“I just want my old mom back, the one you used to be before surgery.”
That’s what my client’s ten year old told her.
You don’t have to be ten years old to think that way. It’s surprisingly easy, after a serious illness, to romanticize the “before” and to regret the loss of good health; sometimes the grief is so acute it is almost as if one were grieving a death.
John, a friend of mine whose son, Tommy, was diagnosed of Type 1 Diabetes, captures that moment perfectly—he draws it out on the calendar, the day in 2009 when his son was diagnosed (check out the whole video below—it is beautiful). But he also shows how the “before” slowly transitions into the “after”—how you do manage to find a “new normal.”
A physician friend of mine who suffered a stroke had to give up her practice and completely re-imagine her life: “I had to learn to love the new me,” she said.
There may be a “before” and “after” moment for the family member caretaker, also. The person who is struggling with serious illness may look at their exhausted caretaker and think, “I wish he/she were as lively/fun/energetic” as the friend/family member I remember before I got sick.” The sense of loss can cut both ways.
Advocates make lighter work of the “after.” Last week, when I attended a client’s physical therapy session, we talked about what it would take to get her home–stuff the client really wanted to discuss but the staff was more reticent. We helped another client find a top cardiologist who could stent very complicated cardiac anatomy—with gratifying results.
There is an expression: “a log can be so heavy to lift when you go at it alone; it is much lighter work with two.” Maybe that’s the best answer to–“why an advocate?”
