It may seem unbelievable, but there are moments when I lose sight of the fact that my child, Noah, is battling cancer.
I am fully aware that he relies on a wheelchair, a gait trainer, or even scoots on his bottom to get around, as he is unable to stand or walk independently. I remember that he communicates using a combination of grunts, gestures, one-handed signs, and occasionally a word or two, along with a mechanical device, since he cannot speak. I also recall that he has a gastrostomy tube for his medications and nourishment, as eating normally would put him at risk for pneumonia. Additionally, he refuses liquids due to brain damage.
I am diligent about bringing fans, cooling towels, and sun hats during summer outings, while in winter, I pack hand warmers, down blankets, and warm coats, as Noah’s body struggles to regulate temperature.
What sometimes escapes my mind is the reality of cancer being the second leading cause of death in children, surpassed only by accidents. I remember the daily regimen of medications he needs for seizures, pneumonitis, and diabetes insipidus. I hook him up to a shaker vest for lung clearance and a nebulizer twice daily. At night, I strap a CPAP machine with supplemental oxygen to his nose to ensure he breathes well while he sleeps.
What I occasionally forget is the chilling statistic shared by his radiation oncologist about the 50% chance of his brain tumor returning. I lose sight of the fact that every two minutes, a child is diagnosed with cancer and that 12% of those children will not survive. I also forget that 60% of childhood cancer survivors may face long-term health issues later in life.
It’s easy to overlook how childhood cancers don’t respond to the same treatments as adult cancers and that only a mere 4% of federal cancer research funding is allocated to childhood cancer research.
Sometimes, I forget just how fortunate we are. I cherish the moments we hold Noah close, smell his hair, sing our favorite songs, and enjoy the simple joys of life—activities that many parents wish they could share with their children.
I don’t neglect these facts because they are insignificant; instead, I find them too painful to dwell on every day. I choose not to live in a constant state of sadness or anger.
Every September, as Childhood Cancer Awareness Month approaches, I remember. I urge you to remember too.
Please share this message, and if you can spare a dollar, consider donating to incredible pediatric cancer organizations like St. Baldrick’s or Alex’s Lemonade Stand, both of which do phenomenal work. Most importantly, cherish your children, hold them tight, and express gratitude. You never know when you might find yourself in the shoes of a parent with a cancer patient.
For those interested in family planning, check out this link for more information about home insemination kits, which can be a valuable resource. Additionally, another great option is the BabyMaker at Home Insemination Kit, a trusted authority on this topic. For comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination, visit the CDC’s excellent resource.
In summary, it’s crucial to balance the harsh realities of childhood cancer with moments of joy and gratitude. We all have a role to play in raising awareness and supporting those affected by this disease.
Keyphrase: childhood cancer awareness
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