Ever since I got my cancer diagnosis I have felt myself fortunate that my children are too young to be afraid of the word cancer. In fact, the three youngest were there when I got the news. And they were there when the counselor came in to talk to me afterward. And maybe that was when I was supposed to break down. But I was prepared for the news. I could not be afraid in front of my children. I don’t know that they would have noticed. They were too busy arguing, blissfully unaware that anything could disrupt their innocent lives. If I’m honest, I was a little scared. But then I had no idea. I had read about treatment and reassured myself that this was “the good cancer”. No chemo, no hair loss. Really good prognosis. Somehow between then and now the reality has sunk in. Cancer is never good. And it is not something you can just fix. Its something you live with. I intend to live with it a long time. But there will always be reminders. The 4 inch scar on my neck, the yearly scans. The thyroid pills I have to take every day. I’m preparing for my first radioactive iodine treatment. Much preferred over chemo, but no picnic for sure. I am terrified to be away from my children for a week or more. I am terrified of actually being a physical danger to them while radioactive iodine passes through my body. I think this would be easier if my children were older. Only easier on me though. If they were older I’d have to have that conversation with them and we’d have to talk about what cancer is. This illusion shattered this morning over breakfast, or so I thought. Asher asked me, seriously between bites of toast, “Mom what’ does cancer mean?” I was totally caught off guard. Did he hear me talking about cancer? I know his Kindergarten teacher missed school one day to go to her husband’s oncology appointment, maybe he heard about cancer from her? I said, “Why, where did you hear about cancer?” He said, “You know, in the movie Grandma got ran over by a reindeer?” I was trying to think how cancer fit in to that ridiculous cartoon I let my kids watch too many times over Christmas… Then Asher explained, “Santa said we’ll have to CANCEL Christmas.” “Oh, Cancel!” I said. Phew. Cancel I can handle. (Asher pronounces “L” like an “R” sometimes)
January 29, 2008
January 29, 2008 at 4:44 pm
That’s a cute story. Kids are so pure.
I had been wondering if this was going to start to feel bigger for you than it had so far. I was hoping it would sort of “blow over”.
I think your feelings are a big deal, as in they should be taken seriously and reinforced with tons of validation. If that makes sense. I wish I could say a whole bunch of awesome stuff to help you feel super optimistic, but I think in this case you probably just need someone to listen to you while you work it out and come to terms with the longevity and serious nature of this challenge. I would hope you’d call me if you thought a dialog about it might help.
I just really hope that you don’t ever feel like you have to carry this load alone. That would be awful. Unfortunately I think that’s how we (women) deal with things. But I betcha everyone that’s close to you feels in part like they are dealing with this cancer too. I feel that way. And when that’s the case, I think people automatically expect to be involved in helping you (in whichever way you need at the time). So I wouldn’t want you to barricade yourself from that in an effort to not “bother” people. I know it’s tempting to downplay things, but I think it’s probably good to remember how much it helps people to care for others. Plus, when you serve someone, you love them more. So you should take tons of help and make everyone love YOU more than they love anyone else. Bwah ah ah.
January 29, 2008 at 6:35 pm
Madre,
Maybe I should change the name of my blog to “love jessica!” LOL. Seriously, Its nice that you get what I’m saying. And I do know that I have an amazing support system to call on when I need it. I know that it is always challenging for me to understand how to help the people I love when they are in crisis or burdened. That is what makes life experience so valuable. You start to know. Having an outlet like this is great. Somehow its easier to be honest. I find honesty is so much more inspiring to me than some polished version of the truth.
January 30, 2008 at 1:11 am
Hey Jess do you have a date for the radioactive iodine treatment? Have you already stopped nursing Hannah?
You know I thought wow Jess is taking this cancer thing well it must really be not that big of a deal…nice cover up Jess. I guess the truth always surfaces at some point. Well, how ever you feel, like super woman or not, I am here for ya!
February 2, 2008 at 8:36 am
Oh my gosh. You are such an amazing woman.
Seriously.
March 30, 2009 at 11:36 am
Blessings to you on your journey. I had a newborn when I was diagnosed. It’s hard no matter what stage of life you are in, but trying to parent while dealing with cancer is a real challenge. I trust you will find a way through this with grace.