GET ANGRY

Forty-one year old “Lena” was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. She underwent chemotherapy and treatment. The cancer continued to grow and spread to her lung and brain. Four days ago, her doctor told her that the treatment wasn’t working and there was nothing else to be done. It was then she was referred to hospice for comfort care.

The hospice nurse and I went out today to admit Lena to hospice. Lena’s husband, “Nat”, left his work to be there as well. Lena and Nat have been married twenty-one years. They have two children; a twenty year old son who attends a local college and a seventeen year old daughter in high school.

Lena informed us that she was told four days ago that her cancer was growing and no further treatment was available. She accepted her fate and denied any fears or concerns about what was happening. She did shed a few tears when we talked about her legacy, her children and her wishes.

She was handling things so calmly, that I was wondering if she still was in shock from the devastating news four days ago, had already processed her emotions or if it was a cultural belief system. I realize that we all have to process and cope our own individual ways. What works for one, doesn’t work for another. Lena is only five months older than my own son. It was hard not to think about how it would be if my son got such horrid news. My first impulse was to get angry. I didn’t realize it while in Lena’s home, but after the visit and driving away, I was thinking about how I, as a parent, would feel. I got angry.

Lena’s parents live in Russia and had just left a few weeks ago after visiting for three months. My heart goes out to Lena and her family. Lena will never know about my anger, as I will respect her and encourage her to continue to cope her way. After all, this is her journey and she is the only one who can do it Lena’s way.


GET ANGRY!
　

I want you to get angry!
I want you to yell and scream!
Fight back with all that you‘ve got!
But then, maybe you already have.

You were just told four days ago
that there was nothing else to be done.
No more treatment; no more chemo.
Comfort care now, until the end.

You sit there calmly accepting your fate.
No concerns or fears pulling you down,
“It is what it is.
There is nothing more I can do”.

I want you to get angry.
I want you to get mad.
I want something to be done.
It’s so unfair; you are way too young.

I’ll continue to support you.
I’ll assist you where you need.
You will never know my anger,
because it surely isn’t about me.

You are the age of my own son.
These emotions have hit close to home.
So now and then in the quiet;
when I think of you,
       every so often,
              I may,
                   get angry!