During my battle with cancer, Melissa and I were straight with Niranjana. Melissa did a good job of explaining that "Daddy has germs in his body called cancer" and that she needed to make sure she washed her hands and didn't cough on me.
We weren't necessarily sure how much she understood - in fact, I didn't think she got most of it because except for a day or two after each chemo, I didn't seem all that ill. Even my hair falling out was more amusing than frightening to Niranjana.
Today, I was driving Niranjana home when she asked: "Daddy, do you have cancer?"
No idea where that came from, but I answered her with speed and enthusiasm: "Not anymore!"
"Me, either!" she quickly replied.
"Did someone talk to you about cancer?" I asked her, wondering if perhaps one of her teachers brought it up at school.
"No," she replied. "Hey, can we stop at Dairy Queen?"
Guess I'll never know since 5-year-olds are the masters of the non-sequitur.
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