"The tumor is malignant..."
"You have breast cancer..."
"I am sorry but..." Whatever the phrase that was used to tell your loved one that she has breast cancer, it is a tremendous shock. Both the patient and the caregiver will have all sorts of emotional reactions throughout the treatment process.
In our case the doctor who performed the biopsy told me right after the surgery that the sample tissue looked cancerous. Of course he would not know for certain till the results came back from the pathology lab, which they did a few days later.
A recent study of couples seven years out from treatment showed that partners of cancer survivors often suffer just as much emotional stress as the survivors themselves, "and, in some cases, suffer more quality of life-related effects than survivors." And yesterday, a new study published in the Sept. 20 issue of the Journal of Clinical Oncology came to a similar conclusion.
Researchers at the University of Michigan Comprehensive Cancer Center found that spouses reported similar physical and emotional quality of life as the patient. What's more, the researchers found that spouses had lower confidence than patients in their ability to manage the illness, and more uncertainty about the illness. Patients also had more social support than did spouses. I couldn't agree more with that finding.
With those issues in mind, I want to address the emotional side of breast cancer from my personal perspective as a cancer caregiver. Listed below are some of the highlights; they offer a closer look at the emotional stress described in the studies I mentioned. You can expect a follow up SharePost on ways that I learned to deal with these emotional challenges.
FEAR AND CONFUSION: I never told her how I felt about this because I tried to be her coach and source of strength. There were many nights, especially when she was in the hospital with the infections, that I cried myself to sleep. I just kept thinking that it was so unfair for her to have cancer and suffer all the humiliation and sickness that came with the chemotherapy treatments. I never really got over the fear of losing her. I was so afraid of what would happen to me. How could I go on with my life without her? How would I cope with never seeing her or talking with her again? I thought a lot about death during this period. I firmly believed in the afterlife and eternal salvation. I knew that Barbara was a good Christian and that her place in heaven would be a certainty. But I wanted her here on earth with me for the rest of my life. I wanted to see her grow old and comfort me. I couldn't stand the thought of her dying before me. After all, I was the one who served in the Army, a very dangerous profession that, at any minute, could have thrust me in harm's way to face the strong possibility of death.
I woke up every day with gut-wrenching anxiety attacks. I didn't sleep well and would often awake in the middle of the night in fear and confusion. I felt so helpless and so sorry for my poor wife who faced each new problem with a smile and a positive attitude. I knew all along that she was afraid, but she did a good job of hiding it. I guess that this attitude helped give me some strength in my lonely world full of confusion and pain.
