A Counselor's Diary

Certain words continue to resonate with me. He said, "Don't ever go a day without waking up and looking around you. It is only when you're really looking that you see how beautiful life is." I thought of this sentence today while I was listening to a client tell me about her husbands cancer. The session began before its start time--she frantically walked up to our office door. Her cheeks were lined with tears and she held a damp tissue in her left hand. This client is a strong and extremely intelligent woman--she survived the hustle and bustle of Wall Street. She knew how to handle herself and the men of Wall Street respected her for that. She's a tad bit rough around the edges but a complete sweetie underneath it all. She said softly with a few tearful pauses, "We had a 43-year conversation. We are always talking. He is the type of man that is hard to find. I am going to miss him and I just don't know what I'll do without him." We just got word that her husbands cancer spread to his liver and lungs even after the extensive chemotherapy that he had been given. The doctors told her he only had a couple months left and they told him this news as well. His response was, "I am not ready to give up yet, I want to try one more thing." The one thing I have learned at the cancer practice is that the docs hardly ever give anyone a time frame--they really don't like to. So, when they actually do, you know they must be pretty sure. The day I met this man he was receiving chemotherapy. He could barely lift his head to say hello. But through his wife I learned he was a man who had a lot of integrity, a man who could build or fix anything and also a man who truly loved her. That day in the chemotherapy room was last time I had ever saw him but I haven't forgotten his face. My clients faces and voices seem to surface every now and then. While I am driving in my car or listening to a meaningful song, their voices echo and I wonder how they're doing. I wonder if I said anything that made their day or changed their life. Two weeks ago, I saw a mother and her son. Her son is in his late 20's and came in with the tremors. He has lived in the state hospital for over a year because of a severe bi-polar diagnosis. He came in and wanted answers about his mothers health that I could not give. He wanted me to tell him that the only person who has ever been there for him wasn't going to die and I couldn't. I watched a grown man cry that day and all I really could do was help them both look at the quality of life that she did have left and how she wanted to actually spend it. His mother, my client, had originally gotten cancer from a birthmark behind her eye that progressed into a very large tumor and wrapped around her cerebral cortex which later ended with surgery and a death sentence. The doctors performed surgery on her anyway and it was actually successful--they removed this massive tumor and the cancer had gone or so she thought. She routinely went for check-ups and scans (this is something all cancer patients in remission are required to do every six months). Not one scan found any cancer. Then she had gone for laparoscopic gallbladder surgery. When the doctor went in to do surgery, he found some spots on her liver. She was later sent elsewhere for a different type of scan and those scans found a tumor in her back as well as cancer in the bones of her back. She has a sneaky cancer and is struggling with whether or not she wants to go through with chemotherapy since either way, her reality is, that she will die from this cancer. Those are the worse words to have to say to a client but sometimes they specifically ask you to be straight with them. To make a long story short, in our heart of hearts, this son, my client and I all knew that this type of cancer very rarely went into remission. Her son struggled with this, he cried and said that the only person who taught him to be a fighter was his mother. They both fell apart in the office that day. This job is all about accepting your powerlessness and helping others build the resiliency to accept theirs whether their dying of cancer or addicted to heroin. At times, it is so easy to forget just how important of a person I am to my clients. I get too caught up in everything outside of our sessions together. This is a beautiful career, it has given me more in such a short time than anything ever really has. Some days I am so full of life and inspiration. Sometimes it is too easy to allow life's joys out the same door they came in. A couple years ago, I made a huge decision. I gave up the dreams of one career for the dreams of this one. Dreams are lovely but often distracting and if there's any kind of truth you must admit to yourself, more often than not, you'll resort to that distraction instead. I find I have to keep reminding myself that everything is a process. Lately I have been focusing on those bigger dreams that could possibly unfold later in life and somehow I became impatient because I want those dreams now. During that time, I wondered if I did the right thing even though I had professionals telling me daily that I was a born-to-be-therapist with natural skills. Most therapists in training would be thrilled to hear this ,except for me, I didn't give myself any credit. That has always been hard for me to do. Sometimes the day fades into other days and instead of remembering the purpose of today, there is a disconnect somewhere. Connection is everything--human beings are driven by connection. For weeks now that disconnect has been bogging me down. Then the client I was discussing earlier in this piece came in to discuss the heartbreak of her husband having little time left. She sat beside me in her chair full of pain. Sometimes, as a professional, you know what to say during those moments. Other times, you grab their hand and sit there with them in that moment. Then you go home and hug your loved one's. So her and I sat there crying together. She turned to me and said, "you were born to do this and thank God for you." I wished I could freeze that moment but I knew I would never forget it because she gave me something I didn't have prior to our session, she gave me insight that allowed me to give myself credit for once in my life. And I finally let go. I let go of the fact that it'll be a process to get to where I want to be but eventually I will. I came to terms with the fact that I won't have my dream job right out of graduate school and that maybe just for a couple more years finances will still be an issue--everything that had been making me question my decision of becoming a therapist had subsided. This woman sat there full of pain and somehow managed to give me a gift. I will never forget that moment or how I learned that genuineness means everything. As a therapist, you don't always have to say something--sometimes saying nothing while sitting in the moment is all a person needs. Once again, I am reminded that I am exactly where I should be and no amount of money could ever buy that feeling. I get one hour with my clients every week or every other week which seems like so little considering how much they've changed my perspective on life. I feel sad that some of my clients will die but there's peace in knowing that I supported them through the very last days of their life. I have made a pact with myself because I truly care about the well-being of all my clients--that pact was to be more patient with my own process. So, some days may fade into others but there has been many days that remain unforgettable.