When Natalie was diagnosed with cancer - Lynn's story

Natalie was 17 and about to fly home from Australia. Hearing her cough, the stewardess refused to let her board without seeing a doctor. He said she had fluid on her lung and sent her to hospital. I was told she had pneumonia, only to find out upon arrival that it was cancer. Devastated, I rushed to the hospital desperate to hold my daughter.

I don’t know how I coped during the following weeks and months, but Natalie and I had strong faith and clung to God. She hated hospital food and I struggled watching her lose weight.

Natalie was a beautiful, vivacious singer, dancer and performer with long hair - I was distressed to see her losing it. She was determined and knew her own mind, which became a real strength. The hairdresser asked, “How long have you had short hair?” to which Natalie replied, “Since I had cancer!”

Courage

My marriage struggled long before Natalie was diagnosed with cancer. Leaving the family home, becoming a single parent, trying to work, caring for a seriously ill child and my 14-year-old son, Tom, was tough. My strength came from God and the positive way Natalie coped.

She was amazing, a fighter and so positive, doing articles for the local newspaper by phone. She encouraged 160 people to join the Anthony Nolan bone marrow register, and raised awareness and money for cancer charities.

I cried myself to sleep many nights, exhausted from non-stop caring. A good friend phoned most days to ask how Natalie and I were. We had spells back home - Natalie loved being with her brother, her cat, and being able to eat home cooking.

Whenever her temperature rose above 38ºC, she went back to hospital. Natalie had to be my priority. Tom didn’t really understand his sister’s illness, and naturally was very angry when she died.

Finding healing through the support of the Bereaved Parents' Network

Natalie and I planned the funeral a year before, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. When she died, I could say, “This is the service Natalie wanted.” Her final wishes were: “Tell people how you feel.” In the grieving that followed, I found healing through talking to other bereaved parents whom I met through the Network. They understood the freedom of talking, crying and being listened to. It breaks the silent scream within.

It’s difficult to imagine anything worse than watching your child suffer and die, but throughout the illness we developed a very deep relationship. I felt I lost not only my daughter, but my best friend. Life is uncertain; suffering comes to us all, but talking about it helps.

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