Difficult Seasons

A big Aha! occurred to me yesterday during one of my visits with a hospital patient.

I had been visiting for quite a while with a woman, recently diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer, and with her husband.  We had talked a little about the disease, but part of what was going on was that they hadn’t received a final diagnosis and treatment plan from the doctors yet, so there was anxiety about that.  And of course they were both still in shock that this was happening to them.

It was interesting that during the conversation, I’d ask the wife a question to give her the opportunity to talk about how she was doing with all of this, and before she could get started good, her husband would jump in and divert the conversation.  I could tell that she wanted to be able to tell me, and I could also tell that her husband didn’t want to see the pain that she might express — the purpose of his interruption.  So we talked lightheartedly about what was going on.  And he kept doing the same thing.

So as our visit reached the time for prayer, I looked to the woman, and saying her name, asked, “I want to know what you would like to pray about.”  And then I made eye contact with her husband to make sure he understood, and he did.  And here’s where the aha! came in:  when she hesitated a moment, I asked, “What is the one thing that is your biggest concern right now, the one thing we can pray about?”

Immediately, and with a voice full of emotion, she said, “Being able to deal with whatever comes.”

She had just named her biggest fear, the thing that she was struggling with most at that moment.  And the emotion in her voice told her husband and me how important that fear was, and how important it was to her to be able to say it out loud.

So that fear was what we prayed about, thanking God for His presence, and asking His help in dealing with whatever comes.

It’s a great privilege to pray with someone, and I want to do it in a way that honors both God and the person I’m praying with.  So I made a mental note to ask more often about the one thing people would like to pray about, the big thing they’re struggling with at that moment.  Praying specifically about the one big thing may be more meaningful for someone than praying about several more general needs and desires.

In the Fall of 2005, my daughter Sara and I taught a five-week class at church for family caregivers.  What we certainly didn’t expect is that the class would spawn a community that continues to meet weekly three and a half years later.

Family members providing care for other family members affects almost everyone at some point in their lives.  Folks who have attended our group have been or are caregivers for parents, spouses, siblings, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

The causes for caregiving have spanned a wide range:  aging; dimentia; cancer, stroke,  and other chronic diseases; mental illness; and physical handicaps.  And frequently, the caregiver has also had to deal with the death of the loved one they were providing care for.

As we’ve met together in community, we’ve discovered that most of the basic principles of caregiving are universal, whatever the age of the person we’re providing care for, no matter what the nature of the need that requires caregiving is.

Today I’m kicking off a series of posts to talk about these caregiving principles, about the things that we’ve learned together in our group.  Along the way I’ll tell some stories, as well as discuss the principles.   Whether you’re currently a caregiver or just know that you will be in that position at some point, I think you’ll find them useful, and something you may want to share with other caregivers you know.

As a preview, I’m reminded as I write how important we’ve found being in community with other caregivers is.  In fact, of the more than 100 folks who have come in and out of our group, almost all express at some point how good it is to find other people that know how they feel as a caregiver.

Care giving isolates us.  We don’t know if what we’re experiencing and feeling is normal.  We only know it’s stressful, and often painful.

But being in community helps.  Community provides us information we can use, provides us emotional and spiritual support, and allows for ongoing learning.  If you’re a caregiver, or know someone who is, find or help them find a support group to meet with regularly.

Or better yet, start one.  It’s a huge blessing for everyone involved.

I entered this room, just like I entered the other seven rooms on Monday.  I was making chaplaincy visits to patients fighting cancer.  I’d gotten a late start, so it was after 5:00.

The husband got up from the chair by his wife’s bed, inviting me to sit by her.  He moved his tray of warm food away, saying he’d get back to it later.  Their adult daughters were sitting across the bed from me.

I soon found out that the fight against cancer was over for this lady.  Modern medicine had done all it could.  The cancer was winning.  There was nothing left to try.  She told me she was going home in a few days, and would have hospice care.  She held my hand as we talked.

We talked about our mutual admiration for hospice.  Turns out she had been a fundraiser for hospice before the cancer struck.

We talked about how they were dealing with this turn of events as a family.  They talked about faith, about life well lived, about family, about making every day count, and about how she has been preparing them for this eventuality.  She was at peace, and her family was at peace.

We found that we had mutual friends.  We enjoyed sharing things we knew about them.  It brought us closer.

We laughed.  We all held hands and prayed.  We shed some tears.  And then we talked some more, as if not quite wanting this special time together to end.

It seemed as if they had just been waiting for someone who shared their faith to show up so they could share their hearts.

That’s the point.  Showing up is what we do that’s important.  God does the rest.

Today I saw pain.

Not the pain that powerful chemicals can dull.

But the pain that so often we hide from others.  The pain that comes from having our normal lives ruthlessly interrupted.  The pain that comes from not being able to do those important things that we often take for granted.  The pain that hurts all over, yet whose source can’t be seen on a PET scan.

For one person, it was pain from not being able to provide care for her husband and her 94-year old mother, instead having to focus everything on her one hope to add years to her life in a battle with an unrelenting disease.

For another, it was a still two-week-fresh devastating diagnosis, and the fight of his life, for his life.

And for another, it was recurrance of a nasty cancer that had been gone for 13 months, that remission itself against huge odds.

They allowed me the special privilege of seeing what they hide most of the time from most people.  They allowed me to connect with them in a special way, in a special place.  And I’m honored by their trust.

We talked about how precious hope is, how important the opportunity to fight is.  We prayed to the One who has the power to heal for healing.  And I prayed to the One who has the power to remove their non-physical pain to do so for each of them.

Buttons to Match Your Outfit

As I drove home from visiting folks at M. D. Anderson this evening, the phrase that rang in my ears was one I heard a patient say this afternoon: “Cancer sucks.”  He had every right to say it.  And part of the reason it stuck in my mind was that some of the folks that I saw today had been ravaged by their particular brand of cancer.

This is not a word normally in my spoken vocabulary.  I shocked my whole family one day when I said it.  That’s because of the ambiguous meanings associated with the word.  So I want to make clear which definition this man meant, and the one that is used in the headline of this post.

Definition:  (colloquial) Term of general disparagement, to indicate that the subject or situation is unfortunately or unreasonably objectionable, and has no redeeming qualities.

That pretty much sums it up where cancer is concerned, at least physically.  But it’s also often true emotionally.  I do often get to see healthy spirituality alive in cancer victims, and I’m thankful for that.

There are no pretty words that describe cancer.  Saying cancer is unfortunate or even unreasonably objectionable doesn’t seem to communicate cancer’s effects very well either.  To say that cancer has no redeeming qualities seems like an unreasonably objectionable understatement.

Sorry, but I think we’re stuck with a colloquial word that is found objectionable in some circles.  But at least it honestly communicates some of the physical and emotional toll cancer exacts.  So yes, cancer sucks.

And if you want to wear a button or tee shirt proclaiming it, it’s fine with me.