Fathers of Cancer Kids
This post has been gracefully hijacked by my husband as he genuinely spills his position on being a cancer Dad. This may be of benefit, as wives, to read this and begin to understand that men may hide their feelings in order to protect their family. It is a mechanism built in from childhood. However, this post is to remind the Mamas that there is a safe space for cancer Dads to connect called The FOCKrs. That page is for Dads only. So, if your child’s Dad is interested in finding community, support and possible Dad events, then send your dude this post.
The common man
When we think about the men in today’s society, we think of a broad shoulder man who places his home on his back and protects everything that is inside. A man is always strong, a rock in the storm, a lighthouse in the fog, and a rope to those who need saving. We are the tree that stands tall in the forest giving shade and safety for our family who resides within its shadows, keeping them from the heat of the sun and the winds as they gust. We are those men, aren’t we?
As a father of a child who has fought cancer and is currently in remission, I thought I was all of those things to my family and friends. However, I now know I am none of those things. I was first introduced to the notion that I was only a simple part of the big picture when the doctor sat next to us describing the necessity for surgery on my daughter’s head to remove a tumor which was quickly trying to take over her body. I sat there with my wife looking at a screen as the doctor pointed his finger at something called cancer.
So, what did this oak of a man do when he left the doctor’s office, I cried like a little school girl, but not in front of my wife. Then, we were quickly introduced to new Doctors, new terminology, treatment plans, and hospital staff in a whirlwind event called treatment. I sat helplessly aside watching a two-year-old get needles inserted in her body, injected with deadly chemicals flowing through tubs, and just praying all this would keep my child ALIVE. These ideas of I could protect, I was a rock, I was the steadfast tree, and I could throw this life saving rope to save my family, was farse. I was simply a husband and a father to a sick child.
We were told there was No Evidence of Disease (NED) and we could go back to a normal life. Now that’s a joke I laugh at every time I say it. Is there such a thing, normal life after treatment. Every cough, cold, sneeze, headache, complaint of pain brings a moment of dreadful fear that something is wrong. Then every time you get scans, have checkups, or get blood draws the anxiety of receiving a good report brings us to our knees praying the process will not have to start over. This is not normal, it’s absolutely crazy.
How do we cope and move into the supportive place for our family that allows us, as men, to feel like we are that rock, tree, lighthouse, and life saving rope for our families? I have found for me the way I have found my strength is to recognize I am not alone. I am not the only man who has been powerless watching this destructive event occur and having no control. When my wife and I attend many of the childhood cancer family venues, I have come to the realization that the fathers need a place to heal. A safe place where other men can discuss their fears and struggles to people who are living or have lived out the same experiences.
As I have talked with other fathers, I have begun healing myself, and that what I was feeling was…..OK. I would encourage any father who is going through depression and frustration of watching a child go through cancer to reach out to another father who has been through a similar process. In this, you will know you are not alone and be able to talk about how to heal through the process. After diagnosis, we are all now a part of the same community. Let’s use our community to continue to fight as our kids fight, mourn with those who have lost the fight, and celebrate with those who are thriving.
This is my little peanut