Few instances in life are more jolting than being told you have cancer. A few years ago I had a distressing urinary problem that initiated my first-ever visit to a urologist. The diagnosis was a bleeding cyst on my bladder, which I learned was a symptom of possible bladder cancer. Thank goodness, it was benign. Other than the untimely death of my father at a very young age (he was only 40) from a heart attack, nothing else in life besides that episode had taught me to appreciate life and treat each day as a gift.
Then, in March 2008, our family was hit by another fastball—my mother was diagnosed with Stage IIB lung cancer. She had just celebrated her 78th birthday and other than a slight hearing problem in one ear, was (so we thought) in remarkable health. She looked at least ten years younger and lived a full, active life filled with a loyal circle of friends, a zest for travel (including a recent trek to Africa!), while still working at a local law office two days/week. I’m ecstatic to report she is a survivor and her future prognosis couldn’t be brighter! My mother’s “adventure” struck my family to the core, but from the beginning, we provided a cohesive inner support team that functioned as one. We learned a lot, first and foremost how my mother re-defined the word “bravery,” but most importantly for you, some basic steps that should be undertaken if such a calamity strikes a member of your family or a friend.
The first piece of information details why I’m writing about this subject matter in The 50 Plus Male…cancer is predominantly a disease of older people. It’s estimated that about 60% of all new cancer cases occurs in the 65+ age category for both men and women. My mother was a smoker until she turned 40, and never showed any symptoms of lung cancer, but aging presents increased health risks and ‘lo and behold,’ her previous smoking habit determined it was pay-up time.
Second is the crucial need for a strong support team for the patient. Don’t treat the word “cancer” or the actual condition as an anathema; it may sound harsh, but support team members need to just get over it and deal with it. It’s time to rally the troops, not spend precious time in a stupor. My wife and I, along with my brother and sister-in-law immediately came to my mother’s side to help her deal with the initial emotional trauma upon hearing the news from the doctor. Trust me, this is not a time for a loved one to be alone.
Next piece of advice—the support team needs to become ardent students of the particular form of cancer. My brother and I literally lived on the internet for the first couple of days, gathering numerous articles on both lung cancer and the best doctors/hospitals to consult. You shouldn’t ever, in my opinion, stop your learning cycle after just a couple of days, but we wanted to accumulate enough info as fast as possible to begin planning with our mother for how to proceed. She appreciated the concern and speed; it helped her get a grip on the situation. We narrowed our list of doctors/hospitals to six, and after numerous phone calls with some of my mother’s friends who had successfully battled cancer, along with recommendations from our own family doctors and an ensuing discussion with our mother, we narrowed the choices to three. My brother and I then placed calls to the three doctors, who were very responsive upon hearing of our mother’s condition. We gave them credit, we surprisingly didn’t have to chase them down.
The common thread you should be noticing at this point is that we included my mother in every activity being undertaken. She was looking for us to manage the majority of the ground work (she didn’t sit idly by—she quickly became her own best student), but it’s integral that you don’t give the patient any sort of impression that they are an “island unto them self.” Ultimately, my mother made the final choice for where to go for her care.
The next suggestion deals with every doctor visit, but especially the initial consult. If there is ever a time where the patient’s mind is going to be off somewhere in la-la land, this is it. Powers of concentration from the patient, no matter how strongly they may be under normal circumstances, cannot be assumed by family members. Someone has to be by their side fully digesting what the doctor discusses and taking detailed notes. I also strongly suggest you bring a prepared list of questions gleaned from the research you’ve done beforehand. If you even sense the doctor is growing weary of the questioning, ignore it and press on. If the doctor has any sense, he’ll appreciate your preparedness; this helps form a constructive working relationship between all parties. Remember, you want answers, not a new friend!
The acute need to constantly remain aware of our mother’s emotional and spiritual state was paramount. She was rightly riding a roller coaster of emotions and it was up to us to both appreciate this fact and deal with it appropriately.
Once the treatment plan was finalized (biopsies/removal of a portion of my mother’s left lung), we took a few days to absorb everything; this was OK’d by the doctor. Just getting to this point is exhaustive for all parties, not just the patient. While the game plan was to schedule the procedures ASAP, taking a couple of days off from all the running around and having thoughtful discussion was a blessing for everyone.
My sincere wish at this point is that your loved one’s operation goes as smoothly as my mother’s…she was talkative and inquisitive as soon as she was released from recovery and brought to her room. What a trooper—she was calming us down! Now, however, comes the après operation agenda.
A successful operation does not necessarily preclude a decisive decline in the patient’s emotional or spiritual trip to this point; we quickly learned through discussion with our mother and the doctor that a new set of concerns needed our attention, such as immediate post-op care (ex. radiation, chemotherapy), any possibility of physical limitations, long-term medical requirements (blood testing, follow-up doctor visitations, etc.), and financial-related questions.
As this post is already getting a bit lengthy, I will limit my discussion to only one of the aforementioned items—immediate post-op care. After discussion with the (new) doctor who would be in charge of the next stage of her care, my mother decided on chemotherapy. A word of caution so you won’t be shocked…you will surprisingly be advised that undergoing chemotherapy as a preventative measure of cancer recurrence only produces minimal benefits in this regard.
If your loved one decides on chemotherapy, please be advised that you may want to accompany them to the chemotherapy room, along with the presiding nurse, for their initial visit when they are given “the lay of the land” (in other words, before their first treatment). This can be a real shock, as the patient enters a room that can accommodate upwards of thirty-plus people at a time who are hooked-up to tubes. It can be a disturbing sight and produce a rush of emotion from your loved one; my mother’s eyes immediately started welling up. I instinctively turned to her and said ”I know what you’re thinking–what am I doing here?” I very gently put my arms around her and provided the answer—“this is where you finish getting well.” Needless to say, I joined her for the first two chemo appointments and by then, my mom was a pro and no longer craved company by her side. Credit to a wonderful nursing staff must be mentioned here.
Finally, my mother had requested communication with family and friends by us be kept to a minimum until after the operation, but we did not sway from interjecting our feelings as to when to fully enlist their support; effectively widening her circle of comfort. There were times we had to “override” my mother’s objections about who to include on the calling list; you will need to give this step some thought in terms of who can best be a real friend as opposed to just being a “busybody” who only wants to be kept up-to-date without truly acting as a source of strength.
Obviously, I’m not a medical professional, just someone with a modicum of common sense. I hope this discourse helps you…
-Neal
