We learn our loved one has suffered a serious injury. We receive a cancer diagnosis. Our spouse has a heart attack. We carry our child into the emergency room with unexplained symptoms. A loved one sinks into a deep depression and is unable to function. These moments mark our lives; our worlds become different from the days before “it” happened.
Medical crises throw us into unfamiliar territory. Physicians and other medical personnel offer opinions and lay out potential treatments, but there is little to no discussion about how this will affect our families, emotions, or overall functioning. The medical team’s focus is on getting us well. Questions fill our minds as the next steps are laid out. Some questions are asked, but others are not because decisions need to be made. Appointments end, and we are left on our own to sort through our reactions, often wondering if what we are feeling is normal.
Specific reactions depend on each individual and situation, but we also know that the brain kicks into high gear to manage a crisis, creating certain reactions.
Whether the crisis is just happening, you are well into the process, or you have come through the other side, understanding the inner workings of the brain, emotions, and behavior can help you manage — and hopefully heal — from the trauma of a medical crisis.
First Reactions
Cindy’s Journey I Want to Get Off
I sit across from my doctor as he explains the diagnosis and draws pictures illustrating how cancer cells differ from other blood cells. I nod and ask questions, but inside, emotions pound against my heart. Anxiety, uncertainty, and sadness swirl as my outside demeanor takes on a falsely calm image. Little do I know that this is just the beginning of an emotional rollercoaster ride I can’t get off.
We’ve all experienced moments that leave us shaking, suddenly aware of how our lives can change in a moment. Driving down the road on a sunny day listening to a podcast, a car swerves into your lane, only to miss your car by inches. As you lay on the horn and swerve your car out of danger, adrenaline pumps through you. Your heart races, hands tingle, and you have overpowering thoughts about the near miss. “Phew! That was close!” As you continue to drive down the road, adrenaline and symptoms subside as your brain lets you know you are safe again. However, when you tell the story to another, you feel a resurgence of the reactions. You re-experience the shock reaction, because your brain has linked the emotional and physical responses in your memory. Even though you are safe when talking about your near-miss experience, the brain’s connection to the event causes you to re-experience some of the sensations you felt as you swerved out of the way of danger — just to a lesser degree. Over time, the brain replaces the memory with calmer responses.
Unlike the near miss in the car, the psychological shock of experiencing a significant medical event doesn’t end when we drive away. The ongoing nature of illness, accidents, and the unknown that come from a diagnosis create a cascade of feelings and reactions. When experiencing a health crisis, we often don’t have prior experience to help us know what to do. We don’t know how to do “sick or injured.” We are faced with issues that demand our attention, appointments to be kept, and decisions to make as we redefine what we think of as our “real lives.”
When presenting a diagnosis, my primary focus is to present the information in a clear manner. Specifically, what needs to be done (now, short term, long term) and not trying to bite off too much at a single visit. –Dr. Ted Lee, Hematologist and Oncologist
Swirling emotions are unsettling because they are a reminder of what is happening, and that life has changed. While there are specific emotions that are typical, there is no wrong way to experience a medical crisis. Each person has a unique set of reactions based on life experiences, personality, and brain patterns. Let’s look at a few of the most common.
Shock
Disbelief. Shock. I felt I was branded with a big C on my forehead. –DH
Shock occurs when our lives take an unexpected turn. Shock propels us into a land of the unknown. It is unfamiliar territory. We aren’t sure how we got here, and we don’t know where we are going to end up.
I was in shock from the accident that left me feeling oddly calm and dazed, but I remember I wanted the next steps to start. –CK
Shock. This was a cancer I had never heard of. I cried. –NA
Devastated. –RF
Questions flooded my mind. Will he die? After 58 years, how could I live without him? This isn’t fair; he’s such a good man. –NL
Shock quickly moves into other reactions because the body can’t sustain high adrenaline for long. While the initial shock can be short-lived, it can loop around and hit us again when another unexpected turn occurs along the journey.
I often think of myself in this journey as the luckiest/most unlucky person. I decided to have elective surgery to have my sigmoid colon resectioned. During that surgery, the doctor saw what he thought was cancer. He did a blood test that confirmed his suspicion, and he aborted that surgery. When I was awakened from surgery and told the operation was aborted, I was shocked. My thinking quickly moved to, “Okay, let’s get this taken care of.” A hysterectomy, chemo and two more cancer diagnosis later, I am still shocked that it all has happened. –MT
Anxiety
When told I had a brain tumor, I was overcome with total fear. –JZ
Anxiety is a natural reaction to a threat. Having a chronic illness or chronically ill loved one is a threat to the status quo. When people receive a diagnosis, it is logical that some level of anxiety will be experienced.
Anxiety can be experienced through physical symptoms, such as nausea, difficulty sleeping, trembling, and tearfulness. Others experience anxious thinking, such as worry, intrusive thoughts, and phobias.
I was in a mental panic. There is no known cause or cure and seeing two pages of Google results was extremely disheartening. It was emotionally consuming and numbing all at the same time. I felt hopeless and confused that this seemingly improbable thing was affecting our 3-year-old son and our family. –RR
I was scared and terrified. I made sure my affairs were in order. I wrote a letter to my husband, daughter, and sister to open upon my death. –SR
I received a call from the hospital letting me know I had to return to talk about the results of the biopsy of my appendix. Turned out I had a tumor on my appendix and that was why it was inflamed, and I required HIPEC (Hyperthermic Intraperitoneal Chemotherapy) surgery. My initial reaction was disbelief and that there must be a mistake. I even asked if the results had been switched with someone else’s. The doctor assured me the appendix and results were mine, I sank into my seat with fear and discontent. I was 25. –CL
Anxiety feels like our beings are being shaken from the inside out. Trembling hands, trouble focusing, heart palpitations, headaches, and fluctuating emotions pepper our moments. Worry takes over the usual clear thinking of our minds. The variability and intrusiveness of these reactions interfere with our thinking, normal reactions, and view of ourselves.
Shock, fear, anxiety and anger. I became a “nervous Nellie” overnight. –JN
Fear struck me because my cousin had died five years earlier from the same disease. –SJ
Getting my diagnosis was like an out-of-body experience. –MB
My father-in-law was diagnosed with an aggressive skin cancer. It grew on the top of his head covering his entire head in eight weeks; it was very scary to watch. This was the first time we had to share this kind of news with our kids. It was extremely hard to share and see their reactions. It was hard to see my husband be scared and cry. It has been a tough road. –LH
For most people, anxiety surfaces through “what ifs.”
Truthfully, I was scared out of my mind. I knew what I had to do,
but the fear of not being around for my sons was my #1 emotion. –LL
When I got the prostate cancer diagnosis, I felt fear and anxiety wondering how I could tell my loved ones, because my wife’s father and mother died from cancer. I was sad and wondered if I would be incontinent and/or have erectile dysfunction. –RZ
Anger
I was furious that I had cancer. I had done everything right (diet, exercise, healthy lifestyle) and it happened to ME! It all seemed so unfair; after all, I had no risk factors. –JN
Many of us are taught that anger is a negative emotion. However, anger is justifiable when illness, violence, or harm is brought to someone we love or to ourselves. Anger has two sides. It can spark feelings of being powerless or propels us to act. If we act out of anger and do harm, obviously that isn’t productive, but sometimes we need anger to spark us into a needed action.
I am a nurse, and I was angry with myself for not realizing it could be cancer. –KJ
My first knee surgery was when I was 16. At 23, I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis. I am a nurse and knew what could lay ahead. I was angry at my body. –LE
Anger first. Disgust at the medical community’s matter-of-fact attitude because they seemed to forget that for each patient, it is a living hell. –LW
Relief
Initially hearing a list of diagnoses, including Dissociative Disorder and PTSD was a relief. I felt validated and reassured by how the diagnoses described everything I was struggling with. –TZ
The avenues to diagnosis are often characterized by pain, struggling with daily tasks, feeling unlike our usual selves, and emotions. Going through a protracted period of symptoms often generates a sense of relief once a diagnosis is offered. We think if there is a diagnosis, there is a treatment which can help restore our health.
I Knew It Was Going to Happen
My family has a horrible history of dying from various cancers, so honestly, I was not surprised [at receiving the diagnosis]. –LL
Heart attacks, accidents, serious illnesses, and cancer typically occur with little notice. The suddenness doesn’t give us time to prepare and figure out what we need to do. However, for some folks, a diagnosis is the fulfilment of something we’ve been expecting; we’ve been waiting for this news. Waiting for the shoe to drop.
My mother died of breast cancer when she was 47. At the time of her death, I was 25 and pregnant with my first child and my sister was 7. My husband and I raised my sister along with our children. Because of the occurrence of cancer on both sides of my family,
I always thought “when, not if.” –SR
It’s Just Another Day
I didn’t look at cancer as a big deal; to me, it was just another life experience. I didn’t have an emotional response to my diagnosis. I reacted very pragmatically. Perhaps it is my nursing background; perhaps it is just my personality. –SR
For some, health diagnoses are taken in stride with minimal upheaval. The event is viewed as another step along the path of life. Treatment and the process are taken with calmness and neutrality.
Featured image courtesy of CDD20 on Pixabay.
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