Eric Kingson

You may be among the 1.4 million Americans newly diagnosed with cancer this  year, or maybe you’re one of the roughly 10 million Americans who have been  diagnosed at some point in their lives. Whoever you are—patient, survivor,  family, friend, or medical professional&mdash;your life has probably been or will be  rocked by this disease. Mine and my late wife’s, Joan, certainly were.

Joan was diagnosed with cancer in October 1998, beginning a 32-month journey  I have since written about in 

Lessons from Joan: Living and Loving with  Cancer — A Husband’s Story

. Joan didn’t live as long as we had hoped, but  most who find cancer unexpectedly in their midst will live many years. No matter  how long you live, it’s important to live good and kind lives.

Cancer and other life-threatening illnesses, those uninvited teachers, leave  a new understanding of what’s important. Here’s some of what Joan and I learned  about living well with cancer.

Self-help is good, but don't blame yourself.

 The self-help  literature is replete with suggestions for preventing, warding off, and learning  to live with many illnesses. Joan and I read some of the books on dealing with  cancer. They were often helpful. However, some self-help approaches imply that  not only can you cure your illness but that it is somehow “your fault” if you do  not. Joan greatly resented and rejected this message. As she might say, “Look,  you can live well, exercise, eat lots of broccoli, and have a good outlook and  still die from cancer!” She was similarly clear when told she “failed chemo.”  “No,” she would say, “chemo failed me.”

You can control the little things, and they matter.

 The  truth is, many of the big things in life are out of your control. You may not be  able to prevent your company from closing or cancer from striking, but you can  control your responses to such events. And there are many little things in life  you can control: taking time with your loved ones, looking up to enjoy passing  clouds on a warm summer day, or going to a baseball game, play, or concert.

Learn to accept care from those you love.

 It’s a gift to you  and to them. Learning to give, to care for others, is an important part of our  development as human beings. As infants, we depend entirely on others. By  adulthood, most of us give more than we receive—as parents, as members of our  community. Some people, like Joan, excel at giving to others but have difficulty  accepting the care of others. Over the course of her illness&mdash;and without loss of  strength, dignity, or humanity&mdash;Joan learned to accept, even at times enjoy, the  care of health care providers, family, and friends. Her comfort and grace in  accepting care with appreciation was a gift that brought her closer to her  caregivers.

 Being confronted with  a life-threatening illness is (no surprise) extraordinarily stressful. Whether  you are diagnosed with cancer or giving care to someone with cancer, find ways  to care for yourself and those you love. Embrace small pleasures, pace yourself,  develop good relationships with health care providers, and “don’t sweat the  small stuff.” Find humor wherever you can. You and those around you need it more  than ever. Accept and acknowledge the concern of family and friends. And  consider seeking professional support for yourself and your family from  chaplains, therapists, and other counselors.

 Simple kindness gives expression to and  reinforces the human spirit. The nurse who kissed Joan’s forehead in advance of  a feared procedure or the physician who gave Joan his tie as she neared death  touched us in special ways. Joan’s capacity to get outside her pain, to move  beyond her anxiety and engage with interest the concerns of the nursing  students, aides, and others giving her care—even as she approached death&mdash;touched  others deeply. Life-threatening illness challenges the understanding and rhythm  of our lives. Kindness, given and received, provides the opportunity to  transcend human suffering and find meaning in the capacity of the human spirit  to endure.

Leave a videotape, letter, or other message for those you  love.

 As someone who lost his father at 13, I have often hoped, even as  an adult, to find a note from him: some advice about life, some stories of  importance to him. In contrast, I have deeply appreciated my mother’s  forethought in leaving a long letter for her sons. And Joan’s eloquent video  good-bye is part of her treasured legacy to our family. Consider leaving a  message for those you love. By the way, you don’t have to be ill or proximate to  death to do this.

Do not underestimate the effects of a parent’s illness on  children.

 As I look back on this time and think about how threatening  and ultimately devastating the loss of a parent is, I wish we had better  prepared Aaron and Johanna for the depth of the loss they would experience. We,  especially Joan, tried. But we were also invested in maintaining some normality  to their high school years, maybe too invested. And, while not keeping any  information from them, we did not want to rob them or ourselves of the hope that  we might have many years in front of us. No suggestions for others here, just  the observation that no matter which route is chosen, the pain and sadness that  children must bear when a parent dies runs very deep.

Recognize special “opportunities” that are a by-product of  cancer.

 No, I am not suggesting cancer and other life-threatening  illnesses are gifts, just that they provide opportunities and insights you would  not normally have. There are potential advantages to having blinders for every  day life—the fantasy that keeps awareness of our impermanence at bay, ripped  away by a cancer diagnosis. Everyone born goes down life’s path to death. Some  arrive there sooner than others. Some live better because they recognize the  limitations that life brings. Cancer can provide people with the opportunity to  reflect on the meaning of their lives, to renew their commitments, to grow in  ways never expected, to have time to repair relationships, to say full good-byes  to those they love. Growth and learning and teaching do not stop with a cancer  diagnosis, not even with death’s approach. Joan learned much in her 32 months of  cancer, especially about how loved and worthy of love she was. She taught much  to our family and others about dying, living, and courage, about the endurance  of the human spirit.

 Fear is not an unreasonable  response to a cancer diagnosis, especially advanced cancer. Mark Twain observed  that he spent much of his life worrying about things that never happened.  Similarly, living in too much fear, even when based in reality, can ruin the  time you have, time that may stretch out to decades.

In the course of Joan’s cancer, we learned to live in hope. Living in hope is  not synonymous with blind denial or sticking one’s head in the sand. Hope  evolved over the course of the illness, from hope for a cure to hope for  remission to hope for a “good” death. Joan’s appreciation for our children, her  friends, her walks, and books were expressions and outgrowths of the hope. My  pleasure in her smile, humor, and courage were part of the hope. And hope drove  our faith in good lives for our children and the permanence of our union. There  was still much fear, but we learned that living in hope gave us much life, more  than we could ever have expected.

   No point in living, no matter how long, if you can’t find laughter and joy in  every day with those you love.

Eric Kingson, a professor of social  work and public administration at Syracuse University, wrote 

Lessons From  Joan: Living and Loving With Cancer — A Husband's Story

 about his family’s  journey after his wife, Joan, was diagnosed with cancer. It can be ordered  online from 

Articles

Cancer&mdash;the uninvited teacher&mdash; leaves a new understanding of what’s important.  

Eric Kingson

What I've Learned About Living Well with Illness

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