excerpted from an article on Boston.com by Deborah Kotz
Couples therapy helps relive pain of post-traumatic stress disorder
"About 1 in 12 Americans experience post-traumatic stress disorder at some point in their lives after experiencing a violent crime, war zone, or other traumatic event; all too often, the flashbacks, anxiety, insomnia, and withdrawal from everyday life leads to marriage conflicts and divorce. Now, though, new research published in the Journal of the American Medical Association suggests that a specific form of couple therapy can both improve symptoms of PTSD and lead to stronger romantic relationships.
In the trial, 40 heterosexual and homosexual couples -- with one partner having PTSD -- were given either weekly therapy sessions in the VA Boston Healthcare System or in a Toronto research center or were assigned to be in a control group; those with PTSD who had the couple therapy experienced a greater improvement after 15 weekly sessions of therapy compared to those who didn’t have the therapy."
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Thanks to Ms. Kotz for writing this piece. Those of us living with physical or emotional illness know how much our partner is affected and how much our partner affects us. It makes perfect sense that treatment that involves both partners will have a stronger outcome.
Have you used couples therapy as part of your toolkit for dealing with illness?
Monday, August 27, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Travel Tips for Rolling With Illness
PFAM - Patients for a Moment - a monthly collection of posts written by patients about some aspect of their experience of living with illness is up at Duncan Cross's excellent blog. Have a read.
Wish Upon a Wedding
excerpted from an August 12 New York Times article:
Helping Couples Facing Illness
By ERIC V. COPAGE
Helping Couples Facing Illness
By ERIC V. COPAGE
WISH UPON A WEDDING, a nonprofit organization that provides free weddings for couples in which one partner is terminally ill (or both), was started in 2010 by Liz Guthrie, a former wedding planner who is now the organization’s executive director.
“I was looking for a way to give back to the community,” said Ms. Guthrie, 42. In 2009, she organized a $100,000 wedding giveaway in San Francisco, which was “only given to one couple,” she recalled. “It kind of bummed me out because I thought there were lots of couples deserving of a wedding.”
To date, Wish Upon a Wedding, which has 23 chapters nationwide and relies primarily on donations of time and materials from vendors, has provided weddings for 47 couples. It operates without regard to their sexual orientation.
The reasons couples choose to marry, even when their time together may be short, vary.
“The idea of going through a whole ceremony and cementing that bond was a very spiritual thing for me,” said Alexis Kidd, 42, of Houston, who has cancer of the diaphragm. Wish Upon a Wedding provided her wedding last November to Christian Kidd, 57. “It was a celebration of how we felt about each other.”
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My questions for you: did you and your partner marry or have a commitment ceremony knowing one of you had an illness? To what extent did you talk about how the illness would impact your lives?
Thursday, August 2, 2012
On the Road
In the old days, before illness, Richard and I traveled a lot. In fact, when we were in our mid-thirties we quit our jobs and hit the road for a year. Bali, Burma, Malaysia, New Guinea. Lots of adventure and lots of indelible connections along the way, with each other and with strangers who became lifelong friends.
In the late 1990s, my pain condition put an end to all road trips. An end to all adventures that did not involve visits to new doctors. I traveled from room to room, in our house. Richard sometimes paced by my side to keep me company.
Now we are traveling again. Not too far from home, and not too exotic. I want to be within easy reach of a doctor or a pharmacy. Even thought pain is not the plague it once was, it's still a companion. We both accomodate to its demands.
We get to the airport very early so I can run to the bathroom repeatedly or sit and meditate. I get anxious that the pain will get worse, and Richard holds my hand and reminds me that it will also get better. I check my carry on bag repeatedly to make sure no gremlin made off with my medication. Richard reminds me that even if there were a larcenous gremlin, I could get more meds at any pharmacy.
Something about the pressure in the airplane cabin combined with my anxiety does always make the pain worse. Sometimes I take an extra dose of meds. Sometimes I'm able to immerse myself in a cheesy mystery or a sappy movie. Every so often Richard will pat my shoulder or squeeze my hand. He knows better than to show too much sympathy or concern.
When we arrive, we head right to our hotel or apartment. I nest. I claim the space. Make it my own. A safe place. If we're not too jet lagged, we walk. In fact, walking is not just something we enjoy, it seems to condense the pain. If we walk enough, the pain evaporates.
What makes travel not only possible, but rejuvenating? It's having a sweetie by my side who knows what I'm feeling and fearing and who stands ready to help any way he can.
Are you able to travel? What helps you?
In the late 1990s, my pain condition put an end to all road trips. An end to all adventures that did not involve visits to new doctors. I traveled from room to room, in our house. Richard sometimes paced by my side to keep me company.
Now we are traveling again. Not too far from home, and not too exotic. I want to be within easy reach of a doctor or a pharmacy. Even thought pain is not the plague it once was, it's still a companion. We both accomodate to its demands.
We get to the airport very early so I can run to the bathroom repeatedly or sit and meditate. I get anxious that the pain will get worse, and Richard holds my hand and reminds me that it will also get better. I check my carry on bag repeatedly to make sure no gremlin made off with my medication. Richard reminds me that even if there were a larcenous gremlin, I could get more meds at any pharmacy.
Something about the pressure in the airplane cabin combined with my anxiety does always make the pain worse. Sometimes I take an extra dose of meds. Sometimes I'm able to immerse myself in a cheesy mystery or a sappy movie. Every so often Richard will pat my shoulder or squeeze my hand. He knows better than to show too much sympathy or concern.
When we arrive, we head right to our hotel or apartment. I nest. I claim the space. Make it my own. A safe place. If we're not too jet lagged, we walk. In fact, walking is not just something we enjoy, it seems to condense the pain. If we walk enough, the pain evaporates.
What makes travel not only possible, but rejuvenating? It's having a sweetie by my side who knows what I'm feeling and fearing and who stands ready to help any way he can.
Are you able to travel? What helps you?
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