Irish Daily Mail

I don’t want to spend the time I have being angry

The message of a dying mum who is helping others during her plight is a humbling example to us all, writes Alice Smellie...

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SITTING in her pretty living room, Lisa Wells, 32, tells me, ‘I’ve made journals for the girls of all the things we’ve done together, but how do I tell them about this?’

She’s talking about the challenge she now faces: explaining to her two daughters, aged six and one, that she has terminal cancer.

‘There’s lots of advice about what to say to children, but mine are so little. How can I explain how I feel when Ava is just learning to read and Saffia isn’t even talking?’ she asks.

She is curled up on her sofa in fleecy pyjamas and is remarkably cheerful for someone who has spent the morning at hospital having chemothera­py. Lisa’s courage and the innovative and deeply loving way she has faced this challenge make her truly inspiring.

Faced with having to tell her then five-year-old daughter she had cancer, she teamed up with children’s author Michelle Robinson to write a picture book, Only One Of Me, that will help families discuss terminal diagnoses.

‘I think Lisa is quite extraordin­ary and deserves recognitio­n for her fund-raising efforts and for writing a book that will help so many families,’ says Pearl Lowe, a former pop star who helped to organise a charity concert for Lisa earlier this year and lives in the same town as her in Somerset.

LISA herself is modest about her efforts to provide her daughters — and many other families — with answers and comfort for years to come.

‘Writing a children’s book and helping families talk to children whose parents are terminally ill felt like the most amazing opportunit­y.

‘I wanted the book to say all the things I want to tell my daughters over and over again as they get older, but may not be able to — that I am proud of them, that they are strong and that they should be kind, brave and free.

‘It’s a love letter to them both. I also included some simple advice — that it’s OK to cry and that they are loved by many people. I wanted it to be for all parents in the same position as me, too.

Lisa and her husband Dan, also 32, have fought to ensure that their daughters’ lives remain as normal as possible.

Maintainin­g family life takes a near-superhuman effort, never mind writing a book as well. But Lisa says it has been worth the hard work and the rush to get Only One Of Me finished.

‘When I received a copy, I cried. Dan hasn’t read it and says he never will, as it’s too heartbreak­ing.’

For Lisa, the first signs that she might be seriously ill came shortly after Saffia was born in October last year. She’d had a difficult pregnancy, with crippling stomach pains, bleeding, backache and frequent vomiting.

After Saffia was born, she lost 3½ st in six weeks — and the symptoms continued. Eventually, Dan called an ambulance and she was given an X-ray, which found a blockage.

‘I don’t know how to describe the feeling when you hear the word “cancer”,’ she says. ‘Nothing sinks in. Nothing but that word, cancer. The word that takes your life, your family. “What about my girls?” I asked, then burst into tears.

‘Actually, I was a bit embar- rassed about making a fuss. I didn’t for one moment imagine that I wouldn’t recover.’

A week later, the family had a meeting with an oncologist. Ava had gone to school and they had two-month-old Saffia in a portable car seat. ‘So,’ said the doctor, looking down at his notes, ‘we’re looking at palliative care.’

‘I actually didn’t understand him,’ remembers Lisa.

‘My first reaction was that I must have always misunderst­ood what the word “palliative” meant.

‘He told me that, with treatment, I was looking at a few months to a few years, if I was lucky.’

Lisa’s first chemothera­py was in December last year. ‘When Ava came home from school that day, we were watching Hollyoaks — a guilty pleasure — and one of the characters had cancer. Dan and I had already discussed how to explain my illness.

‘There was no question of saying that I might only have a few months. But how can you tell that to a five-year-old who has no concept of time?

‘We wanted to use the proper words, cancer and chemothera­py — if we just said I had tummy ache, then, for the rest of her childhood, she might associate tummy ache with dying.

‘So I told my five-year-old I had cancer, just like the character on Hollyoaks. We discussed whether or not I’d lose my hair like the lady in the show, and whether I’d look like a boy — the worst thing you can imagine if you’re a little girl in Year One! “She still looks pretty,” said Ava about the onscreen character. I agreed. And that was the end of it.’

AS WELL as writing her book, Lisa’s constant efforts have raised almost €95,000 via JustGiving and sponsored support from locals, friends and family.

All author and illustrato­r royalties from Only One Of Me will be donated to the cancer and bereavemen­t charities Mummy’s Star and We Hear You (WHY).

Meanwhile, Lisa is preparing to meet the next challenge, whatever it may be, with her usual grace.

‘I don’t often get angry,’ she says.

‘That’s not how I want to spend my life. Right now, I am grateful to have had a magical Christmas with my family.’

When asked whether she is inspiratio­nal, she laughs: ‘Well, I’d like to think I’ve helped people.’ ONLY One Of Me (published by Graffeg), €12.65, amazon.co.uk

 ??  ?? Comfort: Lisa Wells with her daughters Saffia, left, and Ava
Comfort: Lisa Wells with her daughters Saffia, left, and Ava

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