do it in his or her own way. To the caregiver it feels like rejection. To the person being cared for, it feels like smothering. In either case, both are trying their best to maintain relationships while dealing with a new lifestyle for which no one asked nor planned.
If you are in this situation, I highly recommend the support group venue as a way to share triumphs and dilemmas. Others have dealt with what you may be experiencing. In coming to a support group and sharing, caregivers and survivors are bringing problems out into the open and finding solutions. Listening to others provides new perspectives and renewed energy for the caregiver/patient dance. Cancer Services offers a variety of support groups. Check out the possibilities at cancer-services.org or call 260-484-9560 or toll free 866-484-9560.
The churchâ€™s sign said, â€œLord, please give me the persistence of a weed.â€
Wow, what would it be like to be a weed? To push yourself through an impossibly hard obstacle and stretch your arms to the sun. To bake in burning heat day after day and then glory in a rain shower. To endure repeated cuts and still come back strong.
What would it be like to be a weed? To be as pure and delicate as Queen Anneâ€™s Lace, as blue as cornflowers, and as bright as dandelions.
Iâ€™ve decided that weeds are under-valued. I think they have something to teach us. Weeds have adapted over time to survive in places and situations that no one thought would be possible. Cancer can feel like that. Insurmountable, impossible to defeat and yet it happens. People triumph over the disease, sometimes by living long and sometimes by living well. Lord, give me the persistence of a weed.