Empathy and Cancer

Empathy: the ability to understand and share feelings with another.

I recently read a blog written by an older woman who had a cancer scare that she had to deal with on her own. Her husband had passed away from cancer and she had had enough of it in her life. Her feelings are understandable. Two mammograms directed her to an ultrasound. The ultrasound triggered a biopsy. Her timeline read very much like mine did. One test after another was given with heightened urgency. Everything was fast tracked for this woman because the doctors were worried about the outcome of tests. She didn’t know how she would do cancer alone. Thankfully, this woman did not have breast cancer. Of course, I am glad it turned out this way for her.

She said her experience gave her empathy for people who are alone.

Hello?

I’m sure this fellow writer is a lovely woman. Supporting someone through illness is hard. Losing him/her to that illness is excruciating. I do not diminish her pain because I know it’s real. I can empathize with her because I have lost my people in my life. Cancer takes too much.

I am confused though why empathy needs to be directed toward people who are alone. Is aloneness somehow lesser than togetherness? Do my experiences when I spend time with friends, family, or a group of people give me empathy for people with partners? They do not. I may at times feel a little thankful to be back home and away from some of the stimulation and unwelcomed opinions, but I do not have empathy for people in a relationship. It sounds absurd when the shoe is on the other foot.

Somehow the comment rubbed me the wrong way. It seemed more bothersome to me that she felt empathy for people who are alone than for people who have cancer. I just kept scratching my head. It felt like pity or that someone was feeling sorry for me. I don’t want someone’s sorrow. Her remarks made me feel like she was saying, “Thank goodness I didn’t have cancer and the double whammy of being by myself!” This is more of an inner reflection than what was likely intended. I guess being on my own is a bit of a touchy subject for me, mainly of how I feel society perceives it as something less. I feel like I’m regularly defending my status. Sometimes I feel forgotten. Having cancer and being on my own really isn’t so hard. For one thing, I am reliant on myself and can organize appointments, etc. in a way that works best for me. I don’t have to check with others when I need to change my plans. I know how I feel and I don’t need to try to convince or explain those feelings to someone else. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I wish I had a little more help and didn’t have to figure everything out. And I do have help. I have plenty of support. I ask for what I need. I feel connected to so many and have nurtured meaningful relationships. Technically, yes, I am doing cancer on my own, but I’m also not. It’s complicated.

“Empathy is simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting and communicating that incredibly healing message of ‘You’re not alone.’” ~ Brené Brown

Enjoy a short clip from YouTube where Brené Brown explains more about empathy.

I am not sure I’ve done all those things in my reaction to what I read. This post itself has been difficult for me to write. I have felt angry and questioned those feelings. However, it is completely okay, in fact it is fine, more than fine, for me to feel anger. I feel misrepresented. I feel there are indirect implications that are at my expense while someone else is expressing gratitude. Gratitude is not gratitude if someone (or another group) is put down in order for another individual to feel grateful. Nor is it empathy.

Empathy means a lot to a person whether they have someone at their side or they are on their own. Empathy is a universal yearning we all need and we all have the capacity to give. You are putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. It still isn’t quite the same because at the end of the day you put your own shoes back on. Still . . . there are moments when you almost get it. The important part is that you try to get it. I have beloved friends who try to get it.

One of my goals with this blog is to change perspectives on cancer, particularly advanced stage cancer. When I read something that feels a little, “Oh, that poor person has cancer and is alone,” I don’t like anything in that sentence because that feeling of pity permeates whatever sentiment is trying to be conveyed.

It doesn’t feel good.

What feels good is being welcomed to a group. I’d rather hear a compliment about something amazing I accomplished instead of a question on whether I went with anyone while achieving it. It feels good to be appreciated for my other qualities. It feels good to be included in things. If I’m unable to do something, then I may need to pass, but I appreciate being included. I like it when people remember things about me and respect my thoughts and opinions. I like it a lot when I’m not constantly asked about my health and truly treated like one of the gang. A small bit of thoughtfulness goes a long ways. It is how I believe we all can treat one another respectfully and compassionately.

Empathy in action is a lifestyle choice.

It’s possible I’m confusing empathy with sympathy, but I don’t think I am. In fact, I think some other people are. I certainly don’t want anyone’s sympathy or sorrow. It belittles and demeans if directed at me because I’m living with cancer. I want an even playing field. Don’t give me something or take something from me because of my health. Don’t give me something or take something from me because I’m single. I didn’t ask for your sorrow or pity. I’ve asked for your encouragement, support, and friendship. These are the things I offer.

There is something else you can give me: caramel. If someone were to offer me a caramel, I would not say no. Really good caramels are an entirely different story. It just might be an edible form of empathy.

Empathy is feeling as sad for a friend as if the event were happening to you. It’s understanding your friend is in a lot of emotional or physical pain. Empathy is understanding a perspective that’s the polar opposite of yours. Parents and teachers demonstrate empathy every time they know that something that isn’t a big deal at all really is a huge deal to a child. You show empathy to me when you understand that I may cancel plans, not feel one hundred percent, and don’t ask me a laundry list of questions. It means a lot to me when you share something hard in your life rather than me always explaining my latest hurdle that I try to embellish with a little humor thrown in for good measure.

Empathy is not making comments along the lines of “It’s too bad you had to get cancer.” Yeah, I just don’t know what I was thinking when I was in the cancer store. It isn’t empathetic to tell someone what he/she feels. Neither is telling someone what he/she needs to do to fix what is deemed not right (health, job, loss, etc.). Empathy is not putting someone down or saying things could be worse or that he/she should feel grateful. The words “at least” aren’t used at all. Please don’t tell me to live life to the fullest because tomorrow I could get hit by a bus. What many people don’t understand is that I’m running from that stupid bus every day. These things seem obvious to me, but I’ve heard them all. Perhaps the intention isn’t to show empathy, but to show something far less kind. I can’t figure it out.

And empathy definitely is not knowing what it might be like to have cancer and be alone because you had a scare and everything turned out just fine. You put your own shoes back on and walked on.

Empathy is something we all need and we all have the ability to give. At best, we understand what it’s like to be scared, perhaps terrified about our health and our future. We understand all the “what ifs” that run wild in our thoughts. We understand that disease can be a very lonely place to live. We can relate to one another that our upsetting news, event, or circumstance may be completely different from another person’s struggle, but that they are the same in that they are unsettling, frightening, and possibly very lonely feelings. We understand people are doing the best they can with what they have. Empathy connects us to one another. Through empathy we can share with and support one another.

I can empathize with those feelings.

I am not alone.

You are not alone either.

 

Consider replying:

  1. Where have you seen empathy alive and well in your life?
  2. How do you best handle situations when someone is not empathetic?

Lucky Leprechauns and Health

Many years ago, a middle-aged Irish woman started off a bus tour of Killarney and the surrounding area with these words, “When God made time, He made plenty of it.”

If you don’t hear her accent, you’re reading it wrong. Go back and reread it with a lilt that would make a leprechaun jealous. Her words still echo true twenty plus years later.

Too many of us rush around trying to get more and more done, believing that quantity is better than quality. If we could SLOW DOWN a little, we would find there is more than enough time for what truly matters – things like love, joy, learning, and truly working to make the world a better place. At the end of the day, these are the important things. If you feel like you never have enough time, you are trying to do too much. Taking care of yourself and your health may take a back seat. Important things are likely being neglected or pushed off until later. Later never comes. No one can keep doing everything all the time. We need sleep, peace, and joy.

There is plenty of time.

Make changes.

We all have the same number of minutes in a day. If working out is a priority, time opens up for it. If more time is needed to read to or play with your children, you will find it. If you sit watching hours of television or mindlessly checking various social media accounts, well, there goes your time. We all have the same amount. We all use it differently.

I could make more time to clean my home, but I don’t and I don’t care. Not a priority.

I hope I never become allergic to dust.

Slow down.

I believe it’s healthy to slow down. Slowing down lowers stress and increases happiness. How do you do that if you want to slow down a little or a lot? I’ve asked myself these questions:

What is it that I really want to make time for?
Where do I feel like I waste time every day?
How can I make my life easier?
What happens if “x” just doesn’t get done for a day or two?

My answers revealed my priorities. Too much time is wasted on various screens throughout the day. Making a list keeps me more focused. I used to find lists too controlling, but that leads me to the answer to my last question. If something doesn’t get crossed off the list or completed, I really don’t care.

Leprechauns have always struck me as happy, healthy, and lucky. I don’t know how they spend their time, other than mischief-making and making tiny boots. They know a secret the rest of us are trying to learn. The Irish woman giving the Killarney bus tour knew the secret.

Why are leprechauns so happy?

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I think it’s a combination of the whiskey, jigging, and being around so much healing green. I love all three of these, however, these days I’m limited to jigging and loving green things. No worries, I can still channel my “inner whiskey” when I need it. Don’t ask me what I mean by that because I’m not sure. I just do it. Leprechauns also are so small that joy and happiness (and maybe a little mischief) just oozes out because it has no other choice. We all need to have that leprechaun spark ignited within us.

How can we be just as lucky as leprechauns?

Some people are just thought to be luckier than others. I am really lucky at getting awesome parking spaces. But there are things to do to improve your chances. Believing you are lucky increases your chances of getting what you want. It changes your perspective. You become more receptive to opportunities around you. That has the potential to change health opportunities and outcomes. I think the same is true with time. When a person thinks there is no time – there isn’t. When a person thinks there is enough time to do something – somehow time opens up so such and such magically gets done.

I have heard that lucky people are clear on their goals and voice them. A leprechaun is very clear on his goal to hold on to his gold. No fancy or flowery language. I figure a leprechaun has two main goals:

Keep its gold.

Be a leprechaun.

How can I find my gold?

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What is my gold? My health. I need to feed it good food, fuel it with fun exercise, and surround myself with people who love me. I need to make time for what keeps me happy and healthy.

Lucky people also are proactive. They put themselves in settings where what they seek is present. They go to fundraisers to meet doctors and researchers. They go to writing conferences and send query letters to agents and publishers. They audition for plays, sing on “The Voice,” and run for public office. Lucky people talk about their interests and visions. Asking questions is a sign of being proactive because you get answers and make progress. Here I am a little stumped as to how a leprechaun making little shoes and boots all day relates to their goal of protecting their gold. Share a theory if you have one.

My grandma’s ancestors came from Ireland. She always had a twinkle in her eye and personified some of the mischief leprechauns are said to have. Grandma lived until she was 98 years old. I think she knew whatever the Irish woman from the bus tour knew.

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My grandma had more than a twinkle in her eye. She sparkled all over.

The truth of the matter is a leprechaun doesn’t need a pot of gold. He’s never using it. It seems a sign of greed for those who want to steal it. If I ever meet one, I wouldn’t ask for it because I’d be tricked out of it anyway. I wouldn’t even ask for shoes. Instead I’d ask for a bit of healing magic. They are said to be magical and covered from head to toe in green. Green is healing. Healing is golden to me.

So, what have I learned about leprechauning?

  • Green is a wonderful color.
  • Doing a jig is non-stop fun.
  • A leprechaun has plenty of time.
  • We all have plenty of time.
  • A leprechaun is lucky because it believes it’s lucky.
  • It knows what it wants and it is clear on its goals.
  • A leprechaun is proactive.
  • It doesn’t even need its pot of gold.
  • Its gold is found within and that really is what we all are after.
  • We all can be leprechauns.

It seems fitting to end with a traditional Irish blessing:

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face.

May the rains fall soft upon your fields.

And, until we meet again,

May God hold you in

The palm of His hand.

I can’t believe I have to say this, but if you didn’t say the Irish blessing with an Irish accent, you’re still doing it wrong. Go back and do it properly.

And may you make your own luck.

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Individualized Survivorship

I was half listening to a show on TV many, many months back, and whatever I was watching touched on the importance of survivorship plans for cancer patients. I shifted my focus more intently to find out how these differed from what I thought of as a treatment plan. The specific TV segment ended before it began, and it never went into enough depth to even explain what a survivorship plan was other than a detailed medical plan for continued care and survival. To me, this translated that a survivorship plan was merely an extended treatment plan.

I took to the internet and survivorship plans did seem to have a very medical tilt to them. These plans looked great in that they contained all your pertinent information about your past treatments and planning for future care in one spot. They were very similar to my health journal that I take for medical office visits. For me, a drawback is they are narrow in scope where only the medical aspects of continued health are part of the plan. They are forms.

Survivorship can’t be condensed into a form.

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At the beginning of treatment, I was given a piece of paper with blanks for me to fill in with all the particulars about diagnosis, surgeries, treatments, beginning and end dates, etc. It was a fine centralized place for information at a time when life suddenly was more overwhelming than ever, but rather limited for the long haul. It remained a good reference tool.

Some survivorship plans out there are better than others. One of the better ones I’ve found comes from the Minnesota Cancer Alliance, created by Karen Karls, a survivor from Grand Rapids, Minnesota. In addition to giving space for a historical documentation of dates and treatments, it provides great questions and things to think about for follow-up care. It looks like an awesome resource. The actual survivorship plan can be found here. Pick and choose what may work for your needs since it is lengthy.

I would add to this resource additional space or pages for any continued treatments needed if you are metastatic and have need for an ongoing list that can still be somewhat at a glance to provide an overall picture. It would have medicines, beginning/ending dates, side effects, results, and an area for why you switched or for additional notes. I use a spreadsheet to accomplish this for my needs.

I want a healing plan. In my mind, a healing plan combines the medical aspects of a survivorship plan (treatment plan) and the complementary pieces added to ongoing medical plans for complete care. A healing plan encompasses all of it. As a survivor, you are the executive in charge of connecting all the dots between your oncologist, primary care provider, naturopaths, acupuncturist, massage therapist, mental health provider, and any other therapies or services you seek for better health. This sounds like the job of a patient navigator, but the role of the patient navigator stays within an integrative health care network. He or she can put you in touch with approved services within a network. As soon as you want to seek something complementary outside of the system, you are on your own. Incidentally, they also haven’t been too keen on hearing how I think a patient navigator differs from a survivor navigator, probably because it opens up too many potential liability issues. It makes me mad the kinds of wrenches that get thrown in the way of someone’s best health.

A survivor navigator is hereby decreed a new position.

It is one of great worth for which you will receive no monetary pay. You are self-employed and get all the benefits from your new position. Maybe someday health care will see the wisdom of multiple services (even if they are outside the system) working in tandem with efficient communication and patient information sharing. Research should be doing A LOT more sharing of their discoveries and resources to find a cure. It only seems logical. What is crucial to remember as your own survivor navigator is that you must communicate important details of your healing plan to relevant parties. For example, your oncologist should know if you’re adding any new supplements to your health regiment because they may interact with treatments or other prescriptions.

They also may not. I have heard “we don’t have evidence for how these herbal supplements interact with drug x” a couple of times.

I try not to roll my eyes too loudly.

Translated, it means “there isn’t any evidence because big pharma will never sponsor such a study since it may be discovered something cheaper and more available works even better than drug x.”

I doubt there will ever be any such studies. I do not have medical training and am not making medical claims. The above are my own opinions which I openly share with my medical team. You need to do your research, have relevant conversations, and make the decision that you feel is best for you. I am not a doctor.

I do know some of the supplements I take, many of which have been suggested by my oncologist, have helped my body feel better and move more effectively.

Maybe it’s too pie in the sky to think that each patient can have a personal assistant to schedule every need the patient has and keep it all straight. Call me a dreamer. I’d love to have a person like that assigned to me, but it looks like I am that person and I’m already here doing the job. Right now it’s a seed idea that has the potential to grow into something real for others. Somehow this person has to have reach outside of a provider network to connect patients to complementary resources without taking on potential risks in so doing.

Health care is better when people work together.

In education, students with special education needs have what is known as an Individualized Education Plan, or IEP for short. Every learner has different needs. The goal is for targeted instruction to each individual student. In theory, all students have an IEP, most being informal and not legally binding like an official IEP. A student receives his/her best education when teachers work together as a team for a specific learning outcome. A healing plan is much like an IEP in that it’s individualized to the individual.

People are working together for a specific health outcome.

Think of it as a personal Individualized Health Plan, or IHP to stick with the acronym pattern.

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I have a lot of people and strategies in my corner supporting my best health. So much is crammed into that corner that it’s spreading out and filling other spaces and other corners. For me, this is a good thing because of the many options it provides at my disposal. I have developed a strength as an advocate for my own health that continues to evolve. If I relied solely on the medical realm, I would have limited myself to a very narrow scope of what is available. Components like a naturopath, acupuncture, and energy work receive a very luke warm reception so I steer clear of those when having specific medical discussions. Fitness, nutrition, meditation, and science-backed inquiries get more attention. People accept and believe different things are effective. Your healing plan will be individualized and fluid, just like you. Mine sure has changed over time. Use your best judgment and you will develop one that feels right for you.

A brief note: My last few posts have focused more on the medical side of my life as a cancer patient. I’ve chosen my words deliberately and have tried to convey that I support my doctors, nurses, and everyone on my team that cares for me. I fully support them. I have not expressed myself well enough if I have fallen short in conveying that message. I have also chosen my words carefully to make my voice heard as a patient. Being an involved patient doesn’t mean I am against the medical profession. Sure, there are things I would like to see change. It’s a huge motivator as I write specific posts. The idea that doctors and patients work together is key to all of it. I strive to work with them and find the best way for that to happen. An individualized health plan is part of what can help everyone work together. Health care is better when everyone involved works together.

 

Consider responding:

  • What do you feel are the most important parts of your individualized health plan?
  • In what ways have you advocated for yourself in terms of health or something else?

Patient Rights and Raising the Bar

An oncologist, radiologist, and surgeon all walk into a bar. Each was feeling frustrated because each felt he was more responsible than the other in successfully eradicating a patient’s cancer. In the midst of their heated discussion, a nearby bar stool swiveled to reveal the very patient they were debating (it was a juice bar). “You all have been a vital part in my healing, but I AM the most important factor in healing my cancer.” Each doctor was struck speechless, whereupon the patient treated each to a nutrient and antioxidant rich green smoothie.

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Image credit: pixabay.com

I’m feeling fired up today about many, many things related to health care.

Do you realize how empowered you are? YOU are the common factor that ties your specialists together. Good communication is key. Sure, they discuss your care without you, but you get to integrate that information together. It needs to make sense to you. It affects you the most. YOU are the one who has sought out complementary treatments and again the person fitting all these pieces of your health puzzle together. YOU have done the research and made informed decisions. They all work for you and your interests. YOU are the CEO of your team. That’s powerful.

A lot is being done TO you. You may feel out of control. You have rights. Knowing your rights is empowering.

  • Having complete and accurate information from your doctor about your diagnosis, treatment, and prognosis tops the list.
  • As a patient, you are entitled to privacy regarding your medical care and records.
  • You have the right to quality care and treatment consistent with available resources and standards of treatment.
  • You have a right to refuse treatment and be informed about the consequences of that decision.
  • You have the right to care and treatment in a safe environment.
  • Another big right is that you have the right to considerate and respectful care.

I want to add two additional patient rights.

One: The right to demand more research and more effective treatments for advance stage cancer.

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Image credit: pixabay.com

It seems to be an idea I keep repeating over and over. Tell your oncologist, radiologist, and surgeon. Make phone calls and write letters to administrators of treatment centers and hospitals. Find a researcher who would love to give you a tour of their lab and share what is being worked on.

I think this is a great way to create a direct line to the front line.

It also provides a face to the work the researchers do, even though I think many researchers went into their chosen profession because of loved ones who’ve been lost to illness. Every new face can continue to motivate researchers.

Touring a research lab certainly will better my understanding of work being done. It’s on my list of things to do. Spread the word to non-medical people (family, friends, coworkers, followers, etc.) so they can spread the word on the urgent need for more research for advance cancer. When more people speak up and demand more, and keep demanding more, there is a better chance that people will get more. I ask for more all the time.

Two: The right to have more equality and power with pharmaceutical and drug companies.

I feel this is an uphill battle but one worth having because those needing drugs are humans with feelings and deserve whatever can help them feel better. This one relates a lot to the aforementioned right to CONSIDERATE and RESPECTFUL CARE. It is neither when you are treated like you don’t matter or are insignificant. THEY are there for ME, not the other way around. Too often the latter is the norm. I could easily throw insurance companies to the mix.

I am tired of feeling exhausted with efforts to make a positive difference, but I will keep working to do so for myself and for others. I am so sick of arguing and jumping through hoops for what I deserve in order to be well. I have mentioned this point in earlier posts: I’m well enough to argue for myself and hoop jump, but what about the patients who are physically too tired or weak to do so? Those who are sick are vulnerable just like any other powerless or marginalized segment of society. Take your pick – there are plenty of “others” in society. They are discounted. Laws and policies do not work in their favor.

Here’s more depressing news – the cancer the specialists argued about eradicating in the beginning of the post may not have been eradicated. It should be part of the complete and accurate information you get from a doctor about a cancer diagnosis and prognosis. 30% of cases recur or may metastasize. Unfortunately, it could still be lurking, biding its time. A new cancer can also grow. You, being extremely empowered, need to know this is a possibility. You, being extremely empowered, need to stay vigilant in understanding your risks and the red flags that may suggest secondary cancer. I apologize in advance if the following freaks people out. It freaks me out, too, but I feel it needs to be shared. Jo Taylor is the founder of After Breast Cancer Diagnosis and a patient advocate living with secondary breast cancer. She can be found on Twitter @abcdiagnosis and her website is abcdiagnosis.co.uk.  The graphic below (used with permission) illustrates warning signs that should be on everyone’s radar.

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Years ago, I felt a little tired but just chalked it up to the demands of my job. A lot was going on personally for me as well. These things could very well have been why I felt tired. Many people are fatigued who do not have cancer. Cancer was the farthest thought from my mind. I have no idea of knowing for sure.

Although the above symptoms pointing to a reality (or possible reality) for some is depressing or upsetting, knowledge is power.

Let’s talk about the term healing. Semantics can be tricky. Healed cancer, treatable cancer, cured cancer. Can you be healed without being cured? I think the answer is yes. Healed is more of an element of mind and spirit. Healed and cured are probably the most synonymous. You can be healed and still have treatable cancer. You can be healed and have curable cancer. You can be cured, but not healed. And you can not be healed while having treatable cancer. I still hold fast to the idea that you are the most important factor in your healing as you have to decide what you are going to allow and how it works for you.

It’s time to get back to the doctors who walk into the bar. They may continue to argue. They may nod politely at your declaration. Perhaps they believe you. When you assert that you are the most important factor in your healing, you raise the bar of expectation in doctor-patient relationships. You change how you are perceived. You may even change the treatments offered to you. Maybe you find something that is a possibility for you that your doctor hadn’t considered. You are important. You matter. Your voice matters. The bar is important.

A patient, researcher, and leader all walk into a bar. Here’s the punch line: They are all the same person . . . you. Being an active member on your cancer care team ensures that no aspect of your care is taken for granted. Your team is accountable to you, as it should be. And here’s even more good news: The oncologist, radiologist, and surgeon have been waiting for you. They wave and welcome you to your seat at the table.

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Image credit: pixabay.com

Consider responding:

  • How do you feel you are a part of your team for your health?
  • Are there any other rights you’d like to add to your personal list of patient rights?