Evan The Warrior

The Gift of Life

Greetings Everyone!

Sending warmest wishes for a healthy holiday season and special thoughts to all who are missing their loved ones. Praying especially for the miracle and sending the deepest of blessings to Becky A., Nick F., and Ryan M., and, of course, the many other children who continue to fight so valiantly.

There is no greater gift than the gift of life.

Alan Riley said it best. Please enjoy his message.

Christmas Eve Gift

My family on my father's side had an unusual tradition. Many years at Christmas we would travel to my grandparents' house in Alabama on December 23. We would be there for Christmas Eve day and then head back home that night. My father was the oldest of seven children, so I had a LOT of uncles, aunts and cousins on that side of the family, most of whom lived nearby.

On December 24, whenever one of the family would arrive at my grandparent's house, they would come through the door saying, "Christmas Eve gift!" I remember wondering why they said that. Sometimes they were carrying gifts to put under the tree but at least half of the time they had nothing in their hands as they walked through the door and said, "Christmas Eve gift!"

As an adult, I asked one of my uncles about the family custom. He smiled and said that the family had been doing that since my father was a little boy. The meaning behind it was simple, yet profound. The "gift" they referred to was themselves.

The gift of (life) and being together as a family was, after all, the best gift we could give each other.

Some Christmases when my father was growing up, especially during the Great Depression, that was about the only gift that they had to give each other. But even in the years when there were presents under the tree for all of us, the best gift they gave each other was being together at Christmas. So they recognized that with the tradition of saying "Christmas Eve gift!" as they arrived to share the special day together.

For the life of me, I can't recall a single material gift that I was ever given at my grandparent's house - even though there was always something under the tree for me. Whatever those gifts were - perhaps toys, clothing, or books - they have long since faded from my memory.

Yet I can close my eyes and see the faces of my cousins as we talked, laughed and sang together on Christmas Eve. I can vividly remember what it smelled like in my grandmother's kitchen, and the love and patience showered on me by all of my uncles and aunts.

So they were right.

The gift that we announced as we came through the door and shouted "Christmas Eve gift!" was the best gift, the most valuable gift, and the gift that has stood the test of time: the gift of time spent with those you love.

As you give presents to those you love this Christmas, keep in mind that the best gift you can give is the gift of yourself. The material things you get and give this year will soon be used up, broken and forgotten. But the gift of (life) and love and time invested in your loved ones will be kept and cherished in their hearts - and in yours - for the rest of our lives.

Some say we give gifts at Christmas to carry on the tradition of the Magi who brought gifts to Jesus. But when we give the gift of ourselves, (and when we appreciate the gift of life) we are truly being like the One whose birth we celebrate. The one who loves us and gave Himself for us so that we could spend eternity together with Him.

Christmas Eve Gift!

Tributes to the Children

 

 

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The most recent event was December 11, 2010 in the Old Post Office Pavilion in Washington D.C.

 

 "Light Up the Holidays with Hope" has become our nation’s largest annual childhood cancer awareness event. Each year during the December holiday season, a 23 foot tree is placed in the lobby of a building in Washington DC. The tree is solely decorated with thousands of gold ribbons (the symbol for childhood cancer). Each ribbon bears the name of a child who has, or has had cancer. The tree glitters strong in our nation’s capitol for all to see. Thousands each year are touched as they are reminded of our nation’s youngest cancer patients.

  

THE TRUE STORY OF RUDOLPH THE RED NOSE REINDEER

 
A man named Bob May, depressed and brokenhearted, stared out his drafty apartment window into the chilling December night.  His 4-year-old daughter, Barbara sat on his lap quietly sobbing. Bob's wife, Evelyn, was dying of cancer. Little Barbara couldn't understand why her mommy could never come home.     

Barbara looked up into her dad's eyes and asked, "Why isn't Mommy just like everybody else's Mommy?" Bob's jaw tightened and his eyes welled with tears. Her question brought waves of grief, but also of anger.

It had been the story of Bob's life. Life always had to be different for Bob. Small when he was a kid, Bob was often bullied by other boys. He was too little at the time to compete in sports. He was often called names he'd rather not remember. From childhood, Bob was different and never seemed to fit in.

Bob did complete college, married his loving wife and was grateful to get his job as a copywriter at Montgomery Ward during the Great Depression. Then he was blessed with his little girl. But it was all short-lived. Evelyn's bout with cancer stripped them of all their savings and now Bob and his daughter were forced to live in a two-room apartment in the Chicago slums.

Evelyn died just days before Christmas in 1938. Bob struggled to give hope to his child, for whom he couldn't even afford to buy a Christmas gift.

But if he couldn't buy a gift, he was determined to make one - a storybook!

Bob had created an animal character in his own mind and told the animal's story to little Barbara to give her comfort and hope. Again and again Bob told the story, embellishing it more with each telling.

Who was the character? What was the story all about? The story Bob May created was his own autobiography in fable form. The character he created was a misfit outcast like he was. The name of the character? A little reindeer named Rudolph, with a big shiny nose.

Bob finished the book just in time to give it to his little girl on Christmas Day. But the story doesn't end there. The general manager of Montgomery Ward caught wind of the little storybook and offered Bob May a nominal fee to purchase the rights to print the book. Wards went on to print, Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer and distribute it to children visiting Santa Claus in their stores.

By 1946 Wards had printed and distributed more than six million copies of Rudolph. That same year, a major publisher wanted to purchase the rights from Wards to print an updated version of the book. In an unprecedented gesture of kindness, the CEO of Wards returned all rights back to Bob May. The book became a best seller.

Many toy and marketing deals followed and Bob May, now remarried with a growing family, became wealthy from the story he created to comfort his grieving daughter. But the story doesn't end there either. Bob's brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, made a song adaptation to Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore, it was recorded by the singing cowboy, Gene Autry. "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of "White Christmas."

The gift of love that Bob May created for his daughter so long ago kept on returning back to bless him again and again.

And Bob May learned the lesson, just like his dear friend Rudolph, that being different isn't so bad. In fact, being different can be a blessing.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! May every child fighting cancer realize they may be different from all their other school friends, but they are a blessing to each and every one of us. A special thanks to every parent's daughter or son that is teaching or has taught the world a lesson in kindness, courage, hope, strength and love. You are all Evan's Heroes! Blessings to all you love!

Presented to you by Andrew Gallop; http://leadershipskillsbooks.com

Link to this article http://www.prlog.org/11154006-the-true-story-of-rudolph-the-red-nosed-reindeer.html

 

 

IT'S ALL IN HIS HANDS

 The Short Version

Carepage Readers: Please scroll down to read the Long Version

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Evan was diagnosed in May, 2007 with High Risk Pre B Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Evan completed active treatment for his blood cancer on September 18, 2010.  Once Evan makes it through the next 18 months without relapse, he will have, in the eyes of the pediatric oncologists in the medical community, an 80% chance of living a long and active life, free of this particular cancer. His survival rate increases each successive year thereafter and exponentially five years after diagnosis. Five years after treatment ends, Evan will be seen in the hematology world as officially cured, with the chance of relapse no greater than any one of us.  Evan will be closely followed for the rest of his life. Presently, he is being seen once a month. We are taking some time to walk around the race track, catch our collective breaths and begin to look towards the future. His lifelong battle against this beast will forever be my prison, even as Evan is optimistic and looking forward to his hard fought freedom. What we do know for sure is that we will leave it ALL In His Mighty Hands. The long term side effects of high dose chemo, if any, are unknown at this point. It is too early to tell. Evan, Ryan and I wish to thank you for your incredible support and many faithful prayers during our journey. I have every reason to believe that Evan will do many great things with the life he has been given. He already has.

 

ALL IN HIS HANDS

The Long Version

My washer broke. It broke early last week. Mind you, I am in an apartment with the boys right now, so the breakage meant obtaining and submitting a Work Order and waiting my turn for service.

When things break, there is an order in which repairs need to be made.

It was a long set of days, the ones without the washer. The clothes we wore mounted like the ants that climbed atop our material and joined the crumbs on the dishcloths, as if invited to the circus.  The white, almost mummified soap-scented washrags, tossed over and under the piles of colored jeans and streaked deodorant sleeves stamped themselves next to inside out sweatshirts, and these sights and scents mingled together like an old dirty slotted spoon left inside the crock pot near the stove. Axe scents and greasy, stale donut hole smells.

Dirty, messy, stinkin' rotten cancer laundry.

What a cacophony of broken-ness and disarray greets you when the washer breaks and stays broken for a very long time.

The days passed without our washer and soon we became somewhat used to the brokenness, or the "not so normal". We learned that it was not so important that we wear the latest fashions, only the cleanest ones. We learned to hang up the bath towels and use them all week long. We learned that if a rag used to wash the car  was clean, it was as good as any Nordstrom towel, and actually absorbed better, too. We figured out that if we would live dangerously and risk unpacking the emergency suitcase that was kept in the car for unscheduled trips to the hospital or an earthquake, we could use the socks and sweats rolled up in the bottom of the bags of cheesy snacks, glow sticks and books that we would never read, especially under duress. We learned that we could get by.   

 

It soon became evident that this broken pile of wash needed to be moved. A(nother) trip was in order. We figured out a plan, even as we knew plans had a way of blowing up, like IEDs on foreign dessert soil, directly in our path. We packed the car trunk with ALL, our jars of quarters were netted in the carriers and I filled the back end with large black Hefty trash bags abundantly full of stale seams and seamlessly endless coloreds.

Less is definitely more in the midst of broken-ness.

Within the confines of one of the ten most do not want to go places, namely the laundromat, I met the strangest of strangers. I presumed they were local. It was a universe, here inside this business. A melting pot of people and personal items.

There was one particular man who made it his business to stay warm and dry in the washateria. He fashioned himself as a pseudo attendant. He informed me, over and over again, through dirty teeth and dirtier breath (the kind that comes from stale plastic cups of day old beer in dumpsters) that he needed to prevent my passage further than the washers.

It seems, per the strange man with the stranger breath, that while I could come into the Laundromat with the best laid plans, and while I could wash my clothes, I could not dry them.

For you see, this unwelcome man informed me that the dryers had all manner of melted crayon in them, from a teenage prank or a mom too hurried to empty Scooter's pockets after school. Drying out the newly washed clothes on foreign soil would not be possible. Life outside of the confines of the normal spin cycle at home marched on in the lavenderia and changed by the minute and the man who seemingly had things under control. The only way I had of dealing with my now loaded clothes, was to reluctantly join the others on the unsteady plastic chairs, or painful walk around the room ...all of us on the slow moving carousel, the one going in directions not so normal.

 

The exorbitant and unexpected costs, on a per load basis, of the broken washer, namely the slotted coin mechanism asking for 15 quarters a load, while not wholly surprising, was no match for the need I had to clean the clothes.

There is a time in the midst of real brokenness when need trumps cost.

Therefore, I did not hesitate to pour my coins into the slots. I thought to select “cold” cycles, even though I worried about the lack of hot water and the germ fighting power of Tide, because I did not trust the machine that was proporting to clean my clothes. I had no choice to trust the process, but I thought to attempt to control it anyway. That particular cycle selector, the one that I planned to use and the one that I wanted was... yes, broken. So my clothes set about to wash themselves on high hot heat. Heavy Duty wash and spin cycle. All of the clothes that I had lovingly bought for my children and me now bore the brunt of the heat inside the washer, as I watched helplessly, and braved the steamy wait, in the hot, non air conditioned room, with the many metal bins and machines clinking and spinning wildly, while the strange strange man sat in the chair beside me. The doors of the machines were hellishly locked in a cycle entirely not of my invention.

 

I thought of many things as I sat next to the man and waited for our clothes to bake and as I watched the timer click away the minutes. I watched as our colored clothes were tossed about. No control. On with their business. Impervious to me. To Evan. To the best laid plans. I thought of these plans and the many days and nights I had managed to walk away from these plans, and head directly into the face of the monster and into the eye of an intensely raging storm. I saw visions, as I sat on this hard chair of the days and days beside hospital beds...

See, the clothes in this out of control washer, next to the strange drunk man, in a place hotter than Hades, was where I never wanted to be, planned to be or wanted to go again. This simple act reminded me, and then I tried not to remember, which made me think on the places and the sounds and the smells that you do not ever want me to write about, at least not without warning you first. Memories like those found in an old shed, or a ghost of a closet, housing the broken washer, only scarier.

I tried to dive around the indelible sights of back in the back,of my head and the ward, the barely lit BMT hallways, and the many closed and darkened doors, the too quiet hallways,  hallways with every door closed, and when you came out weref illed on the sides with way too many bins ad carts and rooms and doors. Bin after bin of sanitary, hospital gowns, stacked and starched pillowcases with black hospital lettering and those dates...those dates... stamped on them, dates that were the indicators of others who used them, hopefully washed them, and when and where they went, on to better sleep. Dates stamped the pillows under my son's.... I tried not to see, as I sat in the plastic chair, with the metal legs- I tried not to see the towels, the white, sterile, small towels stacked under the heavy plastic curtained bin on wheels, meant to keep them clean.

 

 
I tried not to remember the crash cartS beside the sterile bins and the doors marked Conference and Procedure.

 

 

I tried not to remember the blood...towels. I tried most of all not to remember the faces of the parents, circling in and out of the rooms, coming out again, going in, quietly, carrying more towels, wearing old and dirty clothes and deeply creased foreheads. I tried not to remember where it was that I saw so many wet, stained eyes.

 

 

I remembered though, as I sat in this barren laundry room. I looked at our clothes spinning around in no particular order and I saw the oppressive steam edging and seeping from the machines. I remembered.

Then my thoughts shifted. I prayed. You see, I pray when I wash clothes. These days the prayers take me to all the times and places  I had prayed so deeply and tearfully to forget. Praying  over my son's clothes as I took them out of the washer, in places so foreign to us, deep in the bowels of strange and large and important rooms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is Evan's little white sock.

Lord, please...please...won't YOU please, just give his little feet more time to grow... into these small little socks?

Here is his shirt. It's his favorite shirt, Lord. Dear God, won't You please keep his heart safe, just like this soft safe shirt makes him feel?

Please, Lord, give me time to fold even larger clothes of Evan's.  Please. Please. Let Evan sit up, get dressed and walk out of this hospital in these brand new slipper socks.

Dear God, won't You please...just... let... my... son... live?

Just a little more living, God...just a little more living.

The water...it comes...

To wash away the...

 

Finally, (sigh) the maintenance schedule bore my name, some few days later and the washer was fixed. Rather, the washer was repaired.

It will never be the same, this broken washer, and I know, but pretend, otherwise. Yesterday, despite the knowing-yesterday found me dancing. I have so completely enjoyed placing each and every item of our newly dirty laundry inside the barrel of the gun, washer, in the privacy of my home, in my repaired washer and I have bounced gleefully along with the now purring spin cycles. Music to my ears. Clean, crisp, fresh, softly scented clothes--homespun. Dry. All folded and put away.

ALL does get clothes cleaner.

There is no place like home....

 

Everyone should experience a break...of a washer, now and again. A broken washer, by virtue of its brokenness brings home the idea, in no uncertain terms, that the have-ing and the not-have-ing are all very much related. One begets the other. Everyone should experience brokenness, for it is in the broken-ness that we learn what to appreciate. Most broken washers, unlike people, are merely a hassle and a work order away from fixing. Conversely, we learn what is much more important than a broken appliance.

When something breaks we learn what really matters- what truly counts and we definitely learn what we can handle and what we should live with, and without.

Worry comes to mind. Toss it.

Love...Health...Minutes. Keep.

 These are a few of my new favorite things.

 

Life teaches us best, in the broken moments.

When something breaks, we learn what can be replaced.

We learn what cannot.

 

We learn to make substitutions.

We learn what cannot be substituted.

Some breaks are worthy of our undivided attention.

Many breaks are not.

Some breaks are life altering.

Most are not.

Some breaks touch

whole communities

and schools

and cub scouts

and rock stars and

entire families.

Some breaks touch our children. Harshly.

Breaks that touch children are the saddest. Hardest.

Some breaks feel like a thousand razor cuts.

Ten times over, in merthiolate tincture with an alcohol glaze and a hot poker for good measure.

Some breaks are the stuff of which love is made.

Some breaks are fixed from the inside out and some from the outside in.

Some breaks will break you.

Some will not.

Some breaks will break you if you don't break them first.

Some breaks can be prayed away.

All breaks should be prayed about.

People who are broken need love, most of all.

Some breaks can be laughed at. Not people. People who break should not be laughed at.

Some breaks require a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone, but not in that order.

Sometimes it becomes necessary to beat the broken thing to a pulp, pulverize it, toss it, blend it, spin it around on it's high head, heat it, freeze it, and put it through long cycles over and over and over and over again until you are dared to believe that life is the most unfair set of events ever, to think that the moments that your sick child experiences that will surely break you or break you down,  if you were alone. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.  Then, some serious breaks require that you take to the spin cycle two or three times more, each with a bleach and a hot rinse, preferably in what feels like the eyes, for good measure. Sometimes, you have to not only reach inside the bottom of the metal barrel, but you also have to reach deep down into the vastly dark small holes inside the pit and fight to pull out dragons, through teeny tiny holes, no bigger than a button. Sometimes you have to do this with both arms tied behind your back while singing Jesus Loves Me. This I know. Sometimes you have to even get inside the break, or the holes, one by one, and spin around the hardness and the vastness of this machine we call living, millions and millions of times, before the next cycle begins. Most of all, you must be very, very thankful for each glorious moment. Thankful to the core of your being, for the lessons, the breaks and the living moments.

 

Some breaks are all about small gifts.

Some breaks are all about large habits.

Some breaks are designed to break you down.

All breaks will teach you...

teach you that...

normal is nothing...

normal is nothing

but a cycle on the washing machine

Sometimes these breaks hurt.

And they never feel like fun.

Some breaks take a

very

long

time

to

repair.

Some breaks are not easy to fix.

 

 

Like cancer.

 

 

Evan has this day successfully completed his course of treatment for High Risk Pre B Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.

3 years, 6 months, 5 days and counting.

Evan the Warrior is a survivor.

He is fixed.

He is no longer broken.

He has been repaired.

He is clean and clear of all cancer.

This is the prayer.

We have met a prince,

 a Warrior

 

 A small boy.

Evan the Warrior.

This warrior lived to tell about it. He's not one of the lucky ones. He is just a child. And he misses the children who have passed before him.

Thank God, this prince of a little boy lived.

. ..amid all the broken-ness and the sick-ness and the sad-ness…and the spinning...and the heat and the unclean and the fight, and the blood and the mess and the long, hard barren roads...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He lived.

 

 

 As a postscript to what is perhaps the greatest story I will ever tell...I am this young boy's mom.

 

I am so thankful that I was chosen to be his mom and to travel this road with him.

Today, I am very, very glad.

Today, I am very, very thankful.

I am blessed to have been on this broken road with my warrior son.

I am so very glad we left it ALL in His hands.

My soldier boy is well...for today

and well on his way to a full recovery, for now.

That is all that I could ever ask for...do...or need. Ever.

Even as I have a duffel of laundry to do.

 

 

Thank you for sharing this broken road with us. Thank you for supporting us as we aired our dirty laundry all these many years. Thank you most of all for the prayers. It is not over. We have only just begun to fight.

 

 

Finally, in parting, as we seem to live in such broken times, and as we travel these seemingly broken roads, and experience many levels of brokenness these days, I invite you to remember Evan. If you should ever feel broken, please... think of Evan and all the small children like him, here and in Heaven too. The list is endless. Think of Evan and these sweet, innocent children and remember the blessings in your life, right here, right now, right in front of you.  If you ever feel broken, hopefully, you can be be made stronger for having known my little man, with all his dirty laundry and all the precious giant hearted brave children like him, fighting for every single minute of living. You do the same. Fight for every single minute. There can never be enough minutes. Thank you for allowing me to share Evan's journey with each and every one of you. May you be blessed on your journey, and, above all, may you have abundant health.

 

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone.

God Bless.

xoxo,

mom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PEPSI REFRESH-PLEASE VOTE EVERYDAY!

PLEASE WATCH AND VOTE. We need your help in a big way and it doesn't cost anything!. Please help the Arms Wide Open Childhood Cancer Foundation win a $250,000 grant in the Pepsi Refresh Program. There are 3 ways to vote: 1.) From your cell phone Text 73774 and enter the code 102653. You will get a confirmation text back. 2.) From your computer go to www.tinyurl.com/taypepsi 3.) Go to Facebook and search "childhood cancer foundation". Join the page download the facebook app. Here is a link: http://tinyurl.com/armswideapp We climbed to third place last night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now it is time for the real push. If you have hesitated to become an online voter, and instead you have just been texting now is your time to make the effort!!! Please, we haven't come this far to miss it by one spot! I will update medical stuff later, but all is good. Watch the youtube video promoting our PEPSI refresh plea. This is Ashburn Va. Taylor Love who is in remission with neuroblastoma AND in remission from chemo induced leukemia. That is ONE of the biggest side effects of toxic therapies. Her family and her musician friend Abby Miller have a huge following and did this youtube to help us push to that number 1 or 2 spot! Share the video and VOTE!!! You can post it to your facebook site and send it via email to all........... it gives very clear instructions on how to vote.... even has a taylor app that takes you right to voting. LIVES DEPEND ON YOUR VOTE.

Presidential Proclamation

The White House

Office of the Press Secretary

For Immediate Release

September 10, 2010

Presidential Proclamation--Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

- - - - - - -

BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A PROCLAMATION

Each year, thousands of children face the battle against cancer with inspiring hope and incredible bravery.  When a child is diagnosed with cancer, an entire family and community are affected.  The devotion of parents, grandparents, loved ones, and friends creates a treasured network of support for these courageous children.  During National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, we honor the young lives taken too soon and the survivors who face chronic health challenges, we celebrate the progress made in treatment and recovery, and we rededicate ourselves to fighting this disease so all children may have the chance to live a full and healthy life.

While survival rates for many childhood cancers have risen sharply over the past few decades, cancer is still the leading cause of death by disease for young Americans between infancy and age 15.  Too many families have been touched by cancer and its consequences, and we must work together to control, and ultimately defeat, this destructive disease.  I invite all Americans to visit Cancer.gov for more information and resources about the symptoms, diagnosis, and treatment of childhood cancers.

Tragically, the causes of cancer in children are largely unknown.  Until these illnesses can be cured, my Administration will continue to support investments in research and treatment.  The National Cancer Institute, the Federal Government's principal agency for cancer research, is supporting national and international studies examining the risk factors and possible causes of childhood cancers.

The health reforms included in the landmark Affordable Care Act advance critical protections for individuals facing cancer.  Provisions in the law prohibit insurance companies from limiting or denying coverage to individuals participating in clinical trials, the cornerstone of cancer research.  After recovering from cancer, children can no longer be denied insurance coverage due to a pre-existing condition.  It also requires all new plans to provide preventive services without charging copayments, deductibles, or coinsurance, increasing access to regular checkups that can help detect and treat childhood cancers earlier.  The Affordable Care Act eliminates annual and lifetime caps on insurance coverage and prohibits companies from dropping coverage if someone gets sick, giving patients and families the peace of mind that their insurance will cover the procedures their doctors recommend.

This month, we pay tribute to the health-care professionals, researchers, private philanthropies, social support organizations, and parent advocacy groups who work together to provide hope and help to families and find cures for childhood cancers.  Together, we will carry on their work toward a future in which cancer no longer threatens the lives of our Nation's children.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim September 2010 as National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.  I also encourage all Americans to join me in recognizing and reaffirming our commitment to fighting childhood cancer.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this
tenth day of September, in the year of our Lord two thousand ten, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-fifth.

                        BARACK OBAMA
 

They Did It! 46 Mommas Brave the Shave

September Is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

 

 

 

  

The Jaws of Life

Aw man...just when we thought it was safe to swim in the water, we found ourselves hanging over the plank, feeding the alligators. For those of you who don't yet know, Evan has suffered a huge setback, and is fighting really hard to overcome. Evan is expected to recover, but I thought it prudent to update, now that the carnivores are fed and we have returned to our new home, where we belong.

There has been no relapse of the leukemia, and for that we are over the moon grateful. But, seemingly for us, this journey has a way of presenting "teachable moments" when we least expect them, and this one was a doozie. I am only just now coming up for air.

For months this summer and before, Evan was ingesting doses of chemo that were in the 125% range of schedules, based on height and weight and metabolism rates. For many months he tolerated these levels of chemotherapy. But, something happened that changed all that. Whether it was the chicken or the egg is something we won't ever know, but about a month ago, he presented with a resting heart rate of 123, his blood pressures were high, he suffered an extreme exhaustion that 18 hours of sleep and bed rest would not touch and his eyes turned the most amazing shade of sunshine yellow. His skin broke down and turned Kool-Aid purple, his hair all fell out and he was severely anemic, requiring blood transfusions.

Evan's liver got very, very sick. Our liver is the organ that releases the poisons and toxins we present it with. Even so much as a Tylenol in an unproductive and recalcitrant liver is the stuff of which horror movies are made. Imagine giving a sick liver 125% doses of chemotherapy, day after day, year after year.

Evan's liver became toxic, namely he developed hepatitis, and the effects of all that chemo and his falling blood levels caused his heart to stress, his gallbladder to back up and his counts to crash. He became neutropenic, meaning he had no way whatsoever to fight infection. His blood counts and platelets were all in the critical range.


I could go on and on and on...with a myriad of complications. Suffice it to say, Evan struggled...to breathe, to sleep, to walk, to eat, to talk, to fight chicken pox, to fight the backed up bile in his body...and the list marches on without me. We had one sick warrior on our hands.


Yesterday, about a month out from the acute episode, we finally saw some light at the end of this tunnel and I am pleased to report that Evan's bone marrow has again started producing cells. He is on the mend. He is no longer jaundiced, his bilirubin levels are returning to baseline and he is holding steady in his counts, even as they are still low. As the doctor wrote: "Evan is being restarted on chemo at 50% doses to hopefully avoid toxicity".

The doctors also believe that Evan is "getting better and is expected to make a full recovery". He just needs a whole lot more time to heal and recover from an amazing feat, that really no one expected in a child on a maintenance dose of chemotherapy, just 50 short days from the end of active treatment. I think it was the report yesterday, that we expect Evan to heal and fully recover which was the impetus for the Carepage today. Heal...we can do. I have all the time in the universe for my son to heal.

Thanks for checking in on our warrior. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.. especially now as he grapples with not feeling as well as he has been hoping to feel and as he begins the long march, through friendly fire to the chopper that will, with God's blessing, whisk him back into the land of the free and the home of the brave. It certainly seems like to me that he deserves this homecoming and more, after waging an incredible 3.5 year battle with a formidable beast.

Please also accept my apologies for not updating the Carepage sooner. There is only one of me and more often than not I am taking care of the "only one of him" and the most amazing and supportive older brother and eldest son. Thanks especially to my family for their unwavering support throught the move and the mess and the medical...your consistency and presence is the stuff of which true love is made of.

Be well everyone. Know, in no uncertain terms, that if you are reading this message today and feeling 'sort of okay', that today really is the gift and the blessing and the message. Don't put it off. Tomorrow never comes. Life has a way of changing, in so many ways...after scrambled eggs in the morning.

A TWIT IS A PREGNANT GOLDFISH AND OTHER RANDOM TWEETS

 

 

 

 

People don't seem to talk much anymore. Or do they? Oh, I mean we do communicate-quite often actually. We whittle out conversations in the schoolyard, waiting for the bell to ring and we chat while our kids practice their chosen sport. I find myself jabbering to the stranger behind me, occasionally, if the line at the market or the pharmacy runs long. But, one thing that was droned into my head in college (not so much law school) was that less is more. Make your point and move on. While it is true that rambling on for hours looks good when paid by the word, that practice is pretty much finito. Readers want quick explanations, so they can get on with their lives. Insert Twitter, which has spread like cancerous white blood cells.

With the advent of texting, Twitter, FaceBook, MySpace and emails, the days of spirited,linger over after dinner coffee conversations are few and far between. That truly makes me sad. Have you ever caught yourself texting the kids to come down to dinner or to be ready in 'five' to leave? Why is it that a Snapple lid or a Chinese fortune cookie or a falling down obese person at the beach is the source of or a snippet of news? How many electronics did you last take camping? How many times in one week do you check your FaceBook page to learn something truly remarkable about someone else? When was the last time (today) that you checked your email? How many times a day do you want to read it? Do you reach for your ipad or phone, like we used to do the cigarette, within minutes of awakening? How fast? Why? How many YouTube's did you or your children make or watch during this week alone? It's a sign of the times, this love affair with the vignette. It's maddening and crazy and necessary, I suppose. But such constant contact leaves little time to brew one's own tea. Busy, busy, busy.

I served Snapple Black Raspberry Tea to a friend the other day, while we talked on the deck in the April sunshine. The bottle lids to this ridiculously expensive glass of tea house certain short facts printed under the plastic cap lining. Short factual vignettes. Bottle tweets, if you will. They are fun. For instance, did you know that snails have four noses, or that you can lead a cow up steps but not down? I found the one on my lid yesterday food for tremendous thought and fodder for a carepage update. Pretty mind boggling what will bring me out of my cave, n'est pas?

Get this. Did you know that a mere gallon of water-just one milk jug full of simple H2O- is enough to cover an entire CUBIC MILE of land with fog? Think about that. That's a very small amount of 'stuff' that when taken in the right context makes quite the impression ...something akin to the simple, short tweet or the stand in line text. Carries weight. The bomb, factually. Dope, in words. Sometimes, just like the impact of the water and the fog, 140 characters of information really can say it all.

Perhaps we do really talk, after all, with all these short sweet bursts of conversation.

We live in an age of mass communication, instant updates, fast food, faster cars and very little sense of delayed gratification. It is mind bending all that the cyber world brings, and ... doesn't. It has been several months since my last update about Evan. That is a gargantum amount of time in today's culture, and practically unforgivable according to today's standards.

I haven't tweeted about Evan's first, second or third LP since my last carepage update nor have I written about the thrice that next dose of IV chemo in as many moons and the big and bigger chemo increases since then, due to age, size and crazy metabolic absorption rates and varied discussions about them. I did not share with the internet public that bring me to my knees fear, two visits running, when his blood work looked 'silly' enough to require a manual differential that took four hours to finish. No words, not 140,000,000 of them stacked back to back or side by side, with bold exclamation points between could have possibly conveyed the fear inherent in those medical results. While I have learned to analytically deal with his condition and save the emotional for "the book", the four hours waiting for a determination that those myelos were just that, myelos and not blasts, and a relapse, defied all the words in the College Edition of the Random House Dictionary, stacked back to back in as many Snapple tops.

If,however,I would have thought it fitting to send a few texts over the airways, during the last many months, that had more to do with our particular normal, they would have read something like this:

The Diary of a Not So Wimpy Kid:

" 0600 He's in surgery now, after a horrible pre op. Please Pray. "

"In recovery and all these small children in the beds beside him are screaming today. Must be a bad lot of Versed."

"Leaving for Day Hospital now. Ought to be another 8 hours or so before we can jet."

" He's still asleep...14 hours later...should I wake him?"

" I brought him to the car to lie down. No beds upstairs. He has a spinal headache. Did you feel that tremor?"

" The side effects are the worst I have ever seen. Lord, please let him rest."

"Why the heck can't I figure out coordinates and teach them?

" God, give me wisdom, grace and patience and help me to repair my fences."

If I would have asked Evan to update his FaceBook page from time to time over the last few months, he might have responded to the question: 'What are you doing?' or 'What's on your mind?', with any one of the following answers-

"I'm doin' good."

"Nothin' much goin' on."

"Just Hangin' Out-playin' video games."

"Will these hiccups ever end? It's been 6 hours! And I itch all over!"

"Refusing a catheter. NO. NO. NO"

"That was the worst day ever."

"Today was the best, shortest and fastest Clinic!"

My updates, had I chosen to do a few, might have continued and read something like this:

"Sweet MaDee died. How in the world will I find the words to tell Evan? Releasing balloons at noon."

"Erik died today. I am beyond sad."

"Same S***, different day."

"Honoring Warrior today at Copperhill. Look for Evan in the paseos, waving his flag."

"Life goes on, and on and on and is very very GOOD."

"Nearing the 1060th (as in thousands) day of active treatment."

"Trying to 'Joel Olsten it' today, as in Evan "GETS" to have chemo and be put under..."

"Please pray especially for Spencer, Daniel and Dick today."

Evan invited backstage at the Kid's Choice Awards. Rock On (down that orange carpet)Evan.

Trying to get to hair and makeup for the TV shoot at CHLA. Held back by a complete lock down of hospital, now a bomb scare. Left after a flat tire and gunfire in Little Armenia.

Even the nurses are starting to wonder when Evie will be finished with chemo! Hurry September!

Sometimes- okay-almost all of the time these days, at least for me, it becomes necessary, because of the course of this very long cancer journey, to focus quite pointedly on only one of two things. Those two things are this: the immediate 'now' or the end goal down the road-the, 'then'. Focusing on the long term goal points Evan and me towards survivorship-not exactly a catchphrase goal. Focusing on the 'it don't come easy and all good things come to those who wait" delayed gratification bespeaks of successful treatments, which means Evan "gets to" return to the somewhat more normal land of baseball, basketball and camping in the dirt. Lofty goals.

Contrary to that future time, is a complete embracing of and focus on the now...which in our world oftentimes is very much about the heart leeching sadness, time and time again, at the loss of so many, so young, and so soon. They are everywhere-these precious children and they are dying-far too many of them and entirely far too soon. That kind of inescapable grief has to be felt and placed and that takes time.

Sometimes it behooves us moms of children with cancer, to step away from the updates and the tweets for a very long while and be still. Very, very still.

Sometimes all we can do after a day of teaching and traveling and caretaking in or out and to and from the hospital doors is to be quietly present.

Sometimes, it is enough to simply marvel at the calm quiet beauty of our sick children, as they lay sleeping, undisturbed and without fitful dreams.

Sometimes the day is just so perfect that it escapes adage, as when our children feel well enough to step outside to bask in the sunshine, after a week spent on the couch.

Sometimes our world is just all too much to share-with a society that places so much emphasis on the readymade answers, the quick and easy fixes, the "happy happy joy joy" of it all.

Sometimes the only focus is on our now.

Sometimes the idea that I have fallen more deeply in love with Evan and his living, as each year of his treatment passes is entirely too overwhelming for a carepage update, hitting you from outta nowhere, at the stoplight or in the kiosk line for coffee.

Sometimes the appreciation I experience in the moments with Evan have to be housed in the myriad of medical records that week and I simply run out of energy to share them. ..especially when I know, from the very core of me, that at any second they could be taken away.

Sometimes, during these days and times, the now is more than enough.
Completely and simply the now is enough, without saying a word, to anyone.

Sometimes, and seemingly twice on Sundays, I fall in love all over again with our life and my two guys-their shining, smiling faces and the special little nook we have carved in this space we call a planet.

How to couch these "some times" in a span of 140 characters ? Not so easy.

Sometime soon, have a look at the infinitesimal shortness of a child's innocence and think for a moment how it could be that they grow up or not at all or all too fast. Notice the overwhelming beauty that is etched in their perfect little smooth faces, their shining and innocent sparkling eyes; feel for a quiet moment their simple little puckered up peck of a kiss on your cheek, and remember their need for a screamingly tight good night hug, no matter the pace or the punishment. It all passes more quickly than a text at top bandwidth speed.

One more day together. The prayer. One more day together. The blessing.

Hug those you love tighter and talk to them- really talk to them. They have so much to teach and so much to say. Make the conversations with your charges so captivating, so spellbinding and so dang special that they (and you) forget, for just a nanosecond, the buzz of the text, the ping of the email and the glare of the computer screen. You'll be glad you did.

Thinking I might update again sooner. Hoping, but not promising, to update again sooner. Praying with all that I am worth, and then some, that the news is about Evan's healing and the successful completion of active treatment. Wanting that all else for our Warrior and you and those you love to remain copacetic.

In the meantime, be well and thank you so much for checking in on Evan, three years and countless days later. Deep thanks for your continued support and prayers. It has been a very long journey, indeed. TTYL.(maybe)
Luv,
Evan and Mom

A Torn Heart

Shaving My Head

by: Bob Piniewski

 

For the past two years, my right shoulder really ached. I called it my torn rotator cuff. It ached from throwing thousands of footballs to my 14 year old son, Alex John, AJ. Trying to lead him just right on deep post patterns, to keep up with his speed. And, after the last one every time (he’d only let it end after he made a spectacular catch) from catching the big lug as he ran and jumped into my arms, yelling "The Bills win the Super Bowl, the Bills win the Super Bowl!" Just us dreaming. It ached from trying to pitch as fast as I could so he wouldn't hit me, but he always did. It honestly hurt enough so I only slept on my left side and if I rolled over on it, it would wake me in the night. But I didn't care, how could I stop doing those things? I loved it.

My new problem is that over the past month or so, my shoulder has slowly but surely stopped aching. Now what keeps me awake at night is my broken heart. You see, I have no one to throw those passes to, no one to brush back anymore. Because AJ left us on January 5, 2008, a victim of childhood cancer.

On AJ's 17th birthday, March 6th, AJ's Dad will be shaving to support St. Baldrick's so every other father's arm hurts forever, not his heart. You can donate through this link. Thank you all so very much.

AJ's Dad's St. Baldricks donation page

 

 

We have asked you for your signatures on the Petition to Raise Awareness and Funding for Childhood Cancer, bugged you to join PAC2, to vote so we got our question on childhood cancer into the Citizen's Briefing Book to President Obama (pg.16), help get the Boston Globe to highlight childhood cancer during Childhood Cancer Awareness Month 2008 and to write Stand Up To Cancer so Childhood Cancer could be featured on its site during September 2009, Childhood Cancer Awareness Month 2009.

And - TOGETHER - we've succeeded every time in raising awareness. Our theory has always been that increased awareness will lead to increased funding which will yield more research and ultimately better treatments and a cure.

OK.

We're all aware.

Now it's time for funding.

AJ's dad will do the shaving.

Please help with the funding by clicking the link below to support St. Baldrick's as it strives to reach $6 Million raised this year already! Help me do my part! Thank you all so much for your support. Make this weekend special for AJ on his 17th birthday, and help all the other Warriors out there....

Click here to support AJs Dad as he shaves his head for childhood cancer research

 

Jesus Loves the Little Children

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

WHEN TOMORROW STARTS WITHOUT ME



When tomorrow starts without me,
and I'm not there to see;
If the sun should rise and find your eyes,
all filled with tears for me;
I wish so much you wouldn't cry,
the way you did today,
while thinking of the many things,
we didn't get to say.
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
and each time that you think of me,
I know you'll miss me too;
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try to understand,
that an Angel came and called my name,
and took me by the hand,
and said my place was ready,
in heaven far above,
and that I'd have to leave behind,
all those I dearly love.

But as I turned to walk away,
a tear fell from my eye,
for all life, I'd always thought,
I didn't want to die.
I had so much to live for,
so much yet to do,
it seemed almost impossible,
that I was leaving you.

I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad,
I thought of all the love we shared,
and all the fun we had.

If I could relive yesterday,
just even for awhile,
I'd say goodbye and kiss you
and maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized,
that this could never be,
for emptiness and memories,
would take the place of me.
And when I thought of worldly things,
I might miss come tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.

But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God looked down and smiled at me,
from His great golden throne,

He said, "This is eternity,
and all I've promised you".
Today for life on earth is past,
but here it starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last,
and since each day's the same day,
there's no longing for the past.

But you have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true.
Though there were times you did some things,
you knew you shouldn't do.
But you have been forgiven
and now at last you're free.
So won't you take my hand
and share my life with me?

So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
for every time you think of me,
I'm right here, in your heart. 

author unknown

This One's For You, MaDee...

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Jeremiah 29:11

 A Letter From One Cancer Family to Another, with Love.

Please pray for MaDee.

To MaDee and her family and friends:

I am Lynne's sister and the mom of a small child with cancer. I am in California with my two sons and today I wanted to write to you, as I receive the news of sweet MaDee's strong battle.  I wanted to share with you some things that I already know about MaDee, and I wanted to let you know that, well, I know...and I am all the way with you in thought, word and deed. I have walked the same hallways, seen the same things and cried some of the same tears.   I don't have to be there, or see MaDee right now, to know all about her struggle with cancer and the complications it wrecks on these brave, loving children.  Unfortunately it is a club none of us wants or wishes to join, but one, once we are in it,  has some of the same hurts and fears and intense prayers and heartfelt longings.  Today I hurt in the deepest part of me for MaDee and all those like her and I pray and fear and then pray some more for her, and all the children who suffer and for her family and for all of her many friends. I know how times like these are scary beyond our wildest  fears and nightmares. I just wanted to write today to let you know that many are praying unceasingly and storming Heaven.

You know what I know for sure today? I already know that your beautiful daughter, sister, grandchild and friend IS the miracle. MaDee has been the beautiful, strong, loving, talented, generous miracle from the moment she graced this Earth.  I continue to pray for HER miracle.  It is time.

In thinking about MaDee's journey, it seems that MaDee has truly won her battle with cancer, with this transplant. There is so much to rejoice for and Philippians 4:5-7 speaks to me now.

"Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

 

Gentleness and a lack of anxiety result from rejoicing in a risen Savior. If Jesus Christ can be raised from the dead and sit down "at the right hand of God" (Hebrews 10:12), then our Heavenly Father can certainly take care of MaDee's problems - so rejoice! When we rejoice and focus on an eternity in Heaven and a Savior who walks by our side, our anxiety fades - our present trials become "light and momentary" (2 Corinthians 4:17). This is the prayer.

 

When we live a life, moment by moment,  filled with rejoicing, we are able to focus on the solutions we know God can provide for MaDee.  We develop a heart of thanksgiving - a heart which naturally presents everything to God in prayer and waits with grateful expectation for His reply. We begin to trust in God's plan for our life and MaDee's and His desire for us to be with Him forever. The result, which admittedly takes time and patience, is "the peace of God which transcends all understanding." I wish you this peace.

 

These words written by Paul are not the deluded ramblings of an old man in Roman confinement, they are the true promises of God! They represent a promised life we all can live. Our Father offers us a life of gentleness, contentment, and peace; a life free of anxiety and worry. But this life can only happen if we love and trust Him with all our heart, and if we are determined to always rejoice , even as we struggle to understand this setback.

 

I rejoice that MaDee's sister's cells are with her now and growing.  For that and them, I rejoice.  MaDee won the battle she desired with all of her heart to win.  MaDee is also  free from pain now in the unit as she heals and for that I rejoice. I pray that MaDee will now continue to use her battle to touch others and that God will  bring to us her earthly healing, as we desire, and as she desires, if it is His will.

 

So long as we all are alive, there is always, always, always hope. Hope in part exists because we all love MaDee so very much and because she loves us in return. Today, as you sit  with MaDee, minute by minute, I would encourage you to think about and tell MaDee that you love all of  that part of her that is not about illness. MaDee's soul, the very heart of her, is not about this setback or this cancer. Let us rejoice in that. Tell MaDee what exactly it is that you love about her. Tell her how proud you are of her valiant battle and strength and tell her it is okay to rest and heal and let the doctors do their work. Tell her she is not, for one second, alone, and that she is surrounded by prayer. Tell her that you love her very...very...very...very...very...much.  Never miss a chance to tell MaDee how much you love her and all the reasons why. She hears you.  I believe that from the depths of my being.

Today, I am praying specifically that the doctors have wisdom in treating her. I am praying that MaDee will continue to use this battle to touch others, and I am praying that her internal battles with her liver and fluids are waged promptly and painlessly and I am praying for the miraculous strength the family needs to see MaDee through this journey.

And then, when I don't know what to pray for, I am praying for that- that God in His infinite wisdom will hold this family in His hands and lead them to quiet, still waters. I am always praying for the miracle for one so deserving.

Despite my Faith and prayers, I must admit, I feel kicked in the teeth that yet another child of God has to take this journey and again, I am praying continuously for the cure. Please, please, please...if you talk to God, and even if you don't, ask Him to bless His precious child,  Madee, and her family and all the ones who fight so courageously and the hundreds who will be diagnosed today. If you have the time, please leave this amazing family a message. I am sure your words will do their hearts a world of good.

In closing, I leave you with this poem.  Please know that I am holding you tightly in prayer, without ceasing, here in California.

Fondly and with all good blessings for MaDee's complete healing,

Kimberly

 

 

THE CHOSEN ONES

(author unknown)

Not just any child could walk this uphill road
These children walk it every day
Carrying a load.
They show us heights of courage that we may never reach.
They show us what it is to fight
a fight you cannot teach.
We stand beside them knowing
There is no guarantee
Except the one we started with
To love them endlessly.
They are the special chosen ones
God knew it from the start.
He picked each child for illness
by measuring their heart.
The ones that measured biggest
Would someday face a test
The challenge is to understand
God loves them MORE not less.
He's using them to move our hearts
Closer to his own.
Teaching us to trust his plan
and fear not the unknown.
For God can move a mountain
and part the raging sea.
He wants our struggles offered up
and given forth to thee.
He smiles upon the chosen ones
Before they're even born
And blesses them with courage
To walk through any storm.
His love for them surpasses ours
and Cannot be denied.
For in the dark of suffering
His light will not subside.
No matter what the outcome
There is the greatest peace
In knowing deep inside our hearts
His love will never cease!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AJs Dad Reminds Us...It's Not Rare

Faces of Courage: Kids Living with Cancer

 

...all that...is what i've been trying to say for two years...

Please sign the Petition for funding of Childhood Cancer

Please join PAC2

Please hold a lemonade stand, get your hair cut, run or bike....

cuz it's just NOT "rare..."

For Kids Like Jasmina, RIP

Maybe NOW he will have an answer...

Posted 3 hours ago

"Jasmina, the 6-year-old Manhattan girl who has bravely been battling leukemia for the last year has died, her mother said late last night.

Her brave fight inspired thousands, including celebrities like Rihanna, to donate bone marrow. In December, the adorable Greenwich Village kindergartner even charmed President Barack Obama during a visit to the White House."

---

to PAC2's question to him in the Citizens Briefing Book

 

 

COURAGE

Nick News “The Face of Courage: Kids Living with Cancer” Premieres January 24 on Nickelodeon

January 4th, 2010

UPDATED 1/5: Nick has moved the premiere one week from January 17 to January 24. Dates updated in the press release.

via Nickelodeon press release:

KIDS WITH CANCER SHARE THEIR HOPE AND THEIR STORIES ON NICK NEWS WITH LINDA ELLERBEE’S THE FACE OF COURAGE: KIDS LIVING WITH CANCER

PREMIERING JAN. 24 ON NICKELODEON

 

http://www.nick.com/videos/clip/face-of-courage-kids-living-with-cancer-clip.html

NEW YORK, Jan. 4, 2010 – Cancer. When children hear the word, what do they think? It may be scary, but today, a diagnosis of cancer is not necessarily a death sentence. Nick News with Linda Ellerbee explores the world of kids who are living with cancer on The Face of Courage: Kids Living with Cancer, premiering Sunday, Jan. 24, at 8 p.m. (ET/PT) on Nickelodeon. The road these kids travel is not easy; it is pitted with fear, pain and loss. But also it is a road paved with hope, strength, courage and even humor. They have been where no kid should have to go, and they have survived to share their stories – and their courage – with the rest of us.

“All of these kids live as if the cancer were never coming back,” says Ellerbee, an 18-year cancer survivor. “Cancer is a part of my past. That‟s a fact. It’s a part of my present because I choose to speak about it, and for the same reason, it will be a part of my future. But it is not who I am. It is not who any of us is.”

Alexandra, 14, lost her leg to bone cancer. “I was sitting on the bed outside the operating room…and I remember just taking a pen from one of the nurses aids and writing „I love you‟ on (my) knee…that was the last thing I basically did for my leg,” says Alexandra. Today, her cancer is in remission and she‟s made friends with her new “bionic” leg. “I think that as much as cancer hurts you and harms you, in the end…all the experiences you have gone through make you stronger, so you almost go from being too weak to being stronger than you were in the first place.”

Diagnosed with leukemia in July 2009, Diamonisha, 12, currently is in treatment and, not surprisingly, angry, confused and hopeful, all at the same time. “The hospital is not a world for kids…you don‟t wanna be in there…Sometimes it makes me feel sad cause I don‟t like this cancer. Sometimes it makes me feel happy because the cancer‟s going away and I‟m gonna be better, and I‟ll have hair, finally,” she says.

While in the hospital being treated for an aggressive form of leukemia, Tatyana, 11, made a video about her experience for her friends so they could understand what it was like. She has since returned to school. “I wore a hat because I didn‟t want anybody to see my baldness. I was very worried that my friends were going to treat me different. Then, once I took the hat off, I realized that they were fine with it. They didn‟t really care and so…if they didn‟t care, why should I?”

Going through the first of five rounds of chemo for a tumor in his abdomen, Tyler, 10, hates the mask he must wear in public to protect himself. Tyler says, “I try to ignore everybody who stares…or whispers to somebody else. I just don‟t feel normal when I wear it.” As for the cancer? “It does change my view of life…because I have learned that life is full of twists and turns now.”

Hector, 14, suffers from a soft tissue cancer that affected an eye socket. “They had to remove my eye or else I was going to die. So they told me to make a choice,” says Hector. A choice a kid shouldn‟t have to make. Hector worried that losing an eye would make him too different from other kids, but being in a cancer ward gave him a new perspective. “It made me realize that it wasn‟t only me. The world was full with kids with cancer.”

Lexi, who is 11 and has a slow-growing brain tumor, gets a similar feeling of camaraderie at Camp Sunshine, where every kid has cancer. Lexi says, “Everybody here knows what you‟re going through and you feel like a normal kid. It’s a place where I can talk to people about my cancer life and they know what I feel like.”

Bryn, 14, was diagnosed with Stage Four lymphoma nearly two years ago. Today she‟s in remission and participates in a support network called Teens Living with Cancer. “I think the experience of a veteran is a lot like the experience of a cancer survivor because you are coming back from a war, you‟re coming back from the fight for your life basically. You start to realize that life is very fleeting and that you want to make the most of it,” says Bryn.

Nick News, produced by Lucky Duck Productions, is now in its 19th year and is the longest-running kids‟ news show in television history. It has built its reputation on the respectful and direct way it speaks to kids about the important issues of the day. Nick News recently was honored with its first ever Edward R. Murrow Award for “Network News Documentary” for the documentary special, “Coming Home: When Parents Return from War,” marking the first-ever kids television program to receive the prestigious award. Over the years, Nick News has received more than 20 Emmy nominations and recently won its seventh Emmy Award in the category of Outstanding Children‟s Nonfiction Program for “Coming Home: When Parents Return from War.” Additional Emmy wins for Outstanding Children‟s Programming include: “The Untouchable Kids of India” (2008); “Private Worlds: Kids and Autism” (2007); “From the Holocaust to the Sudan” (2005); “Faces of Hope: The Kids of Afghanistan” (2002); “What Are You Staring At?” (1998). In addition, in 1994, the entire series won the Emmy for Outstanding Children‟s Programming. Nick News has also received three Peabody Awards, including a personal award given to Ellerbee for her coverage for kids of the President Clinton investigation, as well as two Columbia duPont Awards and more than a dozen Parents‟ Choice Awards.

Nickelodeon, now in its 30th year, is the number-one entertainment brand for kids. It has built a diverse, global business by putting kids first in everything it does. The company includes television programming and production in the United States and around the world, plus consumer products, online, recreation, books, magazines and feature films. Nickelodeon‟s U.S. television network is seen in almost 100 million households and has been the number-one-rated basic cable network for 15 consecutive years. For more information or artwork, visit http://www.nickpress.com. Nickelodeon and all related titles, characters and logos are trademarks of Viacom Inc. (NYSE: VIA, VIA.B).

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