Tag: patient

Anyone who has been given a cancer diagnosis makes an immediate recalibration of every previously held ambition. Friends and loved ones often don't understand how priorities held for a lifetime can change overnight when someone learns he or she has cancer. Reactions to a cancer diagnosis, regardless of the prognosis, will vary according to personality, but each person will experience an onslaught of fear, worry and uncertainty.

There's never enough time to do everything you want to do. It doesn't seem to matter how early you set your alarm, how many time-management seminars you attend, how artfully you delegate chores, there's never enough time.

So if someone comes along and says, "Hey, be patient!" their suggestion is greeted with zero enthusiasm. Patience in the 21st century has come to be defined as time you waste waiting while you'd rather (much!) be doing something else. Which is really unfortunate, because patience is a marvelous tool.

Have you defined what it means to you to "die well?" If you’re like most of us, the answer is probably "no." For my husband Bruce, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer, dying well meant he died at home surrounded by his loving family, free of fear and pain.

While most Americans prefer to die at home and have control over their healthcare decisions, this is not the case for many of us. Although 90% of those on Medicare say they want end-of-life care at home, only one-third achieve it.

Ever feel like you’re going crazy?

In grief, this is a common fear. As a grief specialist and coach, I hear it all the time. It goes something like this…

I feel confused today.

One minute I'm sad, and the next I'm angry. I zone out and find myself staring at the walls. Everything seems strange, like I'm in some alternate reality that looks a lot like my old life. Except that you're not here.

Loss hurts.

Both my grandfathers died before I could get to know them. Sexual abuse stole large chunks of my early childhood. One of my best friends died of a sudden illness when I was 12. My parents divorced. My mom disappeared into mental illness. My dad’s sudden, unexpected death when I was 15 shattered my world.

The hits came quickly and stuck deep. I was clueless about how to deal with it all. As a teen, I wondered if I was going to be able to weather future storms. I braced myself for the next loss. I lived in quiet fear, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

My father has always been a quiet, introspective man. Though he says little, the things he says say a lot. His presence around the words he chooses to speak say even more.

However, my father is a lot more than just quiet and introspective. He’s generous. He’s kind. He’s hardworking and he’s curious about the world. Ever a reader, my father, for as long as I can remember, spends his evenings after family dinner times in his study reading everything from The New York Times to Sky and Telescope to the latest psychiatry journal.