Don’t give up when faced with health issues, even if the sky is falling - opinion

A few weeks ago, I hosted a celebratory event to mark the 25th anniversary of the protected oncology kindergarten at Zichron Menachem.

As part of the event, graduates of the kindergarten from previous years arrived: one a high school graduate, another a graduate of military service from an elite unit, a third arrived in his dusty uniform straight from reserve duty across the southern border. 

There was also a first-year nursing student and her third-year colleague, and there was nine-year-old Nir. Playful, funny, also a graduate of the kindergarten – my son.

All these graduates of the protected kindergarten were so excited to be there, to walk through the rooms where they had spent their most difficult years, even if they maybe didn’t remember them as such.

While Nir was running between the ninja room and the computer games, I found myself next to the other parents standing at the side and looking through eyes veiled with tears at their children who had grown up, after months and even years of fearing that they might not make it.

Gratitude for every day of life 

As a mother of a child with cancer, you know how to be grateful every day anew for the gifts you’ve received. 

This visit to the kindergarten reminded me of one of the greatest gifts I received at the time in the form of some very important advice, and I want to convey it to all of you here.

I should point out that each family has to do what’s right for them, and when entering the world of cancer there are no rules, but in my case, I understood how right the advice I received was – not to relinquish the existing anchors in our lives, and for me, not to give up my job.

Weird, right? Of all the advice and all the tips, I should keep working? Actually go out to work? Who could think of doing such a thing when life is changing before your very eyes, when the most precious thing to you in the world is in danger of losing their life?

I remember this is exactly what I thought when the founder of Zichron Menachem, Chaim Ehrental, gave me that advice at our first meeting, during a long training session that he gave us as a family – a training that every family that joins the organization receives from him.

I told him it was fine, we would find a way to get by financially even without my job, and he cut me off immediately. “It’s not for the money,” he said. “Go to work, even if it’s for just two hours a day; the main thing is that you keep working.”

And what about Nir? I was horrified! What about all the treatments, the procedures? What about spending every possible moment with him, hugging and kissing him, making a fuss of him, being there for him?

“And what about you?” he asked me. “Trust me,” he said, “don’t even think about leaving your job. We’ll take care of Nir in our kindergarten, and you’ll take care of getting dressed nicely in the morning and going to the office.”

I remember being shocked, but I decided to listen to someone with experience. Thanks to a lot of consideration on the part of my workplace, we made the decision that I would continue working in whatever capacity I could handle.

I put Nir, who couldn’t go to regular kindergarten because of his medical condition, into the Zichron Menachem protected oncology kindergarten, and, with heavy feelings of guilt, I went to work.

Nir’s first days in the kindergarten were not easy for me emotionally, but by the end of the first week, I realized how right I was to have listened to the expert advice of someone with so much experience.

Every day, when I stepped into my office, I stopped being just “the mother of” – someone who’s always anxious, always worrying, someone whose world had been turned upside down, constantly living under a huge shadow. Of course, these things remained all the time, but they weren’t my whole identity and they didn’t define me.

For a few hours each day, I was also Racheli, the colleague, the friend, the employee who takes responsibility and gets things done, and so much more. I was busy with my tasks and made sure we reached our deadlines. I would think about what I’d eat for lunch, and I’d plan my schedule to manage this or that project.

Work was an anchor for me, a place where I could feel that I was holding onto something from our past lives, and it helped me maintain my equilibrium in the midst of the chaos. I had an island of sanity, an escape from reality.

The decision to continue working also reflected something very important to the rest of the family – that I am still me, and that our lives were not completely succumbing to the disease. 

The routine we were able to maintain, even if partially, helped us all feel that there is life beyond the disease, that the world is not about to collapse, and things will probably be fine.

All the while, standing in front of Nir was a strong mother, a mother who manages to function in difficult situations but does not break – teaching him that he will not break either.

It is said that there is none wiser than one who has experience, and it really is true. Do everything you can to not give up on yourselves. It’s hard and seems impossible, but you are lionesses and lions, and your children need you to be strong.

Maintaining a routine and keeping your anchors in life, such as your work and supportive frameworks for your children, will enable you to maintain your own strength. 

The disease is a struggle for the whole family, and your strength is also the strength of your children.

I wish you all good health!

The writer is a training manager, lecturer, and facilitator.