When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I immediately learned the treatment process was not just medical. It became a full-body experience. 

Re-examining my health experience through the lens of a medical family therapist (MedFT) illuminated that cancer affected more than my physical self. It shook the structure and emotional functioning of my whole family system, and brought to light how interconnected our biological, psychological, social, and spiritual well-being absolutely are. 

In essence, I was not the only one in treatment–my entire family and community were, too.  We cannot simply disconnect the body from the emotions, the family from the diagnosis, or the spirit from the survival.  

What is a Medical Family Therapist?

MedFTs work alongside and collaborate with health care providers to support individuals and their families facing and navigating critical medical diagnoses.

They are specifically trained and certified mental health professionals who regard health and illness through a biopsychosocial-spiritual (BPSS) viewpoint, meaning they assess not only biologically, though how it impacts psychological well-being, relationships, and an individual’s sense of meaning or purpose.

In practice, this may look like a MedFT sitting with a patient and their partner during chemotherapy, navigating families through the uncertainty of a new diagnosis, supporting a parent discussing with their children about chronic illness, and bridging communication gaps or misunderstandings between patient, family, and health care team. 

MedFTs create and hold space for the deeper and harder conversations–grief, despair, fear, sadness, anxiety, legacy, faith, hope–things that do not necessarily show up on medical scans, although might live loudly in the treatment room.

Biopsychosocial-Spiritual Model: More Than Medicine  

The BPSS model acknowledges that healing cannot be limited to medicine alone.

It started with a whirlwind of endless specialized doctor appointments, biopsies, ultrasounds, and then navigating multiple surgeries and recovery.

In brief, the side effects were intense with fatigue, brain fog, nausea, joint pain, extended recovery time leading to a loss of independence, chest and arm pain causing a loss of mobility, emotional shock of loss of a breast, and then navigating through lymphatic massage and physical therapy post-recovery. 

My body became foreign to me as I grieved the transformation I witnessed in the mirror. 

A Shifting Sense of Self

Psychologically, it was a rollercoaster of emotions as I oscillated between strength and despair. While I wanted to maintain a valiant face and stature for my family, my patients as a licensed marriage and family therapist (LMFT), and my supervisees as a clinical supervisor in private practice. I, at times, felt emotionally depleted. 

Fear of what was to happen or become loomed heavily, and how I might share the information with family, friends, colleagues, and patients as I started to go through cancer treatments. Anxiety showed up without question. 

My identity was jolted, not just as a woman, though as someone who had always been healthy, dependable, and someone not to be reckoned with. 

At some point, it felt like I was failing not only myself, however, my family, community, and career. Grief struck at all corners, and negative body image thoughts surfaced.

On a social level, treatment affected my relationships. My family and friends stepped in to provide support in whichever ways they could, whether that was flying in and out from different countries, states, and cities, cooking, house duties, attending doctor appointments, check-in calls, care packages. This would slightly shift our dynamics. 

We all were exhausted and at times were at a loss of words to discuss any dynamic shifts or tensions between us. Some friends and family did not know what to say or how to help, so they kept their distance, which felt like another level of loss. I had to take many steps back as a caregiver to my family and learn how to receive care, which was absolutely challenging for me.

At the same time, I learned how to give back to myself and come back home to me, so to speak.

Reclaiming Peace & Purpose

Spiritually, I became more connected. I have always considered myself a spiritual person, and during treatment, it revealed itself even more. 

I was also taking a doctoral elective course in Buddhist psychotherapy, and this enhanced my spiritual engagement with myself and others throughout my treatment. Truly, there was something about the timing of this class. There were rare moments I would existentially question, “Why me?” and quickly shooed those fleeting thoughts away. 

As I progressed through treatment, I found comfort in these quiet practices like insight meditation, journaling, and sitting in my garden, noting the fruits’ and plants’ growth along with the interesting creatures all around me—bees, butterflies, birds, and outdoor cats. 

These practices supported in reclaiming my sense of peace and purpose.

Honoring The Whole Story

Reflecting on my breast cancer experience through the perspective of MedFT and caring for the whole person and not just the cancer has provided me with profound insight and deepened my appreciation for systemic, holistic, collaborative, and culturally-attuned care. It has shifted how I will work with future patients in my private practice. 

As a LMFT, now more than ever, I am committed to seeing illness through a larger lens, especially one that honors the complexity of human experiences. 

We are more than our diagnoses, and my mission is to ensure no one walks through illness feeling unseen or unheard. 

I continue to aim to create safe containers where patients and their families can explore their medical realities through the emotional, cultural, and spiritual aspects that are deeply embedded in their stories. 

In doing so, I hope to continue to carry forth the kind and compassionate healing I once needed and received. And to remember, every illness lives in a body, and it also lives in a family, a community, a story. Let’s treat the whole story–the whole person.