Resilience is a child wearing cancer

Bonni Suckling shares how she concluded what resilience really is: a child wearing cancer. 

You can listen to this article below, or by using your favourite podcast player at pod.link/oncologybuddies

I was in the final stretch of my postgraduate Paediatric Palliative course, struggling to grasp the medical terms and complex concepts. Then came the assignment: Write about resilience. What? How?

I turned to Google for a definition: “Resilience is the ability to endure adversity, adapt to challenges, and continue finding meaning and joy despite hardships. It is not just about strength—it is about growth, transformation, and the courage to keep moving forward, even when faced with unimaginable difficulties.”

Mmm… no, that’s not it.

True emotions need to be shown

Nadia, my best friend (my Bru’—both homegrown in Natal) and my partner at Rainbows and Smiles, is also a mother to an incredible little boy named Hanno. She joined our foundation after Hanno died from rhabdomyosarcoma. Our bond was forged in grief and in learning to navigate life without our boys.

Both Nadia and I feel strongly that using war metaphors when talking about cancer is harmful. We both dislike hearing how brave and strong our sons were. We believe these words discourage children from expressing their true emotions—fear, anxiety, and sadness. Our boys were terrified. We were terrified. Their big, strong dads were terrified. None of us were brave—we were broken. Unashamedly broken.

War metaphors place an unfair burden on children. “Be brave”, “You can do this”, “Win the war against cancer.” As if it’s a battle, they have control over. Cancer is not an opponent in a war game; it’s a disease and it’s scary. We must acknowledge that fear is an acceptable emotion.

Resilience is a child wearing cancer

I asked my like-minded Bru’ what resilience meant. I knew the Google definition, but I couldn’t grasp what my assignment demanded. And was resilience just another war metaphor we despised?

A long pause. Then a heartfelt, emotional reply. “Resilience is a child wearing cancer.” I took a moment to absorb her words. There is no better way to describe it.

Children with cancer do not choose their challenges. They do not wake up and decide to be strong, brave, or resilient. They are simply thrust into a reality they never asked for, wearing their diagnosis like an invisible weight that shapes every part of their childhood. Yet within them, thereis an undeniable spark—one that refuses to be dimmed by pain, loss, or the uncertainty of tomorrow.

Resilience in paediatric cancer is not just about enduring the disease; it’s about the way these children continue to embrace life in the face of it. It is in my little boy, who, despite losing his hair, still asked me to spike up the few wisps left on his head, so he could be cool. 

It’s in Shanaya (pictured above), the little girl we grew to love, who insisted on dressing up as her favourite princess before treatment. Shanaya would twirl in her glamorous dresses and laugh. She had one arm and was dying—but she twirled. We should all live like Shanaya.

A parent’s resilience

I have seen resilience in the tear-streaked face of a mother holding her child’s hand, whispering reassurances she isn’t sure she believes herself. I have seen it in fathers who step into hospital corridors, steal a moment to cry, and return with a joke or a stuffed animal, determined to bring a smile to their child’s face. 

Resilience is not only worn by the children but also by the families who love them.

I will never forget the day Jed was dying—paralysed, swollen, and exhausted. He looked up at me with his big blue eyes, milky as his sight faded, and said, “Mom, let’s make today the funnest day ever.” Cancer stole so much, but not his joyful spirit.

Resilience is love in its purest form

To every child who has faced cancer: You are the definition of resilience. To every family walking this road: You are not alone. We see you. And to every person who has ever loved a child with cancer: Your love is the foundation of their strength.

Because at the heart of paediatric cancer, beyond the medicine and the statistics, is a simple but powerful truth—resilience is love in its purest form.