city.
After listening to us, Dr. Reiss helped us learn another important lesson: cancer made us feel as if we had less control over our lives, and as a result, we were trying to exercise some dominion over the course of events. But we had to accept some loss of control and the inability to predict all outcomes or scenarios that would arise. Instead of spinning our wheels and agonizing over the what-ifs, we had to make the best decision we could at this moment with the information we had. Later on, we could reevaluate the decision we had made and make changes as new information or circumstances presented themselves.
Armed with this insight, Randy and I were able to go back andmake the decisions we hadn’t been able to before. We chose a school for Dylan. We decided not to decorate the newly renovated space. We even agreed on a strategy for where the family would live if Randy died. Then we filed the master plan away with the acknowledgment that we wouldn’t discuss it further until absolutely necessary.
Having a counselor to talk to about the problems we encountered and the difficulties we had coping with them was a benefit to us beyond measure. It not only improved our daily lives in terms of making decisions, both big and small, but Randy and I were able to talk to each other and appreciate the other’s point of view. Our relationship strengthened and our love flourished during a time of extraordinary duress. And it was a good thing, too, because we needed the foundation of our marriage to be rock solid so we could face even more demons on our cancer journey.
*
Take Care! Self-Care for the Family Caregiver
, National Family Caregivers Association, www.thefamilycaregiver.org , winter 2006.
Cancer Blindsides Us Again
I T WAS A MAGICAL, GLORIOUS summer after so much stress and work during the winter and spring of 2007. Randy was off chemotherapy for the first time in six months, and he had regained his weight and his vitality. We were living in the moment without fear of what might happen tomorrow. Randy was so confident he was going to live that he got a new car to replace his worn-out thirteen-year-old Volkswagen Cabriolet—the same one he had poured Coke into while his niece and nephew watched with a mixture of disbelief, humor, and horror. We took trips to Kennywood, a Pittsburgh amusement park, and rode the rides with our children. Randy won a giant stuffed animal for the children, passing on his love for carnival games and the thrill of walking through the park with a humongous, orange clownfish for everyone to see. We frequented the local water park, where Randy was courageous enough to do the high body slide and some tubing with Dylan. We vacationed for a week at the beach in the southern part of Virginia,close to where my family lives, allowing us to visit my brother Bob and his family again. Randy even felt strong enough for me to take a nine-day trip to Spain with his mother, his sister, and her husband. I was reluctant to go, but he insisted, saying he would have plenty of help. He also felt that I needed a vacation. He really wanted me to take this trip, I think, in part to allow him to do something for me. I accepted and had a wonderful time and a much-needed break. Life in the Pausch house was almost like old times.
At the end of summer, Randy was scheduled to return to Houston for a CT scan to see if the cancer cells had fought back and begun multiplying again. In August 2007, Randy and I made our travel plans but treated this trip as a romantic getaway for the two of us to reconnect, building in some time to go to the hospital as well as having a little side trip. Before seeing the oncologist to get the results from Randy’s scans, we traveled to Galveston Island to experience one of the country’s biggest indoor water parks: Schlitterbahn. Like amusement parks, water parks were high on our list of fun activities. This visit to Schlitterbahn without children harked back to the days when we were
After listening to us, Dr. Reiss helped us learn another important lesson: cancer made us feel as if we had less control over our lives, and as a result, we were trying to exercise some dominion over the course of events. But we had to accept some loss of control and the inability to predict all outcomes or scenarios that would arise. Instead of spinning our wheels and agonizing over the what-ifs, we had to make the best decision we could at this moment with the information we had. Later on, we could reevaluate the decision we had made and make changes as new information or circumstances presented themselves.
Armed with this insight, Randy and I were able to go back andmake the decisions we hadn’t been able to before. We chose a school for Dylan. We decided not to decorate the newly renovated space. We even agreed on a strategy for where the family would live if Randy died. Then we filed the master plan away with the acknowledgment that we wouldn’t discuss it further until absolutely necessary.
Having a counselor to talk to about the problems we encountered and the difficulties we had coping with them was a benefit to us beyond measure. It not only improved our daily lives in terms of making decisions, both big and small, but Randy and I were able to talk to each other and appreciate the other’s point of view. Our relationship strengthened and our love flourished during a time of extraordinary duress. And it was a good thing, too, because we needed the foundation of our marriage to be rock solid so we could face even more demons on our cancer journey.
*
Take Care! Self-Care for the Family Caregiver
, National Family Caregivers Association, www.thefamilycaregiver.org , winter 2006.
Cancer Blindsides Us Again
I T WAS A MAGICAL, GLORIOUS summer after so much stress and work during the winter and spring of 2007. Randy was off chemotherapy for the first time in six months, and he had regained his weight and his vitality. We were living in the moment without fear of what might happen tomorrow. Randy was so confident he was going to live that he got a new car to replace his worn-out thirteen-year-old Volkswagen Cabriolet—the same one he had poured Coke into while his niece and nephew watched with a mixture of disbelief, humor, and horror. We took trips to Kennywood, a Pittsburgh amusement park, and rode the rides with our children. Randy won a giant stuffed animal for the children, passing on his love for carnival games and the thrill of walking through the park with a humongous, orange clownfish for everyone to see. We frequented the local water park, where Randy was courageous enough to do the high body slide and some tubing with Dylan. We vacationed for a week at the beach in the southern part of Virginia,close to where my family lives, allowing us to visit my brother Bob and his family again. Randy even felt strong enough for me to take a nine-day trip to Spain with his mother, his sister, and her husband. I was reluctant to go, but he insisted, saying he would have plenty of help. He also felt that I needed a vacation. He really wanted me to take this trip, I think, in part to allow him to do something for me. I accepted and had a wonderful time and a much-needed break. Life in the Pausch house was almost like old times.
At the end of summer, Randy was scheduled to return to Houston for a CT scan to see if the cancer cells had fought back and begun multiplying again. In August 2007, Randy and I made our travel plans but treated this trip as a romantic getaway for the two of us to reconnect, building in some time to go to the hospital as well as having a little side trip. Before seeing the oncologist to get the results from Randy’s scans, we traveled to Galveston Island to experience one of the country’s biggest indoor water parks: Schlitterbahn. Like amusement parks, water parks were high on our list of fun activities. This visit to Schlitterbahn without children harked back to the days when we were
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