Skip to main content

The dragon in his head

As far as my son knows, there was a dragon in his head.
This dragon was big and scary and made him feel sick.
But as far as my son knows, we stomped that dragon out.

The idea of Xavier's cancerous tumour being a dragon in his head came from a movie that had been given to me by another mom of childhood cancer. Paul and The Dragon is a powerful 20-minute video of a young boy with cancer. Although it is generic (not about brain tumours), and there are no words, it is incredibly telling. For any family who has been through a similar experience, you will instantly connect with this boy and his family.

And for my kids, who are very young and don't exactly understand medical terminology, the story is easy to understand and has provided a great foundation for how to talk to them about Xavier's journey with cancer.

The movie was so popular among my kids that it became part of our regular Friday night movie rotation. My son even requested it while he was in the hospital again in June.

It has now become a trigger for me... I know he is worrying or feeling some strong emotion connected to his traumatic experience when he asks to watch Paul and The Dragon. It's his way of opening the dialogue between us and an opportunity for me to calm his fears.

My son doesn't understand what incurable means. And to him, the dragon in his head is gone... for now. We explained to him that doctors needed to go in and take the dragon out. When surgery did not go as well as expected (only part of the tumour could safely be removed) we told him they got most of the dragon except his tail. During radiation, we used the dragon again. An special invisible beam of light was going to be shone into his head and break the dragon's tail up into tiny little pieces so it couldn't bother him.

These explanations seemed to satisfy his inquiring mind and made it not so scary for myself as well. He knows the dragon could come back. But we don't talk about that. Right now, we tell him we stomped on that dragon!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Kids need to be kids - even with cancer

No one wants to see their child hurt. But when you have a child with a serious medical condition, seeing your child in pain can often be a frequent occurrence. Physical pain is one thing - emotional suffering is another- one I had little experience with until recently. (Yes, I am struggling, so that's why I am writing!) When Xavier was initially diagnosed and treated for brain cancer, he was a baby. He couldn't talk, express his feelings or even remember the trauma he suffered. Now, he is older, smarter and more thoughtful - yet too young to understand. About a month ago we started to see a change in Xavier. He was different. His sleep patterns changed, he was lethargic and other symptoms arose that concerned us. An MRI was immediately scheduled, followed by appointments with multiple doctors. A lumbar puncture has now been scheduled. I am not concerned they will find more cancer. I am not worried there is anything physically wrong. What has me scared and heart broken i...

Feeding the fire

Buried deep within my soul is a fire. It burns slowly; smouldering inside me day after day. I long for the day when this fire rages again. Like it used to before I smothered it with life. Before kids, before mortgages, bills, illnesses and medical interventions, there was something else on my mind. It was fuelled by almost everything around me and grew stronger with every use. This was something that took me through dark spiralling tunnels, across cobalt blue seas with purple monkeys swimming and up mossy green mountains that whispered cool breezes. It sparked all my  senses and tugged at my heart. It sent shivers down my spine and excitement in my belly. And sometimes it paid. My creativity was ignited by an imagination as unique as every snowflake that falls. The words came to me, the stories flowed and the imagery made sense. I created eloquent editorial and powerful prose. But somehow along the way I lost my creative spirit. I pushed it away. I pushed it down. I push...