Is “normal” just a setting on the washing machine?
Is it possible to treat a child who has undergone cancer treatment as a normal kid? My immediate reaction is absolutely not! Even after completing treatment almost four years ago, I cannot do it no matter how hard I try.
I vividly remember one scene in the month following our return home from St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. My oldest son was required to attend our church’s weekly Lenten services each Wednesday evening. I accompanied him to each service. I was still in a very emotionally “fragile” state of mind. At St. Jude, we met and felt a bond with one child who was literally dying. I had bonded with several families and with many children, a few of whom had already passed. But at this juncture, this particular child was in peril and it was emotionally devastating. I cried at every Lenten service. One evening in particular, I continued to cry until I got into the car with my son. I began to apologize to him for being so emotional and for possibly embarrassing him by my inability to “hold it together.” He was kind, but in a matter of fact tone stated: “Mom, it’s over now!” It was an endearing comment. However, right then and there, I recognized that worrying about my daughter’s health might never actually be “over” for me. I’ll most likely continue to worry about a recurrence of the cancer and all sorts of treatment-related side effects.
Whenever my daughter becomes sick, even with minor illnesses, I am more protective of her than I am of my other three children. Whenever she says her head hurts, or her legs feel funny, I go on high alert. I watch her like a hawk. And I’m fairly certain that I am not alone in this regard.
Admittedly, I have kept her home from school on several occasions when I knew she wasn’t really sick. When “fake-itis” is her mood du jour, I indulge her stay-at-home day to love her exclusively. There have even been a few occasions when, upon returning from out of town, I have let her stay at home to catch up on “Mom time” and to give her extra TLC. In the grand scheme of things, I believe that the security and connection that she enjoys outweighs the negatives of missing a day at school. My experiences with my older children have taught me that missing a day in elementary school isn’t as crucial as a day missed in high school.
I can definitely see where children who have been through this situation may feel a bit entitled to continued special treatment. If being constantly supported and loved and given special consideration when coping with childhood cancer leads to a need for a different kind of therapy for her (I mean “couch therapy”,) I will be happy to accept that consequence. I’d rather be accused of overprotecting my child rather than under-protecting her.
Tell Us About Your Experience
As a friend of CaringBridge, I’d like to hear your thoughts on helping a child who has been through such an extraordinary experience make the transition to a “normal” existence. Everyone in the CaringBridge community would value your story and your opinion, so please share them with us today.
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