The stats from the National Cancer Institute tell me that somewhere between 25% and 30% of adults with a cancer diagnosis have children in the home.
That’s a lot of Mommies and Daddies without hair. That’s a lot of Mommies and Daddies trying to keep themselves upright and care for their children. That’s a lot of Mommies and Daddies in the fight of their lives being cared for by spouses and loved ones who have shifted into survival mode. (And I say that with great love because I have done the shifting myself).
That’s a lot of children going to school or daycare and wondering what’s happening at home. That’s a lot of children feeling confused, isolated, scared and forgotten.
That’s lot of children wondering if they did something to cause Daddy to become sick or wondering if there is something that they can do to make Mommy stop crying in the shower.
Truly, the experts are realizing the stress and toll that cancer takes on the family members. All of the family members…not just the big people.
There are so many resources aimed at the patient (rightfully so) and to a lesser extent, the caregiver (also rightfully so). But a family shouldn’t have to search so hard (and frankly, who has time?) to find the resources that they need for their children.
Where did you turn? Who helped you? What made a difference?
Today I attending an amazing class led by Kristn Souers MA, LMHC. The class was ultimately about using a Trauma Sensitive lens to help professionals in their interactions with children and families who have experienced trauma. I’m a volunteer CASA and so I went with the goal of improving my skills in that regard. But one of her segments really spoke to me as a person and as a Mom.
Eeyore or Pollyanna? Isn’t that really what it is about? Not jus the trauma, but how we respond to it? Don’t we all know people who go all Chicken Little when they get a splinter? Don’t we also all know someone who can bear more trauma than human should have to and still stays upright?
As much as I never want my son to experience trauma: the odds are that he will…some variety or another. Most of us do, after all. the good news is that Kristen taught us today that we can teach ourselves and our children certain skills that will help us to be more resilient in the face of that future trauma. One of those skills is as simple and as complicated as believing that one can handle whatever situation that he is given.
That’s one life mantra that this family lives by. We can handle it. We may be knocked down but we will stand back up. I only hope that my son, when he “is big like Daddy” (as he loves to say) will hear my words in the back of his mind if he ever doubts himself.
“You can do it. I trust you. Just try. I believe in you. You are amazing.”
I think some people don’t give the children in their lives enough credit. They think children can’t handle big, hairy topics like cancer. Of course, kids don’t understand it like adults do (not that we really understand it either). But they are able to make some sense out of it.
For example, our son made sense out of it in a way that I only wish I had thought to. My husband wore a purple arm band (purple for Hodgkin’s) during treatment. He wore it on his left arm. His port was placed on his upper right chest. Our son, at the tender age of two, figured out the connection. He knew that he needed to sit on “Daddy’s purple arm side”. He knew that if he hugged Daddy or was picked up on that side then he wouldn’t accidentally bump the port and hurt Daddy.
Cute story, sure. But it makes my point. Children will make sense out of whatever is going on. We were lucky. Our son’s logic was basically sound. But if he had drawn his own conclusions in an inaccurate way, we could have had trouble. This is why I really believe that parents need to communicate with their children about these life situations It’s really the only way to control accuracy and influence attitude.
I was thinking this morning how this whole project started.
It was all about how to talk to my little boy about his Daddy’s cancer diagnosis. And more than that, it was to give it an optimistic, positive tone. It was to keep my own head about the surface of the water so that I could keep my family on an even keel. I figured that I really had only two choices: sit in a corner and suck my thumb while my husband endured chemo treatments OR face it with humor and grace and allow our son to see me do that.
And here’s the deal…I have no poker face at all. Whatever I am feeling: good, bad or ugly; it’s right here on my face for the whole world to see. On top of that, our son is at the age when he is learning empathy. That means that not only does he see exactly how Mommy is feeling, he also mirrors it back at me.
If that isn’t reason enough to Live Sunny Side Up, I don’t know what is.