by Monica Vazquez

Treatment is finally over. I am in remission. I can breathe a sigh of relief…well kind of. As I look around the shattered remnants of the life that once was, I am overcome with anxiety, gratitude, guilt, hope, anger, joy, and resentment…all the feelings, all at once. Worse, I know that I am not the only one going through this agonizing exercise. My children who witnessed their mother, a young, healthy, active individual, plummet to the depths of hell, are also experiencing the turmoil of a tornado of emotions. 

The girls are back in school. While I was in active treatment they were part of remote learning and were spared from the inquisitive looks of other parents and the not so quiet murmurs about their ill mother’s appearance. Now that we have gone back to in-person school, the girls are no longer sheltered and, to my dismay, they have experienced bullying because of my appearance. I was beside myself. I was shocked, enraged, and heartbroken. My eldest daughter confided in me that she hears the whispers behind her back. Whispers about her mom – me – not having hair. Whispers accompanied with judgment and laughter regarding a deeply sensitive subject that she has no control over. She mentioned to me that she tries to ignore and not engage the kids who make these comments, but she hears them nonetheless and she is hurt by what is said. As she speaks my heart breaks for her. What can I do? What should I do? Is there something to do? I take a deep breath and hold her tight. I notice hot tears slowly, gently rolling down my cheeks and her cheeks. I clear my throat and I begin to speak. 

Me: My love, I know that this is difficult. I can imagine how sad and angry you feel, and you are absolutely right to feel that way. It’s difficult for kids to understand things that are different. They truly do not know any better.

P: Mom, it’s not fair! They have never even seen their mom go through a cold. A cold is a couple of days, and  nothing happens. You don’t lose your hair or go to the doctor all the time. 

Me: I know honey. It really is not fair, and you are absolutely right. A cold and cancer are very different. Kids that have not seen a parent become ill are not going to understand. My dear, you have endured so much at such an early age. It is different for you. 

P: What does “endure”mean? 

Me:  That you have experienced and gone through many things that other eight-year old’s have not. (I keep holding her) I love you so so much and I am so grateful that you are sharing this with me. I know that this was hard to talk about and you should be proud of yourself for the way you handled the situation. 

This was a tremendously challenging situation. It has no solution. There is no way that I can rescue my daughter from this. I cannot shield her, or her siblings, from the unkindness of the world. All I can do is give her space to express her feelings, allow her to lean in and walk through it, while gently holding her hand reminding her that she is safe and loved. This gave me peace. This was my “aha” moment. That even though my knee jerk reaction may have been to go down to the school and wail on the kids for being unkind jerks, I instead responded to my daughter and her needs. As grim as this event was, and will continue to be, I was able to pour into her cup. I had the opportunity to practice how to effectively navigate an emotionally painful situation. This too gave me confidence that I am healing, not just physically but emotionally as well. 

Monica Vazquez is a mom of three, has a PhD in Immunology and loves to learn. Monica was diagnosed with stage 3 nasopharyngeal cancer in February 2021. She is currently four months out of treatment and focusing on her family.  Monica is the founder of Catrina Cancer Care. @catrina_cancercare