Dear Readers,
Have you arrived at the age in life when the march of time accelerates to warp speed? No? Well, you will. My wife and I both claim that time is flying by much faster, now that we're senior citizens. For instance, the city truck comes by to pick up our household trash on Thursdays only, but Carol has wryly observed that “every day is trash day in Pontiac.” (This whole phenomenon would make a great plot line for a “Twilight Zone” episode.)
The apparent compression of time, now that we're a couple decades into our so-called Golden Years, makes us think that every clock we look at has been set to run ridiculously fast. A week is now a day, a day a few hours. No wonder we get so damned little done!
Another problem with aging is the steady crumbling of our minds. If we don't write things down, we never get around to remembering them, let alone doing them. And our failing memories have made us slaves to a things-to-do list as long as your arm. Luckily, there are two of us, and we can work as a team. Carol begins a sentence, and I finish it — or vice versa. And we can also join forces to remember who the actors are in the old TV movies. (Carol usually comes up with the first names. I get the second ones.)
Needless to say, if every day is trash day in Pontiac, coping with Carol's small-cell lung cancer becomes a bigger challenge than it would otherwise be. But we're getting the job done. (Where there are two wills, there are many, many ways).
It helps a lot to joke about our diminished mental capacities. (There's that “humor factor” again. It is such a biggie.) Carol and I are quick to tell juicy “senior moment” stories on ourselves, because, hey, everyone loses ground late in life, and it's perfectly all right to be like everyone else.
I'm forever going out to the car, then coming back into the house to load my pockets with everything (including our cell phone) that I had intended to drive off with. Carol is always thinking it's today when it's actually tomorrow. But we help each other a ton. We shall overcome, or be overcome, whichever comes first. We are unafraid, somewhat amused, and awfully lucky to have each other. I recommend the institution of marriage, especially now that Carol and I are conspicuously unraveling as individuals!
Something to ponder: What if time is a constant, and we are all ticking through it? (This is either breakthrough thinking that will impress physicists — or a sure sign of senility.) Well, it's time to stop talking about time, because, as some male chauvinist once said, “Time waits for no man.” So, let's talk about efficiency.
The most efficient person I know is Marcia K. Horn, President and CEO of ICAN, Inc. She is making me more efficient, too. Thanks to her laser-like focus on organization, she has me keeping daily logs of Carol's blood pressure, fasting blood sugar, nourishment, BMs (or lack thereof), and nausea episodes. I take recent pages to our sit-downs with Carol's nurse practitioner, and they prompt Carol and me to ask a lot of smart questions.
It helps immensely that our nurse practitioner is also a gem. I wish you one of those, too. Suzanne recently trimmed over half a dozen pharmaceuticals out of Carol's daily meds load, to simplify her life. Recognizing the supreme importance of Carol's chemotherapy, Suzanne explained the reduction in pills quite simply: “We've got bigger fish to fry!” I love straight talk!
My crowning achievement has been to fashion a daily meds list that integrates Carol's pain pills and anti-nausea pills with ten other prescribed meds, three OTC supplements, and her late-night insulin shot. (I'd be lost without that list.)
I also help Carol manage her daily meds wheel. This usually goes smoothly, but when she carries the aging wheel in her purse, some of the tiny lids on the wheel invariably pop open and release pills into the bottom of the purse. To compound matters, the lining in her purse is ripped. So, some of the pills slip under the lining and are the devil to find. I'm sure I'll hear from Marcia soon, recommending a new meds wheel and a new purse. Marcia takes no prisoners.
Carol and I need that. We understand that we should be as informed about Carol's condition as possible, in order to communicate most effectively with her entire oncological team. It makes us feel good to be well-prepared for medical appointments, knowing they don't happen too often, and wanting to shine at each and every one.
I'm sure we have impressed the good folks at St. Joe's with some of our questions and comments since Marcia took us under her wing and prepped us for such encounters. (It's fun mentioning things such as osteonecrosis of the jaw, or molecular profiling, and then watching various medical types arch their eyebrows!)
Marcia says it's incumbent on patients and caregivers to “bring something to the table,” and she's always willing to make sure we do. Her point is that we can actually make ourselves contributing members of Carol's oncological team, thereby greatly increasing her chances of licking cancer — and I truly feel that this is exactly what we're doing.
Lastly today, can we talk about the importance of exercise as it pertains to Stage IV cancer patients and their caregivers? Mind you, I did not say physical fitness. For one thing, Carol has never been into working out, and at the moment the combination of her illness and her chemotherapy may make her look askance at any form of exercise. But I'm advancing the idea of light exercise, because she can reap benefits from doing it on a regular basis, even if it's just a walk around the block with her faithful servant (me).
My nutritionist says, “Walking is free medicine!” and she's right. Walking stimulates the appetite, which is very important for anyone on chemo. Walking, along with consistent daily hydration, will also help cancer patients, most of whom take medicines that cause irregularity, to sidestep that discomfort. (But don't throw away any laxatives or stool softeners, because getting unplugged and staying that way may require some extra help!) Walking also tones and strengthens the legs, while giving walkers a sense of well-being that they don't get from playing checkers or other completely sedentary games. Obviously, walking — with all of its health-giving attributes — benefits not only patients but their caregivers, too, and I find walking is a great aid to coping with stress as well.
But it doesn't work the upper body much, does it? Well, you can cover that base with light calisthenics, including the stretching-and-bending gem called tai chi, which is taught on TV nowadays, and available as a DVD with a teacher-and-students format.
There are, of course, other ways to get light exercise. Housekeeping chores are obvious alternatives. Take your pick: vacuuming and dusting, doing the laundry, preparing meals, watering the lawn, sweeping the front walk, and any number of other low-effort tasks that need doing on regular schedules.
All of this additional light exercise awaits the intrepid souls who see the value of keeping moving and staying busy — and all of these chores (and many more you can think of) can be judiciously divvied up between the patient and the caregiver, benefiting both.
One caveat: be sure to make assignments that respect distaste for certain jobs. Carol, for instance, hates to clean the toilet, and I'm not exactly in love with stripping the fat from chickens. Truth be told, I also have either a total aversion to dusting, or perhaps a phenomenal tolerance for the dust, itself. (I've been known to give names to dust balls and actually befriend them, rather than eliminate them.)
Well, we'll work something out. We always do! My main goal at present, now that spring appears to have sprung in Lower Michigan, is to get Carol to walk around the block with me on a regular basis. I'll keep you posted!
—Michael E. Hearons
