When Lee’s adult son was diagnosed with cancer, she offered her loving support from a distance. Inside, she felt a mix of complex emotions. In this post, collected through our story portal, Lee unravels the complexity of her emotions and traces them to their source.
The emotions I stuffed since what I've come to think of as Little C entered our lives still bubble up for me.
LeeCaregiver
My story of supporting an adult child through cancer has a happy ending. So, I shouldn’t complain, right?
As cancer goes, this one was a breeze. Basal cell carcinoma (BCC) rarely spreads to other parts of the body. In my son’s case, doctors removed all of it and reconstructed his nostril. My role was minimal. A friend volunteered to help my son before and after surgery — no need to fly there. His dad helped with expenses.
I simply had to listen and stay calm when my son, who is in his mid-30s, wanted to talk about his fears and the upcoming surgery, which wasn't often. I checked the urge to give advice, chastise, or scream. I always let him bring it up except for an occasional “How you doing?”
Yet, even from a distance, it was INTENSE.
My son's scars may eventually fade. Most people can’t even tell he’s had surgery.
Recently, when catching up with a colleague, I said, "My son had cancer this year."
She replied, "Well, you said ‘skin cancer,’ so that's good news.”
Right! Yet my fear of recurrence runs deep.
So does my anger, which hit me full force once my son was cancer free. I've always talked to him about the dangers of sun exposure, especially as a pale-skinned redhead. I shielded him from its rays as best I could, as long as I could. (Teens don’t think flap hats are cool…)
I got through it without support because it seemed so minor. I would have felt silly asking for help.
Months later, the emotions I stuffed since what I've come to think of as Little C entered our lives still bubble up for me. They range from low-grade panic to spacing out and difficulty concentrating; a few dropped items, and two small dents in the car.
My anger was palpable at times, but there was no one to talk to about it.
When I finally just sat with the fear instead of running away, what arose was lingering grief over the two dear friends I've lost to The Big C. Only then could I tease my son's fortunate outcome away from that sadness and put it into perspective.
I’m coping much better now, and writing this has helped.
Like I always said to my children when they were small: Feelings just are. Don't diminish yours.
Tell Us Your Story
Are you getting help from a loved one, or helping a loved one navigate cancer? What has been most helpful to you throughout your experience?
