Brace yourselves. I will be bombarding you with information, helpful tips, awesome charities, ways to fund research, and how to not be stupid around cancer families.
September is National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Like, for real. The President declared it. It’s not like the 4,682 other “national fill-in-the-blank” months. National Little Dog Lovers month. National Foot Fungus Awareness Day. National Heartworm Medication Week. This one is legit.
The Nerd and I spontaneously decided to head to DC for CureFest, a small festival of sorts centered around raising money and funding for pediatric cancer research.
Why do we need this? This is why:
The federal government allots $5 billion a year to cancer research.
FOUR PERCENT of that is for children.
I’ll let you pick your jaw up off the floor. And maybe wipe your face if you vomited in your mouth like I did when I heard that.
Their reasoning? Childhood is basically the same thing as adult cancer, so the research will help eventually.
Oh, okay then. So, Mr. and Mrs. Politician, if your little girl is diagnosed with asthma, I’ll just give you some chest cold medicine. I mean, they both cause issues in the chest. Those can both make it a bit harder to breathe. Sure, lots of kids would die, but it’s basically the same thing, right?
It’s not okay.
And even in the midst of treatment, we’re doing something about it.
This month, I will be focusing on some fantastic organizations donating to cutting edge research – research that could lead to using a child’s own blood cell’s to fight cancer. No nausea. No vomiting. No hair loss. No anemia. Just some serious cancer a$$ kicking.
I will be asking you to donate. I know, people hate that.
Because you’d rather buy a new fall scarf. And you really want another Starbucks this afternoon. And you really wanted those cute shoes. And you really want another date night. And you really want to finish decorating the living room.
You know what I really want?
I really want my baby to live. I really want that sweet little boy we see in clinic every week to be able to eat again. I really want that mom rocking her 8 month old while poison is pumped through her veins to be more concerned about crawling than she is about her baby seeing her first birthday.
So I humbly submit that if you can afford a $4 latte, you can afford to donate $4 to my first pediatric cancer organization highlight:
They are based in Connecticut, and are an outstanding organization whose purpose is to help alleviate some of the burden a cancer diagnosis carries with it. They pay bills for cancer families in the early stages to help minimize the financial storm that surrounds cancer treatment. They visit the hospital, provide snacks and toys, and reach out to parents in what is probably the most terrifying moments of their lives.
This year, we have the honor of participating in the Tommy Fund Family Day, a celebration for families of children with cancer, and a day to raise money for this wonderful foundation.
Goo will be running in a kids’ fun run, and she needs help. She needs people to sponsor her and her big sister in this run, so the Tommy Fund can keep doing it what it does best – helping families like ours.
It has her real name. It has her beautiful face. It has an opportunity for you to help families fight back against a silent killer.
No donation is too small. Her goal is $500. We have raised $90 so far. The Nerd and I, though knee-deep in cancer treatment, are already thinking of ways we will help when we’re done. We may start our own foundation. We may join a local organization and support them.
One thing is for sure: We won’t give up. We won’t forget how other warrior families have impacted our family.
We won’t stop at 4%.