When cancer complicates body image and parenting

When cancer complicates body image and parenting

by | Parenting with Cancer

My bald head was covered with a baseball cap. I was out with no makeup to cover my chemo-grayed complexion as I pushed my baby girl on the swing.

She giggled and squealed, catching the attention of a young man passing by.

“She has a beautiful laugh,” he said. “Are you her grand… parent?” He stumbled over grandparent as we both realized that, not only had he grossly overestimated my age, he had no idea whether I was a man or a woman.

That wasn’t my low point.

The real punch to the gut came a few years later when I was getting my little girl ready for a bath and she casually asked me how old she will be when they cut off her nipples. No tears, no fear, just matter-of-fact assumption that somewhere along the line, her breasts get hacked off.

I felt like my body betrayed me

Cancer didn’t just take my health, it also made off with my breasts, hair, femininity, strength, and a good deal of my confidence. I felt like my body betrayed me. And now, in this hypothetical but not unlikely scenario, my daughter’s body would someday betray her as well.

I helped her into the tub and watched her pretend to be a mermaid. Her movements are fluid and unfettered by notions of shame or inadequacy. Her future is wide open – she can be and do anything, but at this early age, my life is her template.

I knew, sitting there on that bathroom floor, that I needed to wrap my head around this cancer and my body image before my issues became her issues. But first, I had to answer this big question from the little girl in the water.

“Not everyone gets cancer,” I told her. “I hope you don’t, but you might. It will be 34 years before you are the age I was when I got cancer, and that’s lots of time for someone to invent a cure or even a way to prevent it.”

By the time I finished those three sentences, the tub was full of toys and Poseidon was mediating a battle between a narwhal and a walrus. She had moved on and wasn’t listening, but I was stuck in my head trying to define what a healthy body image means, how to make that a reality in my life, how to convey that to my daughter, and how cancer complicates everything.

My body image issues started long before cancer.

At seventeen I was touring Washington D.C. with a group of 200 high school students from around the country. As we walked through the Mall, I overheard two of the other students discussing my appearance. “Judy’s legs are so ugly,” one of the guys said.

“Give her a break, she just got out of the hospital,” the other replied. (No, my health issues did not start with cancer.)

A small part of my brain acknowledged that the second student had jumped to my defense. Thank you, by the way. A much larger part of my brain registered that HE DID NOT DISAGREE with the first student’s assessment of my legs.

In the court of high school social politics, the issue of the ugliness of my legs was raised, and swiftly seconded. That was all I needed. The verdict stuck with me, and I kept my legs covered with tights or long pants for nearly two decades.

Even today, in my mid-forties, each time I leave the house in shorts or a skirt without tights, it is an act of courage that requires a deep breath before stepping through the door.

Why do they have so much impact?

I can’t remember their names. I would not be able to pick them out from a police lineup. I have not seen those boys (men, now) since 1987, and I bear them no ill will. Why do they have so much impact over the way I prepare to leave the house most sunny summer mornings?

It’s not even about them. It’s about me, and my willingness to cling to the derogatory comments and ignore the many more flattering comments I’ve received over the years. A large part of this is about me devaluing my own needs and comfort, and assuming that I owe the world something that I don’t.

After my first mastectomy, I agonized each time before going to the gym.

Sweat made the prosthetic breast slip around, and even fall out of my clothes. Yeah, that was embarrassing. I could stuff my bra with socks and they’d stay a little better, but as I pumped my arms on the treadmill, they’d pile up in the middle of my chest, making me look more Picasso than if I’d just shown up single-breasted.

It was all so inconvenient and awkward, and I contemplated not returning to the gym.

To what extent am I obliged to present myself as a double breasted woman?

Is it offensive to the other people if I show up with one breast?

I struggled with this question. I lost sleep over it. I imagined people who’d had arms or limbs amputated; I wouldn’t expect them to wear a prosthesis if they didn’t want to. Why did I apply a different standard to myself with an amputated breast? And then, I worked up the courage and took a deep breath before stepping through the door single-breasted.

Nobody noticed.

Motivational posters

I noticed a motivational poster hanging in the gym showing a woman drenched in sweat with the words, “If you look good working out, you’re doing it wrong.” Ha! Despite the fact that I know women who do kick ass while looking amazing, there is a great deal of truth to that poster.

Why had I not seen that before?

My body is a work in progress.

I don’t need a perfect body to have a healthy body image. My thoughts on body image are evolving, even as I write this. I am learning to accept and embrace both my vulnerability and my resilience – both integral parts of what it means to be alive.

I don’t lecture my little girl on these issues, although we talk about them as they come up.

I hope that she will see that ideas can evolve as people learn and grow just as our bodies do – that is also part of what it means to be alive.

Mostly, I put on shorts or a skirt with bare legs and go out side to play with her when it’s sunny. Sometimes, I even go through the door without noticing, and I’m out in the sun before I realize that I didn’t have to stop and brave up first.

How to help kids cope with a parent’s cancer: interview with an oncology social worker

How to help kids cope with a parent’s cancer: interview with an oncology social worker

by | Cancer, courage, Parenting & Family

What’s going to happen to my baby?

The first thing I thought when I was diagnosed with breast cancer was what’s going to happen to my baby? I’m not alone in that thought, I’ve discussed the topic at length with my friends who are also juggling child rearing with cancer treatment.

And it does impact the kids, but there are ways to help our kids cope with a parent’s cancer.

Interview with a Social Worker

Michelle Massey runs the Camp Sparkle and Small Talk programs at Gilda’s Club in Seattle. [Updated to note that the former Gilda’s Club in Seattle is now operating independently- although maintaining the same mission – and goes by the name Cancer Pathways.] She is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and a Board Certified Oncology Social Worker.  She got her start at Children’s Hospital working with kids with cancer, where she started to notice that the siblings needed some attention, too. Now her work focuses on the children of cancer patients.

We sat down at her kitchen table to discuss how kids are impacted by their parent’s cancer, and what we can do to help.  She was very clear in making the point that if a parent has cancer, the kids are affected. They might not show it. They might be perfect little angels because they don’t want to be a burden, but that doesn’t mean that they are not affected.

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Kids are by nature ego-centric.

There is nothing wrong with this, it is part of our developmental process, and hopefully, we grow out of that perspective. But it’s important to remember the eco-centric perspective when working with children who are dealing with their parent’s cancer. When they think the world revolves around them, then they naturally think they have an impact on everything that happens. That means when a parent gets cancer, they think it has something to do with them. It’s the same reason kids think it’s their fault if their parent’s get a divorce.

childs concern


The ego-centric perspective also means that the child’s biggest concern is “what is going to happen to me?” They are concerned about the well-being of their parent, but even more so, they want to know that whatever happens, someone is going to know that they like their peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles, and which songs to sing as they tuck them in at night. Fear of abandonment is a normal reaction to this situation.

It is important to understand that a child’s anxiety around a parent’s cancer is an appropriate reaction, and not a sign of mental illness. Counseling and group therapy sessions can help kids develop the tools they need to weather the ups and downs of their parent’s cancer treatment. Additionally, this is not likely to be the last challenge in the child’s life, so the tools learned in counseling will be of lifelong benefit.

Group activities that involve other kids whose parents have cancer is also beneficial in that it provides an environment where the kids can feel normal. They don’t have to feel weird because everyone has cancer in their home.

I asked Michelle what specific advice she would give to parents who have cancer, and these were her suggestions:

How to help kids cope when a parent has cancer

  • Make sure your kids have an outlet for their feelings, even the “ugly” feelings – a safe place where they can talk about what’s going through their head without being shut down. (Counseling and group therapy are great for this)
  • If you do get a counseling for your kids, trust and confidentiality are of the utmost importance. The child needs to be able to say those things they’re afraid might hurt their parent’s feelings.
  • Allow them to feel their emotions rather than brushing them away.
  • Don’t try to fix everything. You can’t fix their emotions.
  • Ask them specifically what they are afraid of, the fear may take on different nuances at different times, and that will change the conversation.

The Camp Sparkle and Small Talk programs mentioned above are at Gilda’s Club Seattle. There are Gilda’s Clubs around the country, and while the specific offerings at each location may vary, the programs are available to cancer patients and their family members at no charge.

Michelle also works with young women with breast cancer, formerly serving as a meeting facilitator for the Young Survival Coalition.

You can find more on the How to Juggle Cancer and Parenting Series here: