Cancer is a tough foe. Patients often find themselves thrust into intensive cancer treatments. There might be radiation, chemotherapy, surgery, or a combination of these. Sometimes patients are treated daily. Between the time spent at the hospital or cancer center and the time spent dealing with the side effects of treatment, there's little time left to keep up with normal activities. One of the first things to be sacrificed is socialization. Without it, patients often don't have the human connections they need to feel human.
In a lot of ways, going through cancer treatment is a lot like going off to war. The patient's attention is focused on getting rid of the cancer, and so much energy is devoted to that goal, because without it, there's little hope of survival. Most cancer patients have an immediate circle of support. It might be a spouse, children, or parents. It might be a close friend or two, a cousin, or sibling. But as cancer treatments move along, there is sometimes a tendency to keep to that narrow circle, and other relationships can fall away.
Some of this is the result of the demands of cancer therapies. Vulnerable patients with a risk of infection learn to stay away from crowds. Or they find they just don't have the energy to get out and about as easily. It's an effort to go through treatment and still have an active social life. Some patients even begin to withdraw from social opportunities for fear of seeing that pity in the eyes of people who care.
It's important for caregivers to help cancer patients engage in pleasant social interaction. Sometimes, it's a matter of adjusting the opportunities to fit the capabilities of the patient.
I learned over time that my mother was wiped out after chemotherapy two days after a treatment. It would hit her like a brick and she would barely be able to keep her eyes open. She felt it was weakness on her part that she couldn't fight the fatigue, until she learned from several younger patients at the cancer center that they felt the same effects. One of the benefits of talking to other patients is that you begin to learn what is normal during treatment. Some chemotherapy drugs can really knock a patient for a loop, and when you begin to understand the pattern, you can begin to plan social outings that are much more enjoyable. Every patient is a little different in experiencing the side effects, but once treatments start, you can begin to see the onset of side effects as they commence.
For my mother, it was important to know that what she was feeling was the drug, not the cancer. That helped her to let go of some of the fear of the fatigue. We knew that she felt good the day of treatment and the day after treatment, so we would plan outings for that time. We also knew that by the weekend, she'd feel more like her old self again, so that allowed us to plan more opportunities. But in the middle, when the side effects took over, there was really no sense in making plans. Accept what you can't change and change what you can.
Another symptom we noticed for my mother was that she had little energy in the evening. Her peak hours were from 11 AM to 3 PM. That gave us the chance to go out to lunch, visit a museum, take a picnic to the lake, or even take in a movie matinee. If she was really exhausted, we sometimes brought a companion wheelchair along, just in case. If she was feeling good, she wanted to walk. And walk she did. She enjoyed herself immensely on these outings. She felt connected to the world again. Very often she would start conversations with strangers, share laughs with old friends, and see new sights. She still wanted to explore and experience life. She needed to do this. It made her feel human again.
Sometimes, when I was feeling ambitious, there might be a dinner party for family or for friends. I would start the food preparations ahead of time. I often took shortcuts and kept the menu simple. I let other people bring food, instead of trying to do everything myself. But most of all, I let my mother do what she most loved to do, and what she most missed when cancer sapped her strength. She got to be hostess to her guests. She sat at the dining room table, opposite my father, and socialized with the people who mattered most to her. She knew she couldn't do the party clean-up any more, but once in a while, she could find the strength to sit at the table and have fun. Once she stopped worrying about all the "extra work" she was making for us and understood we wanted her to have fun, she let go of her guilt. She would rest up in the hours before the party, while my father and I got all the preparations done.
If you are caring for someone who is going through cancer treatment, remember that there are little ways in which you can use your creativity and caring to help someone still feel connected. Even if it's picking up pizza or a prepared meal for a group, do it. Or invite friends for pot luck. Let someone bring an appetizer, someone else a salad, someone else a dessert, and so on. Laugh together. Share the fun. Celebrate the little moments in life. It's important that we always remember that we have these moments and that we use them to full advantage. Sometimes the greatest healing takes place in the heart. Cancer patients can be weary from all the rigors of treatment. Sometimes the greatest toll is emotional. Having a chance to put cancer aside for a few hours and feel like a normal person again can be priceless.
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