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Supporting A Loved One With A Serious Diagnosis

Life Coaching student, Jill Brown, shares her personal experiences in how to deal with and support loved ones who have been diagnosed with long-term and serious illness. Jill Brown has studied Life Coaching with ACS and now runs her own business as a professional Life Coach.

Compassionate Care: A guide to joyfully supporting a loved one with a serious diagnosis

My Diagnosis

When I was diagnosed with diabetes I felt so disappointed in myself.  How could I have let this happen? As I drove home I felt completely destroyed, the closer I got to home the more sick I felt. How could I go inside and say, “I'm diabetic?” I felt so ashamed. Why hadn't I taken better care of myself?  I wanted to deny it, to go in and say nothing, but that just made me furious.  It made me want to throw blame. I felt lost in that moment of so many emotions.

Having a serious diagnosis changes how you feel in the world.  I can remember a time when we were visiting my husband’s family in Canada; we went to Niagara Falls.  My husband, his cousin and I were in a shop, and they bought ice creams.  I said I wouldn't have one because of the sugar. It normally wouldn't bother me as I'm not keen on it, but on this day I really felt totally left out. I didn't want them to not have it, but all the anger and disappointment I felt when I first got my diagnosis rushed back, filling me with that same shame. I threw a tantrum and stomped off into the shop. I was hurting and felt so upset. I wanted comfort, but the trouble is that when you’re an adult throwing a tantrum you tend not to get the comfort you need.

My Husband’s Diagnosis

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer I felt as if I was not hearing properly, I might have even said, “No.”  I mean how could this be? A needle biopsy had come back benign, they had removed the tumour, and treated it all so lightly.  They even said there was no need for the surgery, that it would just be cosmetic, that my husband was too young to have a big lump  just under his jawline. He’d been told it all went great, and we thought we were all done when the consultant called the house to explain that the tumour had actually been cancer. He told my husband to write it all down. We stood looking at each other. I felt numb, it was like my brain couldn't take it in, I had to keep saying it over to myself. I felt scared but didn't want to show my husband. I remember saying we can get through this. I was torn between wanting to run away and wanting to get in front of the doctors with all of my questions.  I felt like I had no control over anything.

While he was going through treatment, the experience for me was just a whirlwind.  Less than a week after the first operation we were sitting in a room as about nine different people came in to examine him and talk about treatment. It took nearly four hours, and then there were scans and another operation. The cancer had reached the wall of the tumour but not gone through.  They could only hope that the cancer was contained. So he had another  operation in less than two weeks from the first. I didn't sleep and was constantly running around. After the checks a routine of monthly visits were arranged for the next couple of years, every time holding my breath, my heart pounding and my stomach in my mouth, followed by joy and elation walking out with the words “it’s looking fine, no problems.”

It’s like a rollercoaster that you can’t get off and badly want to.

Making Things Feel Normal

What I learned being in the caretaker role was that I'm strong and resilient, really rather tough and capable of far more than I imagined. I learned I had to take care of myself, to eat  and rest properly, or I wouldn't have the strength I needed.

Despite all this, I felt so terribly helpless and lonely even with all the people around who offered support. I just felt alone with my feelings and fears.

The biggest thing I want people who are supporting someone with a serious diagnosis to know is no matter how much you feel you’re alone you really aren't, but you do have to  tell people you need help. You have to reach out and say what help you need.

Also listen to what’s available, don’t dismiss it and think you can do everything on your own. No matter what, you will be OK, I want you to know that you’re strong, but if you don’t take care of your needs you can’t stay strong.

A few of the most important things you can do when supporting someone with a serious diagnosis are have fun, laugh keeping things as normal as possible, it may feel hard but it’s what you really want. You want it all to be normal.

Difficult Conversations

What I learned being in the role of the patient was how important it was to have someone who could listen to me without judgement.  The person you’re supporting may want to talk about difficult things; you should let them. I know it’s hard, and  although you are in what’s happening, it’s not about you. No matter how sick and frightened you feel, the person you support  feels worse, more than you can imagine.

One of the most common things that makes people uncomfortable when supporting someone with a serious diagnosis is talking about death. Not everyone with a serious diagnosis wants to talk about it, but if they want to, then it’s better for them if they can.

You may feel uncomfortable about telling jokes, laughing, and sharing plans for the future. Just being normal is a challenge, especially when you see the person getting weaker. You don’t want the person to know you’re frightened, and you’re afraid to be yourself. What I learned was the best way to handle this is to be honest, to talk, find out what the person you’re supporting wants too. The person you support still wants you to be you.

Handling the Hardest Moments

The reality of supporting someone with a serious diagnosis is that when you wake up, for a split second, everything feels normal. Then you remember, and you  feel sick and have to force yourself to smile. You want to cry like a baby, you want out, you want to hold the person and everything be OK. You wish it was just a bad dream.

The person you support can get angry, shout, even say hurtful things. They are afraid, hurting and angry. Sometimes you will be a reminder of everything they are missing right now. In these moments you may feel like telling them to get lost, but it’s  the last thing they want. In fact they are trusting that you won’t, they are trusting you can see them at their worst and still  know who they really are.

Riding the Waves

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the tension feels unbearable. That’s why having your own support system around you is vitally important.  During these hard times you become aware  of how many amazing people there are in the world who can support you.

There can be so much internal resistance to asking for help, you feel guilty for needing it, it’s like you’re lacking in some way.  You can think tomorrow will be easier and you’ll do better, but it’s easy to get stuck in this belief and never get the help you really need.

There is a way to find balance, for you to share the precious moments and find joy in this time. It can be a beautiful time in its own way.

The fact that you want to be there to support someone is testimony to what a wonderful, caring person you are. How lucky is anyone to have you in their life?  Don’t wait until you’re at rock bottom to find support for yourself.  It’s not selfish to ask for help, and you’ll be a better caretaker for your loved one when you do.

About Me

My name is Jill Brown.  I help people with a serious health diagnosis to step into their can do shoes, to regain control and live on their terms. To find a way to step forward, things may have to be done differently, but they don’t have to stop.  Learn more at: https://www.jillcbrownadvancelifecoaching.com/

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