FEARLESS FRIDAY: What to Do, How to Help, & How to Not Completely Freak Out
Dearest Amalah, If there was ever a time in my life that I was in need of advice, it is now. Three weeks ago my mom found a lump in her breast. Two weeks ago the biopsy came back malignant. Next week she’s going in…
If there was ever a time in my life that I was in need of advice, it is now. Three weeks ago my mom found a lump in her breast. Two weeks ago the biopsy came back malignant. Next week she’s going in for surgery. This is a whole lot of change to happen in three weeks, and I’m shell shocked, to say the least. And so my question is, well, what the hell do I do now? What can I expect in the next weeks, months, years? I’m trying to figure out how to keep my own life togeter, be a support for my mother, sisters, brother, father, and also give myself time and permission to grieve this situation.
I spent the first week fully exhausted from the stress of it all. The second week had a few “angry days” (as seen here) and now, I’m just lost. I am feeling powerless and scared and I just don’t know what to do. And while I feel more alone than I ever have before, I know that there are hundreds of women out there who have been affected by breast cancer, and unfortunately there are hundreds more who will be someday. What can I do to feel like I have some semblance of control in a situation that leaves a family so powerless? Any suggestions on good books/websites/anything that would be a place to start educating myself on all of this? (Because typing “invasive lobular breast cancer” into google is not the best way to begin the search, this I have found.)
The other part of this is, what can I do for my mom? (Besides just being there for her, crying together and eating cupcakes.) We’re having a “boob voyage!” party this weekend that will consist of my two sisters,
my mother, chocolate, and lots of rum. In addition to the emotional support, what kinds of things can I do to pamper her and her new body?
We won’t know if she’ll need chemo until after the full pathology report, but if she does, are there any ‘typical’ changes (besides the obvious hair loss) that the body goes through during chemo? Any clothing lines that cater to women who have had breast cancer related surgeries? Any skin (hair?) care products that are especially gentle or
helpful for any potential skin problems that might crop up?
My mom always joked that at 50 she was going to get her breasts done (she nursed 4 kids, for 6-12 months each, and could use a little lift) and hey, now it’s covered by insurance! She turns fifty this May, and we’re looking forward to it as a new beginning for her and for us all.
So, thanks for letting me ramble on, and now I turn it over to you (and the AlphaFoxyMamas?) to offer anything you can possibly think of to help soften the mighty blow that’s hit my family. I know this is a tall order, but any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.
Well, first things first: I’m really sorry. Really and deeply sorry this happened to your family.
Second things second: You will GET THROUGH THIS. Hurdle by hurdle; test by test; day by day.
Obviously, every family is different, and we all use different coping mechinisms. So I’m just going to tell you what worked for me and my family in the days and months after my mom’s cancer diagnosis.
Don’t focus on her cancer. Being informed and educated is important, but there’s a very hazy line between “researching” and “fixating,” as you probably already learned after your trip to Google University. Whenever I encountered some medical-talky-speak I didn’t understand, I checked out the Susan G. Komen site (scroll down to the “Helping You” section) or the American Cancer Society. Both sites are helpful, direct and — above all — not overwhelming.
I didn’t buy any books on cancer because I couldn’t bear having them on my nightstand, honestly. (I was also pregnant, and therefore neurotic enough, thankyouverymuch.) But a book I wish I’d read at the time was (pardon the Oprah-self-help tangent here) Arianna Huffington’s On Becoming Fearless. I know, I know. On the surface, it’s a book about relationships and work and how we all hold ourselves back. But it’s a good book about being strong, for yourself and for others and refusing to let fear rule your life and impact your decisions. And like I said — don’t focus on your mom’s cancer. That’s fear. Focus on your mom. And life. And good things. That’s fearlessness.
Okay. Now let’s get down to the practical stuff.
Post-surgery, your mom is going to need the softest and most comfortable pajamas you can find. Cushiony socks and slippers, a nice robe for when she feels better, you get the idea.
My mom didn’t have to do chemo, thank God, so I don’t have any first-hand recommendations for headscarves or hats. Commenters? Anyone? I have heard very good things about the Lindi Skin Care line, though. It’s designed specifically for chemo and radiation patients.
As for post-surgery-post-everything clothing, even if your mother opts not to surgically reconstruct her breast, she’ll just want to wear “normal” clothes. Trust me on that. Her insurance should cover her bras and a prothesis, and will give her a list of local places she can buy these at. (This isn’t something you want to order online. Custom is waaaay better.) Mastectomy swimsuits are also available. My mom found the boutique in her area to be absolutely wonderful — staffed with other survivors who cared deeply about helping every woman look her best. But other than that, take her shopping at her favorite stores. A mastectomy won’t define her, so if she’s always been a Talbot’s or Chico’s or whatever sort of lady, that’s what she’ll still want to be.
Someone else gave my mom a really pretty breast cancer bracelet (similar to one of these), and she wears it every day. That’s her reminder, and that’s all she needs.
It actually sounds like your family is doing a lot of things right already. You obviously care very deeply, and you’re all pulling together. (I absolutely love that you threw a Boob Voyage party for your mom by the way. Absolutely love that.) Take care of each other. Don’t let anyone view this as a death sentence, because it’s NOT. More women are surviving breast cancer than ever. You will GET THROUGH THIS, and maybe this time next year, you and your mom and your sisters will be doing a breast cancer walk together, to help other families just like yours have the same happy ending.
You know, a commenter left a really similar question over at my personal site — just a couple days after you sent your email. Another mother having a masectomy and another daughter struggling to know what to do. I’m going to include some advice that another commenter left, because it’s really good stuff. (Especially for daughters who aren’t geographically close to their mothers and might feel a little helpless in that regard.) Thank you, Brid, for sharing all your ideas.
Call her every day and tell her the stupid stuff that happens — the driver who turned left from four lanes over in the right turn lane, or the person behind you at the grocery store who bought four cans of spam and a cucumber. Just short little talks about normal things.
Send her real mail. Email is great, but there’s nothing like getting actual mail. Not sappy sympathy cards but letters on stationary or cards with cute animals, beautiful flowers, or funny sayings. You can even clip comics out of the paper to send.
Carepackages: something small like a pretty color of nail polish or one of those soothing eyemasks. or something bigger like a lighthearted book or a pair of slippers. or something compeltely random that just makes you think of her.
Food-wise, eating can be a big deal. If you know family or friends in the area, getting them to do grocery shopping or bring over a meal would be great. Even if your mom doesn’t feel like eating, she might be the person normally in charge of making meals and having something there for others will keep her from worrying.
Don’t worry (too much) about not being able to be there physically. Your comment shows that you love and care for you mom.