Dad’s Diary

Parents often protect their children from worry, through the simple expedient of not telling them about worrying things. There’s certainly no need to worry small children about crimes such as murder, for example. Yet we do tell them about dangers of traffic, as the worrying knowledge that cars can hurt of kill you encourages them to be careful near roads.

When someone a child cares about is seriously sick, we often choose not to worry them unduly. Yet, on the other hand, I feel that older children have a right to know when those they love are unwell, and in need of their love and prayers.

The other day, we found out that a very close and much-loved older relative had contracted coronavirus while in hospital. My initial reaction was anger at the Government’s failure to protect medically vulnerable long-stay hospital patients by adding them to the vaccination priority list. Older people in hospital are easily as vulnerable as those in nursing homes. After all, over 800 people contracted coronavirus in hospital in the past month alone.

My instinct on hearing the news was to go to the kids and say, “you won’t believe what’s happened…” I stopped myself, as I knew they were already worried, and I also thought of the many times they’d heard how dangerous the coronavirus can be for older people. I resolved to speak to my wife to decide what to do.

She was initially against telling them, saying that it would only worry them unnecessarily.

I wasn’t so sure. I remembered being 10 and 11 myself when my grandparents died, first my grandmother and then my grandfather the following year. I appreciated being told that they were sick and being brought to see them in hospital regularly. I appreciated being told when they were at risk of dying too, as it meant that I could make the most of the time I had with them. I still remember seeing my grandfather early in the evening of the night he died. I’m glad that I was there, and not being sheltered from the reality of death. Being told made me feel grown up, and trusted. I felt that the older two kids were now old enough to understand. Above all, I simply felt they had a right to know when someone they love is unwell, or is facing a challenging illness. I felt it would be wrong to deceive them.

We agreed that we might tell the older two, after the picture was clearer as to the initial course of the illness, so that we could give them the facts and, hopefully, reassure them that it looked to be a mild case. After a few days, we spoke to the doctor and it was clear that it looked to be a reasonably mild case so far. There was of course the risk of it suddenly deteriorating, as coronavirus can do for an unlucky minority of patients, yet all was well for now. Hearing this, I resolved to tell the older children when I could.

The next day, when the smaller two were with the childminder, I called the older kids into my room and told them the news. They were initially shocked, and looked at me in disbelief. My son buried his head in the duvet. For a moment, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. But I was quickly able to make light of it and tell them that it was going ok so far. I told them the tests were promising, and that the symptoms cleared after one day. They laughed at the thought of her saying: “I don’t know what all this talk of coronavirus is about, I feel absolutely great!”

They said they would say “even more prayers” for her. For we are not out of the woods yet, as the critical and most risky phase of the illness approaches. I asked my son if he was worried now, and if he was glad I’d told him. He smiled and said he was not worried at all but that “I’d have been really cross if I found out afterwards!” I was relieved, and I saw clearly that it would have been a betrayal to keep them in the dark.