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This is the first time, in more than two months, that I am sitting down at my computer to write a new entry for my blog Raising Grieving Children. I have said that my best teachers are the people I talk with who share their stories with me about illness, death and grief. Last June I recorded a You Tube at the annual meeting of the Association for Death Education and Counseling in Miami, Florida. What I talked about was what I learned from my many years of working with the bereaved. I received the You Tube in my e-mail this week. Sharing it with my readers seems like a good way of starting to contribute to my blog on a more regular basis.
As I talk about what I have learned from others I have begun to appreciate what I learn from my own experience and my own stories. This is my story. I have spent these past months receiving treatment for a recurrence of a cancer that I thought was cured three years ago. The first occurrence of this cancer was easy to live with. It required surgery and when that was done I was ostensibly "cured" and needed no further treatment. I was pleased and went about my business. This time treatment involved radiation and chemo therapy. It was a very different experience. While the cancer was very small and was found very early, it needed to be attended to immediately. As a result of the treatment, I soon found that I was very tired and couldn't concentrate on much of anything. For those of you who have lived with cancer and in many instance watched it take your spouse's or your child's life I have a new understanding of what is involved. I am not sure I have the words to describe all of my feelings and how I have lived through it. For the moment the news is good and the doctors are optimistic about the future. I am not even sure that I should be writing about this but it is so relevant to what many of you have experienced that I could not hide it. The need to share seems to be important.
I can't tell you all that I learned because I am not yet sure I know. What I am sure of is that it is very important not to pull into myself and to let others who can help, help. People helped by bringing me supper so that I didn't have to cook. I am also sure that it was important to explain to my young grandchildren what was wrong with me. While they had no idea what cancer meant, they understood what we were referring to when they heard the word. They needed to understand all the changes in my routine and why after awhile I didn't feel well. This made a difference and when they asked what they could do to help I asked them to make me a get well gift. The oldest wove me what she called a friendship bracelet, made of my favorite colors. I wore it when I went for treatment. The youngest gave me a picture of herself taken on her first day of kindergarten, pasted in a get well card. It was in my purse during this entire period. My son told their teachers so that if there was an emergency the school would be prepared. He felt confident that the teachers could handle whatever came up. Hopefully that would be true for all of your children's teachers as well.
There is still a good deal to learn from my illness and it will come little by little as I try to put together the pieces.
