My Story

​

What I’ve Learned Since my Wife’s Breast Cancer Diagnosis
 

I’ve had two moments in my life where time seemed to stop, ineffable experiences that felt like some bad dream I was conscious of yet unable to articulate in words.  The first, at 17 years old, involved the tragic death of my mother where I sat in the passenger seat of my friend’s car driving toward the only stop light in the small town I grew up in, only to discover that the remnants of the car sprayed out in the intersection was, to my horror, my mother’s. 

The second happened in July, on a day that ostensibly appeared like every other Wednesday coming home from work—I was almost home, lost in my thoughts as I re-played certain conversations at work with patients, thought about what to feed our boys for dinner, and wondered how I could muster the energy to play with them until bedtime.   Then, as cliché as this sounds, life as we knew it changed.  My wife called, her voice cracked, and she started weeping on the phone.  Since we were on edge all week anticipating the results of her breast biopsy, I knew what that reaction meant: she has breast cancer.  

Fast forward three months--it’s now October, and we are feeling slightly less anxious due to having a clear treatment plan to battle this disease.  However, we still have moments of uncertainty where we’re on edge, hoping that her treatment regimen will kill every single cancer cell.  Because writing is therapeutic for me, I’ve shared some thoughts below about what this process has been like for us so far, and what I’ve learned along the way.  
 

1. It takes time, for everything

After the biopsy confirmed she had cancer, I was under the illusion that my wife would be told her staging and treatment plan immediately, perhaps within a week or two.I was disabused of this idea after learning that it would be weeks, perhaps even months, before a clear treatment plan would be presented.After what seemed like countless appointments, a plethora of tests, first and second opinions with breast surgeons, and finally consultations with her medical oncologist and radiation oncologist, we were given treatment recommendations.All this is to say that the whole process, from trying to grapple with the shock from that unforgettable day where she was told she has cancer to understanding her treatment plan, was terrifying and overwhelming.To add insult to injury, an additional beast to slay included helping my wife (and myself) deal with the immense anxiety we felt as we tried to deal with the uncertainty around what the next steps would entail, and when these next steps would take place.My wife echoed these sentiments on several occasions, saying “I just want to know how to beat this, and I want to start NOW!” Know that it can take time to figure out a clear treatment plan.In the meantime, the challenge becomes managing the shock, anxiety, and uncertainty evoked until answers are available.

2. Despite all my attempts to help, console, heal, my wife still felt alone

I logically knew that despite my best efforts, I can never truly understand what it’s like to be in my wife’s shoes after learning she has cancer.This was especially distressing to me, a therapist who has spent countless hours healing, consoling, and helping patients fix or manage whatever issue they present for in therapy.Naturally, I went into therapist-mode with my wife, from establishing a safe space for her to express her feelings, to trying to empathize with her situation, to finding whatever problems I could help her clarify and potentially solve.Spoiler alert: I failed, miserably.To be told by my wife that despite my efforts, despite several friends and family members rushing to help and provide support, and despite her talking with a cancer survivor, that she still felt completely alone felt utterly heartbreaking.I felt helpless, completely inept to do the one job—connect and empathize with another individual so that person can feel less alone, less ashamed, and consequently able to take the risk of addressing one’s suffering—for the person I’m closest to and supposed to support and help the most. However, I learned from my wife that despite being unable to “fix” her feeling of being alone, that my presence and support helped her feel less alone, a small change that is not trivial when a cancer patient is forced to confront the prospect of death and consider survival rates.So, don’t give up, ask her daily what she needs from you, and support her in whatever manner she needs.

3. You’re inundated with information, drink your damn coffee and listen intently

I was also disabused of the idea that my wife would have one clear, recommended treatment plan, a one-size-fits-all that would be standard for breast cancer patients with similar tumor profiles and genetic markers.I was wrong, again.She was given two different chemotherapy regimens to consider, one that generally results in worse side effects but reduces the chance for reoccurrence by a few percentages.Or, she was told she could go with a different regimen, one that still “sucked” as we were told but one that comes with generally more tolerable side effects.She learned, through her own research and through support groups online, that there was additional testing she could request to hopefully gain clarity around the best possible treatment options and the potential effectiveness of chemotherapy.All this is to say that this information--from the countless side effects discussed by her oncologists to the reoccurrence percentages associated with each regimen to a host of medication names I couldn’t regurgitate if my life depended on it--is overwhelming, to say the least.

My advice: drink your damn coffee and listen as intently as possible.I’ve learned that regardless of how prepared one is for these appointments, psychological defenses unconsciously kick in to help a patient manage the debilitating anxiety and terror of learning about cancer and chemotherapy.As a result, these defenses mitigate anxiety levels to some extent to protect the patient at the price of remembering every detail discussed in the appointment.While my wife has been a tireless advocate for herself and her cancer care, she needs an additional set of eyes and ears to support her as she grapples with the reality of the diagnosis and the information overload that ensues.So drink up, get your pen and paper ready, and focus as intently as possible.

4. My wife felt like a burden to me

I can’t imagine what it’s like to be told you have cancer, nor can I pretend to imagine what it was like for my wife to hear she needs both of her breasts removed.Unfortunately, that’s just the start of the countless ways in which she has to grapple with losing a piece of her identity, attempt to reclaim what’s left, and lose some more.Despite having to deal with this life-changing diagnosis, my wife was as equally worried about becoming a burden to me, experiencing guilt as a result of my history of personal loss and knowing her diagnosis would require me to do everything humanely possible to balance supporting her with staying afloat at work with attending to the needs of our two boys.She was partially right: cancer is a massive, awful burden on the entire family, but especially so on my wife.I needed to acknowledge these feelings and responsibilities while also reassuring my wife that she did nothing wrong to deserve this. If there’s not an honest conversation about the immense burden a cancer diagnosis creates on everyone in the family, and particularly the person affected, resentment can breed and can wreak havoc on your relationship.

5. Your wife needs you more than ever, despite what plays out between you

The prominent psychiatrist Irv Yalom has written much about death anxiety and how facing the prospect of death can create massive change in a relatively short period of time, shifting one’s mindset away from the illusion of perpetual security to embracing changes that result from the acknowledgement of the finiteness of life.   For us, my wife’s diagnosis shattered the sense of infallible security most of us subscribe to at various points in our lives.  We noticed a change in our mindset away from trivial concerns to a perspective that prioritized what really matters in life, our important relationships.  What also changed was my wife’s sense of control over the world, the illusion that life is predictable and stable in almost every way.  After this illusion was challenged, my wife needed to cry, to scream, to vent, to repeatedly ask, why me?  At one point, she also needed to be angry and yell at someone, anyone, and that someone at times became me.  I’ve come to understand that while those moments didn’t last long, they needed to happen.  Let your partner rage, cry, scream, and swear, if needed.  Then give that person a hug with the collective understanding that while it’s not fun to be the target of these feelings, it’s sometimes imperative to be.  Your wife needs some semblance of control, so allow her to have it.

6. You need support, too

After my wife’s diagnosis, my mind raced as I was inundated with countless thoughts related to how to support her, our children, and our finances.  For several weeks following her diagnosis, my wife asked me on several occasions how I was doing with the news.  I did what I’ve initially done in the past when facing difficult circumstances—I act, move, problem solve, do anything to avoid the anxiety and terror I felt around her diagnosis and how our lives would change.  To be frank, I was mortified at the thought of losing her despite knowing the survival rates associated with breast cancer.  When she’d inquire about my feelings, I’d quickly divert attention back to her, dismiss my feelings, and say the same thing I’ve always said—I’m fine, I’m just trying to ensure that you and the kids are okay.   

But I wasn’t okay, far from it.  In fact, I was terrified, at times going down the self-serving rabbit hole of how-do-these-awful-situations-keep-happening-to-me?  I selfishly thought of the golf trip I badly wanted to attend with my father, felt intense guilt for having that thought, and canceled the trip.  The truth is, I felt guilty about everything that seemed remotely close to self-serving, from taking 30 minutes to watch sports to not reading or re-reading the latest research on breast cancer treatment.  I oscillated between feeling anxious and guilty on the one hand, to constantly moving, irrationally hoping that doing the dishes, the laundry, and the household chores would magically make my anxiety disappear.  However, I knew these actions were defensive in nature, a transitory solution that wouldn’t last.  Instead of suffering in silence, I reached out to friends, started to share more about my wife’s journey with breast cancer, and received countless messages of support and concern from family and close friends.  I recalled a favorite professor saying that mental health is the capacity to let things go, so I made sure to continue meditating daily and made a conscious effort to refrain from getting lost in anxiety-ridden thoughts. Instead of ignoring reality and suffering in silence, acknowledge your feelings and worries, find a way to manage them, and seek support before you go down the destructive path of resenting your wife and her diagnosis. 
 

7. Laugh, joke, tell her she’s beautiful, keep some routine

I imagine every situation is slightly different, but at least for my wife, cancer knows no bounds in relation to impacting her self-esteem.  My wife worried about losing her breasts, losing her sexual identity, losing her hair, and losing an intimate and close connection with me.  I think she’s beautiful, but she felt nothing close to beautiful and desirable as she went through surgery, her first two rounds of chemo, and some pretty awful side effects.  It’s true that cancer impacts many things between partners, but it doesn’t have to change everything.  I’ve learned that keeping some routine is crucial, even if “date nights” now mean double-checking that my wife has taken all of her medications before trying to watch 30 minutes of Netflix with her. However, it’s not the night out that counts--it’s the fact that your wife needs to know that you want time to connect with her and, most importantly, that you still find her beautiful and desirable.  So, keep some semblance of routine that allows you to connect with each other and continue to tell her she’s beautiful and strong—it will go a long way in combating the insidious loss of many things, including her self-esteem.