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EDITOR
Keeley's editorial on telling children about a parent's cancer
struck an instant chord with me, perhaps an indication of how decisions
made by an adult affect a child's life.1
I was 16 when my father died, of cerebral metastases from lung cancer. Over the six months that his physical and mental state deteriorated, the only explanation I was ever given was from the community nurse as he was whisked away in yet another ambulance: "Daddy's got a nasty pain in his tummy, and the doctors are going to make him better." At the time I was studying for a selection of O levels, with the intention of applying to medical school. I reasoned for this entire period that if it was something as serious as cancer, someone would tell me. No one did, therefore things had to be all right.
A child's belief in their parent's immortality cannot be