The cell call confirmed our worst fears. “It’s not breast cancer” said our best friend’s daughter. My initial reaction was relief. “Thank God” I said. Then before I heard her next words “NO! Not good!” I knew it was worse. Days before we had discovered that something had spread to five places in our best friend’s bones as well as in a lung, and her pain was increasing. “My Mom has lung cancer” said the young voice. I felt my heart leap through space to try to comfort her daughter. “The preliminary results are 90% sure.” she said. “The pathologist is redoing the tests on the biopsies taken from three places before he confirms this.”
For four generations our families have been uniquely close. When our parents were children they played with each other while our grandparents played cards and shared life stories. For two days we all lived with slim hope. Then came final results. No one can be sure, but our beloved friend might live two more years.
Weeks before her cancer was known we had been invited to their house on Squam Lake NH (i.e. Golden Pond). Although we traveled there a few times every year this time would be different. Now that I had advanced prostate cancer that threatened my life, the gift of time with great friends was more precious than ever. Without words we all knew this. Suzanne and I had been handling our situation well. We had begun our projects (including this blog) to help people with critical illness learn about and defend themselves from attacks on their relationships, mind and spirit. Traveling more freely externally and internally Suzanne and I were “walking the walk and living the talk”. And then the universe warped. Two weeks before we went to visit our friends we received unexpected news that a pain in her right arm may be caused by cancer rather than tennis elbow. Instead of a visit focused on the celebration of life, the fear of unknown possibilities loomed deep in our hearts. Running from unlabeled feelings, we shared days together racing over Squam lake in our friends’ speed boat, facing stalwart winds that blew trepid thoughts from our heads. Now and again we jumped into clear fresh waters, enjoyed the bounty of generously ripe wild blueberry bushes and basked on deck with the present. We left with news that our friend indeed had cancer, but probably “only” breast cancer. And then came the devastating call of terminal lung cancer.
First I’m stunned. I find myself unsure of what I’m feeling. Within I sense rage, numbness, disbelief. Intense mixtures of feelings. Thoughts going nowhere. I want to bring comfort to my friends and those who love them. I want them to know we are there for them. But I don’t want to intrude. They need each other now. They must find their way to begin to process this together. But my (and Suzanne’s) lifelong knowledge in psychology combined with decades of close friendship, and Suzanne and my own personal journey to deal with my critical illness may be helpful to them. How much room should we give them? When should we be there? When should we not?
There’s an old expression that says “Man plans and God Laughs.” A better expression is “God acts and Man adjusts”. How well we adjust to the unexpected nightmares that invade our lives depends on many factors, including attitude and determination to cherish and appreciate the amazing journey life offers us. Three days before we were married Suzanne and I discovered I had prostate cancer. In the 2 1/2 years since then we have gone through endless operations, radiation and medical treatments together. We have paid a high price, but we have learned much. As time goes by we will learn more. For now here are the points I wish for our beloved friends who face critical illness to know. This is a blog, so I must make a disclaimer that this advice comes from me not as a psychologist or trained professional, but solely as a very human being who is on a similar journey with critical illness. As such I believe that the sooner these points are grasped, the better.
- Be and / or have an advocate that will see that everything that is medically possible is being done.
- Get help (professional and otherwise) when you or a loved one needs it.
- Critical illness has the power to move you. You have the power to choose the direction you move in.
- Cherish the present. Live every moment fully.
- Accept love. Be able to truly receive as well as to give.
- No one lives forever. Having this reality brought home can result in the desire for and achievement of increased quality of your life. Your ability to experience and become aware of the quality of life can definitely increase though the quantity goes down.
- Critical illness will weaken or strengthen your relationships (e.g. spouse, partner, friend, relatives) and spirits. They will not be the same after critical illness (ACI). You have the power to make choices that will affect outcomes.
- Critical illness will go after your body, mind, spirit and relationships. It may eventually get your body. But you and those who love you can stop it from claiming your relationships, spirit and mind.
- The more successful you are at protecting and strengthening your relationships, spirit and mind, the better you can protect your body from the impact of critical illness.
- You and your caregiver can use the time you have together to soar to new heights of life or to burn in despair. Heaven or hell is within your grasp now. Again the choice is yours to make.
- Critical illness can bring both partners in marriage to unforgettably beautiful heights of love.
- When you first discover you (or someone you love) has a critical illness, whatever you feel or don’t feel is OK. This is also true when you find a condition has worsened. You may experience strange and/or contradictory feelings and thoughts. After a while most of the negative thoughts should begin to subside. Watch out for destructive thoughts that don’t go away, such as extended guilt or blame. These thoughts will not serve you well and must be dealt with ASAP.
- Forgive friends and family that don’t know how to handle what you are going through. Some of the smartest people may say the dumbest things. The thought of critical illness may be too much for many to bear.
- Avoid negative energy, negative people, bullshit and things that waste your time. You (both) owe it to yourself to enjoy and make the most of you life while you have it.
- Think positive. You have everything to gain and nothing to lose. Nourish resiliency.
- Accept that “there is more to heaven and earth….than you or I have ever dreamed of.” (William Shakespeare). An existential awakening at this point is both natural and a magnificent.
- Be good to yourself and those who you love.
- As strange as it may seem, fully enjoy the ride.
- Much more to follow.
~ Richard
This is a wonderful article. It includes so many of the all-important things people need to think about when they are in the critical situations described.
I, too, have been there, and while all is well in my body now, I have lost both mother and only brother many years ago to cancer, and in the past four years EIGHT friends from my circle, all in their fifties and early sixties. So the subject has weighed on my mind …
Because of that, I also seem to attract people with cancer to my private practice (integral psychotherapist), and I have interviewed a number of cancer survivors on my radio show Rewiring the Soul.
This is the only bit I would add to the excellent article, which in some ways is implicit in it, but I’d like to spell it out more explicitly: do not let this (the diagnosis and the illness itself) take over your life. It is necessary to carry on with life much more than it is necessary to comb the web for new cures. Much as the cure is obviously important and desired, it is so much more important to continue to live MORE than seeking cures.
Inherent in the process of continuing to live (even while potentially dying) is the need to forgive – oneself and others, whoever they may have been – and to scour one’s inner self for anger, so that it may be released.
Continuing to live (even while potentially dying) is a process that can be filled with grace, and yes – even with joy. I have witnessed it and know that it is so.
Thank you Richard. At my age (26) I am trying to learn these lessons. I consider myself quite fortunate to have it reinforced as I follow your words.
Thank you!