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A monthly newsletter for
cancer patients and those that support them, including |
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Article: "Celebrate the Victories" We Were Featured in The Wall Street Journal!
Cancer humor from the trenches
This and that
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... 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: "Celebrate the Victories" An effective way of coping with cancer or any other serious personal situation is to celebrate each victory along the way. I was reminded of this recently while returning home from a speaking engagement in Sioux City, Iowa. We had just landed in Chicago and were taxiing to the terminal when the pilot announced that we were about to pass a plane being washed down on the tarmac by fire trucks. He didn’t want us to be alarmed, so he explained that this was a ritual performed when a pilot retired and was approaching the terminal at the end of his final flight. Sure enough, as we passed the streams of water were raining down on the plane from fire hoses and I was impressed by how wonderful that must have felt for the pilot, being recognized for reaching this major milestone in his life. It occurred to me that the same was true for my wife when we celebrated some of her cancer milestones. For example, when she finished her final chemo treatment I produced some flowers that I had secretly purchased during the treatment itself. Then, when the IV was disconnected for the final time, she got a quiet round of applause. When Chris was undergoing her final radiation treatment I felt we should recognize her for enduring the 30 treatments that had been spread over six weeks. Each treatment was in two phases and the radiation techs would leave the room during each phase, which gave me a chance to coordinate my plan with them. Then I recruited several people from the waiting room with whom we had become friendly during the weeks of treatment. Following the final phase of the final treatment, we all went into the room and, while Chris was getting off of the table, we applauded her and cheered loudly. It was a small room so it seemed like a lot more than seven people, and was quite an ovation. As tired and uncomfortable as she was, I know she appreciated it and it made all of us feel good. It was quite a high, and a stress-buster as well. Just because treatment is ongoing and seems like it will last forever, there will always be victories to celebrate along the way; some will be big, some will be small, and they are all worth recognizing. It feels great for everyone involved and helps generate the feeling that you are, in fact, making progress even though it seems like treatments are going to last forever. Whether it is a lavish meal in a fine restaurant or a group of people who simply get together to offer their congratulations, it is worth the effort and gives the patient (and caregiver, too) a wonderful feeling of accomplishment. …and we need all the encouragement we can get! |
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Cancer humor from
the trenches ...from audiences, readers, and me! After a program in Ohio, a woman told me that when her husband was being wheeled into surgery he was singing, "Gonna take a sentimental gurney..." |
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Here's some exciting news - the May/June issue of Coping with Cancer Magazine will contain an article by yours truly. Look for it! |
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Meanwhile, back at the
ranch... We have a decorative black glass vase in the bathroom. It contains black glass marbles to weigh it down, and is then filled to the top with matchbooks that we somehow accumulated even though we don't smoke. One afternoon we discovered it on it's side with some of the matchbooks strewn about, so we knew that something was up; we figured that our animals were playing and knocked it over. A little while later, though, one of the dogs was just sitting there, staring at the vase. Something was in it. Something alive. Lily, one of our cats, has a tendency to bring small critters into the house, so it could have been a mouse or a lizard. By this time it was dark and I carried the vase outside to empty it, putting a towel over the open top so that whatever creature was in there wouldn't jump out and startle me. Outside, I poured everything out; matches, black glass marbles... but nothing came skittering out like I thought it would. Oh, well... false alarm. When I turned the vase right-side up again, the porch light reflected into the vase for a second and I took a closer look. There, shaking with fright, was a chipmunk! He had managed to stay in there as I shook out the contents of the vase; I can only imagine him hanging on for dear life! Poor little guy - I put the vase in the garden for the night, knowing that he would be back home by morning. He'll have quite a story to tell his family! (NOTE: we were very lucky. The last time Lily brought a chipmunk into the house, it took us three days to catch it and take it outside. We can only imagine what he "left behind" during those three days.) |
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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
The
Patient/Partner Project.
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Your information is safe: we never share subscriber information with anyone. Ever. Period. The Patient/Partner Project (c) 2008 A Few Good People, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED |
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