The Compassion of Caregivers

Empathy, presence, witness

Besides memoirs written by those who have cancer, there are books written by those who take care of those with cancer — the spouses, families, and friends. This is not surprising because cancer is hard on them, too. While caregivers may be more objective about the medical procedures, their accounts can also be heart-rending because they include the anguish of being unable to stop the pain their loved one is going through. Bearing witness to the suffering of others takes its own courage.

One example of this is Karen Babine’s All the Wild Hungers, which is about cooking in cast iron to help her deal with anxiety over her mother having terminal cancer, trying to find something her mother could keep down and get needed nutrition. (reviewed Nov. 23 2025)

Why does anyone want to write about health matters that are traumatic and personal? 

I think writing about trauma helps people process their emotions and regain their balance. They’ve also found that what is intensely personal to them has universal meaning for others who are going through their own trauma. They recognize that we don’t talk about cancer in our society enough, and that while cancer is scary, it shouldn’t be a taboo subject. If one in three of us is eventually going to get some kind of cancer, then we should pay attention, if only to learn how to help others.

Everyone should read at least a few cancer memoirs to get the lay of Cancerland. Memoirs share how people live with serious challenges, find hope and resolve, and handle everything else going on in their lives. They show how simple compassion, like a five-minute stop-by at a coffeehouse, or being a volunteer at a cancer center, makes a huge difference in people’s lives. The traumas we experience in life reveal what it means to be alive and how we need the support of a community to survive.

Compassion heals invisible wounds.

What being face to face with cancer does is bring intensity to life. Not knowing how long the people we love are going to live makes us pay attention to every good thing that happens, and it reveals the need to respond with empathy to every person who is suffering instead of making judgments and writing them off simply because sick people make us feel uncomfortable. There’s no excuse for withholding the compassion we feel. 

Cancer is a transforming event, whether we have it or someone we love does. It changes the focus and reroutes the energy we feel each day. We gain knowledge about the inside rooms of suffering, and we find the resources that help us survive. Now we want to share what we have learned to help others and ease their way through. When cancer and its treatments beat us down, we, as caregivers, need inspiration from those who have been caregivers before us.

Caregivers also need to take care of themselves with rest, nutrition, and exercise.

Even when cancer treatments are over, dealing with cancer is not. People have to live in the aftermath with side effects that linger, the changes in their body, the stress that builds as each upcoming checkup nears, and coping with test numbers that rise slightly. People don’t come through cancer physically unscathed. There are also emotional and practical issues to solve. Even though treatments have ended, patients may not physically be ready to return to work fulltime, and this creates financial stress because they have bills to pay. Doubts and fears also linger because they don’t know what remains hidden in their body trying to find a receptive place to grow. 

Helping others bridge this time when the medical organization has turned its attention back to new patients is crucial. People with cancer need help navigating their new life, and they may not have the resources to do so. This is the second part of having cancer, when medical treatments are over and you are trying to patch your life back together. It can be as crucial as the medical

Caring is being present.

When cancer enters our lives, either as patients or caregivers, we become members of the large family of people who’ve dealt with cancer. They become our cousins who aren’t afraid to talk about cancer and who understand what we’re sharing without us having to explain everything. The nurses, doctors, counselors, and dieticians that we see for years as we accompany our loved ones, become our aunts and uncles. You can tell them this.

© 2026 Mark Liebenow