LOVING AUSTIN
A mother gives a lesson in reliance in the face of her son's cancer.
I often find myself in conversations with other cancer caregivers, now that cancer suddenly seems to be everywhere around me. We compare notes and offer words of support, laugh or commiserate about shared experiences, provide tips or advice for common side effects or useful websites. Much of what we go through is the same or at least similar, with one glaring exception: these other people are always taking care of their spouses or their parents. Not me. I am taking care of my child.
They usually say something that implies that my job is harder, that it's worse to have a sick child, a sick baby, than a sick grown-up. In a lot of ways, I agree with them. I think the psychological impact of having a child with cancer is huge and heartbreaking; it goes against the norm, it is never what's expected.
We all know (hope, even) that our parents will die before we will. We expect that they'll age and get sick and that we'll take care of them. Same with our spouses. Serious illness may seem to come too soon or strike too suddenly, but couples do know deep down that at some point, one will get sick and need care from the other.
This expectation, this normalcy of illness, doesn't exist with a child. You never expect your child to be this sick. You never ever expect your baby to have cancer. So, in that regard, my role as caregiver is more difficult. The very idea of it is harder to fathom. But the actual day-to-day caring part is considerably easier. I am used to taking care of Austin-holding him, feeding him, soothing him, wiping away his spit-up or puke or whatever else comes out of him. I am used to watching everything that goes into his mouth and everything that comes out. We mothers have an ever-present mental checklist of our babies' bodily functions (whether we thought we'd be that mother or not).
My relationship with Austin is and has always been completely one-sided: I provide the care in both sickness and in health. I do not rely on him for anything, short of love and smiles. He relies on me for everything.
There is no drastic shift in how we relate, how we interact, what the daily routine is-not nearly as much as when a parent or a spouse is sick. There is no resentment for the weakening of a once-able partner, no embarrassment on behalf of the patient for needing such basic care, none of the complicated emotional aspects of an altered relationship.
I give and he takes; it's as simple as that.
So, in the practical sense, my role as caregiver is easier. It is not easy, mind you. Never easy. But since his diagnosis, not much has changed in how I interact with Austin-except that now I do it all with a great deal more reverence.
—Krissy Gallagher
Editor's Note: Austin was diagnosed with bilateral Wilms tumor, cancer in both kidneys, when he was 10 months old. Now three, he is happy, healthy and cancer-free. To read more about Austin's journey, visit his mother's website: http://krissygallagher.wordpress.com/