Memories of Max - A Father's Story

Chapter 2 - The Unit

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During the first cancer you meet the parents and their relapsed children and wonder how on earth they could go through this again. And again. And again. You know that you are only just coping with your child’s first cancer. This coping requires you to draw on all your reserves, but it seems inconceivable that you could have enough reserves to cope a second, third or fourth time around.

In between treatment and relapse is the waiting for the next cancer. In the years between Max’s discharge from the hospital after his leukaemia and the onset of his second cancer I spent so much time thinking about the possibility of a relapse. These thoughts were not constant, but occurred when I was not doing anything specific. They invaded those spare moments you have to reflect on life and those moments were crowded with the prospect of his possible death. These thoughts were quiet yet relentless and it was only after he died that I realised quite how much pressure they exerted and also how much they had changed my outlook on the world.

The diagnosis of Max's second cancer was almost a relief. There was no more suspense, no more interminable waiting. Now I had a reality, now I had something conceptual to fight. It was no longer the dark side of the imagination. It was real.

My Class Three in childhood cancer is when a child relapses with a completely new cancer. During diagnosis you are warned that in rare cases the treatment can lead to another completely unrelated cancer. You are numbed by the fact of the initial cancer. Childhood cancers are very rare. You have the long haul of treatment ahead of you. Rare amongst the rare? It is not something that can be comprehended and so you push it into the background. No, that will not happen to us.

This class does not linger on the consciousness. It is generally not something you consider as a likely option. There are far more likely and immediate concerns. In all our time at the hospital I was only aware of one family in this situation and that was us.

Visiting the Unit for Max's second and new cancer was not as traumatic as his admission for leukaemia. The second time we had some idea of what to expect.

It was strange going back for Max's second treatment. We saw old friends and they’d say “Hi, How are you all? In here for a check up?” I’d shake my head. The children would be chatting or playing together. On one hand I would be listening to the conversation but it was just a stream of words. On the other I watched the parent’s reaction. Their faces were saying “Oh Christ, he's relapsed. Why? Please never let that happen to us.”

I found that there were other unexpected problems when Max was diagnosed with his second cancer.

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