Gary: So, don’t be ashamed and
learn to reach out, because other
people are going through this.
Rob: Oh yeah, because the old
cliché is true, “Knowledge is
power.”
Gary: The difference between being a
caregiver and not being a caregiver
is that telephone call in the middle
of night. What was it like for you
and your family when you first found
out about your father’s diagnosis?
Rob: I think it’s always surreal
for anyone who gets that call.
To make matters even more surreal, I
was in Israel shooting a movie where
I was playing a Navy SEAL and they
were handing out gas masks. At that
point, Saddam Hussein was
threatening to launch biological
weapons on Tel Aviv. This was right
before Desert Storm, and I was in a
surreal place to begin with. I
remember when the phone rang, I
remember the certain layout of the
room, and how the sun was coming
through the window, and all those
details; and yet, I don’t remember
any of the conversation because it
was too uncomfortable, sad and
shocking.
Gary: That’s an interesting
point. For those first six months,
for the caregiver, it’s a total
haze.
Rob: One of the most interesting
things I’ve learned is that research
shows when a patient is diagnosed,
from that point on, they only retain
about 10 percent of the information
they are given. It makes sense
logically, but it’s a stunning
figure.
Gary: It’s true, and I like the
concept that people are able to
“hold hands” with other experienced
cancer caregivers.
Rob: It’s all based on my
experience with my father. He would
be very reticent to get into
anything with me, or with immediate
members of his family, but I would
see him open up to an abject
stranger in a shopping mall—someone
who looked like they had also gone
through chemo. There’s just no
substitute for talking to people who
are going through what you are going
through, or who have gone through
it.
