September 1 • 2019 The Mail on Sunday Health 53
took up DIY and walked around
with a big DIY book under his arm,’
she remembers.
‘April got really upset. When I
asked her why, she said, “You didn’t
tell me you were going to die – Daddy
is walking around with a book called
The Big Book of DIE!” She had
mistaken DIY for die and thought I
was preparing for my death.’
Emma Gleadhill says this is per-fectly natural. ‘You can’t hide death
from children. Many will know of
a parent of another child who has
died or had cancer, or seen TV pro-
grammes where it’s mentioned.
Even children’s TV tackles all sorts
of dark things these days.’
The solution? Stop Google from
filling in the gaps by engaging
in constant ‘micro-conversations’.
‘Take opportunities to have lotsof mini-conversations about how
they feel about new, difficult devel-
opments,’ says Emma.
‘This lets them ask questions and
process their emotions.’
Dr Hollins suggests introducing
children to the natural life cycles
of plants and animals as a teach-
ing aid. ‘You can say, “We all
have our natural cycle of life and
isn’t that extraordinary?” Theybegin to see the natural cycle of
life and death.’... BUT DON’T MAKE
FALSE PROMISES EITHER
WHEN Archie first asked Helen if
she was going to die, her reaction
was: ‘Of course not.’ Today she
regrets using words. ‘In hindsight itwasn’t the best thing to say because
who knows what will happen?’
False promises can, according
to Dr Hollins, be detrimental to a
child’s mental health.
‘Our mental health is built on
trust in relationships,’ she says.
‘If we can’t trust adults to talk to
us truthfully, it may lead to sub-
sequent abandonment or attach-
ment issues.’
It is for this reason that Deborah
James has not made any promises
to her children about the outcome
of her bowel cancer. ‘My kids are
well aware that my cancer is incur-
able. I’ve never promised them that
I won’t die,’ says Deborah, who
blogs about her condition under the
Instagram name Bowel Babe.
‘My son has even written about
how he feels about me dying.’
And what about when her treat-
ment options run out?
‘I’ve decided we’ll continue to be
open about what will happen but
enlist a child bereavement coun-
sellor to prepare the whole family
together,’ she says.
A little shielding is necessary
too, says Emma. She advises: ‘Don’t
be too brutal about it. Talk in terms
of success and failure rates of
treatments instead. Acknowledge
that it will be a difficult time, but
the positive is the whole family are
there to support each other.’
Dr Hollins advises parents to
explore their feelings about their
own mortality first. ‘Perhaps see a
counsellor beforehand to refine the
narrative you’ll teach the children,
ensuring it’s wise and truthful.’
And having a circle of strong,
supportive adults around them is
essential too. Dr Hollins explains:
‘What matters most is that they
have other adults to rely upon,
whether that’s a neighbour or
uncles and aunts. Remember you
can’t do this alone.’CANCER DOESN’T MAKE
YOU A BAD PARENT
IN THE three years since Debo-
rah got her diagnosis, she feels
she has become a far more engaged
parent. ‘Before cancer, my career
was as important to me as being
a mother. It makes me shudder to
think that the first time I went
to sports day was when I found out
I had cancer.
‘Now, I’m not always perfect but
we enjoy plenty of nuggets of fun.’
Helen agrees that cancer has
‘given me my family back’. She
listens more, dedicates more time
to her children and is honest about
her feelings. As a result, her chil-
dren are ‘more compassionate and
sensitive towards other people’.
‘Sometimes my son will ask me
how I’m feeling – he’s aware of
my ups and downs – and will make
me a cup of tea.’
Helen and Deborah’s stories have
reaffirmed what I already knew.
It is often the conversations you
dread the most and that test you the
most that are the most rewarding.lFollow Helen on Instagram
and Twitter @thetittygritty. Visit
drkathrynhollins.com for support.My nine-year-old Googled: What will
happen the week before Mummy dies?
MY PARENTS’ wORLD IMPLODED – BUT FOR YEARS
I LI vED IN BLISSFUL IgNORANCE OF DAD’S CANCER
By Eve
Simmons
Deputy
health eDitorWHAT becomes of the children
of cancer victims?
Well, I should know. My dad
Jeff was diagnosed with a rare
form of sinus cancer when I
was aged just seven.
One night, when I was nine, an
ambulance – flashing sirens and
all – was called to our house.
The chemotherapy treatment
he had been receiving had
brought on a major blood clot
in his brain, increasing the risk
of a stroke or sudden death.
He endured a night of invasive
tests and was drip-fed drugs at
the hospital before returning
home with my mum, Michele,
in the early hours.
Not that I would have known
it. My brother Sam, then aged
nine, and I enjoyed a marvellous
evening at a neighbour’s house,
playing football and gorging
on takeaway pizza. Thesesecretive operations were a
regular occurrence throughout
Dad’s six-year illness, I would
later learn.
Honesty, my parents were
told, was the best policy.
But they didn’t follow this rule.
So as my mother and
father’s world imploded, Sam
and I enjoyed a blissful early
childhood. We were whisked
away to the seaside by relatives
and were delighted by food
packages sent by family friends.
We felt lucky that our father
was at home every night and
took joy in helping us with
homework. Little did we knowthat his rampant disease forbade
him from doing much else.
Fifteen years after his
death, I asked my mum: Why
the secrets?
‘We wanted to safeguard
your childhood as much as
possible,’ she says.
‘We didn’t know what was
going to happen and if we
would have told you back then,
you’d be waiting six years for
your father to die.’
It wasn’t until Dad lost his
hair, three years after his
diagnosis, that Mum mentioned
the word cancer. And even
then, as a nine-year-old, it
went over my head.
It was only much later, when
I was 12, that they were forced
to explain the situation. Mum
explained calmly that Dad had
deteriorated, and extended
family rallied to help. He died ina hospice four days before my
13th birthday.
I thought I’d remained
relatively unscathed. But almost
a decade later, I developed an
anxiety-related eating disorder.
My mum thinks the two could
be linked. She says: ‘The
underlying sense of anxiety was
found to have a negative affect.
‘I thought you were like a
pressure-cooker and one day
all the emotions would build up
inside you and burst.’
But I disagree. After all, I was
an anxious child even before
Dad’s cancer struck. And
despite the tragedy of losing
him, I feel lucky for a joyous
and carefree childhood, filled
with unconditional love.
There is no correct answer
when it comes to coping with
cancer. As trite as it sounds,
love really is your best defence.FAMILY BOND:
Eve as a baby with
her father Jeff. Far
left: Helen Addis
and her children