Hi Everyone:

As I have been following the current thread about caregivers and their feelings, it occurs to me that maybe we are getting a bit caught up in the semantics of depression vs. "being down" when maybe we should focus on the underpinnings of what the feelings really mean for us.

Everyone that has posted has echoed the same sentiment in one way or the other. It is an overwhelming, exhausting, and at times, overpowering experience to be with and care for someone you love who is undergoing cancer treatment. Like the person undergoing treatment, the partner/caregiver doesn't get much sleep because he/she watches, listens, and waits to be sure all is okay in the middle of the night when breathing is often difficult and sputtering and choking replace snoring as "normal". But, both the patient and caregiver still get up the next morning and go to radiation, go to work, and fundamentally do what needs to be done to feed and care for children. In a sense, both are survivors in the process and should be honored but often aren't because the "patient" receives most of the sympathy.

There are indeed days when caregivers are too overwhelmed and exhausted to function and respite from friends and medications are often helpful in those circumstances. As Dee mentions, medications can enhance the caregiver's ability to be present to the client and help calm the fury of fright that is always present in the caregiver's mind.

I remember trying to share with Dave how I was feeling mid-radiation, and while he understood where I was at, he was simply too physically and emotionally drained to be present back to me which was difficult and at times, made me angry then guilty for feeling angry.

Overall,the hardest part for me was the sense that despite sudden adversity, life goes on in mundane ways such as sports practices and paying bills. I stood in many a cold hockey rink at the crack of dawn this past winter wondering when it would be light enough out to call and check on Dave who I had left "sleeping" at home. I probably would have left an open phone line beside him if I could have just to calm my own pervasive fear and worry over "divided allegiances" to my children versus Dave.

During that time, I felt all of us around Dave were vulnerable and when I finally realized that I could acknowledge it,work with it,talk about it with my kids,and go forward. The epitomy of my neurosis came one morning when I took my kids out for breakfast and couldn't reach Dave for the big "check in" phone call. My oldest son picked up that I was exhausted and becoming out of control anxious(not a good combination for moms on a good day let alone a mom with a partner having radiation) and he calmly and sweetly suggested I drive back to our house and check on Dave while the boys would stay at the restaurant with my family. Such wisdom from the mouth of babes! My son focused not on what was wrong with me but on what was right about my love for Dave and the message got through and I was so very proud of him. Of course, I drove back and checked on Dave who verified that I had finally lost it and then thanked me for being crazy enough to care so deeply about him.

Part of what got me through the hell of radiation was to share with my boys(11 and 6) how I felt and how very scared I would be if one of them were sick...but how very present I would be just like I am for Dave. Role modelling love comes in many unexpected forms and here was one way I surely didn't sign up for but the lessons Dave and I and the boys have learned are invaluable. When one member of the family is ill...the whole family unit becomes ill. Mandi, at some point, this hell can be reframed as opportunity. Time heals... and right now,Mandi, you need more time.

Frank & Dee-you guys remain my heroes for the grace and dignity you demonstrate every day.

In short, there is no magic recipe for wading through this high water-but maybe one isn't needed because somehow, somewhere, with help of meds or not, but mostly with inner resolve and love for our partners, we do it and get through it...every day...and I'll give all of us caregivers a pat on the back and say we do it well.

Sharing the oral cancer experience with Dave has taught me that having a situation look pretty on the surface or run smoothly may no longer be a necessary goal for me. Instead, finding meaning in the joy and pain that is real love and sharing it with others is far more meaningful.

Okay, I'll get off the soapbox and give someone else a turn.Did I mention I also learned I'm irreverent when it counts and seemed to have grown some testosterone based appendages that I'm really proud of...?

In Solidarity,

Kim