There’s a woman in New England who directs a staff of
caregivers. She’s very committed to her work, but as she
tells it, it got to the point where she dreaded going to
social functions because of the inevitable question,
“What do you do for a living?” Every time she answered,
it seemed, someone would respond with something like,
“Gee, that must be depressing…”
Although she never said it aloud, the only thing she
found depressing about her work was that others assumed
it was depressing. Actually, she has learned more about
the richness of life working as a caregiver than she has
anywhere else at any time – and the things her patients
teach her transcend mere words, as some of them can no
longer speak.
So she finally changed the way she responded to the
dreaded inquiry. She now goes more to the heart of the
matter: “I take care of people who need me and who need
you, too, but perhaps nowhere near as much as we need
them.”
Now with authentic interest, they often follow up with
“Wow, where do you work?” Only then does she tell them
that she’s a caregiver at a nursing home.
Although she reports that the word “depressing” no
longer comes up in such conversations, she’s not
convinced that many people fully grasp what she means by
it all. But among caregivers there is often a
deeper level of understanding, as many caregivers know
first hand that the gifts that can come from loved ones
and patients are frequently beyond measure.
A man in his mid-30s who was battling cancer confided
during his fight that he was most thankful for three
things: His wife, his son – and cancer. How could
anyone, particularly a young man with a wife and infant
son, be grateful for such a terrible disease?
Eventually, I came to understand that he was actually
thankful for what cancer gave him – permission to be the
person he had always wanted to be. With his back against
the wall, and his time limited, he was free from others’
expectations and from the need to live according to our
culture’s definition of “manhood.”
Prior to his diagnosis, he hid the seeds of his
individuality, sensitivity and generosity beneath layers
of quips and feigned indifference. During his battle,
however, he became compelled to reveal his compassion
towards others and to exercise his empathy for those in
pain. In fact, people who had the good fortune to know
him toward the end of his life still comment on how he
consistently focused on what he could do for others,
even as he faced the grueling doubts of his own fate.
While his transformation was remarkable, it is not
unique among those who have battled – or who are
battling – serious illness. Three days after I was
born, my father was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis,
so I grew up caregiving. Based upon those experiences
and from working with others since, it is clear that the
ones we care for often have a wealth of wisdom to share
about fundamental priorities and the essence of living.
And while their “lessons” have always been available to
us, it seems that now, in the midst of our culture
having been forever changed by emerging kinds of anxiety
and terror, the guidance that patients and loved ones
can offer in terms of how to deal with fear and
uncertainty has become immediately relevant to us all,
not only as caregivers but as citizens at large.
Caregiving teaches us that, however serious a crisis may
be, it can be an invitation to grow in our understanding
of and our appreciation for our lives, our loves and our
values, all of which take on greater meaning in today’s
world.
“Redefinition, renaissance and rebirth are the essence
of life,” wrote a cancer patient in her journal. “Status
quo is not possible. Not even desirable. No one has a
safety zone to hide in. Somehow, before all of this, I
believed that I did.” Although written about her
struggle with a serious disease, these words could have
come from any American in the last many months. “In this
battle,” she concluded, “we all learn to take each day
and cherish it.”
Wise words – for caregivers, and for everyone, these
days.
Eric Gnezda is a keynote speaker, songwriter and
humorist who presents to corporations, associations and
healthcare organizations across the country. His songs,
including, Blossoms of Hope, are often featured by
cancer, hospice and bereavement groups.
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