As a cancer caregiver, I am the ‘lightning rod’ that absorbs the storm

I had asked my mum a simple question about her lunch, but what came back at me made me question why I had ever decided to be a caregiver, a thick storm of sharp and biting words aimed directly at me.

I wasn’t angry that she screamed at me. I knew her anger was because of her myeloma. I knew she hated feeling helpless and was angry at the world. But I was the only person in the room for her to scream those frustrations to, the only target there to bear the burden of it all.

In the moment she exploded, I was no longer her son. Rather, I had been transformed into the reflection of everything she felt was limiting her. I had become an envoy for all her pain, a proxy for all that she was suffering from.

Her words did hurt me. They stung so much. However, what hurt more were the flashes of authentic fury in her eyes, the same eyes that have always looked at me with love and tenderness. No wonder I felt so weak and helpless, as if I had been struck by a physical blow.

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Standing firm in a storm

Defending myself was my first instinct. I wanted to list everything that I had done as her caregiver — the sleep I’d lost, the challenges I struggle with, the admin work, the parts of my life I’ve set aside, and all the dreams I’ll never pursue. I wanted to shout back at her, “Do you imagine that it’s been easy for me?”

I did not do any of that. I just stood there like an inanimate pole, absorbing every barrage she hurled at me.

But as she accused me, I could hear something else: a woman who used to be independent and proud, now drowning in a sea of dependency. I knew my mum was not lashing out to attack my care for her. She was screaming at how her own body had become caged.

And then it stopped. No more screams. Just a heavy quietness and a shame that we both shared. My mum turned away and cried, all her anger dissolving into tears.

If you are a caregiver, you know there is no script for what I experienced that day. You can never be ready for the day the person you adore very much sees you, even for a moment, as their worst enemy. All you can do is appreciate that the anger is not directed at you. It is merely a spilling over of a cup overfilled with fear and anxiety.

Afterward, I served her some tea. We did not talk about what had happened. There was no need. Her apology came in the way she carefully took the cup from me and applied a slight pressure on my hand, and I accepted it.

When you are a caregiver, you don’t just manage medications. You also must know how to be a lightning rod, how to stand firm in the midst of a raging storm that wants to envelop you. When it clears, you must still be there for your patient. You might be a little battered, but you’ll still be intact.

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