The Caregivers
Advocating for, comforting and supporting a loved one in hard times
“There are only four kinds of people in the world,” the late former First Lady Rosalynn Carter once said. “Those who have been caregivers, those who are currently caregivers, those who will be caregivers and those who will need caregivers.”
Caregiving is something Carter knew well as a daughter, wife, in-law and national mental health policy leader and advocate. Her father died of cancer when she was 13; her husband, former President Jimmy Carter, is a cancer survivor treated at Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University; and President Carter’s parents and three siblings all died of cancer.
"Cancer is an oppressive black cloud on an otherwise beautiful day. You can either focus on the possibility it might rain, or you can rejoice that it hasn't."
At Winship, family caregivers are essential members of the health care team. They are vital in helping loved ones navigate their way through cancer treatment and recovery. They may be spouses, partners, parents, siblings or adult children. Close friends, neighbors and coworkers also may help as needed.
“Cancer is everybody, “ says Robin Sievers, whose husband is a cancer survivor treated at Winship. “While your loved one physically has the disease, everyone around them is affected by it emotionally.”
Self-Care is Everybody
Matt and Liz Ames would agree. Five years ago, Liz began treatment at Winship for an aggressive type of appendix cancer and is now cancer-free. During her treatment, the couple weathered many long and anxiety-ridden days. As Liz’s caregiver, Matt assumed multiple roles: patient advocate, appointment scheduler, driver, insurance wrangler, chief morale officer, nurse, household manager and Facebook correspondent (to provide updates on Liz)—all while working part time as a lawyer and parenting two young boys.
Doing it all could be exhausting and overwhelming. To cope, Matt became adept at using spare bits of time to take care of his mind and body. He practiced his faith, went for a quick run, connected with a new friend and rediscovered his music CDs. He also wrote about his caregiving experiences, which became fodder for his book “Through the Impossible: Lessons in Caregiving from a Husband Who’s Been There.”
Matt did what the National Cancer Institute, the American Cancer Society, Winship Cancer Institute and other health agencies, clinicians and researchers recommend that caregivers do: practice self-care so you can take better care of your loved one.
But Matt still faced an unexpected hurdle after Liz’s cancer treatment ended. Although his family had come through a crisis, his stress, anxiety and uncertainty remained as he and Liz adjusted to their new normal.
“When you are a caregiver, your whole identity is wrapped up in getting a loved one through their cancer treatment,” says Caroline Peacock, DMin, LCSW, MDiv, director of spiritual health at Winship. “When treatment ends and their loved one finally comes home, the caregiver can experience a kind of disorientation. Also, the community they’ve come to know—doctors, nurses and others—are no longer there to rely on and talk with.”
Caroline Peacock, DMin, LCSW, MDiv
Caroline Peacock, DMin, LCSW, MDiv
Wendy Baer, MD
Wendy Baer, MD
Supporting the Patient and Caregivers with Wraparound Care
To fill that void, Winship provides wellness and support services for patients and caregivers, during and after treatment. Services include psychiatric oncology, spiritual health and support groups. Also, oncology social workers provide counseling for individuals and families.
When Peacock rounds at Winship’s Clifton campus, she visits with patients and their caregivers. “We offer support based on their values and the things that bring meaning to their life, whether it’s through prayer, meditation, nature and the outdoors or community activities,” she says.
She also encourages them to “talk about the hard parts” that go along with cancer treatment and recovery. “People tend to emphasize the positive by saying things like, ‘Oh, you’re going to pull through this,’” says Peacock. “They don’t feel they have a space to talk about how hard going through cancer can be. We are that space for them, where they can share whatever burden is on their heart.”
"No matter how dark or frightening the moments, Liz and I never let go of the belief that somehow, some way, we were going to find our way through."
Peacock’s colleague, Wendy Baer, MD, leads a team of licensed social workers and medical experts in psychiatry who help families manage emotions, behaviors and relationships during cancer treatment. She and others counsel patients and caregivers, together and individually. “We create a neutral space for the patient and caregiver to share what’s on their mind and what they’re struggling with,” says Baer, director of psychiatric oncology at Winship. “Sometimes, patients don’t realize what an emotional journey cancer can be for their caregivers.”
Baer urges caregivers “to think about what you’re good at.” Such strengths may be managing appointments or picking up medications, listening and providing encouragement, doing household chores or taking care of children and pets. “It’s important for caregivers and patients to know that one person can’t do everything,” says Baer.
Caregivers should also practice a rule taken from airline safety: Put on your own oxygen mask first before you put it on someone else. “You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of someone else,” Baer says. “Research shows that when caregivers do better, patients do better.”
Matt Ames knows what it’s like to put on that oxygen mask. At the beginning of his book are four lines from “My Blood,” a song by the duo Twenty One Pilots. The lyrics are apropos for any caregiver:
You're facing down
A dark hall
I'll grab my light
And go with you.
Staying Vigilant
Amanda Vanterpool doesn’t shy away from homework. She has done her share as a professional in medical research, pharmaceutical quality control and assurance and financial management. In 2023, she started her own business as a wealth and health advocate, a career move resulting from a recurrence of her mother’s breast cancer.
“This whole journey with my mom opened my eyes to the benefits of having good health and life insurance so that no one winds up in the same position my family did because of my mom’s illness,” says Amanda.
In 2016, her mother was diagnosed with stage 0-1 breast cancer at Winship Cancer Institute at Emory Saint Joseph’s Hospital. “She caught it very early,” says Amanda. “She had a lumpectomy, followed by chemo and radiation. We thought we dodged a bullet. She had less than a year of treatment, so that was great.”
But four years later her mother began having fevers and fainting spells and didn’t know why. For two months, she was in and out of the emergency room, and no one in the family could accompany her because of the COVID-19 pandemic. A scan showed a fracture in her spine that was likely metastasized breast cancer.
“I didn’t know that could happen,” says Amanda, who dove into the National Cancer Institute website and scientific articles to learn more. “Getting more information helped calm me down.”
A biopsy confirmed everyone’s fears, and her mother began treatment for stage 4 breast cancer at Winship’s Clifton campus. At the time, she was very weak, had difficulty getting out of bed and used a walker. She tried two different medications and enrolled in a clinical trial in late 2022 to test a new hormonal drug. Then, in November 2023, she began taking a new chemotherapy drug that targets metastatic HER2-low breast cancer.
“My mother gained her strength back quickly after her infusion treatment began,” says Amanda. “She’s active and able to drive again. Her cancer antigens are almost nonexistent in her blood tests. She has chemo every three weeks, but it’s so much easier.”
“Cancer has been all-consuming for the past few years,” she adds. “My mom is figuring out what to do next. Travel? Write a book? She’s trying to find herself in this cancer journey.”
Amanda is transitioning as well. Instead of being at every doctor’s appointment and asking questions, she has time to focus more on herself and other family, including her husband, newly married sister and brother, who all provided caregiving support in various ways.
If there’s one piece of advice Amanda has for other caregivers, it’s this: Keep the person with cancer up—a lesson she learned from a Winship doctor.
“It’s very hard for someone with cancer to rebound,” she explains. “We focused on staying vigilant with my mom. If a medication wasn’t working or she wasn’t feeling well, we got it addressed very quickly. It’s important to raise the flag and ask questions so you can pivot. It’s very hard to come back from getting run down when you have cancer.”
Marvin Vance, Jerome Webb and Mary Vance
Marvin Vance, Jerome Webb and Mary Vance
Jane Meisel, MD
Jane Meisel, MD
Strength in Numbers
Word travels about the quality of patient care at Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University.
In 2018, Jerome Webb was driving down I-75 to Florida when his trip took an unexpected but necessary turn. His aunt called to tell him that his mother was ill at her home in Middle Georgia.
“I was just five minutes away from the exit when she called,” says Jerome. “When I got there, I found out she had breast cancer. She had kept it from everybody.”
His mother’s health condition was serious. She had a heart problem, needed blood transfusions and her cancer was advanced. Her doctors at the hospital in Warner Robins recommended hospice care. On her last doctor’s visit there, a nurse practitioner recommended that Jerome take his mother to see Jane Lowe Meisel, MD, a physician with Winship’s Glenn Family Breast Center, a Discovery and Developmental Therapeutics researcher at Winship and associate professor in the Department of Hematology and Medical Oncology at Emory University School of Medicine.
“The nurse practitioner said Dr. Meisel might be able to treat my mother with medication,” Jerome recalls. “That’s how we got my mother to Emory.”
Meisel recommended two different drugs for her treatment. When neither one proved effective, she switched her patient to chemotherapy. Jerome’s mother also had a heart valve replacement at Emory. But during the past year, she slowed down considerably after being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. For a time, she lived with Jerome’s sister in an Atlanta-area townhouse. She then lived with Jerome and his wife in their Stone Mountain ranch house, where it was easier for her to get around. Dorothy unfortunately passed away in August.
Left to right: Marvin Vance, Mary Vance, Gwendolyn Webb and Jerome Webb, holding a photo of Dorothy Vance, for whom they were caregivers.
Left to right: Marvin Vance, Mary Vance, Gwendolyn Webb and Jerome Webb, holding a photo of Dorothy Vance, for whom they were caregivers.
Jerome is retired and the oldest of six children. Because his siblings still work, he oversaw his mother’s care, from taking her to doctor appointments to handling insurance paperwork. Other family members routinely helped. His mother’s youngest sister, who lives in Middle Georgia, came for two to three weeks at a time. When she was not there, Jerome took over. His wife, daughters, sister-in-law and cousins also stepped in when needed.
“We’ve been blessed. Our family has always been close,” says Jerome. He adds that it was still a challenge, not because of dealing with his mother, but trying to get the in-home services she needed to keep her comfortable.
Jerome understood that taking time to care for himself was just as important.
“Knock on wood, my health is pretty good for my age,” says Jerome, 67. “I’ve always tried to eat right and stay active. My family knew that if we didn’t take care of ourselves, we couldn't take care of my mother. We worked together to make sure one person didn’t get overwhelmed. But it could still be overwhelming because of what it was.”
The Angels Among Us
Cancer has shadowed much of Lillian Hamilton’s life. Her mother died of brain cancer when Lillian was 17. Years later, Lillian commuted between Atlanta and her native New Jersey to care for her father, who lived with pancreatic cancer for 10 years.
On December 16, 2016, Lillian’s sister was diagnosed with breast cancer and eventually passed away. Four years later, on the same date, Lillian learned she herself had breast cancer.
Today, Lillian is cancer-free thanks to the care she received at Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University—and the love and support of her fiancé, Michael Reeder. The couple, who live in Kennesaw, got engaged during Lillian’s recovery. They had known each other for 10 years before they dated.
Lillian Hamilton and Michael Reeder
Lillian Hamilton and Michael Reeder
“One day, Lillian’s sister called me out of the blue to ask why I didn’t date her sister,” says Michael. “Lillian and I have been together ever since.”
After the sister learned she had breast cancer, she asked the couple to be her caregivers during chemotherapy. “I had no experience dealing with cancer, but I was glad she wanted both of us to help,” says Michael.
He rose even further to the task when Lillian learned of her diagnosis at an Atlanta-area community hospital. They opted to get a second opinion and soon made an appointment with Kevin Kalinsky, MD, MS, director of the Glenn Family Breast Center at Winship Cancer Institute. When the couple mentioned they had gotten an opinion from the New Jersey oncologist who had treated Lillian’s father, Kalinsky immediately phoned him to consult.
“When someone is diagnosed with cancer, the patient is in shock, and the caregiver is in shock too,” Michael says. “You’ve got to put that aside and think it through. You’ve got to take the initiative. If a second opinion is warranted, get a second opinion. Our priority was to get healthy at any cost and not to wait.”
Lillian’s treatment plan included a single mastectomy and radiation. Reconstructive surgery was an option for later after her body healed.
Her outpatient surgery was set for late January 2021—during the COVID-19 pandemic and just as Michael’s employer was preparing for a three-day external audit. Lillian suggested postponing her surgery so that Michael could assist with the audit, and she could have another week of normal life.
“No, we can’t wait,” Michael insisted. “You need to do this.”
Lillian’s surgery was expected to take 90 minutes. It lasted four to five hours so her surgeon could remove several lymph nodes. Lillian’s cancer was now stage-3 and required chemotherapy. “Going home the day of her surgery was terrifying,” Michael recalls.
The first days and weeks at home were tough. Lillian and Michael were confined to one room because of COVID. Neighbors brought plenty of food, but Lillian didn’t feel like eating, mostly because of nausea caused by her pain medication. So, Michael stocked up on bland foods like soup, rice and eggs and learned how to cook.
When Lillian felt strong enough to ride to the drive-thru at Chick-fil-A, she made a discovery. None of her clothes fit and she felt off balance because of her mastectomy. The couple improvised and made a breast form out of some cloth. “I had symmetry!” Lillian says.
The makeshift form sparked a business idea. Lillian partnered with Shaun Francis, a work colleague who had been treated for brain trauma at Emory, to establish Natura3, a web-based breast form alternative company. Natura3 forms are made of bamboo cotton that women can shape and size themselves. The forms provide a soft alternative to silicone breast forms.
“I could wear mine during radiation,” says Lillian. “I didn’t feel lopsided anymore, and I could wear my regular clothes, which helped me feel normal.”
The couple ventured out more as Lillian became stronger. Michael took her to the park, where she sat by a lake, and to Target, where she rode in an electric cart to shop. Whenever Lillian had an appointment at Winship, he packed a day bag with a blanket, water canteen, earbuds, a battery phone charger and a notebook full of information he’d written down during many previous appointments.
At times, treatment could be frustrating when unexpected complications arose, such as trips to the ER for rehydration from nausea or experiencing the first bout of chemo brain—the forgetfulness that chemotherapy can cause. During COVID, when the couple suggested creating an urgent care space specially for patients with cancer to better protect them from COVID, Winship did just that. “They listened to us and to other patients,” Michael says.
The hardest part of Lillian’s recovery is now far behind her. During her recovery, she and Michael completed a web-based cancer survivorship program to learn better coping skills and strengthen their mental outlook.
“Right now, I talk to a few people who are going through cancer,” Lillian says. “It’s helpful for them to talk with someone who’s been through it. Sometimes, all you need to do is text them a heart emoji to let them know you’re thinking of them.”
The couple is grateful for the many kindnesses shown them by strangers, family, friends and Winship specialists and staff.
“I’m convinced there are angels on this planet,” says Michael. “We’re thankful to be back to living life again.”
Michael Reeder and Lillian Hamilton
Michael Reeder and Lillian Hamilton
Kevin Kalinsky, MD
Kevin Kalinsky, MD
Keeping Dark Clouds Away
Robin Sievers has some ground rules for dealing with cancer: Be honest about how you’re feeling on good days and bad. Cry when you need to. And never go online.
She set those rules after she and her husband, Keith, learned he had stage 4 metastatic cancer in early 2021. At the time, Keith was undergoing radiation treatment at a community hospital for squamous cell carcinoma, a type of skin cancer he had removed from his forehead six months earlier. Then a lump had appeared in his neck, and an MRI showed it was cancerous.
“We fell into each other’s arms and cried,” Robin recalls. “It was such a shock. But you can’t pretend your whole life hasn’t changed. We prayed for God to knit together the best medical care we could find. We promised each other that we would never Google it (Keith’s cancer), and we would listen to his doctors.”
They definitely paid attention when the community hospital doctor who read Keith’s MRI scans told them, “You need to be at Emory.”
The Sievers soon made an initial appointment at Winship Cancer Institute’s Clifton campus. “It was like drinking from a fire hose,” Robin says. “We met with every care manager, every doctor, every specialist, one after the next.” The team recommended surgery, followed by proton radiation therapy. They also discussed possible challenges for Keith after surgery, such as difficulty swallowing or closing his eyes, weakness on his right side— and not being able to play golf in the North Georgia community where the couple live.
“That’s not going to happen. It’s just not,” Robin told Keith.
In the journal she kept, she described the mindset they adopted: “Cancer is an oppressive black cloud on an otherwise beautiful day,” she wrote. “You can either focus on the possibility it might rain, or you can rejoice that it hasn’t.”
To further cope, she cooked meals made from organic ingredients and made high-protein drinks for Keith. “Whether those things helped, I have no idea,” says Robin. “But they helped me. It was something I could do.”
On the day of Keith’s surgery, Robin could not stay with him because of hospital restrictions for COVID-19. Later, she drove him the 150 miles to and from Atlanta for proton therapy, a daily regimen that lasted eight weeks. During his treatments, she taught herself to knit and formed a sorority of sorts with other family caregivers waiting like her. “Not only did it help them, but it helped me,” says Robin, the group veteran.
Small victories are key to staying strong during long treatments. Keith Sievers' "warrior mode" helped him navigate fear, claustrophobia and a clinical trial to become cancer-free.
In late 2021, a routine scan revealed a tumor in Keith’s lung. He chose to take an immunotherapy drug being tested in a clinical trial, which required more round trips to and from Atlanta every two weeks. The trek was worth it. At the end of five months, Keith’s lung tumor was gone.
Since his initial diagnosis, the Sievers have embraced helping others dealing with cancer. They’ve taken meals to neighbors and friends and talked with strangers seeking their advice. Keith volunteers with the Cancer Hope Network, which provides one-on-one peer support to adult patients with cancer and their loved ones. He continues to play golf and recently won a two-day tournament.
The couple knows they are fortunate and that not everyone survives cancer. “Winship saved Keith’s life and mine too,” says Robin. “I can’t imagine life without him.”
Valuing Academic Medicine
Before working on the business side of health care, Monte Masten, MD, practiced obstetrics and gynecology for 13 years. He delivered babies, performed C-sections and other surgeries and cared for women with reproductive health conditions, including ovarian cancer.
“I certainly know the good and bad side of that,” says Monte, who lives in Roswell, GA, with his wife, Marsha, who is a nurse.
In April 2023, when Marsha wasn’t feeling well, Monte insisted on going to the ER to determine if she was having a flareup of diverticulitis. They were leaving soon on a trip to Geneva, Switzerland, and he didn’t think she should get on a plane until they knew the cause of her severe stomach pain.
A CT scan showed Marsha had two large masses in her abdomen. The news hit “like a punch to the gut,” says Monte, who cried upon hearing the results. “So, we went home. We were shell-shocked.”
To learn more, Monte reached out to an OB/GYN professor and surgeon in St. Louis, with whom he had trained. After looking at the CT scan and report, the professor said it looked like Marsha had ovarian cancer that had spread to her liver. He recommended the couple contact his colleague, Susan Modesitt, MD, who had recently joined Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University. Marsha soon had an appointment to see Modesitt at Winship’s Emory Midtown location.
“I know it’s hard for a lot of people to get access to really good care,” says Monte. “I’ve seen how tough this battle can be. To be able to see Dr. Modesitt so quickly made a lot of difference. We were very fortunate to have world-class care at Emory.”
After getting the results of a liver biopsy, Marsha began chemotherapy. Each session lasted seven hours. Monte and Mary, his stepdaughter who is a nurse, took turns changing the iced mittens and socks on Marsha’s hands and feet every 15 minutes to minimize the risk of nerve damage that aggressive chemotherapy can cause.
“It’s tough sitting in a chair getting chemo, and it’s tough being the caregiver,” Monte says, “but we managed.”
Monte and Marsha Masten
Monte and Marsha Masten
Susan Modesitt, MD
Susan Modesitt, MD
More difficult days lay ahead. In August 2023, Marsha had an eight-hour surgery to remove a lymph node with cancerous cells next to her aorta and a total hysterectomy to remove any suspicious tissue. Once home, Monte helped her recover.
The first four weeks were the toughest as Marsha experienced abdominal pain, weakness and difficulty eating and drinking. She slowly regained her strength and independence, aided by a stirrup device Monte learned about on Amazon to help patients get out of bed. Her upbeat nature helped, despite having a history of cancer on her side of the family.
“Marsha is very stoic,” says her husband. “I’ve rarely seen her break down. She’s told me, ‘Someone else is controlling my fate. All I can do to fight this is do what I can and stay positive.’”
After recovering from surgery, Marsha completed more chemotherapy, which ended in October 2023. She’s now taking a PARP inhibitor, an oral drug that prevents cancer cells from reproducing by targeting the harmful variant of the BRCA2 gene. Some days, she feels the drug’s side effects of fatigue and nausea. Other days, she feels fine.
Despite the side effects, Monte appreciates how treatment advances like PARP inhibitors can help patients like Marsha.
Marsha was shocked to learn she had ovarian cancer and that it had already spread. Having a treatment plan to follow from her Winship doctor put her at ease – and successfully treated her cancer. She says her experience at Winship was “like a big hug all the time.”
“The reason you fight cancer each day is because you never know what kind of medications we’ll have five years from now because of breakthroughs in research being done today,” he says. “PARP inhibitors weren’t available five years ago. The mRNA technology used to develop COVID vaccines looks really promising for developing a therapeutic vaccine for cancer. That’s the thing you live for each day because there may be something extraordinary around the corner.”
Monte offers important advice for patients and caregivers seeking treatment for a life-threatening condition: seek care at an academic medical center. “We’re blessed to have Emory in Atlanta,” he says. “Winship has world-class researchers, physicians, surgeons and nurses. Find the best care possible, get a second opinion and learn as much as possible.”
After Marsha’s final chemotherapy treatment, she and Monte visited Winship’s Clifton campus for a scheduled checkup. In the stairwell below their feet, the word “hope,” stood out in giant letters on the landing. The couple paused to take a picture.
“That’s what you’ve got to hold onto,” says Monte, “to keep fighting, one day at a time.”
Matt and Liz Ames Find Their Way Back From the Wild
For family members, caregiving is deeply personal and daunting when a loved one is diagnosed with cancer. Suddenly, home and work life shift radically as cancer treatment and recovery become the priority day to day.
Just ask Atlantans Matt and Liz Ames, who liken her cancer diagnosis to being hit by lightning.
In spring 2019, Liz decided to have a small stomach hernia repaired that occurred shortly after childbirth three years earlier. The hernia was causing more discomfort, her stomach bulged noticeably and her energy level had dipped—a noticeable symptom for a 38-year-old wife, mother, corporate attorney and competitive runner. The couple agreed something was off.
Liz went to see a gastroenterologist and her gynecologist, who did a sonogram that showed a buildup of fluid in her abdomen. No one could pinpoint the cause, so Liz insisted her hernia surgeon schedule an MRI to rule out anything serious. Her scan on July 2, 2019, showed she had appendiceal adenocarcinoma—appendix cancer.
Liz’s cancer was rare. Of the approximately 1,500 cases diagnosed annually in the U.S., most are low-grade. In these cases, cancerous mucin (a fluid comprised of mucus cells) spreads slowly from the appendix to other tissues and is easier to treat successfully. In Liz’s case, a biopsy showed her cancer was highgrade—more aggressive and more difficult to treat.
The news sent the family into what Matt calls “survival mode.” Liz went on disability leave. Matt cut back his law firm hours to be with Liz and, aided by extended family, keep life on track for sons Eli and Isaac, then 6 and 3. The couple did their homework to find the best expert to treat Liz’s rare form of cancer. Their diligence led them to Charles Staley, MD, a surgical oncologist specializing in stomach, esophageal, appendiceal, colorectal and peritoneal surface cancers at Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University as well as Winship’s chief of surgical oncology and a professor of surgery at Emory University School of Medicine. “We had our man,” Matt would later write in his book “Through the Impossible: Lessons in Caregiving from a Husband Who’s Been There”.
Liz’s treatment began with six rounds of chemotherapy with a drug then being tested in a clinical trial, followed by surgery.
She stayed in the hospital for 19 days and, after a long recovery at home, completed more chemotherapy in isolation because of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Finally, in mid-spring 2020, she completed her last chemo treatment. Friends gathered outside her home to celebrate from a safe distance, while others shared celebratory videos on Facebook. But a new reality soon set in. After months of being cared for by Winship experts, Liz and Matt were on their own.
“We went from survival mode to being released back into the wild,” says Matt. “For someone with Liz’s type of disease, she still has way too many doctors’ appointments. She still goes in for bloodwork and scans. We still hold our breath and wonder what the next few years of our lives will look like. We weren’t prepared for that emotional fallout.”
After always being fit, Liz was shocked to learn that her distended belly was caused by appendiceal cancer that had already spread. Today, the attorney and mother of two is cancer-free and credits Winship for giving her “a second chance at life.”
The couple found ways to cope. They talked often about how they were feeling and leaned on each other to restabilize. They savored the small beauties in daily life that often go unrecognized. When Matt had 15 minutes to spare, he used the time to exercise and clear his mind. When Liz needed some rest, he took their boys on a quick outing to give her some quiet time. At Liz’s urging, Matt looked for a caregiver support group but couldn’t find one that felt right. He reached out to his rabbi, who connected him with a younger man going through a family crisis. The two men connected over dinner and became good friends.
Today, the Ames family is thriving. On weekends, the parents cheer their boys, now 11 and 8, on the athletic field. Liz has a new full-time position with Delta Air Lines and is helping raise funds for a new rooftop garden at the 17-story Winship Cancer Institute at Emory Midtown. She and Matt often speak with families and groups seeking advice about cancer treatment and caregiving.
When Liz first learned she had cancer, Matt created a private Facebook group to inform family and friends about her progress. After her treatment ended, Matt kept on writing as a journaling exercise. Eventually, a book took shape—with Liz’s blessing.
Matt writes candidly about learning caregiving through trial and error. His greatest lesson: learning to let go of his old self and moving on, one day at a time. “No matter how dark or frightening the moments,” Matt says, “Liz and I never let go of the belief that somehow, some way, we were going to find our way through.”
Matt and Liz Ames
Matt and Liz Ames
Matt and Liz with their two sons.
Matt and Liz with their two sons.
Every Day Above Ground is a Good Day
Matt Ames still remembers the smiling, cheerful woman who used to deliver the mail in his law office. Their daily exchange began as follows:
Matt: “Grace! How you doin’ today?”
Grace: “Good morning, Matthew. And you know what? Every day above ground is a good day.”
And then one morning, someone else brought the mail. Grace was gone.
Years later, Matt learned that Grace had a troubled home life. And yet, she smiled and expressed gratitude every day.
“Grace’s take on the world left quite an impression on me,” Matt writes in his book “Through the Impossible: Lessons in Caregiving from a Husband Who’s Been There” (Ibis Books, 2023). The book chronicles his experiences caring for his wife, Liz, during her arduous but successful treatment for appendix cancer at Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University. It’s an honest and upbeat how-to for anyone needing advice on how to care for a loved one—and yourself—during a medical crisis.
One of the hardest challenges, Matt found, was dealing with the emotional highs and lows after Liz’s cancer treatment ended. They had survived a crisis. Now what?
Writing the book helped him reflect on what he learned as a caregiver, how it strengthened his love for family and friends, how it deepened his gratitude and faith and how others can do the same.
Liz is the book’s biggest fan. She writes in the foreword: “Life can be messy and unpredictable. No matter your struggle—be it cancer, depression or some other major trauma or setback—the takeaways from this book apply to all of them. If you can apply any piece of Matt’s advice to your day-to-day life, I promise your world will be a little brighter.”
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