Afraid for you
A letter to Karley and all who are enduring
Dear Karley, you have so much to offer the world. In my quest to share something positive with those enduring cancer today, as you have, and those caring for them, I was introduced to your mother. Asilika R, a woman who loves you and your brothers with all her heart.
You’re a little older now and surely running amuck at school, climbing trees and playing netball with your friends, the cancer now a distant memory. But when you were two years old, your mother and father’s world stopped moving for a moment because they were terrified to lose you.
But there is no diagnosis in the world that could make them love you any less.
When you were two years old, you became ill.
At first, everyone believed it to be an intestinal issue. Your parents took you to a nearby clinic from your home in Visama Village and then the Nausori Health Centre. You were prescribed lactulose and sent on your way.
But things only got worse over the next two weeks, and your mother’s
fear grew every time you cried from the pain. A fear that, in a perfect world, no parent would ever need to know.
You returned to the hospital with her and sent for a biopsy in Suva. The two-week wait for results turned into three and your family was desperate for answers.
And then an answer came. Surgery. The thought of your tiny frame going through what even most adults are afraid of was one of the hardest moments of your mother’s life. Your father couldn’t bear the thought any more than she could.
They were scared, but they wanted your pain to end. They love you.
But after the four-hour surgery was completed, you underwent yet another.
You see, as your mother waited to hear from the medical staff, she happened to overhear the doctors talking about you.
And there it was, the second of what your mother told me were the two hardest moments of her life. The word “cancer” was said. “That time, we didn’t know much about cancer. All we knew was if somebody has cancer that means they will die,” your mother told me.
Burkitt lymphoma of the ovaries. That’s what the doctors said. They called in your parents and explained it to them. Gave them a choice. Should they try to keep the ovaries intact or remove them entirely?
All your parents wanted to know was what would be safest for you.
“Whatever you can do for her, never mind if she won’t have baby or what, I just want her to be alive,” your mother told them.
A second surgery. Your father feared for you.
They were scared, but they wanted you to live. They love
you.
You spent two weeks in the ICU after your surgeries. There was fear you might need a third.
But you awoke and asked for food. Egg and chips. You ate it all, too. You surprised the doctors with your request and gave your family such joy.
I wonder how much of this you remember now. How much of the next two years of chemotherapy to ensure you’d fully beaten the cancer.
I asked your mother what she’d want to say to everyone else who’s still fighting something similar. Or to those loved ones who are in the trenches with them.
“Support is very important. Nobody has to do this alone,” she told me.
“My family came to help us take care of my children. My boss prepared the food and blanket and everything for the first time we went to hospital.
The community and church came together to help. WOWS Kids supported us. You need support and there’s a miracle-working God.”
To the thousands of Fijians still in the throes of a terminal or chronic illness, you do not need to endure this alone, nor are you ever burdening your loved ones by seeking support.
Those who care for you are scared, but they are in this with you. They love you. Just like Karley’s parents love her.
And Karley, your mother says you need to study hard, get a good job, and live your life to the fullest. And she’d like you to, when someday you can, support other children going through what you went through. She said WOWS Kids has always been there and you can one day return the favour and help somebody else get through.
You have a lot to offer the world, and your loved ones are glad you’re here to prove it.