For a myeloma caregiver, being seen is a gift
It's easy to feel invisible as we work and worry in the background
It happened at the drugstore.
My shoulders were tight as I leaned against the counter. It was the fourth time that evening that I was reciting the birth date of my mother, who has myeloma.
The pharmacist was an older woman with kind eyes. She looked past the computer screen and smiled at me.
“You are doing a wonderful job,” she said.
Six words. That’s all it was. However, in that moment, I didn’t feel as if I were a nuisance or a file number. I felt like a person, a human being. I felt seen.
The invisibility cloak of caregiving
As caregivers, we tend to feel invisible a lot of the time.
We are the tired face in the waiting room chair that everyone politely ignores. We are the silent plus-one in the exam room. We are the voice on the phone repeating the same medical history.
Our work is hardly ever recognized, applauded in public, or celebrated openly. This is mainly because we work in the background and worry in quiet. If you plan on being a caregiver, then you should prepare to be absent from the spotlight.
The power of a shared glance
But being recognized or seen as a caregiver doesn’t always require words.
On some occasions, all you need is another caregiver in the infusion bay looking at you in recognition and giving a nod or a smile. As you hold each other’s gaze, you’re both saying, “This isn’t easy. It’s quite hard. I know. But we are going to make it through. Stay strong.”
Other times, there’s that nurse who didn’t forget your name. And such a nurse might just be kind enough to ask not only how you slept, but about how you’re coping with burnout. And then there’s the friend who won’t offer you advice, but instead nods and says, “What you’re doing is really difficult.”
Each of those moments is a lifeline. They’re all quiet but impactful acknowledgements that we are caregivers, we exist, we are right here, and the work we perform matters.
The gift you have been offered is a gift you can share.
You can tell the woman in the elevator with the hospital wristband: “I hope you have a better day today.” You can tell the man looking tired and overwhelmed in the queue at the grocery store: “There’s no need to rush. Just take your time.”
Look around at your neighborhood and community and try to discover the caregivers. Don’t merely ask after their loved one. Look them in the eye and ask them, “How are you actually holding up? How are things going with you?” Then, listen attentively to their answer.
The mantra: Being seen is a reminder that you are not a ghost. You are still existing.
A final word
To that pharmacist who saw me earlier, I want to say, “Thank you very much.”
And to every caregiver reading this column today, I see you. I can see the weight you are carrying. I can see the love that is fueling you. I can see your strength, even on those days you feel you have none left.
Here, you are not invisible.
Note: Rare Cancer News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Rare Cancer News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to rare cancer.
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