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Love her tender
When breast cancer strikes the woman in his life, a man needs a crash course in caregiving
The news is devastating for both wife and husband. Chris Spielman remembers his reaction when his wife's breast cancer spread to her lungs. After he dropped his daughter off at school in the morning, a wave of worry and fear swept over him. He had to pull the car to the curb. He curled up into a fetal ball. "I threw up the white flag," he says. "I gave myself a little bit too much credit on how much strength I had to handle this situation. I looked to God and said, 'I can't do this. You win. It's in your control. Give me the strength to do whatever you want me to do.'"
No matter what a breast cancer husband's beliefs, if his wife has been diagnosed with metastatic disease, he can surely identify with Spielman. The news is shattering, and it will take all of your strength--and then some--to cope.
With metastatic disease, there may be years of treatments. And while you can try to give your wife hope, you have no right to expect her to be positive all the time. "A negative attitude is not good and not bad," says Roz Kleban, administrative supervisor of social work services at Memorial Sloan-Kettering. "It's just normal."
For women with cancer confined to the breast, the future is more (guardedly) optimistic. In the world of cancer, people talk about the New Normal--a different sort of life, changed (for the better, one hopes) by the brush with death. Some therapists half joke that when breast cancer survivors talk about how their lives have changed for the better, listeners say, "I'd sure like to get some of what they got."
My wife would beg to differ. Yet for some women (and their husbands), the disease can be both a trauma and an opportunity for positive change. Frank Sadowski admits that life has changed, and not all in bad ways. At age 45, his wife, Laura, had a mastectomy and 3 1/2 months of really tough chemo. Now they are forging their New Normal. "Cancer certainly isn't a gift," says Sadowski, the vice president for consumer electronics merchandising at amazon.com. "But it's a blessing."
Change. He reflects on his choice of words. "As crazy as that sounds coming out of my mouth, I think, in a way, it has been a blessing for my wife, and for both of us, in different ways. It has really changed her outlook on life. She enjoys the things she enjoys more." As for Frank, he reports, "I wouldn't say I feel like it's been a radical change, like getting hit on the head by a coconut or seeing God next to you. But there's been a significant change in the way I prioritize things and what I think is important. Things that used to be really, really important, like problems at work, aren't important in the same way. Life's too short to mess around with this stuff."
But part of the legacy of a breast cancer diagnosis is worry. It's been three years and a month since my wife called me to tell me that she most likely had breast cancer. At times (and as time goes by), the disease fades from mind, like a distant relative we really don't care for. But other times, breast cancer comes roaring back--perhaps on the eve of a checkup with one of Marsha's cancer docs, or when the disease claims a victim from our circle of friends or from the world of celebrities.
My fervent hope for the brotherhood of breast cancer husbands is that your wife will fare well. That one day soon, your biggest problem will be figuring out what to tell well-meaning acquaintances who say, "They got all the cancer and your wife is going to be fine, right?" And that you will be able to reply, as I do, "Well, they never know for sure with breast cancer, but I can tell you this: Marsha is feeling good."
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