Cancer ouchies

We believe in always telling our children the truth, but sometimes I feel like we are teetering on such a fine and gray line.

And everyone has a different truth.

For example, when poor Duckie met his untimely demise last month, I told 3-year-old H that he went to a better place - Heaven. I very much believe in God. So I teach that to my children as a truth.

Many people do not believe in God. They'd think teaching my children about Him is lying. To each their own on religion. But the point is, no two people have the same truths, no matter the circumstance.

Well, this past week I was put in the situation where I had to explain breast cancer to sweet H. As my maternal grandmother underwent a mastectomy, and my children and I waited at the hospital with my dad, H was all too aware that we were there for my grandma. B was blissfully in the Land of La La where he can often be found.

So when H asked why were there (she's only ever been in a hospital once, at the age of 5 weeks old when I had to have a staph infected milk duct drained, and obviously has no recollection of that), I explained it the best that I could, without lying, but without scaring her either.

"My grandma has an ouchie on her booby and the doctors are going to cut the ouchie off to make her all better," I told her.

"She'll be better if they cut the ouchie off? Why don't they just give her a Band-Aid?" H inquired.

"This is a different kind of ouchie," I explained. "It's not bloods (which is what H calls all ouchies that need Band-Aids). It's an ouchie inside her booby that has to come out. The doctors will take it out and she'll be better."

"Will it hurt?"

"Well, they'll put her to sleep so that she doesn't feel them cut it off. So that won't hurt her. She might be sore when she wakes up. Maybe even sad."

"But we'll bring her flowers, and that will make her happy?" H beamed.

I smiled. "Yes. That will make her very happy."

That's it. That's all we discussed of it. H was there. She was a part of the event. It's her great-grandmother. She's old enough and aware enough to need an explanation. But not old enough or aware enough, in my opinion, to need to know or understand cancer.

Right or wrong, I don't know.

But for now, it's her truth.

And maybe in 5 or 10 or 40 years from now we will revisit this particular truth. And it will change as she understands breast cancer and surgeries and recoveries and the mental and emotional impact it all has, as well as the physical impact, of course.

But for now, at 3, the truth is that her great-grandma had an ouchie. And now she's fixed.

And that's all she needs to know.