In God's Hands. Maureen Cummings
Then I took all the problems back, told him what I thought should happen (and should not have happened), demanded to know what was going on, begged to see my children grow up, ranted about whatever I was currently thinking about, and then started the cycle again. I am not proud of this, but it is true. Some of you may be so angry with God that you do not even want to talk to him about anything. Others are ready to accept what is happening, but their loved ones are not.
You Don’t Have to Do It Alone
If possible, stop by a church or other place of prayer and just sit. Do nothing. Let God give you first aid. It may seem silly and futile to sit in an empty church. But go, if at all possible. And if you are Catholic (or even if you’re not), try to find time for Eucharistic Adoration. This is a time when the Holy Eucharist is present on the altar and made visible in a beautiful vessel called a monstrance. Some parishes do not have a regular time for Adoration, while others may have a chapel with twenty-four-hour Adoration. The point is to find a holy, quiet spot. Let God — who, after all, gave you your life — help your brain sort through all the information and feelings that have flooded into and over you after this diagnosis. Loved ones, too, are shocked and in need of his care. Will some miracle take place? Probably not in the normal sense. But at this early stage, just getting some room to breathe is a miracle you will appreciate. Wherever you are, even in the doctor’s office, ask God for graces. Ask for the grace you know you need, and then ask him to throw in whatever else he’s got — which is a lot. Then remind yourself to be open to that grace.
One of the first graces I received was three simple words: “Why not me?” With no history of breast cancer in parents, grandparents, or siblings, it seemed odd at best. With having breastfed five children, and doing so with the sixth child at the time (it is very rare to be diagnosed with breast cancer while nursing), I was prepared for a “why me” refrain in my head. But what I heard was a little, tiny voice saying, “Why not me?” I am just as selfish and fearful of my own mortality as the average Joe, so I knew this was not my thought but someone else’s. True, I “should” not have gotten cancer. I did not want cancer. But there it was.
Why not me?
Emotional Rollercoaster
This rollercoaster of feelings and emotions often continues for both the patient and those around the patient throughout — and even after — treatment. You may even switch places and positions. For example, at the beginning of this journey, a family member or caregiver may have a positive, take-charge attitude, while the patient is in total denial that anything is wrong. Weeks later, the family member or care-giver may not accept the changes the diagnosis is going to entail in life, while the patient is ready to charge ahead. It is not a matter of miscommunication. Rather, it is just two humans struggling with the same situation but from different perspectives. These changes can result in confusion, or even anger.
Just like on a rollercoaster one goes from screaming to laughter, it is best to realize that both caretaker and patient are in for a heck of a ride. If you can find the strength and the faith to invite God along, the twists and turns can sometimes even bring unexpected joy and laughter. The Catholic Church offers tons of help, whether you have practiced your faith all along or not. If you have wandered away over the years, now is a great time to return. No matter what the diagnosis, and no matter how your story unfolds, God is your best buddy on the rollercoaster ride of your life.
Find Support
With any medical situation, there can be bad outcomes. Isn’t that a nice way of putting it? No one says that when you are getting into the car to get groceries, but there can be bad outcomes there too. Anyway, there are some things you can prepare for in advance. Surprising to me were the adults who felt the need to share their own fears. My first, and unkind, response was to be really ticked off with these people. Why would anyone call a newly diagnosed person to tell them horror stories of a great aunt who died painfully, or of a father who wasted away before their eyes of the same disease or condition? I was raised to be polite, so I was polite — until I got off the phone. Then I would rant and rave to any adult I could find about how people were crazy!
For some reason, I kept getting this type of call. Do not be surprised if you get them as well. I kept being superficially polite until God helped me realize that these callers were more scared than I was; that they had lived with these fears — fears that were new to me — for years. Although I’m sure they didn’t realize it, these conversations were a call for help with their own fears. The lesson for me was to stop being selfish, to really listen, and to try to console them. It should not make any difference that I was scared too: they needed help, and I could give it — just by listening.
Listen
So, besides learning about my disease and everything that went with it, I began to understand that my new job was to listen. This change in attitude had three effects. First, it reminded me of how fragile and lonely we humans can be. This is humbling. Second, it encouraged me to think about and pray for others. Praying for others is always a good thing. Third, it made me realize that focusing on myself during this time would, at least for me, not be a good thing. The fragility of those who called me reminded me of my own fears, but also of how we all have these fears.
Listening to others’ sad memories and worries about their own futures helped me to face my own. It also helped me to thank God for all the things others had faced, but I had not. I could not do much for them; just tell them how treatments had changed dramatically, and how they were kind to think of me. I would ask for their prayers and mean it, knowing they would do so in whatever way they could. Eventually — though it took a while — I even felt joy that I could help them a tiny bit, all the while they were trying in their own way to help me. Just as I was finding joy in the phone calls, they dried up. God had gotten my attention, led me to think of others, and poof! That was it. It was back down the rollercoaster — focusing and worrying about myself with the newly added realization that selfish self-awareness was not a good choice.
Giving Help
Even if we don’t feel like helping, we usually do it because we know we will feel better when we do, and perhaps guilty if we don’t. It makes us look good too. Helping can even be fun. My parents set a wonderful example of helping others, so I grew up knowing how to help. I just had never been on the other side.
I did not know how to receive help, and I did not really want to know. Whether ignorantly or cold-heartedly, I had never thought much about the person on the other end of that assistance — except that they got frosting on their cake, and we were lucky to get powdered sugar sprinkled on ours. If you are a friend, you can give aid and then go back to your normal life. If you are a caregiver, you can “help” and then, maybe, walk away or at least run errands. This is not true for the person who is on the receiving end of that aid. Hopefully, we are grateful for the help we receive. But we are also still stuck with the new situation that makes receiving help suddenly part of our lives.
Accepting Help
Independence and self-reliance are in the American bloodstream. It is true for both men and women. Whether it is cowboy movies or superheroes, we grow up believing that we are supposed to be the strong, take-charge heroes of life; that we should save others and rely on no one, except maybe in the final scenes for a happy story wrap-up. The thing is that with any major disease, at some point you are going to need help. I did not want to “need” help. Maybe you do not want to “need” help (or be a burden to anyone else) either.
It took me quite some time, and a few moments of resentment, to figure out that I was not just a recipient of aid but rather part of a wonderful movement of grace. If I could thankfully receive help from others, I was actually part of an exchange of grace and blessings. This new circumstance of having a major illness forced me to accept help. That was inevitable. How I accepted it? That was within my control.
People need to help each other on a deep level. Christians who learn the spiritual and corporal works of mercy know that it is just part of who we are as individual believers and as a Church. Being sick can lead us to being a blessing to others. Our