Do you know what it means to be different? To stand out from the crowd and attract pity, unwanted words and looks from people, and even have fingers pointed at you? Have you ever seen someone quickly look away from you and unintentionally leave you feeling insulted? Have you ever felt like your charm and identity have been stripped from you, leaving you feeling like nothing other than a bald head?
This is how many cancer patients feel – they lose their hair and they suddenly become cancer invalids. No longer individuals, not Daniel nor Liat, or Shiran. Instead, cancer is their identity.
For children going through this, it’s even harder, practically unbearable. On top of the anxiety, the pain, the move from home to hospital, and the dread of the unknown, they also go into social isolation. They’re physically distanced from their friends and family during their long stays in the hospital where they need to be shielded from germs and infections, but they also suffer emotional isolation.
What does a healthy child know about the fear of dying? How can a healthy child understand how it feels to lose all her hair? Even their closest friends can’t understand anything about blood counts, loss of appetite, preservation of fertility, and fear of what the future holds.
Zichron Menachem: Helping sick children have childhoods
It was for all these children that we established Zichron Menachem 33 years ago. It was also for them that we set up our network of fun camps – taking over 100 children away three times a year: to Eilat in the winter, to the North in the spring, and overseas to Europe in the summer.
We take them without their parents, far away from their hospitals and grueling treatments, for 5-10 days of vacation and fun – trips, parties, sports, sailing, shopping, shows, performances – you name it.
We do it not only to give them a chance to really enjoy themselves. That’s the main reason but it’s not the only one.
During their time in camp, they’re not patients, they’re simply children. Children who have pillow fights on the plane, who sing at the top of their voices on the bus, make funny faces at the cameras, enjoy extreme sports and eat and eat, and then eat again. Children who hardly got up or ate or smiled at home. Just children.
In camp, they’re with over 100 other children just like them. They’re all going through the same things so they feel normal and, most importantly, they all understand each other.
A child who may have felt alone and different and that no one can really understand him now finds himself among children who know exactly how he feels because they feel the same. They all know what it means if they get a fever, and what the blood count means, just by looking at one another they can immediately tell what’s happening. They won’t get strange looks or pity, and they don’t need to prove to anyone how strong and brave they are. They can just be themselves.
The effect on the children is seen almost immediately. The anticipation alone has a positive effect on them. They eat better, try to get through their treatments better, and strengthen themselves in order to get the medical approval they need in order for us to accept them. Once they get to camp we see miracles all the time. A boy who had difficulty eating before can suddenly finish a whole plate of chicken and spaghetti. A girl who had difficulty walking suddenly breaks out into a dance at the evening party.
There isn’t a doctor on our team who’s come with us and hasn’t been amazed at the difference between the blood tests taken on the first day and those on the last day.
There are of course other advantages to the fact that the children are away at camp. It provides a welcome respite for their families who can at last let down their guard and forget about medicines, tests, and blood counts. For these few days the parents can focus their attention on their other children at home whose needs inevitably tend to get pushed aside. It also gives them the time to devote to their spouses and yes, even to themselves.
The message I want to convey is that what sick children need is to be seen for who they are – children. Of course, pity and concern come from love, but that isn’t what they need. A child needs to be a child. If we want to give him what he really needs, we have to treat him like any normal child. Laugh together, have fun together – you will be amazed at how much energy he will suddenly have – and give him what he needs to recover: his childhood.
The writer is founder and chairman of Zichron Menachem, for children with cancer and their family members.