An article was brought to my attention, "A Tattoo on
the Brain" by James Salwitz. In it,
he writes, "...we must understand that medicine often causes deep injury
beyond that of the flesh...When someone is treated for disease, their body is
invaded. Any invasion of the body that scars bone, muscle, and vessel, also
scars the mind. How can we predict how deep a wound may become, and how much it
may transform? Is it the person or the act?
It was just a minor procedure, a one day stay in the hospital, not
really much pain, rapid recovery, she
was back to work in two weeks, but somehow the wound buries deep into the core of a mind changed forever,
a deep pain that never heals. Stage 1 melanoma … take out the ovaries … a near lethal
aneurysm … no big deal … really? As family and friends of patients, we
must also remember that healed and Healed are not the same thing. Just because the body is better, does not
mean that the mind has followed. We need
empathetic support and understanding long after the crisis has past. New trauma or stress can release demons, and
we must all be aware and sensitive, for yesterday’s surgery is tomorrow’s pain.
Finally, as patients we must understand we have been changed. There is something brutal about invasive
medical care, which may affect us deeply. We must be gentle with ourselves and
realize healing is more than tissue deep.
Healing is of the mind, and may in part take a lifetime...”
I’ve been thinking on this a lot since reading it. Do I feel like this? Do I understand this thought? Can I empathize
with it? I have seen some comments
written in response to the article, people expressing extreme relief that
someone else gets how they feel. While
my heart hurts for their pain and distress, I find that although I want to
empathize with someone who feels like this, as it sounds like a sad and awful place
to be, I must admit I don’t understand it.
Does that make me a bad person? I
hope not. It does make me realize how
important it is that we allow each other to have our own unique feelings, that
we not insist anyone conform to how they “should” feel.
Last week I had the pleasure of meeting a friend for
breakfast while I was in Montreal. I am
always looking for the upside of everything :) and one of the upsides to being in Montreal for an
extended stay (10 days for radiation) is that I have a chance to meet up with
my buddy Grant. Grant and I met while
staying in the same hospital room for chemotherapy in the spring of 2011, and
we have remained friends since. He has
recently been through some very intense treatments so I asked him if he felt
invaded, scarred on an emotional level or wounded other than flesh. What he said to me was profound, words I will
reuse and probably start to adapt as my own.
He said...I am still alive, and that is what we are asking of the doctor
when we go for treatment...to stay alive.
This resonates with me. When I
sit in front of my medical team, be it the surgeon, oncologist, radiologist,
lab technician, etc., what I am asking of them is to assist me in my quest to
stay alive. It is my choice, and perhaps
we forget that we always have choice. No
one or nothing “gave” us cancer so we cannot expect someone or something to
“take” it away. As with everything that
“happens” in my life, the one thing I have 100% control over is how I react and
my ability to make choices. I asked the
surgeon to invade my body, I asked the oncologist to kill my cells with chemo,
I choose these things. They were not
inflicted upon me. These things were
done in response to my request “help me stay alive”. I choose to feel gratitude for these
things. I suppose could react to surgery
by viewing it as an invasion, or consider the chemo a permanent scar on my
soul, but really, these were gifts to me.
I don’t think it’s possible to feel grateful and hurt at the same
time. I am filled with gratitude,
gratitude for skilled surgeons hands, gratitude for nurses who help me when I
can’t help myself, donors who helped build the hospital I seek care in, the
doctor who attends conferences to advance his understanding of my disease, drug
research and chemo that eats up cancer cells, gratitude for friends taking time
to write a note saying they are thinking of me, the list is endless. When my head, heart and soul focus on gratitude
I don’t feel like a victim, I feel blessed and bestowed upon. And as Grant said...we are still alive...this
is good.
"Gratitude
unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It
turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn
a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend." -
Melody Beattie
As I sit down to write more it’s a day later. I have just finished 10 days of radiation
treatment and having been away from home I am probably even more than my usual
reminiscent self. While all I have
written still feels true in my mind it would be wrong of me to not also share
that I don’t maintain a rosy, gratitude infused attitude all the time. There are times when I feel angry, sad, let
down, frightened, bewildered, panic, disappointment, frustration and there are
times when I can’t take another step...when I have to just pause before I can
go on. I heard a Mom speak, back in
2009, about her experience of watching her daughter fight and eventually die of
osteosarcoma cancer. She said something
I try to remember, “When bad news came, we (her daughter and herself) allowed
ourselves 24 hours of feeling all the negative emotions we had, but then, after
the 24 hours, it was time to get on with life”. Because as Grant so wisely and simply said,
“We are still alive”. You just can’t
argue with that.
p.s. I learned that in the Spring of 2013 my friend Grant passed away. This post is the most read post on my blog and I dedicate it to his friendship and wisdom. Grant was in the bed beside me during a chemo stint at the Jewish General Hospital. He was the one who started the conversation, went for the morning coffee and reached out in friendship. Thank you Grant. You made a difference in my life.
