…..junior style.
Picture the scene, the Bad Fairy family trundling along in the car early on a Monday morning and the following conversation takes place.
Master BF, “Where’re we going? Oh, it’s the hospital. Why? It’s sooo boring!”
Me, “I have to have my weekly blood test so we won’t be here long.”
Master BF, “That’s no fun. It’s so sooooo boring.”
Miss BF, “ Don’t moan! It’s not fun for Mum either. She has to have blood tests so she can have her medicine. If she doesn’t have her medicine she’ll die because her liver won’t work and you don’t want that do you?”
Master BF (sheepishly!), “No.”
Miss BF (after a few moments pondering), “Mum, when you’re dead what will you be like?”
Me, “ ……..Smelly!”
Miss BF, “Hmmm, I don’t think you’ll be bad smelly, I think you’ll be good smelly like when you’ve had a shower.”
Not a tear shed, although I admit to a slight lump in the throat, and the conversation ended up discussing Egyptians and cats!!
I think that’s a good sign that the jumbled boxes are slowly being put in order again. Last week that same overheard conversation would have had me in pieces and certainly wouldn’t have received the same contribution from me.
Children, so accepting, so innocent and so utterly loveable and wonderful. All the more reason to do everything to prolong this adventure for as long as possible.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Saturday, 27 March 2010
Talking to children ...
….about cancer.
How do we do it? It’s hard enough sometimes talking to adults and explaining things but children are a completely different kettle of fish.
This isn’t a text book way of talking to children when a parent has cancer, this is just our experience.
Master and Miss Bad Fairy are eight and seven. We started off explaining that things had gone wrong in my liver, as that was the obvious bit, what with me being all yellow. Children are little sponges and before long we were having discussions about anatomy and human biology around the breakfast table. Then things got confusing! How did the bad bits get there? What will the chemo do? Will it go away again? It’s so easy to forget, particularly when they ask intelligent questions, just how old they are.
In the midst of all this, Master Bad Fairy mentioned laser guns (he’s a Star Wars fanatic) and there the story began which enabled them to “see” what was happening in a way which they felt comfortable with.
The bad bits were made from little black lego bricks which kept building walls. The chemo put some “goodies” into me (think lego versions of Luke Skywalker) and the “goodies” charged around inside my body blasting the bad bits with their laser guns! They get gentle reminders that the bad bits will be here forever and that the laser guns will run out of power and we’ll have to try new ones. For the time being they’re happy with that.
We’ve also taken them with us to the hospital so they can see where I get treated. They’ve met a couple of the chemo nurses, been a big hit with the receptionist, had a very close inspection of blood being taken (I’d offered them the chance to sit outside … but no, they wanted to see!) and a tour of the ct scanner. With the amazing powers of imagination that children have the fear of the unknown can be immense. Now they don’t worry when I have to go to the hospital because they know where I’ll be and who I’ll see.
The one thing we’ve promised them is that we will tell them whenever we’re told anything new. The most important thing, I think, is that they know they can ask anything at anytime and we will always have the time to sit and listen to their thoughts and fears.
How do we do it? It’s hard enough sometimes talking to adults and explaining things but children are a completely different kettle of fish.
This isn’t a text book way of talking to children when a parent has cancer, this is just our experience.
Master and Miss Bad Fairy are eight and seven. We started off explaining that things had gone wrong in my liver, as that was the obvious bit, what with me being all yellow. Children are little sponges and before long we were having discussions about anatomy and human biology around the breakfast table. Then things got confusing! How did the bad bits get there? What will the chemo do? Will it go away again? It’s so easy to forget, particularly when they ask intelligent questions, just how old they are.
In the midst of all this, Master Bad Fairy mentioned laser guns (he’s a Star Wars fanatic) and there the story began which enabled them to “see” what was happening in a way which they felt comfortable with.
The bad bits were made from little black lego bricks which kept building walls. The chemo put some “goodies” into me (think lego versions of Luke Skywalker) and the “goodies” charged around inside my body blasting the bad bits with their laser guns! They get gentle reminders that the bad bits will be here forever and that the laser guns will run out of power and we’ll have to try new ones. For the time being they’re happy with that.
We’ve also taken them with us to the hospital so they can see where I get treated. They’ve met a couple of the chemo nurses, been a big hit with the receptionist, had a very close inspection of blood being taken (I’d offered them the chance to sit outside … but no, they wanted to see!) and a tour of the ct scanner. With the amazing powers of imagination that children have the fear of the unknown can be immense. Now they don’t worry when I have to go to the hospital because they know where I’ll be and who I’ll see.
The one thing we’ve promised them is that we will tell them whenever we’re told anything new. The most important thing, I think, is that they know they can ask anything at anytime and we will always have the time to sit and listen to their thoughts and fears.
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