Dear Readers,

Today's sermon is titled, “Cut The Poor Thing Some Slack.”

I think I will be talking as much to myself here as to any other caregiver. As I have attempted to help Carol cope with her cancer, I have noticed that, from time to time, my eager-beaver nature has made me ask too much of her.

For example, I expect her to engage the “chemo brain” in her head and remember exactly when to take a ka-jillion pills, in a specific order, and at minutely prescribed intervals. Or I tell her to eat something to keep her strength up, when any idiot can see she is getting an up-chuck look on her face and is seconds away from tossing her cookies. Or I tell her, in all seriousness, “You really ought to dump tonight. It's been 5 days ... ” God bless her, she just looks at me in sympathy.

I guess I have earned the requisite number of sympathetic looks — and it has dawned on me that, if I make the effort, I can say far fewer awesomely stupid things in the future. People, we have an obligation to our patients, whom we dearly love, to try!

One of my most important discoveries recently was the fact that there are days for cancer patients that are so overwhelming that those days should be slept through. Yes, there are times when a cancer patient hides in bed not to sleep but just to hide in bed. Cancer and its impact on one's body and mind are that bad, folks. There are moments when patients cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, discouraged as they are by the awful hand that has been dealt to them. Such moments are definitely not the time to lead a discussion on the merits of changing intervals for laxative pills with stool softeners. No, these dark events will require uncommon finesse on the part of every caregiver.

I resort to humor, myself, because it so often works like gangbusters. If Carol won't get out of bed to go see her nurse practitioner, I now discard my lecture about the virtue of punctuality and assume a quite different attitude.

“Sheesh. Doesn't that fool know this is your day off?” Yes, that's the point. Stage IV cancer patients get days off — or certainly should. I put the question to you: Who deserves them more? Nobody I know.

Here's another stratagem that works to coax a cancer patient out of a deep, dark hole.

Promise that poor thing the moon, but know that you may have to keep every promise!

“Carol, it has come to my attention that you have been badgering me for several years to get a colonoscopy. Consider it done!” (Love those colonoscopies!)

“Carol, you have finally convinced me to stop hanging my clothes on doorknobs.” (This will be a toughie).

“Carol, I have been remiss for the first half century of our union. From this moment forward, I will always put the toilet seat down.”

I suspect this one will be impossible, but I must remind myself that Carol sometimes goes into the bathroom in the dark and has been known to fall in. I'll try real hard.

“Carol, thanks to your leadership, after 50 years of bungling the job, I have decided to have a Merry Maid come into our home and show me how to do the laundry without destroying anything.” (This could save us a lot of money in the long run).

You may wonder why Carol hasn't been doing the laundry. Well, our laundry room is in the basement, and we have centipedes down there that you could saddle and ride. Things like that really spook her.

Fortunately for me, Carol knows what a well-meaning weasel I am, and she won't expect me to keep every promise — but she knows I would never make all of those promises if I didn't love her to pieces. So, the collective impact of all those I.O.U.s raises her spirits!

We have well-matched senses of humor. Throughout our marriage, whenever she starts talking to me about some complex project, I listen patiently, then put on my straightest face and intone, “I'll get right on it.” That terse rejoinder (which can be translated to mean “Get out of town!”) has been the source of much mirth in our marriage since 1965.

A candid admission, regarding projects. Carol knows what a klutz I am. As a carpenter, electrician, or plumber, I make an excellent Good Humor Man. She knows I couldn't do a project of any scope by myself. If I get up on a stepladder to change a bulb, and I get two friends to rotate the ladder for me, I can get the bulb chore handled, but not much else. That's why Carol cracks up every time I say, “I'll get right on it.” She knows better.

Anyway, that's the power of the promise. Sort through your own and pick them with care. Promises can haunt you for life. I promised Carol we would get to Tahiti someday after canceling a cruise to that tropical destination in 1979, and she's still bringing it up.

So, humor often works to cajole a cancer patient out of a dark place. And promises have been known to be highly effective, too. But what else?

Well, there's the sheer power of love.

I love Carol today a lot more than I did in 1959, when I chased her till she caught me. Now, in her time of trial and tribulation, all I have to do is show her that greater love, and she dusts herself off and gets back on her horse.

It never fails. No, I can't explain love. I can only feel it.

If people had told me a long time ago that I would someday be hopelessly in love with an old, bald, somewhat plump woman who's having trouble walking, talking, or thinking, I would have told them they were smoking the drapes.

But it's true ... and I'm oh so glad ... and I'm going with the flow!

I think I told you in an earlier blog about when I was just a little kid and asked my father why all the songs on the radio were about love. His memorable reply was, “Son, love makes the world go round.” Pa is long gone, but I think the man knows that I have modified the statement to read, “Carol makes the world go round for me.”

The point I think I'm making is this: you can use your love for a cancer patient in your inner circle to lift that person up on the days when the burden of cancer gets very heavy. Try it. You'll like it. And so will the cancer patient who has a huge place in your heart.

Personally, I think love is the most powerful force in the world. All good things come from it, and true happiness is quite impossible without it. So, hitch your wagon to it. And then dream some awfully big dreams about things working out for you and yours.

—Michael E. Hearons