This is an essential topic, and to understand the difference between curing and healing is so important. In our culture of the "cancer wars", and in our "fighting cancer", we often manage to miss this need to find whatever balance and peace that we can to heal. We're all traumatized by our diagnoses to greater or lesser degrees, and by the tumult of treatment; surgery, drugs, radiation, chemotherapy, tests, biopsies. These all take their tolls on our psychies and of course, on our bodies. Many of us are pushed to the breaking point, and sometimes beyond.
The mission then, is to develop the ability to stop fighting and start living. I think that the fight mentality, although common in our society, isn't the most helpful when dealing with illness. We've spoken before about how someone who has died from cancer is said to have "lost their battle with cancer"...as though they didn't "fight" hard enough, or do enough, or perservere long enough. Sometimes we simply die.
What my goal has been with cancer is to find balance, inasmuch as it's possible, and to perservere in getting the best quality of life that I can. I'm working, not fighting, to get my quality of life back. I'm exercising regularly, getting out of the house and going places, seeing friends, making new friends. I've found a new passion for making jewelry, and am pursuing making a business out of it, I'm smelling the flowers. I'm healing.

Sent by Nancy K. Clark | 7:21 AM ET | 04-04-2007

You are exactly right. I think my having cancer was much tougher on my wife and kids than it was on me. Everyone focuses on helping the person with cancer. The caregivers are often left to fend for themselves.

I will also say that having cancer changed my life, through my caregivers. I will never again wonder if I have friends or if I am loved.

Sent by crawford | 7:28 AM ET | 04-04-2007

Amen Leroy. As a former caregiver, who sat long vigils at my mother's bedside, I've been trying to heal myself for the past 2 years. Its an ongoing process, and it doesn't follow an orderly route. Sometimes, I have enough guilt to start my own religion (I didn't do enough; I could've been kinder), and other times I feel that maybe I did OK.

Thanks for sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings as you wrestle with your disease. Its a God-send for many people here.

I'm praying for you and for everyone in need of healing.

Sent by Tam. Secaucus, NJ | 8:56 AM ET | 04-04-2007

Rachel Naomi Remen's remarkable and easy to read book, Kitchen Table Wisdom, might be of interest to some in this blog community. It remains among my lifetime favorite books, and is directly relevant to the issues mentioned in the quote that Martha shared. If you do not want to commit to the book, you may enjoy googling her name to read some of her essays, etc. online. She was a great gift in my own journeys, and the way of seeing even grim realities as having potential for transformation, was an important re-framing for me, that has served me ever since...

Sent by Sarah | 9:29 AM ET | 04-04-2007

Leroy: Once again your words are of wisdom - The Patient and The Caregivers..........There are so many, many lessons for us all. Such a learning and loving experience...to find healing in ALL THE PAIN...is truly what it is all about...THE LOVE!!!!!
Thank you!!!! God loves and blesses us all throught his people!

Sent by Joan | 9:35 AM ET | 04-04-2007

i could not begin to imagine my battle without my husband. "our" diagnosis came shortly after our marriage..how could this be happening to us? as i devoured the internet for information i also was learning how many husbands, significant others and life partners had abandoned their "loved" ones after diagnosis. i was disappointed and appalled that anyone could possibly leave a relationship in a time of true need ;but then again that relationship possibly wasn't strong to begin with .
i do believe that the ultimate challenge in a relationship is trust. without the trust and love that my husband has shown me throughout our battle i would not be in the "place" that i am today. knowing that i can wake up everyday with scars and battle wounds and side effects and he still looks at me as if in reality i looked just like pamela lee anderson...now thats a HUSBAND !!!! (LOLOLOL) i love my man!!!

Sent by marianne dalton | 9:47 AM ET | 04-04-2007

This may sound trivial compared to the trauma we face with cancer, but I just needed to put this out here. I had stage 3 ovarian cancer in 1998 and have been sympton free since. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Through my ordeal of course my friends were wonderful, my only family member, my brother, was supportive, but I give a lot of credit for my recovery to my cat. To non-animal lovers this probably sounds stupid. But I had another living being to take care of besides myself. She slept with me, made me get up to feed her and kept me company during the those long days and nights when I did not feel well. Well, now the opposite has happened. She was diagnosed with soft tissue sarcoma, had a leg amputated, and began chemotherapy yesterday. I am amazed that animals now have the same treatment options as we do. Is it expensive - you bet (though not nearly as expensive as my treatment). I thank God I can afford it. I want to give her the best chance I can to live a few more good years. She was there for me, whether she knew it or not, and I will be there for her to the best of my ability.

Sent by Pat Grossman | 10:19 AM ET | 04-04-2007

Leroy,

I lost my husband to prostate cancer almost twenty years ago. I wanted to die, too. After a very black period, life picked me up and carried me on down the road.

Point is, yes cancer is hard on caregivers, but if you love someone, not to give care is unthinkable. When you are left behind, you still have to make choices about what you are going to do and how.

Today I am glad to be alive and life is beautiful. As long as I have it, I'm going to try to live it as best I can.

Sent by Diana Kitch | 10:51 AM ET | 04-04-2007

I am FAR from healing, but I've found in the last six weeks that work and reaching out to friends and family has been a tremendous help. The first four days after Terry died, I pretty much stayed in bed. On day four I realized I was going to lay there and die myself if I didn't do something, so I went back to work. I started calling old friends and reconnecting with the people I'd had to cut out of my life when I started being the caregiver.

My dad died last summer and I've also found it helpful to both my mother and me to spend more time at her house. We get together two or three times a week for a "widow's club" evening, since neither of us really want to be alone much. Staying in touch with Terry's family has been a help, too.

I hadn't realized until now just how much time I actually spent being the caregiver. I suddenly find myself with a LOT of free time and no real idea how to spend it. I'm not ready to start doing anything like volunteering some of my time in hospice or anything, but that may come some day.

Sent by Bruce | 10:53 AM ET | 04-04-2007

Thank you....I was ashamed of myself because I felt almost as emotionally and mentally drained as my mother who has lung cancer. I kept thinking that I had no right to feel burdened since I'm not the one with cancer. To hear from people with cancer how much it means to them to have their friends and family by their side throughout their fight and that the caregivers do go through their own battles regarding this disease helped me realize that I need to allow myself to feel sadness and frustration with my mother's diagnosis. It's alright to hurt and try to heal as well and it doesn't diminish what my mother is going through.

I appreciate the blog because it helps me understand what my mother is dealing with mentally, not just physically. You help in ways that you may never know. Thank you for your time and thoughts. I pray that you, your family and friends all find healing, comfort and peace.

Sent by Erika Croft | 11:57 AM ET | 04-04-2007

I also hold dear the remarkable loving support I received. I went from being a caregiver of a cancer patient to transitioning into being a cancer patient myself, as my Grandmother was losing her battle. Cancer has definitely had an impact on my life.

I was newly engaged when my cancer diagnosis came. I am happy to say that my family and the family I joined were truly wonderful. They have been there for me, especially when I was really frightfully sick and trying to hang onto "normal" life. (Amazing how all of the usual details in life become much more vivid and profoundly treasured when everything might be for the last time, even the inconveniences.) My sister was working at the Strang Institute, and let me know how many relations fell apart under the stresses of cancer.

My loving support also came from two cats, who stayed by my side, keeping vigil and always touching me somehow at every moment I was at home, except when I was throwing up. (I threw up a lot - into bags, buckets, cups, the air around me, whatever. :) It scared them as they looked on.) Normally picky about such things, they didn't fuss over food or boxes at all. They curled up around my naked head to keep it warm at night, missing the hair they played with and slept on. One of the ways I knew I was doing much better was when they let me spend time at home on my own occassionally and they resumed their picky preferences.

My dog, on the other hand, kept me company and more alive by refusing to realize I had limitations, and dragging me outside to enjoy my patch of river and wilderness.

They all made the tough going a whole lot easier because I had a goal and a number of loved ones who mattered to me, and to whom I clearly mattered

Sent by Lilly T. | 12:14 PM ET | 04-04-2007

I could not agree with you more. When I was 18 (about 2 years ago) my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Our family spent the next year helping her fight it and, fortunately, the outcome was good. We often worried about the future. I wondered what would happen to my mom, my role model, one of my best friends. It was heartbreaking to see her go through so much pain.

I know, though, that the only way that she was able to approach the disease with the infinite courage and optimism that she had was with the support of our friends and family. Hearing people's stories and encouragement and just knowing that many, even strangers, are thinking about you is a powerful spirit-booster.

I truly believe that without the support our family received while she was battling cancer, we could not have handled it. This has led me to find an organization that I have joined that gives hope and support to others battling cancer, called Texas 4000 for Cancer (www.texas4000.org). Every year, this group of 45 young people raises over $300,000 for cancer research and then ride our bicycles from Austin, TX, to Alaska, dedicating our ride to those fighting and who have fought cancer. We visit people battling this disease along the way and tell others about the importance of cancer awareness.

I pray that eventually cancer will be something of the past, totally curable, but until then, I will continue to do my very best to spread hope to those who need it most. Keep fighting!

Sent by Shelley Vinyard | 2:47 PM ET | 04-04-2007

Leroy,

Your wrote: "You may not need to be cured, your bodies may not be ravaged by disease, but you, too, need to find a way to heal," including a quote from Dr. Remen sent to you by a reader.

As some of the readers of this blog know, the words health, whole, holy, and of course, to heal, stem from a common linguistic root, O.E. h??lan, to make whole, sound and well.

As your post and the many comments from readers illustrate, it may be that human beings can be "healed" in a more complete sense only when we allow oursevles to give love and care to those around us, and in turn, to be able to receive and accept love and care. The interaction itself produces healing.

I think you are shedding light on important aspects of the human condition with these observations. Thank you.

Sent by Alan | 3:23 PM ET | 04-04-2007

Leroy, I want to thank everyone once again for voicing their opinions. Thank you all. The doctor decided to put off the decision for another 3 weeks, he didn't think I was ready at this time either. I will do a CT scan before I see him, then we'll decide. Your comments mean a lot to me.

Sent by Ruth White | 4:47 PM ET | 04-04-2007

There was a "Frontline" documentary on PBS last night about ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease) that was truly heart wrenching. That disease makes cancer look like a weenie. It covered 4 years in the life of a 29 year old man and his family. If there was ever a way to feel like you didn't completely lose the lottery when you got cancer, seeing this documentary might just do it. It's Called "So Much-So Fast". Check it out.

Sent by S. Carrier | 7:58 PM ET | 04-04-2007

Ruth

Hang in there. Have you given any thought to asking about antidepressants that you may be able to take, even for just a few weeks, along with your current therapy that won't interact with what you're on?

I wish you the best of luck, and I know from second-hand experience (as caregiver) you're facing some tough choices. It's a dark place to be, and we all need a candle sometimes--caregivers and patients alike. I hope you find yours.

Hugs to you, my dear. I wish you only the best.

Sent by Bruce | 9:05 PM ET | 04-04-2007

Leroy, you stated that "even when the body is being beaten down, it is possible to find peace..."

Recently while cleaning out my closet I came across a diary that my wife wrote. I was particularly struck by an entry she wrote in October of 1995, which was 9 years into her 10 year journey with cancer. Her body was very much showing the ravages of 9 years of disease and treatment. Yet she was still able to enjoy life. She wrote of our trip to the ocean: "This morning was absolutely beautiful with bright sunshine on the ocean. Tonight we are going to dinner and a piano show of blues and jazz. The time goes by quickly. There are plenty of things to do if we want to do them. Mostly it is a time to enjoy being".

Mostly it is a time to enjoy being. And she did.

Best wishes to you on your continuing journey Leroy!

Sent by Jon Manchester | 10:10 PM ET | 04-04-2007

Leroy, you have once again hit me exactly where I live. My best friend died of cancer three years ago and I am still in the healing process, in part, because of this blog and all the fabulous people who write in and share and bare their souls. As a caregiver, it was devastating but now I am moving toward a place where I remember all the times we partied, had fun, grew up and essentially had the world by the tail. There are now other people in my life that have cancer and I just want to be there for them any way they need, and by doing that, keep myself human. Pat Z.

Sent by Pat Zalewski | 10:36 PM ET | 04-04-2007

Hello All,
Those of you who have been reading know who I am. This was perfect timing Leroy. Yesterday, a mass was said for Melody at Holy Name Cathedral here in downtown Chicago. Mel (the teddy bear I gave to Melody on our first Valentine's Day together, and that she took to the hospital every overnighter she had) and I attended. The person who requested the mass to be said I did not know. I thought Melody told me everything. Apparently not.
When Melody was sick, she helped this person through cancer with her mother, getting her around the insurance system, working the social services department, etc. And I never knew this. God she was an awesome woman. And after sitting in Holy Name for that hour, and listening to Melody's voice in my heart and head, and feeling her presence, and knowing what I know now, i can honestly say that Melody was as much of a caregiver to me (and in a lot of ways still is) as I was to her. She helped keep me strong during her sickness. You victims are just as important to us as we are to you!

My love to you Laurie (Leroy's wife), and to all the caregivers. I wish you all strength, peace and clarity. This is your lot in life right now. Embrace it, and perform to the best of your ability. If you do, you will never have regrets! You will never have the "I could have done this better" syndrome.
You are all exceptional people!

Sent by Michael (caregiver survivor) | 1:29 AM ET | 04-05-2007

Leroy;

This post really speaks to me. I'm not a "caregiver" or a patient. I have a friend who has cancer. Yes, we all hurt, when this happens. But a common thread that seems to be present in the posts of caregivers and "sideliners" like myself is the thought that we cheerfully offer our help, support, care, concern, and love, unconditionally. I agree with what Alan said in his comment above "when we allow ourselves to give love and care to those around us".

After the running through initial gamut of painful emotions, I found that the very act of providing some kind of support was transformative. Like so many volunteer acts of kindness, it contains its own rewards.

Many people know the prayer in Psalm 51:10. Helping and supporting provided the answer to the last part of the verse -- "renew a right spirit within me"

Sent by Emile | 9:37 AM ET | 04-05-2007

I had a very, very hard time going through chemo for breast cancer two years ago. But my family was there. My friends sat with me, talked and cried with me, made food for my family. My husband reassured me, held me and took naps with me. My brother-in-law held my feet in his lap and listened to my worse fears. My kids sat with me and read to me. My stepmother came and took care of all of us for six weeks during the coldest winter anyone could remember. My father called me every day. And my sister took care of everything. She reassured me that she would be there for anything that happened. She ran two households, organized everything, made shakes for me when I could not swallow, pushed me when I thought I couldn't go on. She also gave me the permission to die if I felt I couldn't make it. My family and friends made me realize what this journey is all about.

Sent by Liliana | 1:15 PM ET | 04-05-2007

Very well said! Completely agree.

Sent by Chandana | 4:50 PM ET | 04-06-2007

Thank you for helping us to explain to our friends and family what this life is like.
Thank you for helping my husband deal with his cancer without a cure. He beat the odds with his cancer; he should have been dead in 3-6 months instead of nearly a year.
Thank you for listening to caregivers and helping us to heal.
Godspeed, Leroy

Sent by Cynthia Harbaugh M.D. | 1:38 PM ET | 04-08-2007

This entry hit my inbox at an amazing time -- on Easter Sunday just after I returned from visiting the cemetary (which I RARELY do), where I left roses at my father's grave. He's been gone only a little over a year, and I grapple with the concept of healing and finding peace -- something there wasn't much time to talk about during my dad's battle with the disease. Leroy, yet again, your words, your timing and your insightful commentary offer me peace and healing in that you speak from the heart as a cancer patient much of what I know my father felt but wasn't able to verbalize. We were close, and I know he found peace and healing even when his body was at its weakest without hope of cure. That peace is something I think we all struggle for in our lives, and if there are but just a few positives that this disease can offer, perhaps it's an opportunity for an insight that we might not otherwise have. I wish you -- and all of your readers -- peace this Easter and always.

Sent by Tammy, Cincinnati, OH | 3:40 PM ET | 04-08-2007

Thank you, Leroy. I am a caregiver, and your post made me cry.

Sent by Tammy | 11:39 AM ET | 04-09-2007

Hi..i had my pancreatic cancer surgery done 6/1/06...10 hrs 30 day hospital & 30 pds less i'm still here...though with various pains & problems but i still see the blue sky in the morning...as luck wouldhave it...my son in law is a gastro doctor who picked up the symptoms early making it operable...read in the local newspapers L V review journal...a young girl(15yr) playing soccer got kicked in the stomach...after a few days of pain a cat was done showing a pancreatic growth....early detection saved her life....at 15 recuperation is a lot easier than 75.....but i'm trying to move on
norman

Sent by norman | 3:06 PM ET | 04-17-2007