“They (children) will do as well as you do.” – Unknown
As I was writing about this, I had a thought about a story a fellow once told when speaking to a group about enthusiasm, point of view, children, presentation, etc. He was probably a motivational speaker/psychologist type. I don’t remember, it was years ago, but I remember the story clearly, as it resonated with me.
I share it not to make light of cancer and telling our children, but as an illustration of the idea that they truly will do as well as you do, or those prominent and able in their life to “help” them cope with news such as this. I will tell you also, that my own daughter told her friends, she felt the reason she was able to cope with her Dad’s cancer diagnosis, stay focused on school and be 3,000 miles away from him, was because, “My Mom was so calm. She was concerned, of course, but she just made me feel like we would be OK.” Awww, sniff, sniff. Indeed, no matter what our crisis, we must remember, they are watching, listening and learning.
So this cute story…
A little 4 year old boy came home from school and noticed his pet turtle was belly up in the turtle habitat and began screaming at the top of his lungs and crying hysterically. The father rushed in to see the upside down, presumably dead pet turtle and knew in an instant what was happening. His darling little boy was experiencing his first loss, his first experience with death. The young father quickly tried to figure out a way to help his son negotiate this tragic event in his life. He gathered up his sobbing son on his lap as he sat down on the bed and hugged him, murmuring thoughtful things. When the son started to compose himself the Dad said, “I’m so sorry. Pets die, things die, people die. It is part of life son. But when they die our tradition is to celebrate their life and how they touched us and made us better. So we have something called a funeral, where we do that, celebrate, and then we bury them in the ground and mark the spot. So how about we invite your friends over, and we take a little box with some of Mommy’s velvet material inside and we put him in that, and then we put the box in the wagon and we have a parade around the neighborhood so everyone can say goodbye. Then we’ll come back here and we’ll bury him in the backyard and we’ll all have ice cream sundays! How does that sound?” As the little boy’s eyes got wider and wider with all the excitement of the plans and the friends and the ice cream sunday the father was quite happy that he was turning this around. He was feeling pretty damn proud of himself and then that silly little turtle’s head moved. Both the Dad and the boy looked at the turtle dumbfounded. The little boy turned back to his Dad and said, “Can we kill him Daddy? So we can have the parade and the ice cream sundays!”
So the rest of the story goes, that the Dad and the little boy had the friends over and took the turtle around the neighborhood in the wagon and ended up having ice cream sundays.
These are difficult topics to discuss, and I hope that you can accept them with the spirit of a conversation over coffee between friends. Do the best you can.
Dearest Hannah, Thank you for all you wrote! You bring up an important nuance in this subject (which IS scary to take on, so I thank you for your kind words), that you do indeed take the time you need before you are ready to share. I was hoping mostly to tackle the IDEA that some people do not want to tell their children at all, trying to avoid certain uncomfortable things to “protect”. Anyway, I like very much how you handled it and all that you said. KUDOS!
haha, I have already decided 10% of my scarf sales will go to charity. I have three and will let people choose. One of them of course is Multiple Myeloma research! I even found for my first scarf order something very special (can’t say yet as she may be reading) to weave in just for us MM folks! 🙂
You are always a delight Hanna and I’m so happy that you keep stopping by.
Lori, this is a wonderful series. Thank you for tackling it. You are a brave woman 🙂
My favourite line (can you tell I’m Canadian by the way I spell favourite?) above is ” no matter what our crisis, we must remember, they are watching, listening and learning.”
Our children learn to cope with life by watching how we do it. Whether it’s when your plane gets delayed by 5 hours, or your car breaks down in the middle of a storm, to the obviously more serious issue of health, disease, and death.
I will tell you truthfully that when I was first diagnosed, I didn’t feel a need to tell anyone right away. I was still feeling strong (except for my one tumor which radiation helped). I was on Dex/Velcade then Doxil. My hair stayed on my head. I had energy. I continued to run my company full time (except for the hospital visits but the dex helped me keep longer evening work hours). I still went to our family get togethers. Honestly – I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me or being afraid for me because I was able to stay stronger. I wanted to be as normal as possible. I was fearless and had the attitude that I would reach remission and nobody needed to know at that time.
As soon as my next tumor came up 2 months into the clinical trial (boy – I felt like a failure because I flunked the trial) I knew I had to tell the kids.
Once again, I dealt with it without tears in with the attitude that we must hope for the best but plan for the worst. Of course the kids were terrified, and there were some tears. But I attacked the process as I would any other project. Seeking out blogs that were helpful. Putting a team around me to deal with the physical issues. Still, I only told people on a need to know basis so when we ran into people as a family, the conversations never came to MM and the family felt “normal”.
I am spending my winter in Miami this year. It is my time of healing. When I am alone, I practice my qigong, meditation, yoga, and other exercises. I am in a place that is all inclusive. I am juicing daily.
My daughter came down for a week, and she is living my lifestyle and LOVING IT!!. She says she never felt healthier in her life. We are living our lives to the fullest now, and I am trying to teach her (and my son) that nobody knows what tomorrow will bring. I am lucky to have this disease rather than some of the other, more debilitating ones. I am lucky that I have not faced any other disasters.
Ok – it’s getting too long. I think one day we have to get together somewhere (like this place). Maybe next year I can rent a bigger condo (considering it anyway since kids want to visit with their other halves) and you and Margaret can come visit. Then we can share all this info, and you and Margaret can have even more (like you need it) topics to blog about. Since my business was in technology, I am shying away from being the blogger and enjoying reading your blogs.
ok – nuff said.
Thanks again for tackling this topic.
Oh – maybe we need to get you to make and sell scarves that say “Mission – cure” and you could give a small % to Dr. Berenson.
Take care.
Oh – and get hubby off that duff. It’s already starting to make a difference for me (ok – slow but steady).
Hanna O.