To the Ones Without Help
Letters to my patients, day 2
You hold your head up high.
Nobody has been there for you before, why would this time be any different?
From all external views, you have it all together. What a mature young man. Wow, she is so self-sufficient. I don’t know how you do it all. You have achieved so much at a young age.
Sure, at 22-years-old those compliments were encouraging. Your hard work was noticed. But as time goes on, you wish someone would step in and help.
Help watch the kids while you took a nap.
Help wash your dishes after a long day of work.
Help take your car into the shop when you need to be at the office.
Help with soccer practice, back-to-school checkups, family vacations.
Help prepare Thanksgiving dinner for the new in-laws.
Help debrief after Thanksgiving dinner with the new in-laws.
Help talk through the tough decisions.
Help.
But you feel like it’s too late, you are in too deep. Practicing independence for so long has you forgetting that it is okay to ask for help.
Independence can be a positive skill, nurtured in childhood and supported as you entered adulthood. It can also be a forced way of functioning. Nobody stepped up, so you filled in the gaps — parenting yourself, driving yourself to sports games, proof-reading your own papers, taking college prep classes during high school to save money on tuition, packing and unloading the U-haul by yourself, working long hours between classes, coaching yourself through difficult breakups or life transitions. You feel more independent but also, alone.
Now life is being turned upside down and you do not feel equipped to handle it all. You are not equipped to handle it all.
The nurse hands you your discharge papers, instructions vague, and you try to remember everything she is saying.
Leave the surgical sites covered for 2 more days. No heavy lifting.
The pathology is still pending, it could be another 2 days before the results come through.
The surgeon put a referral to a local oncologist, so their office should call you in the next 2 days. Even if the diagnosis is not final, it is a good idea to schedule with them — in case.
Watch for signs of infection, come back if you spike a fever … she trails off.
Two days. Eternity seems to stand between you and this new benchmark of survival. How do you avoid heavy lifting when your 5-year-old will want to be carried to bed tonight? You are grateful for the neighbors who took the boys in at the last minute, when the pain was so unbearable you knew the only relief was in the ER. I should buy them a gift basket to say thank you. Not a heavy one though…
Just make it two days, then you will know more.
You can’t help wonder what it would be like to have parents living close by, ready to step in at a moment’s notice. I can’t think in what-ifs.
Your mind wanders to what it would be like to have a supportive husband or best friend. They could tackle the laundry, bring over a casserole (you smile at your midwestern upbringing showing through), just sit and hold your hand. Stop thinking in what-ifs. You can do this.
You can do this, I am sure of it.
But you shouldn’t have to.
You should not have to do this alone.
While I wish I could provide you with parents who lived down the street, a best friend to pop in on a Thursday evening, an adult child to drive you to appointments, a spouse who would help shoulder your burden, I can’t. It is okay to mourn what you wish you had. Process the hurt of being alone. Process it and then let it go. Holding onto that pain will only hurt you in the long run.
And then, choose to form your community.
Those neighbors who watched your boys during the hospital stay, they would happily take them for dinner one evening a week.
Your co-worker gets her coffee from the same place you do every morning — ask her to pick yours up to save you time. She probably won’t even accept your Venmo payment, but you can still offer.
Talk with the hospital social worker before you are discharged to learn about community resources.
Be open with your kids (as much as you are comfortable with). They can help make things easier in their own ways.
The grandfatherly man who sits behind you in church loves to tinker with cars in his shop — he would be ecstatic if you asked for help changing your oil.
Asking is the hard part. I get it. Your independent heart is used to mustering up the courage and doing it all. Step one is recognizing you do need help. Step two is allowing yourself to ask for help. From there, life gets easier.
You can do this, just ask. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.
Sources of community and support
Your healthcare team — nurses, doctors, PA’s, NP’s, social workers, phlebotomists, surgeons, CNA’s, nurse navigators— they see this every day. Ask them questions. It may take some trial and error, but you will find the ones who care and genuinely want to help you.
Look up your city’s homepage and seek out volunteer networks providing “homemaking services” such as meal prep, laundry, errands. More tips here. The end of this newsletter also contains links to other resources.
Find one person to be completely open with about this journey. They can accompany you to visits, discuss plans for your children, understand your wishes and goals of care. It just takes one person.
Church (should be) full of people who want to help. If you do not see that happening, ask why or find another church.
Find a therapist — some religious health systems offer free counseling for individuals affected by cancer. Even if the session number is limited, take advantage of it. This is new territory and we all need help learning how to navigate it.
Parents of your kid’s friends will want to chip in — send your children to their home for dinner without feeling like you have to return the favor. You are not a burden for needing help. People should not expect something in return when they know you are undergoing life-changing events.
Support groups — via zoom or in person, there are so many out there. Even if you just go to listen, you can find resources or learn from experiences of those who go before you.
High schools often have volunteer programs where young people need a lawn to mow, dishes to wash, cars to clean. Sign up for that once a week. Outsource everything you can.
You are strong, you are capable, you are self-sufficient.
But it is okay to ask for help. Give yourself grace to take it one step at a time.
When you are tempted to think you are alone and have to do everything yourself, take what you need:
I can ask for help.
I am not a burden, it is normal to need support.
My worth is not tied to my independence.
People want to help me and do not expect anything in return.
I will get through this. One step at a time.
Thank you for being here,
I want help with:
Community support and helpline
This is part of a 31-day series of letters to my patients — those undergoing a work-up, diagnosis, or treatment for cancer. Topics are also focused on those caregiving and supporting individuals affected by cancer. This is not an easy journey, but you do not have to do it alone.
This is not medical advice — please consult your healthcare team for individual medical expertise.
I once heard the question asked- would it be easier for you to let your feet be washed or to wash someone else's feet? I think it has become very hard for Americans to let someone else wash their feet. It can be hard to be a good receiver, but if the help is needed and it also brings the giver joy to help, then it sounds like asking for help is a very good thing. Thank you for this reminder.
I love this series, Cheyenne, and hope you turn it into a book!
I would add that you are not obligated to accept help that you don’t need. If you ask for a ride and someone shows up with a casserole that looks lovely but turns your stomach, don’t feel bad about tossing it. Sometimes people have a hard time listening rather than doing.