Bayou Kidz | Talking with Your Children About the “C” Word

article by Cindy G. Foust

Happy fall, y’all! I literally wait a whole year to be able to start my column with that. But here we are, in somewhat sweltering temperatures and we are supposed to be excited about making s’mores and watching football. Wait. I am excited about watching football, especially my Warhawks. I’m sure everyone out there has their favorite, too, especially you little league parents with your flag footballers or Tackle 1 youngsters. Gosh, those were the days! We didn’t know how good we had it; practices every afternoon, as if we were competing for the Super Bowl. Wait. We were competing for the Toy Bowl, so that’s kind of the same. I remember the first time I made my son’s team a “run-through” to get them “fired up Big Team” for the big game. The other team, of course, looked at me like I was bougie-MOM, which of course, I was. I mean, doesn’t every 8-year old little league football team have a large scale, attached to PVC pipes, run-through for their Toy Bowl game? Well, mine did, and I just let those parents talk about me. Then there was the time we played in a baseball tournament in Dallas (or somewhere in Texas, they all run together) and our team was in this parade. I can’t remember why, doesn’t matter, but they needed a big sign to carry (again, attached to PVC pipe), and we had the extraordinarily talented Tim Brandon draw all their faces in caricature. The really “bougie” part is when we made the team a “float” to walk in, also out of PVC pipe and decorated it with fringe. Oh, and the boys wore crawfish and alligator hats and threw Mardi Gras beads. Okay…we won. Judge if you must, me and my bougie-MOM pack will gladly wear the bougie badge. Gosh, I would go back to those days in a second…a millisecond. When I go down memory lane like this, it seems like it was a dream, a fairytale, all of us working, raising our children with some of our best friends, traveling the United States (okay, to Texas and maybe Florida) playing baseball, eating Mexican food whenever we could and just taking it all in. And while I wished for those moments in time to just stop, there were other things happening in my life that I did not wish time to stop for.

In 2012, in what started as a normal morning getting the kids to school, taking a phone conference, routine things, my life took an unexpected, and unwelcome turn. What started as a “symptom” turned out to be, within about 7 days, a breast cancer diagnosis. Time literally did in fact stop, screeching halt kind of stopped. You know, I have been writing a column for BayouLife for almost 12 years (still no watch, facial, pedicure or Botox for my loyal and faithful servitude), and I have written about “that time” in only a few columns throughout the years. Why? It’s difficult to write about for one, and two, I really don’t like going back to “that time” (and what would be a subsequent diagnosis in 2020), and choose rather to squash it out, repress it if you will, and get all energy and thoughts positive. Well, that’s kind of a lie, too, because keeping thoughts positive when you have to go to a big scary hospital for a check-up every 6 months is really, really hard to do.

But, I do it. For the sake of the good health I now enjoy and will continue to, I do it.

But when I do allow my mind to traipse back to 2012, the start of it all, the most prominent and soul-searing memories are the conversations I had with my children. Bringing children into conversations surrounding the “C” word are most definitely some of the most difficult you will have as a parent. Through the years, especially now that I have two “C” word journeys under my belt, people have reached out to me as they begin their own battle. Most of the time, they want to know two things: 1) details about the treatment and 2) how to bring their children into the process without scaring them to death. Sigh. Then, another long sigh. Number 1 is much easier to answer because most of the time it’s clinical and with breast cancer, the treatment is likely very similar in nature. Number 2? Welp, that’s an entirely different animal.

Sadly for me and Scott, we’ve had to navigate these waters twice now, and all the while when our children were at tender ages, especially the 2012 diagnosis. I’ll never forget my son, who was in 7th grade at the time, asking me point blank, without missing a beat, if I was going to die. I get a lump in my throat just typing that. But the truth is, readers, we are all going to die, so answering his question was a slippery slope so, will I die from breast cancer is where we chose to take our answer.

Once I assured him that I was going to be fine, and that I would likely have to have surgery, but I was going to be okay, then the tears started. And more questions. Will I lose my hair? Will I be sick? Doesn’t the medicine you have to take make you throw up? Will you be able to go to my games?

And you know what? We just let him ask all the questions.

And we tried to answer as truthfully and positively as we could.

Because here’s the deal, friends, none of us really have the answers. And children have a much different lens that they view life through. They are able to take your answer and compartmentalize it somewhere in their mental file cabinet and bring it out when they have to. And they are able to go back to their homework, or their video games, or their dance class and resume their life.

And that’s what we want them to do. We want things to stay as normal and as positive and as upbeat as we possibly can. They deserve that. We, as the patient, deserve that. And as often as possible, let them ask the questions, let them cry it out, or have discussions about the circumstances and what they can expect.

In this month of breast cancer awareness, I am acutely “aware” that some families must face other types of cancers and everyone’s journey is different. But what locks us all together, is our desire to make our children as comfortable and safe and secure as we possibly can, while they watch us go through it. Trust me, they don’t miss anything and are watching at even the tenderest of ages. Some people may choose to share limited information, others may choose to be in full disclosure, and I think it likely really depends on the age of your children. Mine were in 7th and 1st on the first go around, and a young adult and in high school on the second. In any case, it’s deeply personal in how it’s handled, but at the end of the day, no matter their ages, we have to trust their questions, answer them, and allow them to talk about their fears.

And for me, I have stomped a mud hole in “C” twice now. Can I say that in a children’s column? Y’all know I love Jesus but I cuss a little and you are lucky I didn’t say something worse. I’m feeling grateful and blessed in this month of breast cancer awareness and extremely blessed for my good health. I wish for any of you who must face this giant, that you are able to put your game face on, bring your loved ones, especially your children, in real tight, put your head down and get it done. You can and you will. I’m living proof of it.

Cindy G. Foust is a wife, mom, author and blogger. You can find her blog at the alphabetmom.com for weekly columns about home life,  parenting, small business stories and insight with a smidgen of literacy. Give her a like or follow on Facebook and Instagram.