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Less stress. More hope. That's what we're about. |
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A monthly newsletter for
cancer patients and those that support them, including |
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In this issue: Article: "Fixing 'Fixing-it' to Fix Stress"
Cancer humor from the trenches
This and that
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... We Were Featured in The Wall Street Journal (with a video, too!) About the Caring and Coping Newsletter Please forward us to everyone you know who is a patient, caregiver, survivor, or medical professional. (Be sure they know it's from you, though; I don't want them to think I spammed 'em!) Patients/caregivers: please tell your doctors, nurses, family, and friends about us! Medical professionals: please tell your patients and colleagues about us! |
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Article: Fixing 'Fixing-it' to Fix Stress I’m a guy. I like to fix things. Whenever there is something wrong in the house or the family, my gut reaction is to try to fix it. Case in point: our automatic litter box. When one of the cats does her business and leaves, she breaks an electronic beam that tells the machine she was in there and ten minutes later a rake automatically moves through the litter, sifts out the clumps, and deposits them into a covered receptacle. Neat huh? Except when it doesn’t work. Recently the machine decided to take a vacation and, of course, I wanted to fix it. I needed to fix it, or at least try. I’m not savvy in the ways of electronics and can’t fix any circuitry, but I CAN look for obvious problems such as broken or disconnected wires, obstructions, etc. I spent the better part of an hour taking the thing apart, marveling at the complexity required to perform such a simple task, and finding nothing obviously wrong. At least I tried, right? The same goes for other types of situations. When my friend calls me to say he lost his biggest client, I know I can’t get his client back but I can “fix it” by helping him feel better, so I take him to dinner. If Chris is upset because she dropped a glass and it shattered all over the kitchen floor, I can “fix it” by helping her clean it up. When Chris was diagnosed with breast cancer I needed to fix that too. Ooops. “Houston, we have a problem…” It didn’t take long to figure out that I couldn’t, and it was very frustrating. The diagnosis and resulting worry and scrambling were stressful enough, and I realized that my inability to make it go away was making it much worse. I couldn’t fix that either. I realized that my inability to make her cancer go away was causing me great stress, which was a milestone in my caregiving journey. It was very helpful, though difficult, to face the reality of the situation and, as a result, I was able to resign myself to putting out some of the spot fires and leaving the main fire line to the professionals. I’m not the only one who feels this way; as I travel the country talking to patients, caregivers, and medical professionals I am learning that this scenario is quite common among caregivers (especially the men). It is unfortunate, because it generates a lot of unnecessary stress, frustration, and anxiety on top of everything else they are dealing with. My advice: you can’t fix this. Deal with it. I know it sounds harsh; sometimes the truth has to slap you in the face in order to be noticed. This is not to say, however, that you are powerless. Nothing could be farther from the truth. There are plenty of things you can do; making the problem go away is just not one of them. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can focus on the things that you CAN do. Let me say it again: you can’t make the cancer go away, but you CAN fix some of the problems CAUSED by the cancer. For example, you can help with practical items such as housework, laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, scheduling appointments, bathing, and driving. You can help emotionally by establishing some sense of “normalcy” when her world is upside down, helping her feel feminine in spite of new scars, hair loss, etc., and making sure that she knows she is still your honey no matter what. The bottom line: focus on what you CAN do and not on what you CANNOT do. (By the way, I couldn’t fix the litter box so I threw it in the trash and bought another one. I thought you’d want to know; I am NOT suggesting that you apply this analogy to your situation!) |
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Cancer humor from
the trenches
...from audiences, readers, and me! When my mother received her new prostheses after a double mastectomy, she was quite thrilled. As it happened, Chris and I were going to have dinner with her that night. When she saw us in the parking lot of the restaurant she came up to me all flushed with excitement. "Look at my new breasts!" she gushed. "Don't they look great??" "Uh, yes mom, they look great." "They feel real, too. Feel them!" "Mom!!" "Feel them - they're just like the real thing. FEEL THEM!" "Mom... hello?? I'm not going to feel my own mother's breasts, especially in the parking lot!" "David!" ...they, uh, did feel pretty real and, uh, I don't think anyone in the parking lot even noticed... |
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I hear lots of stories from my audiences. Some are funny, some are sweet, and some are quite touching. Following a program in New Albany, Indiana a man (I'm guessing he was in his seventies) came up to me and said that his story was just about identical to mine, except that his wife didn't survive. It had been two years since she passed and he still visits her grave twice a day. His eyes filled with tears as he told me that he would see her undressed after her mastectomy and tell her that he thought she was sexy. She said to him, "What is the matter with you? What is sexy about this?" He told her, "Hon, I don't care if they cut everything off, you're still my baby doll." |
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Meanwhile, back at the
ranch... We have a "build-up" area under the house that is very long and narrow. We built a floor and some shelving in there and use it to store household items as well as supplies for my home office. Fortunately, the floor plan is such that there is a door from the office into this build-up, making it convenient to store and retrieve office supplies when we need them. It IS, however, still "under the house" and every now and then we see evidence of mouse activity in there. Kate, my assistant, is deathly afraid of mice, so whenever she needs something from the build-up she opens the door, sticks her head in, and very loudly says, "Meow!" |
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Our mission is to reduce stress and restore hope for cancer patients and their families. We do this by sharing our unique perspective in order to:
Caring and Coping is a no-cost component of
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