Camp Kesem is
a network of camps for children affected by a parent’s cancer.
And, let’s be honest, every child is affected by a parent’s
cancer.
The camp is 100% funded through donations, grants and
all-scale fundraisers making it free of cost to participants. Kesem means ‘magic’
in Hebrew and, now that my children have attended and returned from camp, I can
only nod wildly in agreement with the idea that this camp is indeed magical. Camp
Kesem is not designed as a cancer camp. The camp is actually focused on typical
summer camp adventure, fun and frolic yet brings together a unique peer group
and provides the opportunity for deep connections. After five days, both my
children returned healthy, happy and transformed in some very specific ways.
Prior to camp, I thought my children were all cancer-talked out.
We have talked openly with the children about cancer since a
friend’s shocking Stage IV lung cancer diagnosis in May 2012. We continued to
speak frankly after my mother was diagnosed with Stage IIB breast cancer in
January 2013 and my uncle diagnosed with Stage IV lung cancer in April 2013.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in May 2013, there was no possibility
that we would hide anything from the kids.
After my diagnosis and an honest conversation about fears, we made one family
rule, Brandon and I would share everything with the kids but I needed to make
sure I had come to terms with it first. We have operated pretty successfully in
this manner for the past 15 months.
When I registered the kids for camp eight months ago, I was mentally
preparing for yet another surgery. Most of our family dynamic still involved daily
conversation about my breasts or my doctor appointments. Or Grammy’s chemo. Or
Cheryl’s death. By the time this summer rolled around, I thought my children
were all cancer-talked out but I still wanted them to experience the freedom to
discuss and process cancer and the effects of the last year on their own terms,
with support.
So off they went to Camp Kesem.
Regardless of how open and honest we are with our children - we aren’t kids. Children don’t have the same world perspective, the same fears or even the ability to
process emotions based on decades of life experience. And the moment I was diagnosed,
both children stepped into a role of trying to protect me from their own fears
and feelings. I didn’t know if they’d share anything at camp, but I wanted them
to have the option and the opportunity.
The intimate details of Camp Kesem SCU’s inaugural year is
not my story to tell. I wasn’t there – THAT is part of the magic!
Yet I have listened intently to their retelling of “amazing”
food, fencing adventures, card tricks, silly skits, uphill-both-ways-hiking,
teeny rock walls and swimming pool extravaganzas. Evidently both children took
leadership roles, learned new skills and made new friends. I was told that my son "Bacon" filed a formal petition to change the name of "Karl the Caterpillar" to Dave. And I was told my
daughter "Jelly" formally requested that Administration “extend camp another four
days.” They were obviously feeling comfortable and having fun!
And I have also listened intently to the description of late
night cabin chats that took decidedly different turns for both my son and my
daughter. Our son came home and proceeded to regale us with new jokes and a
handful of magic tricks learned from a fellow camper during the before bed
conversations. Our daughter returned home with pages full of email addresses, journal
notes and a visibly relaxed demeanor, which looks fabulous on her uber-mature
personality.
Our kids were not steeped in cancer talk for five days; they were steeped
in support. Over the past week, they each found the strength and courage to ask
for what they needed and give back what they could.
They forged unique relationships with new friends and
strengthened friendships that actually existed long before cancer or Camp Kesem
came into their young lives.
Before camp, our children processed their anger toward cancer
and their fear and frustration together. And yet they dealt with their feelings very differently. Our daughter put
on a brave face; she soothed all of us and outwardly focused on the positive.
Our son asked a lot of questions and processed on what felt like a very
intellectual and very unemotional level.
Camp Kesem cabin chats became a catalyst for them to explore
valid emotions they’d hidden from me and possibly themselves. And, for them,
the Empowerment Ceremony became an opportunity for them to not only feel, but to
share (and in some cases let go of) those emotions.
My daughter: “I was angry. No, I was pissed.”
My son: “I cried. Oh, I cried.”
In the few days since their return, they’ve mentioned going
back next year more than a dozen times.
Last summer we were deep in CancerLand. This summer is so
very different. Camp was fun, camp was restorative and camp was all about them.
When I arrived to pick them up, all of the kids and
counselors were just getting into a circle. They all locked arms and sang “Stand
By Me” while swaying together:
When the night has
come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No I won't be afraid
No I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No I won't be afraid
No I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
There are days I do not want to be known as a cancer ANYTHING:
caregiver, patient or survivor. And then there are days that I need to talk ad
nauseum with others who understand cancer’s realistic toll and lingering emotional
and physical effects. Thankfully, I have a strong support system that enables
both sides of that coin.
And now my children do too.
Thank you Camp Kesem SCU for this little bit of magic.
Thank you Camp Kesem SCU for this little bit of magic.
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