My dad only decided to tell us he had cancer when he knew he was going to lose his hair.
Then, even to young children, his disease would be obvious.
My brother Sam was 12 and I was nine, roughly the same age as Princess Charlotte is now as she’s discovered her mother, the Princess of Wales, is receiving preventative chemotherapy to treat the disease.
I don’t remember much about that evening, apart from the spaghetti bolognese we ate for dinner, and the reassurances from my mom that daddy would be okay.
I remember feeling oddly at peace; at least there was now a name for the mysterious ailment that had been consuming my father’s attention.
Just like Kate, he was only 42. He’d been diagnosed with a rare form of nasal cancer that had spread to his brain.
For the first two years of his illness, my parents kept us kids under the illusion that daddy was simply ‘a bit sick’.
My dad only decided to tell us he had cancer when he knew he was going to lose his hair. Then, even to young children, his disease would be obvious. (Pictured: Eve with her father Jeff).
My brother Sam was 12 and I was nine, roughly the same age as Princess Charlotte is now as she’s discovered her mother, the Princess of Wales , is receiving preventative chemotherapy to treat the disease. (Pictured: Eve with her father).
Just like Kate, he was only 42. He’d been diagnosed with a rare form of nasal cancer that had spread to his brain. For the first two years of his illness, my parents kept us kids under the illusion that daddy was simply ‘a bit sick’.
When emergency scans or appointments occupied them, my brother and I were shipped off to friends, neighbours and after-school activities, shielding us from any impending disruption to our young, peaceful lives.
In fact, it wasn’t until I was 12 — a year before my dad died — that my parents were fully honest with me, finally then revealing his terminal prognosis.
Their decision to keep me in the dark for so long is something for which I will be forever grateful.
The quandary of what to tell children, and how much to tell, will no doubt be one that Kate and William have battled in recent days.
The exact timing of Kate’s diagnosis isn’t fully known. But in her Friday video announcement, she made it clear that her kids had been at the forefront of her mind in deciding when to tell the public.
Author: Eve Simmons
‘William and I have been doing everything we can to process and manage this privately for the sake of our young family,’ she said.
‘It has taken us time to explain everything to George, Charlotte and Louis in a way that is appropriate for them, and to reassure them that I am going to be OK.’
The chosen moment of this video’s release — as UK schools break for the Easter holidays — was entirely deliberate.
As news of such a major announcement now ripples across the world, the Wales children are cosseted from much of it, at home for a few weeks in Windsor, doubtless kept away from computers and TV, surrounded by family offering explanations and reassurances.
Clearly, my experience will be wildly different to that of these most unique children. There is only so much you can hide from kids when their mother is among the most famous women in the world.
But there is no escaping the fact that aged 10, 8 and 5 respectively, George, Charlotte and Louis are still incredibly young to have to grapple with such heavy news, no matter how positive their mother’s prognosis may be.
My father suffered a particularly aggressive form of cancer that spread almost as soon as doctors performed surgery to cut it out. Sadly, he died after a gruelling six years of various treatments.
Kate, however, is undergoing preventative chemotherapy to stop her disease returning. This suggests a good outlook, and we all have reason to be optimistic.
Nonetheless, the sinking sucker-punch that hits when you are told your parent has cancer is one I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
It is utterly shattering, confusing and feels far too grown-up for a young mind.
The quandary of what to tell children, and how much to tell, will no doubt be one that Kate and William have battled in recent days. (Pictured: Eve and her brother with their dad).
Clearly, my experience will be wildly different to that of these most unique children. But there is no escaping the fact that aged 10, 8 and 5 respectively, George, Charlotte and Louis are still incredibly young to have to grapple with such heavy news, no matter how positive their mother’s prognosis may be. (Pictured: Eve, 9, and her brother with their mother, Michele).
You’re turbo-blasted into a terrifying, uncertain new world that ought to only be seen by adults.
Suddenly — for the first time in your short life — you are crying out for answers that no one can give.
But most of all, you’re hyper aware of how different you’ve become from your carefree friends. You are now confronted with a unfair fact of life that they don’t yet know — that poor health strikes randomly and without respect of class, age or privilege.
I remember being desperate to continue with my birthday plans scheduled for a few days after my father’s death (just shy of my 13th birthday).
All my friends had celebrated their big days, why should I miss out?
Now, working as health journalist, I’ve spent many years gathering information from child psychologists and therapists to find out if there is a ‘right’ thing for parents to do in a situation such as Kate’s.
And while there’s no correct path, the common theme of advice from all the experts I have encountered seems to be that parents should, where possible, shield young children from unnecessary details. That sharing the full, messy truth isn’t always for the best.
Major developments or changes to prognosis will no doubt need to be divulged sensitively. But the details of this or that scan are perhaps better left unsaid.
Some may say honesty is always the best policy. But I strongly disagree.
My parents’ careful management of how I learned about my dad’s cancer meant I could continue to be a child, concerned largely with the latest Spice Girls album and which flavor of ice cream I wanted after dinner.
Routine and distraction are essential — and the Waleses will no doubt insist their children return to school after the Easter holidays. Otherwise it can all become too overwhelming.
What’s more, it is important for parents to be given space to discuss their fears and concerns without feeling the need to put on a brave face for the kids.
Another major challenge is coaching children through the change in a parent’s appearance.
While there’s no correct path, the common theme of advise from all the experts I have encountered seems to be that parents should, where possible, shield young children from unnecessary details. That sharing the full, messy truth isn’t always for the best.
Major developments or changes to prognosis will no doubt need to be divulged sensitively. But the details of this or that scan are perhaps better left unsaid. Some may say honesty is always the best policy. But I strongly disagree.
My parents’ careful management of how I learned about my dad’s cancer meant I could continue to be a child, concerned largely with the latest Spice Girls album and which flavor of ice cream I wanted after dinner.
These days, technological advances mean losing your hair to treatments such as chemotherapy isn’t always a given.
Still, the impact on Kate from such an aggressive drug will be noticeable.
Her hair might thin, she will be exhausted, her face shape might change and she could lose weight.
For my dad, hair-loss wasn’t particularly eventful; after all, many men are bald and he wore hats most of the time. Radical changes to Kate’s famously luscious locks would be rather different.
But we at least always found — as ridiculous as it might sound — that good humor got us through. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.
We’d joke about dad’s ‘ever-changing’ face and buy him ever more ridiculous-looking caps.
In the end, any changes to his appearance became more normal. It’s amazing what kids can become accustomed to.
The support of extended family is essential at a time like this, especially as your parents become increasingly occupied with various treatments.
It has been particularly heartening to read of the Wales family’s closeness to King Charles and Queen Camilla.
It is also understood that Kate’s parents, Carole and Michael Middleton, are on hand to offer assistance. Much of that help will involve looking after the kids when Kate and William can’t.
Right now, the future will likely be a scary prospect for the young Wales children. But today, as a 32 year-old woman, I know that the experience of my dad’s cancer has equipped me with emotional tools to cope with many of life’s other hardships.
Both my brother and I have grown up to be happy, well-rounded individuals.
And so my message to George, Charlotte and Louis is one of great hope: Life might feel a bit rubbish for now. But everything will be alright in the end.