HOW TO COACH CANCER SURVIVORS

 

 

The impact of cancer news hits far and wide, but it is a fastball to the face of the patient and they have no defense. Imagine getting clocked in the head like Tony C and waking up to that ‘new normal.’

 

Watching it happen in 1967 made a lot of Little League baseball players afraid of the ball. Or at least one of them.

 

You either get over the fear, change sports, maybe quit going out for anything.

 

Being a quitter isn’t much of an option for cancer survivors, but the whole drain of it feels like some kind of quit.

 

Let’s address the feeling of quitting, of letting go, of getting stuck in a bad habit of remorse for who you used to be.

 

My coaching career didn’t end with my first grade soccer team, but something ended. After watching the kindergarten coach go World Cup on that team, I vowed never again will a kid get spoiled on sports by an overzealous jackwad who was never good at any sports and took his failure out on my kid, er, the team.

 

Coaching kids and cancer survivors didn’t have much in common until I did both. Now it’s pretty clear. Cancer survivors need some coaching from sources outside the doctor’s office, the radiation room, the chemo infusion clinic.

 

Here’s what to look for:

 

• Someone on the cutting edge of empathy.

 

If you wake up and your foot is trying to make a fist, is it from chemo induced peripheral neuropathy like the medical experts explained and there is nothing you can do?

 

Coaching cancer survivors is like coaching fourth grade basketball. Break the game down to it’s parts, put them back together, then you have a team.

 

Is your foot cramped because yesterday was leg day at the gym? Too many calf raises? It’s probably CIPN but focus on the effort you put into your foot strength.

 

Did you walk too far in new shoes? If not, get a pair of new shoes and walk too far. Give that foot something to cramp about. Either that or log every foot cramp until you’re too crippled to stand up.

 

Cancer survivors deserve a better deal than that. It takes work to build a mental block.

 

• You’re not happy with the way your cancer survivor body looks.

Maybe you feel guilty for caring what you look like after cancer treatment. You’re alive aren’t you? When you stand in front of a mirror singing Carly Simon’s ‘You’re So Vain’ it’s time for a cancer survivors coaching clinic.

 

When I looked like a hollowed out zombie mess of dehydrated flesh from the load of chemo and radiation it took to kill hpv cancer last year, I started looking at old pictures of my Mom and Dad at my age. One of them showed my Dad about a week before he died.

 

My wife looked over my shoulder and said, “Wow, you sure look like your Dad. What year was that?”

 

Cancer survivors’ skin looks different after chemo. Instead of normal aging skin, it looks like the Marlborough Man’s. What to do?

 

Pick a body part, or an area, and focus attention there. Create a responsive muscle group and make it look better than it ever did before cancer. Flex it. Start with your hands. Find a gripping exercise routine that won’t bore you to death and follow instructions for a few weeks.

 

Watch that muscle pop up when you squeeze your pointer finger and thumb together at the first joint. ‘Impressive’ is what you’ll think. Move to another muscle group while you keep the grip routine going. Eventually you’ll make the rounds of your entire body.

 

Even if nothing changes, give your cancer survivors coach a shout out for changing your feelings. You worked to change something, anything, and succeeded.

 

• People you know look through you.

Perception is so hard to change, but cancer survivors are in the change business with the right coaching.

For instance:

People might look through you because something they valued in you isn’t available anymore. They can’t ask the same favors, take the same advantage, use the same poor judgement. Maybe it’s a family member or close friend. And you feel bad because of their attitude?

Like Adele singing ‘Hello From The Other Side’ they’ve put you over there, on the other side, but the other side of what? All you desperately want is to get back on their side.

 

And you can’t invite them to your side because they’re not cancer survivors. Here’s a solution:

 

Guys from the inner city hit the big time in professional sports and go one way or the other. They keep their old friends with old behavior and they fade with them. Or they cut ties completely for the sheen of ‘professionalism.’

 

There’s another. One time a young pro came back to the neighborhood to celebrate their success. He met his buddy who drove them to a party with a short stop on the way, a stop at a drug dealer’s house.

 

On the way to the party he told his buddy he’d never again be in a car with him driving, that he was still a friend but the stakes of life just increased too much to get hauled in for possession.

 

Two examples on how to navigate new territory, one basketball, one from baseball.

 

Derek Jeter lived as a single man in New York City while playing for THE New York Yankees. He kept a low enough profile to avoid scandal. Was he a monk in training, or someone sharp enough to host parties where everyone checked their cell phones at the door. His environment controls kept him off the tabloid front pages.

 

Len Bias got drafted out of college by the Larry Bird in his prime Boston Celtics. He celebrated in his dorm and died before ever wearing the green.

 

Start being the best cancer survivor you can be by teaching others how to treat you.

 

Let the learning begin. Your friends and family are probably smarter than you give them credit for. And if they’re not, look at the bright side: You won’t be hanging out with idiots.

 

If you are a cancer survivor, you are a teacher. If you have unruly students, send them to the office. I’ll be here all day squeezing a hand grip and pinching my fingers together.