Pink Thoughts Thursday - Week Three

Another week to share my pink thoughts with you, courtesy of Christina and her wonderful idea about Pink Thoughts every Thursday in October.

When it strikes, breast cancer affects a whole family, not just the person diagnosed.  This is true of any cancer but breast cancer lashes out at women more than many other diseases or types of cancer and if the woman has children, this affects the safety and security of their futures.  It matters not what age her children are, a mother is a mother for all time.  Children look to their mother as their rock.  I know that there are families where this is not the case and where there might be distance.  Fathers play a role in their children's lives, but it is the mother who has been the vessel for the birth.  She has been the cocoon, the incubator and home base from day one.  If the children are adopted, the mother may not have physically carried those children, but her heart is their home base and their nest.

Now tell those children that you have breast cancer.

Telling my boys that I had breast cancer was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Telling them something they didn't want to have to consider until I was an old woman tore at my soul.  We said nothing to them, their father and I when I was having additional mammograms and scans and nothing was going to be said until the definitive word had come back from the lab on the core biopsy.  I may well have known in my deepest heart that I had cancer but I didn't want them to worry about tests and results until I had something concrete to share.

It was emotional for all of us.  At 17 and 13 I knew that they were old enough to understand and I felt blessed that they were not small children.  I think that would have broken my heart into pieces.  The 17 year old had just studied biology in school so he had an understanding of cells and their abilities and malfunctions.  At 13, the younger couldn't see beyond the word "cancer" and naturally assumed I was telling him that I was going to die.  Perhaps even that day.

There were tears and there were many, many conversations over those months.  My children saw me cry, they saw me get angry and then they saw me pick myself up and say "lets get on with this!"  When they wanted to, I took them to see where I was going, to meet doctors and to give them a mental image of what was ahead for me.  What children can "see" there is less opportunity for them to worry about.  I rallied and they rallied and we carried on with life as usual.  Our activities didn't change, my commitments didn't change and I know that this helped everyone to give cancer the smallest seat in the house.  We never made it feel welcome and we found many things to laugh at about it.  The word cancer was used, never "hushed up" or hidden away. 

I'd wear my wig to go out -- and the minute I hit the door at home, I'd peel it off and toss it on the bench in the hallway.  Very casual and we all became comfortable with mom's bald head.  So much so that I'd forget, answer the door to their friends and after their initial reaction I'd remember I had nothing on my head.  And the boys' friends would tell me not to bother...they were cool with it. 

Remember to talk to the children and the spouse of anyone who is going through cancer.  There is a tendency for them to be ignored, forgotten or left to fend for themselves.  Sometimes people are afraid to ask them how they are coping or feeling but it's good for them to know others care and that they are still vital to the family unity.  I would check in with my children on a regular basis to gauge their emotional level, just as I would do if I had never known cancer.

Honesty.  Truth.  Emotions.  It's important to share all of that with your children when this happens.  Open communication is the key to all good relationships.  Always.  In every circumstance.

*pink dahlia umbrella from omiru.com