What do you say…

What do you say to your friends when they tell you that they are going to move because “their child needs their own room to die in”?

Nothing. There is nothing to say. Especially not what I was thinking, which was: I don’t want you to go away, I don’t want you to move, because I will miss you and your child and because I want to be able to say goodbye when the time comes. I want my son to be able to say goodbye. I want him to visit your child in the hospital to cheer them up during chemo. I want my son to see that your child is getting weaker and weaker so he doesn’t end up thinking that one day his friend was doing great and running around and next thing we know, they were dead. I would prefer my son to see that it is a long process, even though it will be a hard one.

I can’t say that, of course. I can’t be that selfish. I just nodded and smiled a sad, sad smile. And I waited until now to cry.

7 Responses to “What do you say…”

  1. marie Says:

    je crois que tu pourrais lui dire que sa fille a peut-être plus besoin de ses amis autour d’elle que de sa propre chambre …


  2. Anne Says:

    I’m glad I’ve never been in your shoes, cause I wouldn’t know what to say and I don’t think I could wait till later to cry… What makes me wonder is, why is the child going through chemo if the battle can’t be won?


  3. sophie Says:

    Anne, I have been wondering the same thing, although I would never dare ask. We figure they are hoping to buy themselves some time or some quality time, since the child is already having some serious issues cognitively. But it does seem almost cruel to put a child through that when there is no hope.


  4. sophie Says:

    Marie, c’est malheureusement plus compliqué que ça… Son père et sa famille élargie est ailleurs, et je crois que ça fait déjà énormément de peine à la mère de devoir enlever sa fille à ses amis alors je ne voudrais pas ajouter à son sentiment de culpabilité. En plus le diagnostic a été fait là-bas alors les médecins sont déjà prêts à s’occuper d’elle. Alors même si je suis plutôt d’accord avec toi, je comprends aussi les parents.


  5. Anne Says:

    I can understand the parents not wanting their child to die, but I don’t think you can get quality time with a dying child out of chemo, and to buy time out of your child’s suffering seems awfully cruel to me. But of course they don’t see it that way. They must need time to love their child some more… And to lose a child is such a cruel thing for the parents. I just hope if something that awful were to happen to me, I’d be strong enough to let my child go quickly and quietly. At least the child is loved.


  6. sophie Says:

    I know Anne… It’s too easy to judge someone in this situation. There are so many things I would like to say, choices that they make that seem so doubtful, but how can you judge when they are in this kind of situation. Maybe they are hoping for a miracle, for the chance out of a million that chemo will shrink the tumor enough for surgery.


  7. Mireille Says:

    Il y a de la chimio dite paliative – c’est-à-dire qu’elle ne sert qu’à rendre les derniers moments plus faciles, moins douloureux. Elle ne sert pas à guérir ou à réduire le cancer.

    Moi aussi je me disais que le stress du déménagement et la perte de ses ami(e)s étaient probablement pire pour elle que de ne pas avoir sa propre chambre, mais si le père est ailleurs, on comprend que lui aussi veuille profiter de sa fille! Personnellement, j’aurais plutôt penser à faire venir le père, mais bon, on n’est pas dans leurs souliers… fort heureusement!