I had carefully scheduled my tumor debulking surgery to ensure I’d be strong enough to lift ten pounds well before my daughter-in-law’s due date. I’ve worked hard to shield my four grandchildren from my health issues. I jump fully clothed into wading pools, ride every amusement park ride, and always have art supplies ready for quiet time. I’m the Nana who rocks sleepy little ones and lies beside them until they drift off. When I need to rest after a game of hide and seek, they just think I’m old.

But now, my cover is blown.

I was hoping for a few more years of innocence. But today’s nearly eight-year-olds are observant, worldly, and apparently have very big ears. None of us realized she had overheard a conversation about a relative’s cancer surgery.

So I took a deep breath and leaned into the moment.

“Yes, I have cancer.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t know you knew what cancer was,” I offered—grasping for time.

Sure. People get cancer, get sick, and die.”

“That’s true sometimes,” I replied, “but my cancer is very slow-growing, and there’s good medicine that helps keep me well.”

“Is it going to go away?”

“We don’t know.”
And there it was—I had just LIED to my precious granddaughter. I felt sick to my stomach.

Thankfully, my daughter-in-law threw me a life line. She reminded her daughter that Nana gets a shot at the hospital every month, and that’s what helps keep me well. I ended by telling her something I know to be true:

“I don’t spend my time worrying about whether my cancer will go away—and you don’t need to either.”

That’s my truest wish.

Her five-year-old brother stayed quiet through the whole exchange. I hope he wasn’t listening too closely. I hope this will feel like old news by the time they vacation with their cousins in July. I hope I’m more prepared the next time it comes up. And I hope I haven’t stirred up any extra anxiety for their parents.

If you’re facing your own “Wait—what?” moment, here are a few tips that may help when talking to loved ones—especially children—about your cancer diagnosis:

•Keep it age-appropriate. Young children need simple, honest explanations. You don’t need to share everything, just enough to help them feel safe and included.

•Acknowledge emotions—yours and theirs. It’s okay to say, “This is a little scary, but we’re doing everything we can to help me feel better.”

•Focus on what’s being done. Share what helps—like medicine, doctor visits, or rest—so they understand that there’s a plan.

•Invite questions. Let them know it’s okay to ask anything, anytime—even if you don’t have all the answers right away.

•Revisit the conversation. One talk isn’t the end. As they grow and understand more, you can keep the conversation going.

Everyone’s story is different, and so are the words we use. You don’t have to get it perfect—just start with love.

Talking about cancer is hard.

Talking about your cancer is harder.

Talking about it with the people you love the most—your children, your grandchildren—can be the hardest conversation of all.

But you’re not alone.

At NCAN, we understand how overwhelming these moments can be. Whether you’re navigating tough conversations, facing new diagnoses, or just trying to get through the day—we’re here for you.

No one should face neuroendocrine cancer alone.
Not even Nana.

Find out more about how YOU can help the NET Community.