No. 09: The Caregivers

CAREGIVER: The person who provides any emotional or practical support.

I am one of the lucky ones. I have a great network of friends who provided support of all kinds. I was taken out to dinner, happy hours, lunches, given flowers, ice cream, home-cooked meals, or simply an ear to listen. They were all kind and supportive. They offered CARE.

The major caregivers were, best of all, my family – my husband and daughters. They came together and became the caregivers I needed 24/7.

The Husband, Significant Other, Partner

A good friend, confidant, and guide gave me this sage advice: SHARE YOUR FEELINGS with your husband. In her story, she did not. It was not until years later when she had good news of being cancer-free that she saw her husband cry.

My husband and I cried together when the diagnosis was confirmed. We had not told the girls until after the biopsy.

When the diagnosis came through, he was the first one I wanted to tell. Alas, I was at a friend's home, my writing partner, when the call came. He was the one who sat and listened to me until I had composed myself enough to drive home. I appreciated that my friend was there, and even though there were some tears, he was WFH. He was there for me. In fact, he has been texting and praying for me since the beginning. Prayers do work!

My husband was my rock. Following the sage advice, we talked. We talked about moods—his and mine. He made me feel cared for—shopping, cooking, listening, and emptying the drains that were attached to me. He urged me to walk and walked with me even down around the cul-de-sac of our street. He kept me active. Exercise is a good way to heal. He also reminded me to listen to my body and if I was tired, rest.

He also gave me space. I urged him to get out and do things that he wanted/needed to do. Ironically, as close as we were, I still had difficulty letting him see me for many, many days. I would dress in our walk-in closet or in the bathroom. He also had to adapt to my moods—which changed at the drop of a hat.

As I went through the grieving process of losing a major body part—a part society has magnified—I realized he was grieving too. Not the loss of my body parts; he reminded me that he did not marry me for my breasts. He was grieving for me—the changes I was going through. He loved to remind me that I was a Type A... which to him meant Type Anus. And we would laugh.

And that was the crux of our relationship. Together we reflected on what made life meaningful—our girls, family, and friends. And we would laugh together. Communicate. Laugh. Love.

The Grown Children

We have three grown children—all girls. They immediately became involved. They also determined the roles they would play. Scribe. Research. Scheduler. Support.

These three girls were in constant communication with each other from the day they learned about the biopsy. They planned a trip away from home for me prior to surgery. One or two would come to doctor appointments and take notes, then add them to the created Google Drive set up to keep all informed. Also, texting was occurring as the doctor spoke. Constant communication.

They also did research on their own. All let their employers know what was happening in the family. Through that, one daughter discovered her boss's mother had breast cancer and learned what questions to ask and what items might be needed. Online research, notes, questions, and texts were continually exchanged between the three.

The day of surgery was mid-week, and two-thirds of the daughters were on business trips. I requested that they keep their work schedule and commitments that week. I would be in the hospital anyway, and if there were complications, the stay would be extended. I would not need help until I got home. It worked out that I only needed a one-night stay. By the weekend, all were home. I loved the full house. And all were able to work from home as they had told their work.

More than that, I loved being waited on. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, drain duty. Snacks, drinks, all were delivered to me. Of course, one daughter declared herself the emotional support, sitting with mom while we both watched the others work. I will not point out who was who. Except to say, the Baby was the one who did the most drain duty, especially since she was living at home and the other two were visiting.

The house was quiet when the older two left. The Baby was left to take up the slack. She did. Drains. Cooking. Post-Op Visit. And working at her demanding job at the same time. She has delayed her move to California until she knew mom was okay. And, on the plus side for mom, we will be taking a cross-country trip—just her and me—to make the move.