Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh my

This morning I got to thinking about how hurt I was when my daughter didn't tell me about her breast cancer. Not only that, but she told my granddaughter not to tell me!

When she finally did tell me a year later, I was devastated. It hurt me so much that my daughter, in this time of great need and stress, couldn't come to me and allow me to hold her hand and be there for her.

She went through the entire lumpectomy and radiation therapy alone. Her husband was in Texas starting a new job. She probably told him to go. She managed the entire packing up and moving the household to Texas while going through all of this too. Pretty incredible.

But the truth is complex. My daughter has always been stoic and avoided emotions. She does not like to be the center of attention. She believes in naturotherapy and holistic principles.
All of the above lends itself to the situation as it developed.

I'm pretty sure she didn't want to upset me; probably didn't want me to get all emotional and tearful (which I would have). Dealing with my emotions is part of why she represses hers (or am I delusional placing myself at the center of her reality?)

I'm an Oncology nurse - I would definitely have been against the possibility of NOT treating the cancer - or treating it holistically. I've seen too many women die of "treating it holistically".
It would have been very hard, if not impossible for her to make up her own mind about how she wanted to go about it with me huffing and puffing in the wings.

But even knowing all that, I was hurt. Hurt that she didn't trust me enough to think I could or would rein in my own emotions - let her make up her own mind and did not want my support, love, care or help in any way. She relied on her friend or friends (I don't know how many).
She told my granddaughter to confide or talk to one of her friends if she needed help - not Nana.
So my granddaughter got the message too - don't trust Nana.

Truthfully, I don't know if I could have done all those things - gracefully - or not. Could I have told her what my opinion was and then shut up? Could I have not wept over my fear for her?
Could I not worry about what the future holds for her? - G-d knows I worry now! I've seen plenty of people show up with advanced breast cancer years after their lumpectomy or radical mastectomy. I've had friends die before my eyes, slowly and painfully. How could I not worry about my daughter? My first born baby?

But I have held the hands of strangers, hugged family members struggling to deal with death and dying; wiped away tears for people I've cared for for many months; gone to funerals for some who we cared for for years. Could I not have cared for my daughter?

Well, it boils down to what she thought - not what I could or could not do. Perhaps we aren't so different. I know that when I was in labor with her, I told my husband not to let my Mom know because I knew she'd come to my bedside and weep and wring her hands over me - she'd tell me how she would rather take on my pain than let me suffer - and all the time I'd be trying to get through labor and deliver this child and I didn't want to worry about her needs for a change.
How different am I then?

How we hurt the people who love us - sometimes because of the bond between us we try to protect them, protect ourselves, save everyone pain and cause more. Complex human beings that we are. We can't read each other's minds to know how much we love or hate what they are doing - we can only imagine from our own point of view what's going on and that can be dead wrong!!

My daughter was dead wrong...........I think..........

Something shifted in me when she finally told me about her cancer. I asked her then if she would tell me if she had a reoccurrance and she said "yes" - but I don't trust her. Awful thought
I don't trust her to tell me what is happening in her life - good or bad (OK, probably good stuff would get told)...........but didn't I just say "we can't read each other's minds"? I think something shifted in me because I don't want to get hurt like that again - so I detached myself a little teeny bit from her. Maybe that's a good thing. It doesn't feel that way but maybe it is good.
She has her life - I have mine and my delusion was that we were in sync but even I know that's a delusion - I just forget.

This business of having children doesn't end with their adulthood. You love them just as much, worry about them and feel even less useful to them - sometimes feel you have NOTHING in common with them except the memory of childhood. But the bond of love holds you fast.

Can you protect them from the lions, tigers and bears? Probably not, but it would help if we could hold hands and sing together as we march along. Who knows, after all, what life has in store for any of us.