» Families Facing Cancer – Helping carers to cope with cancer

Losing a Sibling or Friend to Cancer

Anne Orchard — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 11:22:28 +0000

Losing a brother, sister, or friend often has greater long-term emotional impact than the loss of a loved one from another generation. The sibling or friend is more likely to have been part of your social and support network. Their loss can often cause a redirection of your life.
On the surface the loss of a sibling or friend may seem a ‘lesser’ trauma than the death of a partner or a parent. However, it depends on your relationship, and there are other factors involved here. It has often been said that we can choose our friends, but not our family. So the loss of a friend involves the disappearance of someone you spent time with because you wanted to. You may have spent the time of your friend’s illness feeling at a loss as to how to help, and wished you had been able to do more. You may also be involved with supporting other loved ones – a partner or child who has been bereaved for instance.
It may seem difficult to address your own grief, as you busy yourself caring for others. In this case, check to see that you are taking care of your own needs – which are just as valid as those of the people that society may regard as ‘closer’ to the deceased. Look over the stages of grief and tasks of mourning described here. Some or all of these will apply to you too. By all means offer your support to others, as long as you are looking after yourself and your own mourning too.
It may also be that your friend was part of your support network. If so you will have to take a look at that. You may find you now become closer to other friends, or to family. You may have to rely more on your own ingenuity. If you can stay open, caring and giving, you will be able to build new supports for the future.
Losing a sibling changes the energy in your family. If this is the first of your generation to die, it may seem a death knell for you all. Who will be next? If you are the only remaining sibling, you may feel you are now on borrowed time. Confronting our own mortality can be scary, if we let it. Or it can be liberating.
A colleague, John, once asked for my advice and support when his sister was dying of cancer, knowing about my history with my mother. This lady was only in her early forties. John’s sharing of his experience gave me food for thought. It left me with the phrase “Life is just too short – at least try to find what you want” drifting through my mind. What I wanted was a relationship with a wonderful man – to whom I have now been married for eleven years. That experience of staring reality (even though someone else’s) in the face changed my whole life!
If you have lost a brother or sister, you may find that there are unresolved conflicts still in your family. Immediately after someone dies, emotions may be running high. It would be wise to give everyone the benefit of the doubt at this time, and let the dust settle a little. You do have an opportunity to reach out to other family members.
Remember that being loved is one of our most sought after experiences as human beings, and that we gain love best by giving it away.
The death of a friend or a sibling is devastating. Not only do you grieve for the loss of a loved one, you also grieve for the loss of your mutual hopes and plans. Their death may present you with new obligations and responsibilities. Remember them with fondness, and try to build a closer bond with other siblings and mutual friends that share your grief and sense of loss.

Stages of Grief and Tasks of Mourning

Anne Orchard — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 13:03:35 +0000

Stages of Grief

According to research conducted by psychiatrists J. Bowlby and C.M. Parkes, there are four stages of grief that people commonly experience. You may find that one or more of these phases describe where you are in your grief at any time. Your progression from one stage to another may not be smooth, and where you are can vary from day to day. The four stages are:

Numbness. This is where you may be in shock, feeling disbelief and cut off from reality.
Yearning, pining. Here you find you wish to bring back the person, long for them. You may feel much anger and disappointment at this stage.
Depression, disorganisation and despair. Now you find it difficult to function in your everyday life. You may struggle to concentrate or not be able to bear thinking about the future.
Recovery and reorganisation. At this stage more positive feelings begin to surface. You are ready to take the first steps of moving forward with your life, and adjusting to your new reality.

When you first reach the stage of recovery, it is likely to be fragile. You may start by catching fleeting glimpses of how life may be. It is tempting at this stage to slide back into guilt, thinking “How can I be thinking of the future when he or she is not here?” Guard against this temptation. Guilt serves no one, especially not your loved one, who has left already.
Describing these phases of grief makes them seem passive, as though you have no control over your route through them. There is a benefit to taking your time. No one can tell you how long it should take you to move from one stage to another. There are many things that affect your ability to adjust and move on through this unfamiliar landscape.

Tasks of Mourning

A more ‘active’ way of looking at grief comes from William Worden, who described a series of four tasks that are involved in mourning.

To accept the reality of the loss. This shows that you can make the choice to face this reality with courage, and resist the temptation to deny it.
To experience the pain of grief. This task is where you dive into the pain. When giving birth, a mother is encouraged to flow with the pain, rather than resisting it. If you give yourself the time and the space to do this with your grief, you will allow the emotions to flow rather than become stuck. Self-medicating with alcohol, or anything else that prevents you truly feeling your emotions, would be avoiding this task.
To adjust to the environment where the deceased is missing. The loss of someone close to you changes the scenery of your every day. In fact the build up to death may have changed your life beyond recognition, so that it revolved around caring for the person with cancer. When they die, this is a huge adjustment. Your task now is to create the new landscape of your life, metaphorically moving the furniture to at least partly fill the hole that they have left.
To emotionally relocate the deceased and move on. This task involves making a space for your loved one as a memory rather than a current relationship. Keeping them in your heart in this way allows you to look forward to a future without them and not feel bad about yourself for doing so.

You will find a way through these phases and tasks. The human spirit is resourceful and resilient. In the early stages it may feel as though your world has ended. And so in a sense it has. However, there is a new world for you to step into, when you are ready.

Creating Your Own Funeral Service

Anne Orchard — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 11:51:12 +0000

Creating your own funeral service is the opportunity to write with a dedicated person who is an interfaith minister and spiritual counsellor a service of your own choosing. Whether you choose a ceremony to be religious, non-religious or spiritual, I believe the importance lies in your personal beliefs and values which matter most.

In creating a beautiful heartfelt ceremony yourself, you immediately take the trauma and responsibility off the shoulders of those whom you love, and who are trying to come to terms with their sad loss. It is also a valid point of course that everyone does have an opinion, and a funeral service created by you whilst still here also has the advantage of guarding against any angst or falling out between ones remaining relatives.

This is a time of great emotion, and by experience I have found just how difficult it can be for the bereaved to be asked to try and recall past memories, and to think about the choice of music that was loved by the deceased and maybe what poems, hymns or readings they would have liked. At this point mundane everyday matters truly are enough to be coping with I am sure.

What is an interfaith minister and spiritual counsellor?

An interfaith minister has been trained by The Interfaith Seminary UK which holds the view that there are ‘many paths, one truth’. An interfaith minister embraces and honours all faith traditions whilst being a part of none. The Interfaith Seminary believes there is One God, One Truth and that many paths lead to the Source of All, therefore is totally inclusive valuing the spirit of unity and love. This Seminary trains open hearted, spiritually inspired men and women to understand and appreciate the astounding diversity within the human family, yet to focus on our common experience and be a powerful presence of peace in whatever field of service they choose.

It’s Your Funeral

There is only one thing we can be sure of in life and that is we are all going to move on to other realms sometime. Remember when the ceremony is planned and takes place you won’t be there, it is too late then to have your say as everyone else then will.

Life is sacred and whilst we have a choice why not take it and create a ceremony that will be a unique heartfelt occasion that will fulfil your wishes, and be able to live long in the memories of those left behind as well as being a source of great comfort to them all. The service will then reflect the authenticity of your life and be a true celebration of it well lived in all of its rainbow colours.

What To Do Now?

Contact me Reverend Valery Coburn and I will meet with you to guide you through the process of creating your unique funeral service. I have been creating services for weddings as well as funerals and other celebration ceremonies for approaching ten years now. It truly is my joy and privilege to support you at this sensitive time.

After this is completed and you are happy with it, it becomes your document to do with as you wish. My suggestion would be that you put it with your will, give it to your executor or solicitor or close family member. I would also advise that you let your family know of its existence so when the time comes there is no worry for them.

The family are welcome to contact me to hold that service for you, but are under no obligation to do that of course. Anyone can take a funeral service, but it is my opinion that a professional person such as myself can make a difference, as we not only have the knowledge and expertise but the sensitivity for the occasion.

In Conclusion

Support beyond the occasion is always available. I am a spiritual counsellor and that is a very important part of my ministry. If I can be of service to you or to any one you may know at any time please feel you can contact me for meaningful heartfelt support and guidance.

A death is always shocking even if expected, saying goodbye to loved ones is a painful and heart rending experience , but life is always precious and should be honoured, celebrated and respected.

As in Life so in Death.

Always with Love

Reverend Valery Coburn

Interfaith Minister Spiritual Counsellor and Mentor.

Telephone 01202 674 636

Email Valery@inspirationplus.net Web www.inspirationplus.net

When Christmas Brings Heartache

Anne Orchard — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 14:32:24 +0000

In the run-up to the festive season, we spare a thought for those who may be facing their last Christmas with, or first one without, a loved one as a result of a cancer diagnosis.

For most of us Christmas is a happy time. We may moan about the commercialism, the commitment and the relatives – but at heart this is a season for sharing time and abundance with those we love.

Anne Orchard has been thinking about those for whom things are not so simple – where a diagnosis of cancer means that a loved one is not expected to live another year, or where they have died since last Christmas. Of course the loss of a loved one can continue to affect us for many years, but the first Christmas without them is particularly challenging and poignant.

‘We weren’t aware of having a last Christmas with Mum’ says Anne, whose mother died in 1991 from brain tumours. ‘The first I knew that she was having headaches and difficulty reading was when my Dad took me aside and let me know she would need more help with the catering. I had no idea this meant we would soon be losing her.’

‘The following year, we faced the first Christmas we had known without the usual Christmas dinner cooked by Mum – and all the other parties we used to have at that time’, Anne recalls. ‘It was such a challenge that we felt unable to be in the family home, and my sister took care of us instead. We even had a goose for the main meal, anything to be different from how things were when Mum was alive.’

In some households, a decision is taken to ‘carry on for the children’, and this can give us some sign of hope. Children seem to be more able to live for the moment. They still enjoy the day and their presents even when there is a sad situation around them. This can give us a clue of one way we can cope ourselves – to choose to set aside our worries for the day.

Here are some tips for handling this situation based on the principles from Anne’s book ‘Their Cancer – Your Journey : A Traveller’s Guide for Carers, Family and Friends’:

Accept that family members may not all agree on how the cancer affects what they want to do at Christmas. Allow them their own opinions – you may find that not everyone joins in the same celebration together, and that is fine.
If your loved one is still alive, ask them what would make it the ‘best Christmas’ for them. Forget tradition, unless that is what they want. Go for fun and love, and resolve to leave all worries aside for just that day.
If you are spending your first Christmas without a loved one, consider ignoring the traditional celebrations altogether. Instead you could get together with others to remember and celebrate the life of the person you lost.

If cancer has become a part of your life, it will alter the way you feel at Christmas. Remember to share how you feel – your hopes and fears – and you will be able to build deeper connections with others. This is, after all, the true spirit of Christmas.

Anne’s Father’s Tale

Anne Orchard — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 12:06:43 +0000

I am the proud father of Anne Orchard, author of Their Cancer – Your Journey, so a version of my journey has already been told in that book. However, reading through the proofs for that book (and throwing in my twopenn’orth), has reminded me of my experiences at the time my wife Barbara was gradually succumbing to her brain tumour.

By one of those events which seem bad at the time, but which, providentially, have unforeseen advantages, I had recently been made redundant, which meant I was available to be with her virtually full-time. I think this helped her a good deal, perhaps especially when I was reading to her from the Bible. Mainly this was from her favourite psalms, but we also got through much of the journey of the Israelites to their Promised Land, a journey which was being undertaken by Barbara in parallel. I suspect that my attempts at cooking were rather less popular.

We were both keen members of The New Church, which, in spite of its title, has been in existence in this country for over 200 years. Its teachings are based on those of the Swedish genius Emanuel Swedenborg, which include comforting revelations about life after the death of the earthly body and I am sure that we were both helped by our beliefs during what was not an easy time.

I think the hardest thing was seeing Barbara’s faculties slowly decreasing, which was so like seeing a child slowly developing new skills, but sadly in reverse. The thing that really cracked me up was when the wonderful lady managed, with great difficulty, to communicate to me that she would not worry were I to marry again. (This seemed out of the question at the time, but it has happened, and I have been blessed with a second wonderful wife. Swedenborg’s teaching that after death we shall be united with our perfect partner, whether we have met them on earth or not, looks like being fully tested! I am happy to leave it to The Lord.)

From diagnosis to Barbara’s death was about seven months, and for me at least, that seemed about the best possible length – assuming the event had to happen at all. I think it must be very difficult to come to terms with a sudden death, and a prolonged period of incapacitation must be very wearing. (However I can well believe, though I was not aware of it at the time, that Barbara would have preferred to have died earlier.) During the time of her illness I did, though, feel that we became incredibly close.

At first, of course, I tried to do anything I could to prolong Barbara’s life – perhaps regardless of her real wishes. (I now feel sure that I should have listened more.) We went to the Bristol Cancer Help Centre, and did our best to follow most of the therapies and medication that they recommended at the time, including meditation, reflexology and a medicine based on (I think) mistletoe, which we were able to obtain through our GP – without invalidating benefit of that was that a version of the diet recommended at Bristol has considerably helped my breathing difficulties. (Another beneficial side effect of what otherwise seemed bad.) I also got a stairlift fited which meant that, until she was completely bedridden, Barbara was able to come downstairs during the day and still sleep in our own bed at night.

In general my attitude was just to carry on as best I could from day to day, although obviously some planning ahead had to be undertaken. Our doctor was very helpful and organised plenty of help from the District Nurses when that became necessary. (I must admit, though, that I felt quite resentful when some tasks, personal and unpleasant in themselves, were taken away from me!) My main relief during this period was to go out for little local walks while someone else was sitting with Barbara and then to take part in an open-air Shakespeare production, which required a lot of help from family and friends for rehearsals, although Barbara was in a hospice during the actual production. It also involved my growing a big bushy beard, which Barbara hated. Fortunately I was able to shave it off for the last couple of months of her life.

After Barbara had died and the immediate pressing matters had been dealt with I went off to walk the Cotswold Way – the only time I have ever, before or since, done a long distance walk from start to finish in one spell. This gave me a chance to think about what had happened in the last year and during the thirty years we had been married, and helped me to come to terms with it all, possibly because there were so many reminders of death – ranging from Neolithic tombs to country churchyards and wayside memorials. Perhaps the most moving was coming across, in a remote church, and ancient Bible open at Psalm 128 from which the verse ‘Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the side of thy house: thy children like olive plants about thy table’ jumped out at me. It took a while for my to come to terms with that, true though it had been.

The final task I undertook (as Anne has described in her book) was to put together an album of photographs of Barbara throughout her too short life. Then I did my best to throw myself into various activities old and new. The main new one was to take advantage of the Ramblers Association membership which Anne had given me the previous Christmas, but which I had not been able to use hitherto. This in turn led to my meeting Marion, who has now been my wife for fifteen years. A final blessing coming from adversity.

Jeff Lomax