I was on my way to pick up my 10-year-old daughter Freya from a birthday party when I received the news I might have cancer. I said to the doctor, “I don’t have time for cancer,” and he said, “Well, you’re going to have to make a bit of time.”
I was devastated. It felt like the rug had been pulled from underneath me. Everything I’d assumed about my life was gone in that instant. I was going to live this long and happy life, and all of a sudden it was like, “Well, that might not happen.” I literally had to plaster a smile on my face, pick up my daughter and pretend everything was okay until the kids – my son Gordon was seven at the time – went to bed. Then I talked to my husband Scott about it.
I had a series of medical appointments – a CAT scan, a PET scan, a biopsy, blood tests. I had non-Hodgkins lymphoma and my body lit up like a Christmas tree in the PET scan – there was cancer everywhere. I wasn’t sure what to do about telling the kids because it all happened so quickly. When I asked my oncologist, she said, “Don’t lie to them. If you try to hide it, they will pick up whispered conversations and think it’s something worse.” I’m so glad I took her advice.
We sat Freya and Gordon down at the table after dinner, saying, “We have something to tell you.” I struggled to speak without crying, so Scott took over. We’d talked about what we’d say. He kept it simple and we kept to the basics.
We said I had cancer, that I needed to visit the hospital a lot to get better and that I might not be better until Christmas, which was six months away. We kept it open so they could come and ask questions later if they wanted to.
Esta historia es de la edición May 2024 de Australian Women’s Weekly NZ.
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Esta historia es de la edición May 2024 de Australian Women’s Weekly NZ.
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