Meltdowns and Mercy

I read a very apt explanation of Frustration the other day...

Frustration often arises out of trying to control an uncontrollable circumstance.

 

I believe Cancer fits the bill completely.

 

When we look back at mom's journey with pancreatic cancer, all of our frustration, resentment and anger revolved around the vise of Cancer...utterly unchangeable, completely uncontrollable...

 

We were angry that Cancer was taking her from us one excruciating pound at a time.

 

We were angry that Cancer made her so miserably sick much of the time.

 

We were angry that the Cancer doctors didn't have a magic bullet to cure her.

 

We were more than angry that Cancer changed our happy "normal."  It took our family dynamics and turned them on its ear.  Mom had always been the Center, the Caregiver, the Moderator, the Head Chief and Loving Leader of our family.  All of sudden, we became the Caregivers for this undeniably strong and competent woman.  And we didn't do it very well at all at first...

 

We burned the soup.

 

We cried at all the wrong times.

 

We hovered and smothered.  We blamed each other for mistakes.

 

We lived in denial.  We slept with fear.

 

We were incompetent, frustrated, angry Caregivers... until Grace came calling.

 

Somewhere along the line, God began softening our hearts in His Gentle way and offering sweet insight into the things that matter most.

I do believe that Time gave us Perspective.

And while Cancer was still an utterly unchangeable, completely uncontrollable circumstance, we were able to come to a sort of peace with mom's ultimate prognosis.  A veil lifted and we realized that we were wasting all our precious time crying over her approaching death, ranting and railing at the unfairness, and having major Meltdowns at every turn, rather than enjoying every last blasted minute we had with her.

 

That realization was really a gift of Grace and Mercy.  Receiving God's Riches right in the middle of our horrendous nightmare. 

 

We learned to distinguish between what is and what is not in our power to change.

 

We learned to ask for help.

 

We learned to value every hug.

 

We learned to give ourselves permission... to feel sad... to cry... to make mistakes.

 

We learned to take Grace Breaks.

 

We learned to say I love you... often.

 

We learned to cherish the victories... and to laugh at the still funny stories that plagued our family... it wasn't all gloom and doom!

 

We learned when to say Yes... to all the offers of help, prayer and wisdom.

 

We learned when to say No... to all the extra demands on our days when time with mom was drawing close.

 

We learned to appreciate Legacy Living.

 

And... We learned that under God's Gracious Hand our Anger could be molded into a something Better.

 

"I've refined you, but not without fire.

I've tested you like silver in the furnace of affliction."

                      Isaiah 48:10

 

Molded...Refined... in the furnace of affliction.

 

My Meltdowns formed into Moments of Pure Grace when released under the heat of Cancer's Blaze...

 

There is Hope...

 When Things Just Can't Be Changed.

When We Find it Impossible to

Control the Uncontrollable.

 

Learning to Let God's Grace Mold My Meltdowns into Something Better...

~ Excerpt from When Things Can't Be Changed

A Day in the Life

Welcoming back Cancer Owl...
   for a most appropriate cartoon entitled "Mood Swings."

Thank you, Matthew... you make me smile.  But more than that you make me think, and open the door to better understanding, and the longing to love deeper and better and stronger...

 

 

Previous                                                                                              Next 

 

 

 

Spittin' Mad...

I need  your forgiveness when the outbursts and anger overwhelm,

my emotions have been in a rage ever since cancer came calling.

Years ago, and in another life, I had the undeniable pleasure of working as a veterinarian technician for a rural vet practice.

 

One of the most common surgeries we performed in the clinic were spays and neuters.  A walk in the park, most of the time.  But occasionally, the routine became more of an adventure than we expected... like the time we agreed to neuter Mr. Jones barn cat, Muffin (as in Stud-Muffin, but without the Stud...)

 

 

Sweetest tom-cat this side of the Mississippi.  He was purring up a storm as the vet got ready to give him the pre-anesthetic injection in his back leg.  I scruffed him by the neck, gently scratching his ears as the needle penetrated his muscle... and suddenly I was trying to contain the Tasmanian Devil.

 

His scream sent the hairs on my neck straight up and he shot out of my grip like a mad thing.  With no where to go in the small surgery room, he went for the cabinets and climbed nearly to the ceiling before we could blink.

 

His eyes were wide in shock and his tail puffed out twice its normal size.  As he scrambled for purchase, hanging on the old wooden cabinet door, we leapt into action and tried to grab him, which only served to enrage him all the more. 

 

His ears flattened, the tail whipped and a demonic growl grew into something that would have done the Exorcist proud...

 

With a heroic leap, he managed to clear the surgical table, scattering sterile instruments to the four corners as he dove for the window, which happened to be open... it was spring, ya'll, like beautiful weather in Texas... Who doesn't have their window wide open???  But with a screen, of course, we wouldn't be that stupid!

 

We were just not as mad as that cat... He plowed through the screen like it was nothing more than a flimsy window dressing.  I learned that's what mad can do to you...

 

And, heart be still, the story has a happy ending.  Enough sedative was injected into the Devil-Cat that he passed out in the bushes behind the clinic... We collected said sleepy cat and performed a quick - and painless- neuter and delivered him back to a happy Mr. Jones...

 

 

I think Muffin forgave us... but I'm not 100% sure :-)

 

And I wish that was how the "mad" in our cancer journey turned out.  As in, happily-ever-after.   Back to normal, looking handsome, lounging out on the farm kind of happy...

 

But Cancer Anger is a whole different breed of animal.  It's not funny, nor over by the end of a 30-minute sit-com kind of mad.  It's more like the demonic-growl kind of mad that makes you plow through windows or climb the walls hysterical... it can turn us into creatures we don't recognize, make us spit hate at the hands that only want to help and leave us spent and crushed when we can't outrun it.

 

Jay Lake shares his perspective on Cancer Anger like this:

 

"I’ve written before about hope, despair and the cult of optimism in the realm of cancer care. There’s a cultural expectation that we who are in such dire medical straits are to be positive and noble. ...

 

Understand that I don’t dispute the value of a positive attitude in people for whom it comes naturally. But insofar as I can tell, the only objective reason such an attitude is urged on patients is so that they’ll pursue their care diligently, take their medications, turn up for tests and appointments, and so on. Everything else seems to be about smoothing the path.

You can also make a quite reasonable philosophical argument about acceptance. But let me tell you, as a terminal cancer patient, my entire life is Kübler-Ross on fast spin. Acceptance doesn’t come naturally, and for some of us, is closely akin to surrender.

There’s a great deal of cultural pressure to accept the inevitable. To be optimistic and graceful. To suffer in quiet and noble silence.

Tell that to the cancer.

Cancer and its treatments are messy. They are painful. They are humiliating. Cancer undermines everything a patient knows about their life, their love, their place in the world. And for far too many of us, cancer steals away everything in end, ushering us into death years, decades, even generations before our time.

Why the h*** shouldn’t we be angry? Why the h*** shouldn’t I be angry? I am losing my life. I am losing my place in my daughter’s childhood and young adulthood and her future. I am losing my family, my friends and lovers, my writing. I am losing myself.

And when I say angry, I’m not talking about Dylan Thomas’ almost genteel rage against the dying of the light. I’m talking about a good, old-fashioned, trash can-kicking, screaming sh*tfit.

D*** it, of course I’m angry. Anger has kept me alive, kept me going, kept me dedicated to everything I can do to survive a little longer. I live angry, and I will die angry. Being me, I generally channel that anger constructively. I don’t actually kick trashcans or yell at people or throw tantrums.

But it keeps me going, and I cannot pretend it isn’t real, dark and fiery down to the core of my soul."

 

That's a look into the very real world of Jay's cancer journey.  And it resonates with countless cancer so-journers.  We can't pretend it is easy, nor that acceptance is the only answer.

 

Muffin would understand.  His angry reaction to that anesthetic injection was primal and real.  And that mad became his survival mechanism as he coped with the scary unknown of a life-altering journey.

 

Might we always, always remember the power of such anger.  It does not have to be negative, nor is it a positive, it just is... it is part of the journey, and no one should ever, ever feel they must "suffer in quiet and noble silence."

 

"Bitterness is like cancer.

It eats upon the host.

But anger is like fire.

It burns it all clean"

                 ~   Maya Angelou

 

 

Previous                                                                                              Next 

When Things Can't be Changed...

I read a very apt explanation of Frustration the other day...

Frustration often arises out of trying to control an uncontrollable circumstance.

 

I believe Cancer fits the bill completely.

 

When we look back at mom's journey with pancreatic cancer, all of our frustration, resentment and anger revolved around the vise of Cancer...utterly unchangeable, completely uncontrollable...

 

We were angry that Cancer was taking her from us one excruciating pound at a time.

 

We were angry that Cancer made her so miserably sick much of the time.

 

We were angry that the Cancer doctors didn't have a magic bullet to cure her.

 

We were more than angry that Cancer changed our happy "normal."  It took our family dynamics and turned them on its ear.  Mom had always been the Center, the Caregiver, the Moderator, the Head Chief and Loving Leader of our family.  All of sudden, we became the Caregivers for this undeniably strong and competent woman.  And we didn't do it very well at all at first...

 

We burned the soup.

 

We cried at all the wrong times.

 

We hovered and smothered.  We blamed each other for mistakes.

 

We lived in denial.  We slept with fear.

 

We were incompetent, frustrated, angry Caregivers... until Grace came calling.

 

Somewhere along the line, God began softening our hearts in His Gentle way and offering sweet insight into the things that matter most.  I do believe that Time gave us Perspective.  And while Cancer was still an utterly unchangeable, completely uncontrollable circumstance, we were able to come to a sort of peace with mom's ultimate prognosis.  A veil lifted and we realized that we were wasting all our precious time crying over her approaching death, ranting and railing at the unfairness, and having major Meltdowns at every turn, rather than enjoying every last blasted minute we had with her.

 

That realization was really a gift of Grace and Mercy.  Receiving God's Riches right in the middle of our horrendous nightmare. 

 

We learned to distinguish between what is and what is not in our power to change.

 

We learned to ask for help.

 

We learned to value every hug.

 

We learned to give ourselves permission... to feel sad... to cry... to make mistakes.

 

We learned to take Grace Breaks.

 

We learned to say I love you... often.

 

We learned to cherish the victories... and to laugh at the still funny stories that plagued our family... it wasn't all gloom and doom!

 

We learned when to say Yes... to all the offers of help, prayer and wisdom.

 

We learned when to say No... to all the extra demands on our days when time with mom was drawing close.

 

We learned to appreciate Legacy Living.

 

And... We learned that under God's Gracious Hand our Anger could be molded into a something Better.

 

"I've refined you, but not without fire.

I've tested you like silver in the furnace of affliction."

                      Isaiah 48:10

 

Molded...Refined... in the furnace of affliction.

 

My Meltdowns formed into Moments of Pure Grace when released under the heat of Cancer's Blaze...

 

There is Hope...

 When Things Just Can't Be Changed.

When We Find it Impossible to

Control the Uncontrollable.

 

Learning to Let God's Grace Mold My Meltdowns into Something Better...

 

Meltdown Madness...

Moving on in our 31 day Challenge, Grace for the Caregiver, we come to one of the most difficult emotions almost any Caregiver can face...

 

In a word, we're dealing with ANGER.

 

. . . A little Frustration... A smidgen Resentment... And a whole lot of Exasperation!

 

It's so not easy to talk about, it's even less easy to deal with.

 

When our eldest-born turned two, I was enamored with the cherub face.  Totally in love with his smile and winsome ways... and so positive that we had somehow won the parent-child lottery!  I mean, all the talk about the terrible-twos.  Really, who were they kidding?  Not happening in our home...

 

 

And then we went shopping at the local mall and took him on his first elevator ride...he was enraptured with the stomach-dropping thrill of pushing a button and shooting straight up to the sky.  Pretty fun ride for a 2 year old! When the doors opened, all the bystanders laughed at his excited chatter.  We were so proud of our adorable son...

 

Until we tried to walk him OFF the elevator.  In the blink of an eye, our cherub-child exploded into the mother of all Temper-Tantrums.

 

Lay down on the floor, screaming Nooooooo, banging his head on the floor for emphasis kind of Temper-Tantrum.

 

Holy Cow!  I think we were momentarily stunned into speechless amazement.

 

Who are you?  And where have you taken our son?!!

 

That was our introduction to Parenting and the Terrible Twos!  (Also the beginning of my mother guilt, in case you were interested.)

 

A 2-year-old's passionate temper tantrum showcases ANGER in its most elemental form...

 

Frustration that his needs aren't being recognized...

 

Resentment that he isn't getting his way...

 

Exasperation when no one gets his obvious "hints" and gives him what he wants...

 

All funnelled into one Huge, Raging, Ill-Tempered Meltdown.  It's not pretty.

 

I've felt this way a time or two or three.  Because...News Flash... These temper tantrums aren't reserved for two year olds alone...

 

Life is filled with Meltdown Moments.  And being a Caregiver has its share.  No matter how much we'd like to bury these not-so-pretty feelings...we're better off dealing with them and letting Grace mold the Meltdowns into Significant and Meaningful Moments.

 

Follow our Meltdown Madness as we expose Anger for the Temper Tantrum it is...and find the Grit and Courage to leave it all behind on this Journey of Grace for the Caregiver...

 

P.S.  For all you mothers out there in the midst of the Terrible Twos...there is Hope!  Travis is now all grown-up with a babe of his own...And he's still smiling!