When Ann got diagnosed with her breast-cancer, we consciously decided to let our two daughters (I’m their step-dad) Jenny and Britney (15, 13) know what happened. As we went on to see doctors and go for treatments, etc. we certainly did not share all details with them all the time. Further to that, we tried to keep our fear and worries away from them.
And when I was diagnosed just a few weeks ago with kidney cancer, we told them right away, too.
We received a lot of criticism for deciding to involve our children to some into what’s going on. Or I should say, that I did – I’m actually not sure whether Ann did, too, but people at work and relatives of mine made it very clear, that they would never let their children know if they were going to get cancer. It actually made me angry. I hate it when others try to “help”, advising us on what we should do and what we shouldn’t do.
It was stupid on my part, admittedly. Because all they were trying to do was to help. But on the other hand, I question people’s eligibility to make such statements since they don’t have cancer and therefore cannot understand the situation. It’s a little bit like folks who don’t have children commenting on yours and telling you what and how they would do things differently if they had kids. I think you get my point, right?
 
Ann and I felt that the kids dealt very well with the situation. First of all, I think they didn’t see us suffer or in pain. Except for when we came back from our surgeries/procedures and were a little bit incapacitated for a couple of days afterwards.
Jenny for instance asked me, whether kidney cancer was worse than kidney stones. Simply because she had heard of how excruciatingly painful kidney stones can be, but her two parents with cancer seemed to be doing pretty well. Britney on the other hand could seemingly care any less about all that. Seemingly! She deals with things completely differently, she keeps them to herself. Of course we know that she does care, there is no doubt, she just doesn't like to show it.
So we thought that everything was going okay with the two of them. Until we recently received a call from Jenny’s school nurse. She told us that Jenny had been found roaming around in the hallway when the Vice-Principal found her and asked her why she wasn’t in class. She said she lost track of time. Then she started to melt down and cry. He asked her who her teacher was and she said “I don’t know.” The Vice-Principal perceived her answer as a potential indication that she might have been taking drugs. To keep the story short, it caused quite a little bit of commotion. Jenny is always very concerned about doing things the right way, including home-work. She is as far away from drugs as I am from starting a career as an ice-dancer. She broke down; it was too much for her.

Later back home after some talking, she told us how scared she is of both of us having cancer. She kept crying and crying.

It just proved again what an idiot I am. I completely underestimated the situation and the impact our situation had on her. And it’s not because we told her about our cancer. Sooner or later she would have found out anyway. But I could have done a much better job in proactively talking to her and especially about how she feels her worries and concerns. In a way it was good that all that happened. I think it taught us a lesson. For example: when Jenny asks me now how I feel, I tell her the truth and not just an “I’m alright”. I take my time and really tell her how I feel. It’s a matter of finding the right choice of words, but it is much better that way. That makes her part of the process and she understands that we are concerned at times, but we are also positive that both of us will be alright.

Which we truthfully are!

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