I'm 78 years old, and this is my third bout with breast cancer. I just don't have it in me to go through all the treatments again. My daughter, who's 52 and newly divorced, wants me to fight. I know she'll miss me, and we're very close, but I also know she'll be fine -- she has two college-age kids. I believe that this is best for me, and I'm at peace with that. How do I help my daughter understand and even embrace my decision? I'd like this last year of my life to be something we can all treasure.
No man -- or woman -- is an island, and your situation is a good example of how the decisions we make affect others. I'm grateful you've come to terms with all you're facing, and I understand that you're choosing quality of life for your remaining time. You're thinking of your daughter, yet you've decided what's best for you. Your words express a sense of peace and serenity that will guide you well.
You and your daughter are in different places emotionally, and both of you have the right to your feelings. But instead of trying to get each other to see it from your own point of view, you could both work on respecting each other and loving each other just as you are.
I do respect your choice not to continue with cancer meds. But I hope you’ll at least investigate your options. Cancer medication has really evolved, and if it’s been a few years, you might find that there are more and better choices available to you than you had before. It's possible that advancements that are promising yet not too onerous warrant a try. You owe it to yourself and your daughter to know that you’ve done all you can. Exploring the current set of treatment options might not change your mind, but your daughter will appreciate your efforts and it's apt to give both of you a stronger sense of peace.
Whatever you decide, please do try not to argue with her. Recognize that she doesn't want to lose you and at the same time, hasn't experienced what you've endured. In time, she'll probably stop trying so hard to hold on and will come to a place of peace as well, but until then, you're just going to have to quietly live your decision.
If you haven't written your daughter and even your granddaughters a letter yet, I suggest you do. It's so much easier to find the words to express your feelings, including your requests and your concerns, on paper. It lets you take your time and edit until you say exactly what you mean in a loving way. In turn, your daughter can take her time mulling it over, coming to understand what you're going through. Be honest about your own fears. She needs to know your deepest heart. What a gift this will be -- a letter or even a series of letters, recordings, or video -- whatever way you choose to share yourself.
Your daughter and others may still fight you as they work through the inevitable stages of grief that are actually a path toward healing. Don't let this bother you. Your job is to stay present and spend your time in ways that bring you a sense of wholeness. Tell your daughter what you'd like to do or how you'd like to be with her. Be specific: You'd like to spend a weekend together at a vacation spot you enjoyed before. Or you'd like to return to your childhood home for a visit. Or you'd simply like to enjoy your own home and visit with a few friends when you can.
If you haven't involved hospice yet, I encourage you to do so. Hospice isn't just for you -- although it will offer you a great deal -- it's also for your family. Hospice bereavement counselors, chaplains, nurses, and home health aides are trained in how someone's terminal illness affects the family. They can help your daughter deal with her emotions and fears, and reassure her that you're making a good decision.
Even if your daughter comes to respect your decision, though, she may not fully embrace it. You're her mom, and some people "fight" the dying process more than others. It's not right or wrong; it's just their way. Listen to her if she needs to share, or encourage her to reach out to those at hospice or her own faith community or friends. Also spend time with her and others not talking about all this. Your choice is not that unusual, and with the help of hospice, they'll begin to see your experience as quite normal and will most likely open their minds and hearts and receive the support hospice has to give.
I encourage you and your daughter to check out a book, When the Sun Goes Down: Planning the Funeral of Your Life, by Betty Breuhaus. Two other good choices: Dying Well, by Dr. Ira Byock, and Good Grief, by Lolly Winston. These books are not as much about dying as about celebrating life. Maybe they'll help your daughter start seeing this as a precious time to honor your life, all you are, all you've done, all the people you've loved. She may begin to open up and grieve a little now -- a good grief, the kind that centers on the sweetness of life and those we love even when it hurts. The two of you have quite a journey ahead of you, and I have no doubt that you'll find your way and become closer during this extraordinary time.
A dear caregiver friend of mine also fighting COPD, held up her hand when death came knocking. Her cancer retreated. She took a year to straighten out her affairs and made sure her daughters grown-up daughters were able to spend time with her. When death came knocking at her door once more, she was able to let go with peace. We can never know how hard the battle is until we're fighting it ourselves. Trust those who are on the journey of their lives and learn by asking questions and gaining knowledge. Who knows? They're way of handling it might help you when you have your own battle to fight. I am curious, given the 2009 date of the original post, what the outcome was in this situation.
The ways to explain what you want to your children
i've seen a number of elders go through horrendous treatments in response to a kind of emotional blackmail from family members unable to face the reality of death and loss. i really commend your clarity and courage. perhaps your daughter most needs to hear how you love her and don't want to leave her, but that you can't carry the pain and suffering any longer -- and that it wouldn't help. don't hesitate to get help on your side. contact hospice ASAP and they will be able to support your journey and also to help your daughter in her struggles. they have therapists who could help the two of you have those very important conversations. probably she needs to hear a) that you're not doing this to run away from her (emotional suffering and divorce makes most people self-centered for a while and she isn't thinking of you right now); b) that you love her dearly; c) that you yourself have suffered through treatments which ultimately have not in fact healed you and which have seriously affected you; that d) everyone dies. do reach out to hospice as soon as you can and you will find they will walk with you through all of this and with your daughter and they will also help her with her sense of loss and grief after your death. it'll be your greatest gift to her apart from just loving her and forgiving her neediness. many blessings for your journey and i so admire your maturity to recognize when treatment is no longer appropriate and can't help.
Excellent information. I retired recently after 17+ years work with hospice. Each patient and family member has to handle the experience personally in their own time and on their own terms but the support of hospice is phenomenal. My own mother became a patient at my hospice in her last year of life and even I grappled with the guilt and questions that I had spoken to hundreds of others about during their journey. It is difficult but I know it is what she wanted and it gave us quality time we would not have had without the hospice interventions. Hospice does not mean you are giving up - it just means you have made the choice to let life take its' natural course and will have the support of a myriad of caring, supportive people to walk with you on your journey.