Ok, there's the dirty truth. I'm sure this will create some "interesting" responses. Hear me out first, before you judge.
I think I should preface my children before I explain. And keep in mind, I love my children at a level that defies explanation. My oldest is drama boy. He will tell you that too. He's me, in boy form - next generation. He can take anything and over-react to it and make it bigger than it is. (Yep, me cloned!) At nine, he can throw a temper tantrum to make both a 2 year old and 13 year old proud at the same time. My youngest is an emotional, old soul. He worries about everything (me too) and is highly emotional. He walks into a room and immediately absorbs the emotions of the people in it. I will never take him to a funeral. Or his brother. Period. So, now you know more about my beautiful boys.
When I was diagnosed with melanoma, the boys knew something was up. My oldest because I couldn't get him what he wanted. My youngest because his mom was hurting physically and emotionally. They both saw my 4" wound the day after it was installed because my husband picked me up off the floor when I thought I'd torn out some stitches and was bleeding. (I didn't but it wasn't pretty. The pain had literally dropped me to my feet.) They asked me why I had that "ouchie."
Every melanoma parent/patient must decide what to tell those around them. My husband and I decided to be absolutely honest with everyone but our children. (Take a deep breath, I'm not done) We decided that we had nothing to hide, be ashamed of, or avoid from people around us...except our children. The two of us talked about how or what to tell our boys. After a relatively short discussion, we decided that telling them that mom had cancer was absolutely not the way to go. This decision was easy for both of them, but for different reasons. We decided to tell them that mommy had moles that could make her very sick and they had to be removed but we've never used the word melanoma or cancer to them or even with them in hearing distance. Every time I get a new set of stitches, or two, we explain that the doctor took the off to make sure I don't "get sick."
I did wonder that first week if we had made the right decision. Every parent questions their decisions. Big or small. I believe in Karma, God-winks, whatever you call them. And about a week after our decision, I received one. My youngest son, the empathetic one, was worried about me because I was still struggling to use my left arm. I remember telling him, "Mama's ok, she's getting better but it takes time." His response was, "I'm worried that you might die Mama. It scares me." Thank God my husband was in the house and overheard that comment. I immediately lost it. I had to walk away. I was sobbing. Keep in mind that I still did not know how invasive the disease was. I was worried about death and leaving my children without a mother. Was I facing chemo/radiation? More surgeries? Hospitalization? My husband scooped up my youngest and reassured him (somewhat falsely) that Mama was just fine and would be better soon. We did not know that then. Yes, we flat out lied to the boys. And I don't regret it for a second. Even retelling that leaves me in tears, 9 months later.
Time provides an amazing perspective on our decisions. I do not regret for a second not telling the boys about my disease. We still have not used the c-word in the boy's hearing range. I have used "melanoma" around them but very sparingly. Our friends/family do not use these terms either in respect for our wishes. We frequently remind them of our our wishes about this. And I do not regret it for a second, for different reasons. I know that omitting the truth may be seen as different than telling a lie but I was raised in a house/family where those are the same thing. And that is what I am teaching my children.... but I am not leading by example......... in this case.
I do feel guilty some days. I wonder if I've made the right decision. Doesn't any parent? But when I lay down at night to go to bed, I'm perfectly ok with my (our) decision. My boys don't need to know I have cancer. And I'm ok with telling them a lie. In just this case. And only this circumstance. (For now!)
There will come a time, in the future, where I will tell my children about my disease. I spend many sleepless moments wondering when that time will come. Will it be measured in years or decades? Will it be measured in scars or levels of invasiveness? I really don't know. I keep reminding myself that I will know deep down, as a parent, when the time is right. And that I will always question it, because that is what parents do. Right?
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