Tag Archives: cancer

Thriving in times of crisis

By Lennis G. Echterling December 10, 2018

I am now reaching the age when people assume that I have achieved a certain amount of wisdom. I admit that I usually enjoy playing the role of the sage as a professor, but at times it definitely has its downside. For example, a new faculty member once said to me, “Hey, Lennie, you’re the silverback gorilla in our department. What’s your advice about this proposed new policy?” I was so irritated that I wanted to hit him with a banana.

For me personally, a more serious downside of aging is that I am now facing a threat to my health, well-being and life. Two years ago, I was notified that I have cancer. A biopsy that I had fully expected to be benign instead turned out to be malignant. I received the call in my office, just before leaving to teach my crisis counseling class. Ironically, after decades of responding to the crises of others, I suddenly became my own case study.

When I entered the classroom late and out of breath, still reeling from the shock of the cancer diagnosis, I realized that I had taught my students well — they immediately sensed that I was troubled and kindly invited me to talk about it. Touched by their sensitivity and concern, I decided to take a risk and openly share with them my bad news.

As I told my story, I began to feel a mixture of profound emotional relief as a person and immense pride as a teacher because my students intervened in my personal crisis with empathy, skill and compassion. It turned out to be a powerful lesson, both for my students and for me. I believe that my students learned to trust the process of counseling, no matter when, where and with whom an intervention suddenly is required. The lesson I learned was to accept the gifts that others generously offer me in my own times of turmoil. That is the essence of counselor education — to practice our craft with one another to promote professional growth and personal healing.

Four principles of thriving

As counseling students, supervisors, teachers and practitioners, we all will have our share of personal, professional and family crises. So, I offer here four principles of thriving that emerged from my own life lessons in dealing with times of turmoil, threat and adversity.

The first principle of thriving is to be resilient. Resilience comes from the Latin word resilire. To resile means to bounce back. In physics, resilience refers to the elasticity of material that can endure strain. For each and every one of us, personal resilience involves not only surviving those inevitable crises ahead, but also truly thriving in our lives.

As I reflect on my two years of cancer treatment, I find that my personal experience has mirrored the typical reactions to a life-threatening situation. I appreciate now more than ever how adaptive negative emotions such as fear and anxiety can be because they focus our attention on the threat and press us to take appropriate action rapidly. But during this time, I also have been discovering deep and abiding positive emotions such as hope, compassion and heartfelt gratitude. Those emotions have broadened and enriched my ways of being. The truth is that both negative and positive feelings are essential for surviving and thriving in times of crisis.

My second principle for thriving is a reminder that you are not alone (and neither am I). Every culture has its folk tales and myths that portray a hero on a quest. No matter how talented and strong this protagonist may be, the person neither travels nor triumphs alone. Jason, the ancient Greek mythological hero, counted on his Argonauts in his search for the Golden Fleece. Somewhere over the rainbow, Dorothy was gifted with the Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow to help her find the Wizard of Oz. And in his Star Wars adventures, Luke Skywalker relied on Obi-Wan Kenobi, Princess Leia and Han Solo.

Like the protagonists in those archetypal stories, we also will encounter others who will have a profound impact on our life’s journey. To thrive in our future endeavors, we must accept the gifts that others offer us. To flourish in our personal lives and professional careers, we need to join with others to engage in the collaborative work of supporting, inspiring, challenging and encouraging one another. We are not islands unto ourselves in achieving our potential. We cannot succeed as completely, or as joyfully, on our own.

Third, thriving in our future involves remaining committed to learning throughout our lives. Our graduate training is not a mere dress rehearsal. It is an integral part of our lifelong dedication to continued professional development. A mind is like a parachute — it works best when it’s open. And actions do speak louder than words, so we must seek out mentors who exemplify what we aspire to become, because the most important lessons in life are not taught but caught. Passion, commitment and curiosity are highly contagious. For that reason, I regularly take a close look at my colleagues and my students. What do I want to catch from them?

The counseling profession is like a fidgety kid who is never still — it is constantly on the move as students and practitioners contribute to its vitality. The Mbuti of Africa have a ritualized song that offers a wonderful example of what every professional community should aspire to achieve. In the song, individual singers are responsible for specific notes, but no one carries the entire melody. As a result, only the community can sing the song.

My fourth and final principle for thriving is to make the journey your destination. In Travels With Charley, John Steinbeck wrote, “We do not take a trip; a trip takes us.” I am neither the person who originally entered my own training program nor the beginning counselor who launched my counseling career. Along the way, I have gained a sense of confidence and trust in my own abilities. I have questioned my old assumptions and, as a result, made new discoveries that guide my work. I aspire to continue going with the flow of my career and to be open to the enormous possibilities of future transformations.

Decades ago, as I was immersed in my own graduate education, I was fortunate to develop lifelong friendships with members of my cohort. We brought to our training a similar mixture of rough edges and fine potential, nagging doubts and yearning dreams, neurotic hang-ups and transformational hopes. We told our life stories to one another and threw ourselves into heartfelt discussions that lasted late into the night. Along the way, we would party together. My fellow students taught me how essential it is not only to work hard with your colleagues but also to celebrate with them.

More lessons to learn

Six months ago, lab results revealed a recurrence of my cancer. After completing 15 more radiation sessions, my skin was a raw and painful reminder of my vulnerability and mortality. I continue to Google for any innovative breakthroughs for my cancer, to remain committed to practicing a healthier lifestyle and to explore complementary approaches. I now face a regimen of medications, phototherapy sessions, appointments and lab tests.

I have become accustomed to the role of the patient, but I endeavor to thrive throughout the process. I cherish my loved ones. I give extra hugs to my family and dear friends. And I take every opportunity to show my gratitude for the countless acts of kindness that others bestow on me every single day. My hopes and dreams for the future, which serve as the personal beacons that light my way, are to savor and cherish all the meaningful, loving and joyful moments that remain in my life. I have many more lessons to learn from my students.

 

****

 

Lennis G. Echterling is a professor of counseling at James Madison University. Contact him at echterlg@jmu.edu.

 

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

Counseling Today reviews unsolicited articles written by American Counseling Association members. To access writing guidelines and tips for having an article accepted for publication, go to ct.counseling.org/feedback.

 

****

 

Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Helping families cope with cancer

By Laurie Meyers November 26, 2018

Cancer. The word alone can evoke terror amid visions of painful treatments and possible early death. Even though many advances have been made in cancer treatment, and despite the fact that heart disease is the actual No. 1 cause of death for adults in the United States, cancer is the diagnosis that many people fear the most.

Receiving a cancer diagnosis is often a devastating blow, not just to cancer patients themselves but to their families. At a visceral level, it is easy to imagine how frightening a cancer diagnosis must be for the patient, but many people — including the families themselves — often underestimate the emotional toll the disease can take on loved ones.

Dark times

Cancer casts such a dark shadow that licensed clinical marriage and family therapist Maya Pandit often encourages clients to refer to it as the “C-word” in an attempt to rob the term of its power. Cancer “is such a ‘big bad’ — not just because it can cause death but because the treatment is difficult and painful,” she says.

For family members, this means grappling with the fear of losing their loved one while hoping for a “cure” that often requires debilitating treatment. Pandit, who is trained as a medical family therapist, a specialized form of family therapy for individuals, couples and families who are coping with physical illnesses, notes that watching a loved one suffer can be more difficult than enduring the suffering oneself.

Managing physical illnesses such as cancer can be isolating and bewildering for patients and their families alike. That feeling of isolation, coupled with the stress of diagnosis and treatment, often strains family relationships — not just between the patient and other family members, but among family members themselves, Pandit explains. Her goal is to help families and couples cope with the reality of the diagnosis while providing support for the patient and one another.

When families are confronted with a cancer diagnosis, their coping strategies often follow a kind of all-or-nothing approach, Pandit says. For some people, the reality of their loved one’s illness is so painful that they refuse to talk about or even acknowledge it. Instead, these family members go on as if the cancer doesn’t exist and everything is fine. In contrast other people attempt to manage their anxiety by becoming hypervigilant and centering all aspects of daily life on cancer, Pandit says. Operating under either of these extremes only makes responding to the crisis more difficult, she adds.

As Pandit explains, getting each family member’s “illness story” is an essential step because it allows counselors to uncover the emotions and difficulties that have arisen from the diagnosis. Then counselors can begin helping the family find a more balanced way to cope. The illness story encompasses each family member’s experience of the crisis, which Pandit solicits by asking questions about when the symptoms started, when and how their loved one was diagnosed and how it felt for the family member to hear the diagnosis. These basic questions encourage a conversation that can help to verbally unlock clients, allowing Pandit to begin unwinding the emotional knots that keep family members from facing the cancer.

With clients who are hypervigilant, Pandit’s goal is to “open the door” to the thought that the cancer already plays a big role in their lives, and if they allow it to always be the primary focus, it will consume all family interactions.

“I often do an exercise in which I ask family members to fill out a pie chart of their lives and how much cancer has taken over,” she says. “We talk about the ways cancer has impacted their daily lives and the creative ways to take back what they can.” Activities such as watching TV shows and movies together or reading the same book and then discussing it serve not only as a distraction but also give family members something to talk about that isn’t related to cancer.

On the other hand, Pandit says that asking open-ended questions or talking about some of the common challenges that families coping with cancer face often helps resistant clients become more willing to speak about what they are experiencing. “If I make sure to be patient and as matter-of-fact as possible, even the most closed people open up at least a little,” she says. “I find that people want to talk but sometimes need time, space, a person who won’t shrink at the topic and, occasionally, some privacy.”

Pandit adds that the most frequent feedback she receives from family members is that once they have opened up and talked about their struggles, they feel lighter. “Talking about how people feel more often than not makes them feel as if they are not alone — that they can handle things one day at a time,” she says.

Family dynamics

Counselors should also keep in mind that each family member has his or her own individual and unique relationship to the person with cancer, says licensed professional counselor (LPC) Kerin Groves, who has worked with older adults in retirement communities, assisted-living residences, nursing homes and home care settings. “Relational dynamics are part of the family system, which often includes old baggage and unfinished business such as wounds or secrets from the past,” she says. “It is imperative that therapists ask each [person] about that individual relationship.”

Among the questions that Groves, an American Counseling Association member whose specialties include grief and loss, suggests that counselors should ask: “Who is this person to you? What does this diagnosis mean in the context of your relationship? What is the nature of your relationship to the patient, both past and present?”

“In that relationship, what are the sparkling gems and what are the sharp rocks? For example,” Groves says, “I have worked with family members of cancer patients who had deeply conflicted negative feelings about the patient, but they were aware that it was not socially proper to say so. They could either stuff their true feelings and experience inner shame and guilt, or they could speak out and experience open shame and guilt — quite a lose-lose scenario. In these situations, a therapist can best serve the family by providing a safe space for whatever needs to be vented, with no judgment.”

“Setting aside any conflicts in family relationships can be as simple as asking for it,” she says. “A counselor should not be afraid to pose the question: What relationships are you worried about right now that are distracting you? What do you need from [a particular family member] in order to set this aside for now? And what does [that family member] need from you? What needs to be said between you and [the family member] in order to move forward with more peace?”

“A counselor can be a rational outside resource in scary times,” Groves continues. “Family members make many critical decisions, and they need a safe place in which to explore options out loud and be heard, encouraged, supported, validated and attended to.”

A source of nonjudgmental support is particularly important because family members often fail to recognize or validate their need for emotional support, Pandit says. “It’s like, ‘You [the patient] are the one with cancer. What right do I have to be upset?’”

Pandit discourages family members from engaging in what she calls the “pain game” — a kind of comparison to determine who is in the most pain. She tells families that pain is pain and that it needs to be addressed, regardless of who is harboring it or the circumstances of those around them.

Mary Jones, an LPC who counseled patients and families during her 20 years in an oncology facility, agrees. She says that most of the adult family members with whom she worked, both in family counseling sessions and in a support group for caregivers, experienced debilitating emotional and physical side effects. These clients regularly reported being unable to focus, having trouble making even small decisions and becoming easily overwhelmed. With their worlds being transformed, sometimes overnight, by a loved one’s cancer diagnosis, some clients felt so disoriented that they wondered if they were going crazy, Jones says.

These family members were often irritable, especially if they were not sleeping well. They felt a pervasive sadness but were often afraid to cry lest they further upset other family members and friends. Physical symptoms such as backaches and stomach issues were also common. Not surprisingly, Jones says, the turmoil often affected these family members’ work lives and personal relationships. 

As Groves points out, counselors may not be working with cancer patients or families in a typical 50-minute therapy session. “Counselors working in cancer treatment centers, infusion clinics, oncologist’s offices and other medical settings may do mini-interventions of 15 minutes between physician visits, or two-hour support group meetings, or brief encounters in hallways or treatment rooms. In these settings, a counselor’s role should simply be [to act as] a calm presence. They are to listen, support, be a container for powerful emotions — including angry rage or hysterical crying — and provide warmth and acceptance.”

A life-threatening illness typically necessitates a major shift in roles and responsibilities within families. One of the things counselors can do is help clients prepare for and cope with these changes in family structure, says licensed marriage and family therapist Ryan Wishart, who also specializes in medical family therapy. For example, a mother with breast cancer who will no longer be capable of doing the bulk of the child-rearing would need the father or other family members to step in and shoulder more responsibility in that area. If the person with cancer is the family’s primary breadwinner but is too sick to work, it may require other family members finding additional means of financial support. Housework may need to be distributed differently, and older children may have to become more independent.

Wishart helps families assess and redistribute their duties by creating a deck of cards that have major roles, responsibilities and chores written on them. “We discuss who ‘owned’ which cards prediagnosis and ways that they can be redealt,” he says.

Groves raises a similar point. “There can be very practical concerns that lie under the surface and get ignored in the medical crisis,” she says. “For example, if one family member insists that the patient be able to go home but dumps the caregiving duties on to someone else, emotions can erupt. A counselor can help by walking the family through the practical options that are both available and realistic.”

Giving care

Caregiving is often one of the most difficult, emotional and divisive issues faced by families with a loved one who has cancer. Family members must work through questions such as what kind of care to pursue, whether a loved one can be cared for at home and who will provide the care.

“Many people get quickly overwhelmed with the details of the cancer journey,” Groves says. “There are just too many decisions and no crystal ball to see the outcomes of each choice. Treatment plans that are too aggressive are uncomfortable for many people, but cultural norms may prevent family members from disagreeing or questioning a medical professional. Palliative care can seem inhumane to some, sending the message that they have given up or don’t want to be bothered with the patient anymore. In addition, I have seen well-meaning doctors who refuse to give up and wait until just before the patient dies to call in hospice — much too late for the family and the patient to benefit from the supportive services they could have received in making the journey through death.”

Families may also disagree about what treatment should be pursued, forgetting that the choice ultimately resides with the patient unless he or she is no longer competent to make the decision. But even after the family has decided the where, when and how of care, providing it can be a time-consuming endeavor that is both emotionally and physically taxing. In addition, caregiving often requires difficult role adjustments or role reversals. For instance, parents battling cancer may become like children to their own children. Relationships may take on decidedly unromantic aspects when one spouse or partner needs to play a more parentlike role for the other spouse or partner.

It can be especially challenging and humbling for parents to give up so much personal control to their children, even if those children are now adults themselves, says Cheryl Fisher, an LPC whose areas of specialization include counseling families and individuals with cancer diagnoses. However, counselors can help these parents see this shift in a different light. Fisher, an ACA member, says she often reminds parents of all the years they spent getting up in the middle of the night or staying up late to give care to family members. Now it is their time to receive and accept care from others, she tells them.

With adult children, Fisher says, the adjustment usually involves probing to see what aspects of caregiving they feel confident about and which ones give rise to discomfort. Personal hygiene is a particularly sensitive area, she points out, because sons are typically uncomfortable with the thought of bathing their mothers and daughters are typically uncomfortable with bathing their fathers. Fisher validates this discomfort, letting her clients know that it is perfectly acceptable to look for home health care support for that particular task. She then talks about other areas of caregiving with which the adult children might be comfortable, such as housekeeping, cooking, doing yardwork or providing transportation.

Fisher also helps adult children who are geographically distant from their parent come up with ways that they can participate with caregiving. For instance, they may be able to contribute financially or pragmatically, such as by locating home health care support or paying for respite care. Perhaps they have enough vacation time to fly in every few months to visit and give assistance to the parent. Distance caregiving can also consist of smaller personal acts such as sending cards and care packages or FaceTiming with a parent while the sibling or other family member who provides most of the in-person care gets a much-needed break to take a nap or make phone calls.

Pandit says that couples going through a cancer diagnosis often don’t know how to talk to each other about the ways that caregiving changes the dynamics of their relationship. She helps these couples explore means of ensuring that caregiving doesn’t take over the whole of their relationship — for example, by dedicating time to just being partners again through activities such as a regularly scheduled date night. She also encourages couples to make sure they continue to talk about things other than the cancer.

Cancer foments a significant amount of fear and guilt, and caregivers often feel that if they make a “wrong” decision or take time for themselves, their loved one will get worse or even die, Jones says. This makes it even more difficult to convince caregivers to engage in self-care. Jones explains to caregivers that to properly take care of their loved ones, they must also take care of themselves. With male caregivers, she found it particularly helpful to tell them to picture themselves as a car. As a car, the caregiver must go to many destinations. Cars, of course, require gasoline to run. So, Jones would ask, what happens when the car makes a lot of trips without stopping to fill up the gas tank?

Similarly, Jones would direct women to picture themselves as a pitcher full of resources and imagine that everyone surrounding them was holding a cup. With so many cups to pour, unless the caregiver refilled her own pitcher, her loved one’s cup would eventually go dry.

Jones also recommends that clients who provide care to a family member with cancer literally schedule self-care for themselves. Making an appointment for self-care — just like making an appointment for the next cancer treatment — helps reframe it so that the caregiver starts viewing self-care as a means of survival, not a selfish desire, Jones says.

True self-care goes beyond taking breaks, getting enough sleep and eating healthy regular meals, and the source is different for everyone. Jones urges clients to identify the things that make them feel nourished. “What recharges your batteries? What fills your cup back up?” she asks. Jones says she finds even a little time interacting with nature rejuvenating, but for others, it may be practicing yoga, meditating, spending time with animals or reading a good book.

Something else that Jones urges counselors to do is to ask caregivers to identify things they can “outsource” that would make life easier. This might involve thinking of friends willing to volunteer a few hours of house cleaning each week, asking a neighbor to walk the dog or seeing if a church care group would be willing to make and deliver 10 days’ worth of casseroles.

Because caregivers are continually fighting burnout, guilt and isolation, Jones thinks that group therapy is a particularly effective method of support. Among others who understand their struggles, caregivers and other family members can more freely give voice to emotions that they don’t necessarily feel comfortable expressing anywhere else. They can admit to being tired, angry, resentful or hopeless without fear that they will be judged poorly. Groups are also a good place for brainstorming and solving problems, Jones says. Individuals can share their challenges, and other group members can talk about what has worked best for them.

Coping with the unknown

The treatment process for cancer is usually hard on everyone. Pandit says the constant ebb and flow of watching a loved one struggle and not knowing for certain that it is going to be worth it in the end is often agonizing.

Groves agrees. “An unknown prognosis is very hard for families [and patients] to tolerate,” she says. “The fear of the unknown is powerful. Facing a known outcome is certainly frightening, but at least there is little or no ambiguity. With a terminal prognosis, there are fewer choices to agonize over. There may be more powerlessness but fewer regrets.”

A terminal diagnosis can sometimes be a “strange kind of blessing,” Pandit says. Knowing the end is coming often encourages loved ones to say things they might never express otherwise, both to the person who is dying and to those who will be left behind.

“Whether the diagnosis is terminal or chronic, a good counselor will bring up universal existential concerns … [such as] fear of incapacitation, of death, suffering, aloneness, meaninglessness, and normalize them,” Groves says. “This allows family members to recognize that their fears are common to the human experience and that it is safe to talk about them. The counselor may not have a solution but does offer accompaniment on the journey.”

That perpetual state of suspended animation that accompanies an unknown diagnosis is painful, but for some family members, it is still preferable to admitting that it is time to let go. Cancer patients are often the first to recognize this truth, and as long as they still have all of their faculties, it is ultimately their choice whether or when to discontinue treatment, Fisher notes. However, family members sometimes remain in denial and may refuse to acknowledge the patient’s impending death, even pushing for continued treatment.

Jones recalls a female patient whose husband had accepted that the time had come to cease treatment but whose adult children kept insisting that the family could “find another way.” The constant badgering was completely exhausting to the patient. She finally turned to Jones and said, “I need you to look my kids in the eyes and say, ‘Your mom has three to six months to live.’” Jones followed the woman’s wishes and then urged the children to ask themselves how they wanted to spend the last months of their mother’s life.

Fisher had a 36-year-old female client with a terminal diagnosis who had moved into inpatient treatment. The woman’s mother kept bustling into the room with vases of sunflowers and other things. Her stated intent was to make the room pretty until her daughter could come back home. The daughter, in obvious distress, yelled, “Mom! I’m not coming home!”

Fisher asked for some time alone with the client and helped her come up with the words that she needed to say to her mother, which were, “I’m going to die, and I need you to be here with me.”

“Counselors often worry too much about techniques and forget to just listen,” Groves says. “Our presence is our best intervention.”

 

****

 

Supporting the client who has cancer

“Fear is the constant companion of the cancer patient,” says Kerin Groves, a licensed professional counselor (LPC) and American Counseling Association member. “Fear that the diagnosis is wrong, fear of telling young children too much or not enough, fear that the surgeon didn’t get it all, fear that the chemo or radiation missed a few rogue cells, fear [during] remission [of] the cancer coming back, fear of getting a new type of cancer, fear of long-term effects of chemo or radiation, fear that tiny bump or growth is cancerous, fear of going out in the sun after skin cancer, fear of every stomachache or headache, fear of loss of sexual function or cognitive function, fear of social stigma with body disfigurement and so forth.”

“These chronic fears are exhausting and can exacerbate into an anxiety or mood disorder,” Groves continues. “Acknowledging fears is the best way to take the power out of them, so invite a patient to tell you all the fearful thoughts that run through their head. They can write them down or say them aloud, with no rules and no judgment. ‘Let’s release them all,’ I tell patients, ‘like taking out the trash. We don’t need them stinking up the house.’”

One of Cheryl Fisher’s current clients had cancer for many years before achieving remission and outliving the original prognosis. However, the client recently reported that she can feel her fear returning. She told Fisher that she doesn’t want to let the fear in because she is concerned about what it might do to her mentally and to the cancer itself. Fisher, an LPC and ACA member, told the client that when people fight back against what they’re feeling, it causes stress hormones to rise. So, ultimately, she says, it is better to face the fear head-on.

“When I’m sad or angry or afraid, I like to pull it outside of my body and look at it,” Fisher told her client. “Fear, you’re here. What is prompting this? What is it trying to tell me?”

The client told Fisher she was afraid that she was already living on borrowed time. As a consequence of this belief, the client was in essence just waiting for the cancer to come back, Fisher explains.

To counter the client’s sense of helplessness and being “stuck,” Fisher acknowledged that neither of them could prevent the cancer from returning, but she asked the client to consider what she did have control of. Did the client have things she had been putting off that she would like to do? Did she have things she was holding on to that needed to be said?

Another of Fisher’s clients was a newly diagnosed cancer patient who seemed to want Fisher to “somehow absolve her from her journey with the diagnosis.”

“I don’t have a magic wand,” Fisher told her. “There’s nothing I can say that will lift you from this journey that you have to go through, but I can promise that I can be there with you side by side during the journey. I can’t solve this for you, I can’t make it go away, but I promise you I will be there with you.”

Fisher notes that being an unflagging source of support is perhaps the most essential role that counselors can play with clients who are seriously or terminally ill. Sometimes, a cancer patient’s family or friends cannot or will not endure their inherent fear and stress to be by their loved one’s side, but counselors can step in and fill that gap, she emphasizes.

“Existential concerns are within all of us, with or without cancer, but cancer and other critical illnesses have a way of bringing them to the forefront,” Groves says. “The work of [Viktor] Frankl and his logotherapy concepts are very valuable for counselors to read and learn. While in a Nazi concentration camp, Frankl came to understand that each of us has a choice in how to respond to our circumstances, no matter how horrific. When all a human’s [other] choices are taken away, we still have the choice of facing our suffering with dignity. This can be empowering for a cancer patient, when presented by a sensitive counselor who honors the values and humanity of the patient.”

— Laurie Meyers

 

****

 

Additional resources

To learn more about the topics discussed in this article, take advantage of the following select resources offered by the American Counseling Association:

Counseling Today (ct.counseling.org)

Books and DVDs (counseling.org/publications/bookstore)

  • Counseling Strategies for Loss and Grief by Keren M. Humphrey
  • Mediating Conflict in Intimate Relationships, DVD, presented by Gerald Monk and John Winslade

ACA Mental Health Resources (counseling.org/knowledge-center/mental-health-resources)

  • Resources for Professional Counselors

Podcasts (aca.digitellinc.com/aca/store/5#cat14)

  • “When Grief Becomes Complicated” with Antonietta Corvace (ACA252)
  • “Integrated Care: Applying Theory to Practice” with Eric Christian and Russ Curtis (ACA149)

Webinars (aca.digitellinc.com/aca/store/5#cat46)

  • “ABCs of Trauma” with A. Stephen Lenz (CPA24329)
  • “Children and Trauma” with Kimberly N. Frazier (CPA24331)
  • “Counseling Students Who Have Experienced Trauma: Practical Recommendations at the Elementary, Secondary and College Levels” with Richard Joseph Behun, Julie A. Cerrito and Eric W. Owens (CPA24339)

 

****

 

Laurie Meyers is the senior writer for Counseling Today. Contact her at lmeyers@counseling.org.

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

 

****

Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Coming to grips with childhood adversity

By Oliver J. Morgan September 7, 2017

Counselors and mental health professionals of all stripes are coming to understand the prevalence of childhood adversity, toxic stress and trauma in our caseloads. Barely a day goes by that we do not see someone with a trauma history, whether we are aware of it or not. Some have even called for universal trauma screening of all clients and patients as an ethical responsibility, especially for those individuals who are more at risk, including first responders, military personnel, refugees, those with serious medical and chronic illness, and people struggling with addiction. It would help to know what we are dealing with upfront.

I became aware of a duty to inquire about trauma in 2007 when I began the Supportive Oncology Service (SOS), a psychosocial counseling practice colocated in a medical oncology setting. I had been teaching, practicing and publishing mostly in addiction studies at the time, but I was hungering for change in my own clinical work. When the opportunity to work alongside physicians and learn about serious medical illness came along, I jumped at it. Quickly, I discovered that what I was learning about the interface between addiction and trauma could just as easily be applied to the occurrence of trauma in a cancer-involved population. This cross-fertilization of ideas and their practical outcomes has been a rich source of learning for me.

The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) studies, a collaborative project between Kaiser Permanente and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), instigated my interest. The ACE project was designed to study long-term relationships between adverse experiences in childhood and adult health and behavioral outcomes. I had begun looking into this as an offshoot of my addiction work but promptly came to realize its applications in the general population. The initial studies were conducted from 1995 to 1997 with 17,000 ordinary Americans in a large outpatient medical clinic and now have been replicated across a number of states and even internationally.

Since its inception in 1995, numerous papers have been published by the ACE project that present the evidence for consistently strong and graded relationships between adverse experiences in childhood, household dysfunction and a host of negative health outcomes later in life. Many of the most serious illnesses facing our country — heart disease, cancers, chronic lung and liver disease, a host of autoimmune disorders, obesity, substance-related and addictive disorders — as well as a variety of health-risk behaviors, including smoking, use of illicit drugs, high numbers of sexual partners and suicide attempts, are strongly related in a dose-response or graded fashion to childhood adverse experiences.

This suggests that the impact of adverse childhood experiences on adult health status and adult suffering more generally is powerful. Dose-response relationships indicate a change in outcome (e.g., harmful substance use or ischemic heart disease) that is associated with different levels of exposure to a stressor. Experiencing multiple categories of trauma in childhood increases the prospects for later illness. ACE studies measure the number of categories of exposure and not the number of instances; for example, one instance or multiple instances of sexual assault would count as one category. If anything, this underestimates a person’s exposure to adverse experiences.

Researchers are finding that the occurrence of adverse experiences is quite common in all populations. Relationships found in the original population are being replicated elsewhere. Fifty-two percent of those participating in the original study acknowledged at least one category of adversity in childhood. Eighty-seven percent of those who acknowledged one adverse childhood experience also experienced additional adversities. The study revealed that adverse experiences occur in clusters, with 40 percent of the original sample reporting two or more categories of adversity and 12.5 percent experiencing four or more categories of adversity.

The ACE categories are as follows:

  • Physical abuse
  • Sexual abuse
  • Emotional abuse
  • Physical neglect
  • Emotional neglect
  • Mother is treated violently
  • Loss of a parent for any reason
  • Mental illness in the home, including suicidal behavior or institutionalization
  • Substance abuse in the household
  • Criminal behavior in the household, including incarceration of a household member

‘Mild’ adversities?

What first strikes people when they review the categories above is how different the list seems from what we expect. It challenges our assumptions. Many of us are familiar with the standard understandings of trauma connected to natural or human-made disasters, battlefield experiences, violence or sexual assault. Clearly, these are life-altering events. Although these categories are on any list of traumatic events, so are forms of household dysfunction, neglect, and emotional abuse and humiliation. We are coming to understand that, when dealing specifically with children, a wider range of traumatic experiences can be equally devastating and produce debilitating outcomes years later. Further studies are also uncovering negative outcomes related to more “ordinary” adversities such as accidents, childhood hospitalizations or the loss of a sibling.

The ACE results had suggested that the different categories were essentially equal in their damage. This was startling. However, ongoing trauma science supports this conclusion. Although some categories of adversity stand out because of the social significance and stigma attached to them, we now know that more hidden or subtle adversities, such as neglect and experiences of recurrent humiliation by a parent, can both be detrimental in the present and carry long-term consequences for adult health and psychiatric illness. Scientists such as Martin Teicher and his colleagues at Harvard University have documented the potent negative effects of parental verbal aggression and emotional maltreatment.

More common adversities can have large impacts on children. The clinical and research focus on posttraumatic stress disorder may have slanted our expectations, giving us the impression that adversity comes only with high-profile suffering. If it doesn’t leave a mark, it can’t be all that damaging, right? In reality, nothing could be further from the truth.

In short, poor health and risk for illness — medical as well as psychiatric — can be rooted in childhood psychosocial experiences. They can also be hidden due to time, denial and social taboo. The ongoing ACE studies and allied research have given us a new lens for viewing health, wellness and disease. This is nothing short of revolutionary. It is instructive that this new vision has been picked up by the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University and the American Academy of Pediatrics. Programs for medical education, intervention and prevention are being developed by these groups and others.

Looking at cancer

In 2010, one of the ACE papers made the dose-response link to risk for lung cancer. This got my attention. Adverse childhood experiences are obviously not the only causes of cancers — disease is often multicausal. However, the associations this paper made between having a history of adverse childhood experiences and those who were first hospitalized at younger ages with lung cancer and died prematurely at younger ages from lung cancer were striking. Smokers were much more likely to have a history of adverse childhood experiences than were nonsmokers. In addition, those with adverse childhood experiences were more likely to begin smoking at younger ages than were other smokers.

I was amazed until I went back and did a chart review for my small oncology service. At that time, we had seen about 100 patients. Admittedly, this was a potentially skewed population, but even so, 60-70 percent of our patients with a variety of cancers met the ACE criteria for adverse experiences, and a large proportion of them had multiple ACE categories in their past. Research had suggested that those with four or more categories of childhood adversity were likely to be diagnosed with cancer or some other serious illness. Those with six or more categories had a life expectancy shortened by up to 20 years. My patient population buttressed those numbers. In addition, several of my patients who were not smokers but nevertheless were diagnosed with lung cancer did have a history of trauma. That day I became a believer in universal screening for trauma in my population of cancer patients. My colleagues and interns have also become believers.

When I discussed these outcomes with several of my physician colleagues, they quickly came to the conclusion that because childhood adversity was strongly associated with the risk of early smoking — nicotine is a powerful anti-anxiety agent — that would likely explain the prevalence among patients with lung cancer. Case closed. If a cancer patient also had a traumatic childhood history, smoking was the likely pathway from trauma to lung cancer. Risky behavior led to later disease.

This did not sit well with me, however. First, it did not explain the high trauma numbers in my cancer patients more generally (a number of whom were nonsmokers) and, second, identifying only this pathway seemed too facile. I believed that more was involved.

Changes that make us vulnerable

At first blush, ascribing disease to risky behaviors and poor lifestyle choices seems reasonable. There is obviously some truth to it. Lots of scientific evidence points to smoking as a risk for cancer. Still, I wondered, could there be other pathways from childhood adversities to cancer? The connections seemed clear, but what were the explanations? As an addiction specialist, I was suspicious of the “poor choices” explanation. Were there other, hidden dynamics that were not so obvious?

This is where the intersection of childhood adversity and neurobiology becomes so important. As a counselor, I had focused my thinking on the social and psychological explanations. Childhood adversity short-circuited psychosocial development. Trauma created toxic stress in a person’s life. Negative experiences became part of a person’s sense of self and view of the world, which made living difficult. These negative experiences also placed emotional burdens on the person’s psyche and spirit, creating negative internal images, expectations and attachments at the core of the personality. People learned to be wary of others and became more guarded, isolated and distrustful. Fair enough. But how do we get to physical disease?

This move requires an alchemical kind of insight — namely that the footprints of our psychosocial experiences of attachment and caregiving are inscribed into our brains and bodies in what Allan N. Schore, Daniel J. Siegel and others call “psychobiological” experiences. Donna Jackson Nakazawa, in her 2015 book Childhood Disrupted, described it this way: Biography becomes biology.

We are continuing to learn about the depths of this process. From our earliest beginnings, experience shapes the development of our brains, bodies and critical survival systems. The formation of our neural architecture, emotional and cognitive networks, regulatory systems, coping and stress response, and immune systems depends on the kinds of caretaking we receive. Social networking is part of our DNA it seems; it is essential for our survival but can also create vulnerabilities.

In childhood, all the essential systems are forming and developing. When children are caught in cycles of abuse, neglect or humiliation, their stress response and coping mechanisms can be degraded and become stuck in the “on” position. Their bodies are continually bathed in inflammatory stress chemicals. This can lead to physiological changes, long-lasting inflammation, eventual breakdown and disease. The immune system can be weakened, even at the level of genes. Neuroscience is helping to document these enduring kinds of changes, large and small, that are the pathways to later illness.

Another form of negative development that can follow from childhood adversity affects the child’s regulatory coping mechanisms for stress. This can lead to difficulties such as substance use and addictive disorders. Emotional and behavioral regulation are essential skills, built upon the foundation of neurological development. Toxic stress, however, can alter and “miswire” the development of critical coping systems, resetting their baseline levels of activity and making them supersensitized, not only to stress but also to triggers that signal the approach of rewarding or stressful situations. In these instances, individuals may substitute chemical or behavioral forms of coping, reward, relieving stress or alleviating anxiety and pain. Regularly resorting to such substitutes can ingrain these choices into neural channels that are resistant to change once firmly set.

These ways of thinking have opened my eyes. Childhood maltreatment and adversity alter children’s brain development and create the underlying conditions for short-term coping and long-term medical and psychiatric problems, including cancers and addiction. The intersection of knowledge from developmental psychology, attachment theory, trauma and neuroscience is presenting us with many new ways to conceptualize the challenges that confront us. As counselors, it is imperative that we remain open to these new developments.

Recommendations

Based on my experience, I want to make some practical recommendations:

1) Counselors need to learn all we can about adverse childhood experiences and their impact on adult living.

2) We can all benefit from universal screening for adversity and trauma as a first step in clinical work. A few simple questions can be added to our standard history taking. Asking these questions on an abstract or computerized form, followed up with face-to-face conversation, has been found to be the best practice for obtaining accurate information. There may be direct health benefits to these conversations. As reported in Nakazawa’s book Childhood Disrupted, physicians who discussed adverse childhood experience questions with patients following completion of intake forms found a 35 percent reduction in office visits and an 11 percent reduction in emergency room visits for patients with chronic ailments over the ensuing year.

3) When we discover a history of adversity, we should remain curious, be empathic and be predisposed to believe. The primary consideration initially is creating a safe space.

4) Be prepared for pendulum swings in the conversations. It is normal to move forward in the story and then back off when the client shows anxiety.

5) Teach grounding techniques so that the client can retreat to safety when overwhelmed.

6) As is the case in much of our counseling work, self-knowledge is critical. Each of us can benefit from conducting our own self-assessment of adversity and trauma. Understanding our own issues and working with them may be the most important first step in recognizing the problem and then working with others.

Good luck. This work, I believe, is one of the greatest secrets and potential resources in clinical practice today. Trauma continues to be a hidden occurrence among our clients and patients for too many counselors, physicians and human service providers. We need to do better.

 

****

 

Oliver J. Morgan is a professor of counseling and human services at the University of Scranton in Pennsylvania. He is beginning his 27th year at the university and is completing a book titled Hungry Hearts: Unlocking the Secrets of Addiction and Recovery. Contact him at oliver.morgan@scranton.edu.

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

Counseling Today reviews unsolicited articles written by American Counseling Association members. To access writing guidelines and tips for having an article accepted for publication, go to ct.counseling.org/feedback.

 

****

 

Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

What counselors can do to help clients stop smoking

By Bethany Bray November 29, 2016

Nearly half of the cigarettes consumed in the United States are smoked by people dealing with a mental illness, according to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. The federal agency says that rates of smoking are disproportionately higher — a little more than double — among those diagnosed with mental illness than among the general population.

It is widely accepted that the nicotine in cigarettes is highly addictive, but people struggling with mental health issues often turn to cigarettes for reasons that go beyond their addictive qualities. For instance, many people smoke as a coping mechanism to deal with difficult feelings. In addition, despite their negative health effects, cigarettes are still largely viewed by society as an “acceptable” addiction in comparison with other substances.

The reality? “[Smoking] is a devastating addiction and a difficult one to quit,” says Gary Tedeschi, clinical director of the California Smokers’ Helpline and a member of the American Counseling Association. “This clientele [those with mental illness], in particular, need the encouragement and support to go forward [with quitting], and many of them want to, despite what people might think. … To let people continue to smoke because ‘it’s not as bad’ [as other addictions] is missing a really important chance to help someone get healthier.”

To drive home his point, Tedeschi points to a statistic from the 2014 release of The Health Consequences of Smoking — 50 Years of Progress: A Report of the Surgeon General, which says that more than 480,000 people die annually in the United States from causes related to cigarette smoking. Close to half of the Americans who die from tobacco-related causes are people with mental illness or substance abuse disorders, Tedeschi says.

In Tedeschi’s view, the statistics connecting smoking to mental illness are “so obvious that it’s almost an ethical and moral responsibility to help this population quit.”

Part of a package

Ford Brooks, a licensed professional counselor (LPC) and professor at Shippensburg University of Pennsylvania, says he has never had a client walk in to therapy with a primary presentation of wanting to stop smoking.

Tobacco use “is always part of a package” that clients will bring to counseling, Brooks says. In his experience as an addictions counselor, smoking is often piled on top of a laundry list of other challenges that may include alcohol or drug addiction, depression, a marriage that is on the rocks, the loss of a job or financial trouble.

“They’re on the train to destruction, and their nicotine use, in their minds, is on the back end [in terms of importance]. … Is the smoking related to what their presenting issue is? Chances are it probably connects somehow. Don’t be afraid to bring it up,” advises Brooks, co-author of the book A Contemporary Approach to Substance Use Disorders and Addiction Counseling, which is published by ACA.

Tedeschi, a national certified counselor and licensed psychologist, notes that many people who call the California Smokers’ Helpline are struggling with comorbid conditions or mental illness in addition to tobacco use. The phone line is one in a system of “quitlines” operating in each of the 50 U.S. states, the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico and Guam.

For clients struggling with mental health issues, smoking may serve as a coping mechanism to deal with uncomfortable feelings or anxiety, Brooks says. Years ago, when smoking was still allowed in many indoor spaces, Brooks led group counseling in detox, outpatient and inpatient addictions facilities. “When powerful emotions would come up in group, [clients] would fire up cigarette after cigarette to deal with those feelings and quell anxiety,” he recalls.

With this in mind, counselors should help prepare clients for the irritability, anxiety and other uncomfortable feelings they are likely to experience when they attempt to stop smoking cigarettes. “Talk about what it will feel like to be really anxious and not smoke” and how they plan to handle those feelings, Brooks says. “… If a person has anxiety or depression and stops smoking, what initially happens is they could get more depressed or more anxious without nicotine to quell the emotion.”

The counselors interviewed for this article urge practitioners to ask every single client about their tobacco use during the intake process, no matter what the person’s presenting problem is. “If you’re helping them to get mentally and physically healthier, this [quitting smoking] is a very critical part of the overall wellness picture,” Tedeschi says.

Counselors shouldn’t be afraid to ask their clients whether they smoke, says Greg Harms, a licensed clinical professional counselor (LCPC), certified addictions specialist, and alcohol and drug counselor with a private practice in Chicago. “It can feel weird the first couple of times, especially if this is not your area of expertise,” says Harms, who does postdoctoral work at Diamond Headache Clinic in Chicago, an inpatient unit for people with chronic headaches. “A lot of times, clients have heard all the bad stuff about smoking. A lot of them, deep down, they know they’d be better off if they were to quit smoking. They may have failed so many times in the past that they’re discouraged. They might be hesitant to bring it up because this is a counselor and not the [medical] doctor. If you bring it up, more often than not, the client is going to engage with that. Even if they don’t, if it’s not the right time for them, you’ve planted that seed. … It might come to fruition down the road. I’d much rather plant that seed than not say anything at all.”

When Harms was a counseling graduate student, he completed an internship at the Anixter Center, a Chicago agency that serves clients with disabilities. While there, he worked as part of a grant-funded program for smoking cessation for people with disabilities that was spearheaded by the American Lung Association. He also presented a session titled “Integrating Smoking Cessation Treatment with Mental Health Services” at ACA’s 2013 Conference & Expo in Cincinnati.smoking

If a client doesn’t feel ready to begin the quitting process right away, the counselor can put the topic on the back burner to address again once the client has made progress on other presenting problems or has forged a stronger relationship with the practitioner. However, that shouldn’t mean that the topic is off the table completely, Harms says. A counselor should talk regularly with the client about quitting smoking, even if it’s only for a few minutes each session.

“Give them a little nugget of information [about quitting], and then you can focus on what they’re there for,” Harms says. “Help them find ways to deal with their presenting problem, then they’ll trust you. Once they’re in a better place, revisit [the idea of quitting]. We don’t have to address it and get their buy-in during the first session. It would be fantastic if that was the case, but it’s OK if it’s not. In most cases, time is on our side to develop the relationship, plant the seed and revisit it. If the client is not ready, we can harp on [quitting] all we want, [but] it won’t do anything.”

“You really have to take the client’s lead and go at the pace they’re willing,” Harms continues. “Don’t push. Respect their decision. Even if they’re not ready for [quitting], let them know that [you’re] there for them and respect their autonomy to make that decision.”

Positioned to help

Counselors are particularly suited to help clients quit smoking because the profession has an array of tools focused on behavior modification, Tedeschi asserts. Motivational interviewing, cognitive behavior therapy, acceptance and commitment therapy, and other models can be useful in helping clients stop smoking. But techniques from any therapy model that counselors are comfortable using can be adapted to help clients navigate the challenge of quitting, Tedeschi says, especially when combined appropriately with pharmacologic aids approved by the Food and Drug Administration.

“We’re in the business of helping people change. The principles that a counselor uses to help someone understand an issue and begin to make steps toward change apply to smoking cessation as well,” Tedeschi says. “Counselors help people understand their motivation to change and help them come up with a plan to change.”

Harms agrees, noting that in most cases, a counselor will have significantly more time with a client than a medical professional will. Instead of “hitting [the client] over the head” with the dangers of smoking, Harms says, a counselor can afford to focus on the positive, use a strengths-based approach and build on what the client wants to work toward rather than what he or she wants to avoid.

“We [counselors] are so strengths-based. It’s our natural inclination to tell the client, ‘Yes, you’re strong enough to do this,’ rather than [taking] a scare approach,” Harms says. “We can find their strength and have that unconditional positive regard for them, regardless of how long it’s taking. We have the patience to sit with a client as they’re going through [quitting]. We can build that relationship and be a resource.”

Start small

Tedeschi recommends that counselors use the “five A’s” to discuss smoking with clients. In this approach, a practitioner should:

  • Ask each client about his or her tobacco use
  • Advise all tobacco users to quit
  • Assess whether the client is ready to quit
  • Assist the client with a quit plan
  • Arrange follow-up contact to mitigate relapse

Each of these steps is important, but providing support and follow-up as the client begins to quit is particularly critical, Tedeschi says.

“The first week of quitting is the hardest. If [a counselor] waits for a week to talk to the client, you could lose about 60 percent of people back to relapse,” he says. “If someone is able to quit for two weeks, their risk of relapse drops dramatically.”

If clients resist the idea of quitting or do not feel ready to quit entirely, Tedeschi suggests that counselors work with them to stop smoking for one day or even just an afternoon. During this time, have clients monitor how they felt: How was their anxiety level? What were their cravings like? This technique can introduce the idea of stopping and prepare clients for the quitting process, he says.

Brooks recommends using motivational interviewing to help clients make the life change to quit smoking. “Nicotine is a drug, and it’s no different than if [clients] were to say they want to stop drinking. Work with their motivation to identify what they can possibly do for that,” he says.

Part of the quitting process involves clients going through an identity shift, Tedeschi notes. Clients can be behaving as nonsmokers — abstaining from cigarettes — long before they make the mental leap that they are no longer smokers, he says. It is important for clients to make that mental shift from “a smoker who is not smoking” to a “nonsmoker,” Tedeschi says. Counselors need to work with these clients to identify as and accept the nonsmoker label. “As long as someone calls [himself or herself] a smoker, they will be open to turning back to cigarettes,” he explains.

Kicking the habit

Counselors can use the following tips and techniques to better equip clients to meet the challenge to stop smoking.

Set a quit date. This is an important step, but one that clients must take the lead on and choose for themselves, Tedeschi says. Research shows that simply cutting back without setting a quit date isn’t very effective, he adds. The behavioral patterns that often accompany smoking (for example, smoking after eating or taking smoke breaks at work) make it very hard to keep tobacco use at a low level. Setting a quit date creates accountability and is a “sign of seriousness,” he says. At the same time, be flexible. “For some people, it’s just too hard to think about [sticking to a quit date],” Tedeschi says. “For some — especially those who are struggling with other substances — they need to take one day at a time.”

Be aware of psychotropic medications. Counselors should be aware that if clients are taking prescription medicines for anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder or other mental illnesses, their dosages might need to be adjusted as they quit smoking. Nicotine is a stimulant, so it speeds up a person’s metabolism. This means a person who smokes will burn through psychotropic medications faster than someone who doesn’t smoke, Harms explains. Counselors should be certain to talk this through with clients and work with their doctors to modify their dosages, he says. “This is especially noticeable with mood stabilizers. It’s acute with bipolar disorder,” Harms says.

The same holds true with caffeine, Tedeschi notes. After they quit smoking, clients may notice that they get jittery from caffeine and may need to cut back on their coffee intake.

Use cognitive strategies. Counselors can help clients create a list of personal reasons why they want to stop smoking — beyond the health implications, Tedeschi says. The list doesn’t need to be long, but the reasons need to be compelling and motivating enough to carry clients through a nicotine craving. For example, one of Tedeschi’s clients wanted to quit because his young grandson asked him to. As a reminder, the client kept a toy car that belonged to his grandson in his pocket. “When he had a craving [for a cigarette], he would pull [the toy car] out of his pocket, look at it, hold it and squeeze it,” Tedeschi says. “It helped.”

Turn over a new leaf. As they quit smoking, encourage clients to organize, clean and purge their homes and cars of smoking-related materials such as ashtrays, advises ACA member Pari Sharif, an LPC with a practice in Franklin Lakes, New Jersey. That action will help clients turn a new page mentally and start fresh, she says. Sharif also encourages clients to air out their homes and clean their closets so their clothes and furniture no longer smell like smoke.

On a similar note, if clients have a certain mug that they always use to drink coffee while smoking, Harms suggests that they get a new mug. Or if they always stopped at a certain gas station to buy cigarettes, he suggests that they now change where they buy gas.

When cravings strike, breathe. Sharif, a certified tobacco treatment specialist, introduces breathing techniques to all of her smoking cessation clients. She asks these clients to take measured breaths for roughly two minutes, inhaling while slowly counting to four, then exhaling for four counts.

“Instead of the reflex habit to grab a cigarette, take a moment to stop and ask why. Be more in control of yourself and your mind,” she tells clients. “Pause to do breathing and body scanning from head to toe. Ask yourself, ‘What am I doing? Why do I need this [cigarette] to calm down?’ … [Through breathing exercises,] your breath becomes deeper and deeper. Close your eyes. Your body starts relaxing and your anxiety level goes down.”

Sharif also recommends that clients download a meditation app for their smartphones and use a journal to record how they’re feeling when cigarette cravings strike. This helps them log and identify which situations and emotions are triggering their need for nicotine,
she explains.

Get to the root of it. Asking clients about the circumstances that first caused them to start smoking can help in identifying what triggers their nicotine use and the bigger issues that may need to be addressed through counseling, Sharif says. In some cases, a specific traumatic event or stressor caused the person to start smoking. In other instances, it was a learned behavior because everyone in the household smoked as the client was growing up. “Find out when they started smoking and why,” Sharif says. “Gradually, when they become more aware of themselves, they quit.”

Change social patterns. Cigarettes are often used as a coping mechanism when people experience anxiety in social situations, Harms says, so clients may need to focus on social skills as they start the process of quitting smoking.

“[Cigarettes] are their way to socialize and get out and meet people. If you have social anxiety, you can still go up to someone and ask for a cigarette or ask for a light. It’s programmed socialization,” Harms explains. “It gives you an excuse to be close to people, feel more sociable. If you take away their cigarettes, you’ve got to replace that.”

Brooks agrees, noting that clients who smoke likely have friends who are also smokers. For example, he says, it is not uncommon to see people smoking and talking together outside of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Counselors can help clients prepare to avoid situations where smoking is expected and practice asking people not to smoke around them, Brooks says. Counselors can also support clients in creating social networks of people who don’t smoke, including support groups for ex-smokers, he adds.

Break behavioral habits. Similarly, Brooks says, counselors can help clients change the behavioral habits they connect to smoking, such as starting the morning by reading the paper, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. Counselors can suggest activities and new rituals to replace the old ones, such as taking a daily walk, he says.

Harms encourages clients to replace their former smoke breaks with “clean air breaks.” They can still take their normal time outside, but instead of smoking, he suggests that they walk around the block, sit and read a book, eat an apple or use their smartphones outdoors. If they had a favorite smoking spot outside, he urges them to find a new place to go instead.

Find comforting substitutes. “The whole ritual of lighting up a cigarette — tapping the pack to pull out a cigarette and flicking the lighter — the behaviors that go with [smoking] can be very comforting,” Harms says. “Sometimes that’s what’s so hard to break — the behaviors that go with it.”

Tedeschi recommends that counselors work with clients to have comforting alternatives ready to go even before the clients attempt to quit smoking. It is hard for people to figure out alternatives in the heat of the moment when a craving strikes, he explains. Tedeschi offers several possible substitutes for consideration: sugar-free gum, beef jerky, cinnamon sticks and even drinking straws cut into cigarette-sized lengths through which clients can inhale and exhale.

If clients are comforted by having something in their hands, Brooks suggests keeping a pen, stress ball or prayer beads nearby. Staying hydrated and carrying a water bottle can also help these clients, Tedeschi adds. Most of all, counselors should work toward the idea of replenishment and filling in where clients feel they are losing something, he says.

Don’t dismiss pharmacotherapy. A wide variety of quitting aids are available, from nicotine patches, lozenges and gum, to prescription pills such as Chantix. The counselors interviewed for this article agree that these stop-smoking aids can be helpful when used alongside counseling. However, Tedeschi says, counselors should work with their clients’ physicians when such medications are being used, or make sure that clients are talking with their physicians. Counselors should also be aware of the potential side affects that these medications can have, such as aggressive behavior.

Brooks notes that none of these options is a magic solution to quit smoking. For example, nicotine gum and other medications can be prohibitively expensive, and some clients can continue to smoke even while using nicotine patches or gum. As for electronic cigarettes, Sharif and Harms agree that they are not a recommended alternative. Electronic cigarettes are carcinogenic, addictive and mimic the “puffing” behavior of regular smoking, Harms notes.

Connect clients with other supports. Counselors should equip clients with resources they can turn to outside of counseling sessions, such as local support groups for ex-smokers or the phone number for their state’s tobacco quitline, Brooks suggests. Nicotine Anonymous (nicotine-anonymous.org) is an ideal resource for clients who are trying to stop smoking, Brooks says. The 12-step method at Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) can also be applied to tobacco use for clients who attend AA meetings already or who don’t have a Nicotine Anonymous support group in their local area, he adds.

Sharif suggests that counselors keep brochures and other information about quitting smoking alongside the materials they might have about depression or suicide prevention in their offices or waiting rooms. It is better for counselors to distribute information that they have vetted themselves rather than having clients search the internet for information on their own, she notes.

 

Try and try again

On average, it takes a smoker 10-12 attempts to fully quit cigarettes, according to Tedeschi. For that reason, it is imperative that practitioners not give up on clients after their first, second or even 10th try, he stresses.

Quitting smoking is hard, Tedeschi acknowledges, but possible with perseverance. “Don’t be discouraged as a clinician if your client relapses. [Quitting] is definitely not a one-time event; it’s a process. … Relapse prevention is important, but it’s equally important to be ready for the relapse,” he says. “One of the best things a counselor can give a client is that reassurance. Any attempt to quit for any length of time is a success rather than a failure. That’s just the reality of this addiction. As long as they keep trying, they’ll get there. The only failure is to stop trying. The most important message a counselor can give a client is to never give up.”

 

****

 

Statistics: Smoking and mental health

  • Roughly 50 percent of people with behavioral health disorders smoke, compared with 23 percent of the general population.
  • People with mental illnesses and addictions smoke half of all cigarettes consumed in the U.S. and are only half as likely as other smokers to quit.
  • Smoking-related illnesses cause half of all deaths among people with behavioral health disorders.
  • Approximately 30-35 percent of the behavioral health care workforce smokes (versus 1.7 percent of primary care physicians).

— Source: U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration (see bit.ly/1sEx97a)

 

****

 

Resources

 

****

 

Bethany Bray is a staff writer and social media coordinator for Counseling Today. Contact her at bbray@counseling.org

Letters to the editorct@counseling.org

 

****

 

Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

A counselor’s view of advanced breast cancer

By Cheryl Fisher February 29, 2016

Breast cancer touches all of our lives, and I am no exception. In February 1996, I went for my first mammogram. I was only 33 at the time, but I had read about the importance of having a baseline mammogram for early detection of breast cancer. Early detection meant cure, right? As a single mother of two young daughters, I was all about early detection and cures.

So, I went for a mammogram, astonished at how my 34B’s were able to squish like a schnitzel on the chilled mammography plate. The technician greeted me with a smile and warm hands, and for both I was grateful. The procedure, while uncomfortable, was not unbearable. I mean, I had given birth to Branding-Images_Canceran 8-pound baby without so much as an episiotomy. This was a simple walk in the park. The technician informed me that no news was good news, and I left feeling initiated (once again) into the sisterhood of womankind.

You can imagine my shock when I received a call mid-March that something unusual had been detected in my mammogram and that I needed to return for an amplification. The previously chipper technician met me with a solemn face and greeted me in almost a whisper. She did not make eye contact. The amplification was done in silence. Again I was told that I would be contacted if something was detected.

A week later, I was scheduled for a needle biopsy. As I lay facedown, my left breast dangling through the hole in the hospital table, thoughts raced through my head: “What if it is cancer? I can’t stop working. How will I take care of the girls?”

“No,” I told myself. “This is not cancer. I’m only 33 after all, and who gets cancer this young? I am a vegetarian. I am an aerobics instructor, for heaven’s sake! I don’t feel sick!”

I was provided with a bag of ice to place over the area of my breast that had been biopsied. They had found three suspicious areas and removed them, leaving a marker just in case … In case of what? I wondered. I left with my bag of ice and a fearful heart.

I started noticing articles in newspapers and magazines about young women with breast cancer. Had these always been there? Was I just now seeing them? I went home, hugged my daughters and cried. I cried the entire weekend as I waited for Monday’s pathology report.

I went alone to the hospital. I didn’t want to feel like I had to take care of another human being if my news was grim. I wasn’t sure I could take care of myself, let alone another person.

I went to the desk and announced my arrival. Again, the quiet whispered reception. I was immediately whisked away to a back office. Alone. Alone with a running video titled Living With Breast Cancer. Oh, my God! It’s true! I must have breast cancer. They’re preparing me by showing this video.

I began rehearsing how I would tell my family … my parents … my brothers … my daughters. The pathologist arrived and sat in a chair across from me. I took a deep breath. I don’t think I exhaled until I had been home for several days.

The pathologist began. “Well, we found three suspicious nodules and we removed them.” OK, buddy, so what are they?

“I’m curious,” he continued. “Have you ever experienced a trauma to the left breast?”

A trauma? You mean other than the needle biopsy that occurred the previous week? “No,” I replied in a small voice while still holding my breath. “Not that I am aware of. Why?”

“These are calcifications that appear to be from a traumatic blow to the breast,” he answered.

Let me get this right. I have been poked, prodded and petrified because of benign calcifications that possibly occurred during a Thanksgiving round of family football?

“So, I do not have cancer?” I whispered.

He shook his head and finally made eye contact. I was flooded with relief. I would live. I would raise my daughters. I would endure their teenage antics, their graduations, their weddings perhaps. I might even experience grandchildren!

What I wasn’t prepared for was the second wave of emotion that I experienced — anger. Anger at the time wasted, waiting and worrying for four excruciating days before I had to return to the hospital, find parking and sit in a room for 20 minutes watching a video about breast cancer. Anger at waiting for a doctor to hand over my fate. To me, this seemed so insensitive and cruel. What is wrong with health care that we treat the disease without treating the person?

However, I was 33 years old, a single mother, and I had just been told that I did not have cancer. I left that hospital, lived my young life and put breast cancer aside — until recently.

The call

I am a licensed clinical professional counselor. I had been in private practice for a few years when I received an email from METAvivor (metavivor.org), a local nonprofit group whose mission includes providing emotional support to individuals living with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer and promoting funding for research projects. The organization was looking for a therapist to facilitate a support group focused on meaning construction and stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.

Author and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl provided us with a foundational understanding of the importance of meaning construction in his classic book Man’s Search for Meaning. He proposed that the search for meaning was universal to the human experience and that it was a prerequisite for mental and physical well-being. Furthermore, an inability to make sense of our situation has been found to be associated with poor health. Therefore, a cancer support group that promoted meaning-making could provide patients with the necessary tools to experience a sense of well-being, even in light of their diagnoses.

My clinical practice had included counseling for bereavement and hospice care, but I had been spending more time working with survivors of trauma and had focused my advanced training in the area of trauma and spirituality. So, I wasn’t certain that I was going to be the best person to facilitate a support group for stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. Regardless, I agreed to co-facilitate
the pilot group with a colleague from a local hospice.

The pilot group lasted eight weeks. During that time, I became acutely aware that the youngest member of the group was experiencing her diagnosis in a much different way than her older counterparts were. She was a 30-year-old married woman who had been diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer eight months prior to the launch of the group. She had a beautiful 6-month-old baby boy who provided all of us such joy when he visited our group. Her disease appeared to be relentless, however, resulting in a complete bilateral mastectomy and oophorectomy and causing her days of nausea and fatigue. She would come to group pale and weak, convinced that the last round of treatment had to be curative because of its great potency. She died two months after our group ended.

According to the Metastatic Breast Cancer Network, approximately 162,000 women in the United States are living with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer, and only 27 percent will survive as long as five years. This translates to one death from metastatic breast cancer every 14 minutes. Of this population, 5 percent are women younger than 45. Metastatic breast cancer is more aggressive the younger the person is at onset; only 2 percent of premenopausal women with metastatic breast cancer survive longer than five years following their diagnosis of advanced cancer. Most women living with breast cancer may share similar experiences regarding self-image, relationships and support issues, but unique needs appear to exist among young women living with advanced breast cancer.

As a result of meeting the young woman in our pilot support group, I conducted my dissertation research on spirituality and meaning-making in premenopausal women diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. I dedicated my dissertation to her and to all of the young women living with advanced breast cancer, and I committed my work to serve as the voice of those who can no longer speak. What follows is some of the wisdom provided to me by the women in my pilot group and research study.

I am woman?

The treatment for advanced breast cancer involves invasive surgeries that remove not only what many women described as their femininity (breast tissue and nipples) but also their fertility (ovaries and uterus). As a result of treatment, women were catapulted into early menopause and became subject to the physical and psychological manifestations of estrogen depletion.  These manifestations included weight gain related to decreased metabolism, hot sweats, dry skin, decrease in vaginal lubrication and decline in libido.

According to the women in my study, the experience of metastatic breast cancer had stripped them of their bodies, their fertility, their youth and their sexuality. Extensive research demonstrates that physical alterations of the body related to the treatment of breast cancer may have negative effects on identity, confidence, mood, esteem, sexuality, self-satisfaction and quality of life. Treatment may involve not only the removal of breast tissue and nipples, surrounding lymph nodes and ovaries, but also the insertion of an external port to receive chemotherapy. This may be followed by radiation therapy. The body is left scarred and burned with an existing portal that emerges from the upper trunk.

Many of the women in my study described feeling like a “freak,” a “mess” or a “patchwork quilt.” All of the women described feeling detached from their bodies following their treatments. The body that remained was described as lifeless and clinical, almost corpselike.

BFFs and other strangers

The struggle to cultivate authentic relationships was a common theme in this study. The women spoke of their desire to be able to discuss the genuinely harsh reality of their diagnoses with family members and friends. However, the women felt that a substantial portion of their circles of support were unable (or unwilling) to assimilate adequately and comprehend the grave world of living with advanced cancer. The women were asked (directly and indirectly) by family and friends to compartmentalize their experience with cancer and to act as if they were not ill. Such requests led at times to feelings of anger, resentment and, eventually, rejection and isolation.

Sexuality

In addition, there appears to be an absence of sensuality as it relates to the body that remains. This, combined with decreased libido, proved to be a common issue for all the participants in my study. The women expressed a desire to resume an active, healthy sex life with their partners, but they struggled with experiencing a lack of sex drive and feeling unattractive.

Research indicates that women younger than 45 who are diagnosed with breast cancer have more difficulty adjusting than do older women. These younger women have lowered overall quality-of-life ratings linked to concerns about body image, partner relationships and sexual functioning, and they also exhibit less adaptive coping styles.

It also appears that having casual sexual encounters becomes less attractive when living with advanced cancer. One of the women described the need to feel emotionally safe before allowing a stranger into the scarred world of breast cancer. She noted, “I will need to trust the person to tell my whole story.”

Legendary living

Engaging in honest dialogue regarding the fears experienced by a person living with a life-threatening illness seems to provide some degree of anxiety relief for the person. This appears to be the result of directly identifying and addressing that which concerns the individual.

For example, many of the women in this study spoke of their fear of being forgotten and not having a part in the rearing of their children. This discussion provided opportunities to identify ways that might allow their values and beliefs to continue to exist even after their lives ceased. Among the ways these women attempted to provide continuity of their presence in the lives of their families was through writing letters, keeping journals and signing cards for future events.

In addition to memory-making projects, all of the women in the study were involved in using their stories to promote education and awareness of the specific needs of young women living with stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.

Pink isn’t my color

In addition to feeling isolated from family and friends, these young women living with advanced breast cancer described feeling alienated from the breast cancer community as a whole. The “pink” model of breast cancer awareness strives to inspire hope of survival and a cure. However, these women live with a diagnosis that mandates that they are not in remission and that the cancer has spread to other organs. For them, there is no cure at this time. One woman in the study described the pink ribbon as “a noose that is killing me.”

Faith and peace

Psychiatrist and author Irvin Yalom proposed, “If we must die, if we constitute our own world, if each is ultimately alone in an indifferent universe, then what meaning does life have?”

As one of the study participants said, life-threatening illness can “suck the meaning out of life, making the person feel already lifeless.” In facing death, we are faced with making sense of life, and it would appear that we make choices about how to live our lives until death. Therefore, anything that affirms life force, meaning and importance to others can counter the sense that death has made its claim.

Frankl reminds us that we have the ability to choose how we respond regardless of our circumstance. This can be empowering even when facing death. The women in my study discussed the role of choice. One woman described using humor to help her cope with the chemotherapy. Another described an attitude of gratitude: “I show gratitude more often. … It is liberating to know I can choose happiness.”

The women spoke of feeling a sense of being part of a bigger, universal plan. In particular, they described feeling that a divine presence was actively participating in their illness. Some women in the study felt that their diagnosis was a wake-up call to be more present in their lives and to be closer to the transcendent. Each described a restoration process of reclaiming and redefining her life.

Other women in the study believed that their spiritual faith gave them the strength to endure the changes brought about by their illness and its subsequent treatment. Interestingly, all of the women described experiencing a richer, more authentic life that a “loving presence” had transformed from the ashes of advanced cancer.

Conclusion

As counselors, we have an incredible opportunity to help support young women living with advanced breast cancer in the following ways.

Body talk: We can help these women (and their partners) reconnect with their bodies in a healthy and empowering manner. We can talk about sexuality and recognize the role that it plays in our emotional, spiritual and physical well-being. To support premenopausal women who are living with advanced breast cancer, we need a greater understanding of their fears around rejection and increased recognition of the role that sexual intimacy plays in their lives. This is a focus of my current research.

Bittersweet friendships: We can validate the changes that occur in these women’s friendships and offer grief work around these losses. We can help clients establish healthy boundaries in relationships that feel authentic and protective. In addition, we can promote the strengthening of those relationships that are nurturing and empowering.

Legacy work: We can help clients cultivate strategies for legacy. Lillie Shockney, administrative director of the Johns Hopkins Breast Center, has written an exceptional book titled 100 Questions & Answers About Advanced and Metastatic Breast Cancer that helps clients and families navigate the challenges of advanced breast cancer. It also provides excellent ideas for being present and remembered beyond the cancer. In addition to her book, Shockney hosts exceptional retreats for families living with advanced breast cancer and provides a forum for discussion, connection and community to these patients and families.

Beyond the pink ribbon: We can connect young women who have advanced breast cancer to communities that are validating and supportive. Wonderful online communities include Young Survivors Coalition (youngsurvival.org) and the Pink Daisy Project (pinkdaisyproject.com).

Faith and justice: Facing death directly can be strangely comforting and empowering. However, counselors may be uncomfortable facilitating a candid dialogue that might be painful for their clients. Furthermore, counselors need to be open to their own discomfort in discussing death and dying. Counselors are encouraged to work from a conviction that they are helping rather than hurting clients by asking them to lean into the discomfort that comes from confronting one’s death. These clients are faced with family members and friends who are reluctant or unable to join them on this journey of facing death. Counselors have the opportunity to embody the existential experience and join the client on this difficult journey. The essence of relational, embodied theology is not captured simply by the empathic presence of the counselor, nor the rites and rituals that inspire spiritual and psychological nourishment. The essence of embodying suffering is to give voice to marginalized persons and to tell their stories. Better still, counselors can be instrumental in nurturing the intrinsic divine wisdom that is present in all of us and empowering clients to tell their own stories.

 

****

 

Cheryl Fisher is a licensed clinical professional counselor in private practice in Annapolis, Maryland. Additionally, she is a visiting full-time faculty member in the pastoral counseling program at Loyola University Maryland. Her current research is titled “Sex, spirituality and stage 3 breast cancer.” Contact her at cyfisherphd@gmail.com

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

 

****

 

Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.