
Turning 50 is about celebrating, looking back to see one’s life journey and looking forward to what the future holds right? Sometimes however, the universe has a way of putting everything into perspective when one’s hope and optimism are tested.
Losing my brother and mum, 2 years in a row prior to turning fifty, left me as the only surviving member of my family. Depression was something I was confident would not touch me, and yet the tragic circumstances of my beloved ones passing and coping with reality made me go into a place where I lost my ability to have a conversation, think and function.
The recovery was very slow as I was trying my best to come out of depression with support from my husband, my children, friends and the kindergarten community where I work as an early childhood teacher for the past 22 years.
It was during this period that I turned 50 and completed the Bowel Cancer free test that was sent home by the government. I was diagnosed with Stage 3 bowel cancer after further investigation. I was clear from the beginning that I would not hide this upcoming challenge with anyone. I wanted to create awareness to ensure that everyone I knew paid attention to their health and wellbeing.
This piece of writing is one story out of many that helped me to learn, reflect and appreciate this life that has been given to me.
I remember that on a Monday morning, I opened the kindergarten door and could see all the families and children eagerly waiting to come in. After greeting the children and asking them to get ready for morning group learning time, I asked the families to wait for a few minutes.
I remember after a few seconds of silence and tears, I broke the news to the families. I could see some mums starting to cry. I assured them that they were not going to get rid of me that easily. I requested permission from the families to share this news with my four and five-year-old pattus (I call my kinder children pattus meaning darling in Tamil), in a way that would be easy for them to comprehend.
I knew that I needed them as much as they needed me in this journey. I was not going to exclude myself, as a kindergarten teacher, rather include my kindergarten community through shared understanding in this situation.
During group time, I asked my pattus a question, “Who gets sick?”
“Me!” “My dad was sick!” “My grandpa is in heaven!” “My dog was sick and went to the doctor!”
I asked them what they would do if they were sick.
“Go to the doctor!” “Get a needle!” “Drink medicine!” “Sleep!” “Don’t come to kinder!” “Get a cuddle from mummy!”
So many responses. So many stories. So many emotions from my pattus.
“I have something to tell you. I am sick now. Sometimes we get a cold or a cough, right. I am sick with something called cancer. It’s like a yucky germ that is growing inside me. I must go to the hospital for the doctor to take this out of my body. I will not be in kinder for a long time. Do you have any questions?” I asked.
“Are you going to stay there forever?” “Do you need medicine?” “Are you going to die?” “Is the doctor going to do an operation?”.
I explained to them that I did not know what the doctor was going to do, but I was certainly not going to die as I had to come back to have more fun with my pattus.
There was however one honest pattu who was disappointed that I was not going to die, as he had already worked out that he would be the next “boss” at kinder, if I did not return.
My family, friends, my kinder pattus, my educator team and I needed each other to get through this phase. I was determined to continue in my role, focussing less on the challenging times and investing as much time as possible in maintaining connections with my pattus, families and my team as I embarked on this surgery, chemotherapy and recovery journey.
During treatment, there were some strategies that helped with my wellbeing –
Maintaining contact – I remember making a video call from the hospital two days after my surgery. Children made little gifts/cards to take to the hospital which I showed them.
I answered questions about my stay at the hospital and spoke about the wonderful jobs that health professionals in the hospital do to help us get better.
Honest, age-appropriate responses – I did my best to give answers regarding my illness. I acknowledged the children’s feelings and talked about their emotions. An example was from a pattu who let all her peers know that her mum suffered from cancer too, just like Paru.
Connecting With Children – Video calls was a wonderful way to stay in touch with my pattus. On days that I was not sick, I would connect with pattus to read a book, sing a song or share something interesting. This was our time. Pattus would share their stories and inform me about everything that was important to them. One pattu cut her wonderful long hair as she said to her mum that I will need it for a wig when she came back to kinder.
Ask and receive support – Every video session ended with children sending hugs and love. Something that I needed and asked from the children to keep me going on rough days. Some kinder families supported by dropping food outside my home, which I am truly grateful for.
Connecting With Families – I kept in touch with families and informed them about my progress. Families responded positively and empathetically. A few times, it was good to see them when they came to kindergarten for special occasions and be part of the video call.
Connecting With Community– I informed children about the need for a facelift in the Chemotherapy Unit in the hospital. Children contributed art works and artefacts that I gave to the wonderful nurses who displayed them kindly to help bring some solace to patients.
Adversity Brings Opportunity– I put together an exhibition celebrating the wonderful life of some senior community members who visit my kindergarten every week. This group of grandmas had amazing stories to share about their life for children, families and community to see, enjoy and learn from. This helped me immensely during chemotherapy cycles to focus on the possibilities for NOW rather than the uncertainty of the FUTURE.
Learning Something New – To keep my fingers moving during chemotherapy, I started learning Parai – a traditional drum from Tamil Nadu, India. I shared this news with my kinder pattus and showed them some beats during one of our video calls. Pattus used clapsticks to follow the beats at kinder.
Six months later, I returned to kinder. It felt like I was always there. Nothing had changed, except when I asked pattus to sit on the mat, they would face the side where the laptop used to be when I made the video calls, even though I was there on the couch in front of them!
“If we try to secure the wellbeing of others, we will at the same time create the conditions for our own.” – Dalai Lama.
Family, friends and my community continue to teach me to learn and unlearn the meaning of wellbeing for which I am truly grateful, as a cancer survivor.
Facing the fear, uncertainty and pain is the most difficult things to deal in the life
Engaging , educating , bringing awareness and efforts to remind the community and friends the importance of connected being supportive to each other not when in hay but in deep desperate situations, calls for courage , deep reflection and commitment to make oneself life being fulfilling the purpose of teacher in the author…
My dearest friend Paru….has been an energetic ,bold, hopeful ,positive person even during the tough times.We had grown hand in hand from our school days and have been closely connected over the years.
Her softness of heart,doing good to others ,down to earth attitude, friendliness have made her an unforgettable person in this world.
God sure will bless her and make this world brighter with her presence 💖 💖
Teachers have the power to impart knowledge but there are very few teachers who have the power to influence and mold our character.
I’m sure your one of them. May god bless you.
Dear Paru,
Your energy is truly inspiring, and the love and commitment you bring to your vocation is deeply heart-warming.
I still remember how I began teaching Zara, from the age of three, about the meaning behind donating one’s hair to support those with cancer. But nothing prepared me for the moment she came home from kinder—after you shared your news with your pattus—and said to me, “Mumma, can I donate my hair to Paru?”
I wept. And in that tender moment, Zara gently comforted me and said something even more remarkable:
“Mumma, don’t cry. Paru said she won’t die. The doctor will take the yucky thing out of her tummy. Paru will be fine because you also had cancer and you are fine.”
Children understand love in such pure and powerful ways. That moment reminded me that love can move hearts and inspire the most wondrous acts.
Paru, you are such an important part of our lives. We are deeply thankful for your presence, and we wish you strength, healing, and all the very best life has to offer.
With love and gratitude,
Cynthia