MSI Press Blog

  Anger, in its narrow form, is one of the stages of dying that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross identified quite some time ago in her book, On Death and Dying . People go through various stages, according to Kubler Ross (though her stages have been disputed ), the second of which in her model is anger (though she herself later stated that the stages are not necessarily sequential).  While anger of the patient was the focus of Kubler Ross and of most books and posts about cancer (and other dying) patients, my recent experience is that anger comes also within and from the caregiver, who had not planned on this life-changing (and time-changing) activity and likely is not prepared for it, whether it be lack of skills, lack of knowledge, lack of medical communication or options, lack of time to accomplish all that is necessary and thereby creating considerable stress, or lack of temperament/patience, causing anger to well up as a reaction to inability to control the environment and limited t...

  In her classic tome on death and dying, On Grief & Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief through the Five Stages of Loss , Elisabeth Kubler-Ross identifies five stages that those faced with shocking news associated with loss or potential loss go through: Denial (avoidance, confusion, elation, shock, fear) Anger (frustration, irritation, anxiety) Bargaining (struggling to find meaning, reaching out to others, telling one's story) Depression (overwhelmed, helplessness, hostility, fight) Acceptance (exploring options, new plan in place, moving on) Th subsequent works by Kubler-Ross, including those with colleagues, as well as works by others building on her research have pretty much confirmed these stages. How long it takes to go through any one of them depends upon the individual. Future Cancer Diary posts will dive deeper and personally into these stages. Grief is a complex and highly individual topic and intrinsically intertwined with cancer. MSI has published some helpful w...

  They weren’t close before. Just two of my neighbors, one downstairs, one in the next lot. Young mothers in their mid-thirties, each with two children, each newly diagnosed—one with uterine cancer, one with lymphoma. Now they spend long evenings together. Drinking. Laughing. Talking about men, though both are married. Not about cancer. Never about cancer. They slip into a kind of fantasy hour—where the diagnoses don’t exist, where their bodies haven’t betrayed them, where they’re still the girls they used to be. Or maybe the girls they never got to be. It’s not denial in the dramatic sense. It’s something softer, sadder. A shared numbness. A counter-life. They get drunk too fast to talk about anything real. And maybe that’s the point. The rest of us—neighbors, friends, watchers—feel the pull. We want to speak. We want to say, Please don’t wait too long. But we also know they won’t hear it. Not now. Not in this fragile world they’ve built together. So we hover in the silence...

  When Carl , MSI Press LLC graphic designer and co-founder, was dying from cancer of unknown primary , which has a very grim prognosis and no routinely accepted treatment, he wanted only hope -- that he would be in the 1% that has been reported to survive CUP at least for a year or more. He steadfastly avoided talking about death with his children, friends, and me. He resolutely did not want to talk to a professional of any sorts although he was willing to talk to a priest friend. Unfortunately, he was semi-comatose and near death before even one meeting could take place, given his frequent unplanned trips to the ER and regular trips out of town for chemotherapy. (The oncologist made an educated guess as to the possible primary cancer and gave two drugs, one a wide-sprectrum which generally does not work well because it is not targeted and the other targeted against his best-guess that the cancer started in the GI tract.) So, when the priest was finally able to connect with us, it...