Like so many around the world today, I was saddened and shocked by the news of the Princess of Wales’s cancer diagnosis. Saturday mornings are nonstop in our household, which means no time for consuming any information from the outside world. While driving to collect one daughter from gym, having just retrieved the other from ballet, I passed an electronic billboard. It showed a picture of Catherine with the headline “Catherine’s Shock Cancer Diagnosis“. At first, I thought it was another vicious rumour doing the online rounds. But it felt too awful and cruel to be speculation.
My stomach churned a little as I drove to collect my daughter. All I could think was, “It can’t be true. She’s my age. She has children.” As if cancer is in any way discerning. At the soonest possible moment, once my daughter was safely collected, I opened Instagram, where I knew it would be the first post on my feed. And there it was. The video of the princess in her mum-style attire, a striped jumper and jeans. There was a lot of background noise outside the gym so I couldn’t hear her voice, but I read the captions. After a few seconds she dropped the bombshell. By this time, we were all back in the car and I began crying in front of my children.
I have no right to feel so affected by this news. She is a complete stranger and I have no personal connection to her. We are merely two women, on opposite sides of the earth, who are the same age and who both have three children who are very similar in age. But as she spoke to the camera it was those brief split seconds where she looked down, her resolve dwindling momentarily, that showed her humanity. I saw a mum displaying immense courage by giving the world the details they had bullied her into sharing and imploring the public to allow her to protect her children from further fear or worry.
There are times when I am confronted by the reality of my own fragility. I have watched family and friends battle cancer with determination and bravery. Each time I am reminded that I can never take my health for granted. Each time I count my blessings that I’m okay today. Because, really, that is all we have; today. I feel physically sick at the thought that anything would prevent me from being there for my children. I suspect any good mother does. News like this makes me realise that the everyday “normal”, that can often be cause for so much frustration, is really a blessing and a privilege.
My hope is that the world will now give Catherine, a mother, the space she needs to prioritise her own health and the wellbeing of her husband and children. For a brief period of time, let’s forget who she is to us and let her spend time valuing the everyday moments with the ones she loves.
