Day 8, September 8th, Pediatric Cancer Awareness month.
She is frozen in time.
Everything around me moves, and I wonder… How? That look on her face, in this pic, “I’m having so much fun mom! Cheeeeeeesssse!” I was frustrated on this day. Another invite, to another party, on another weekend day, which I felt was wasted in this situation. My sweet Katherine didn’t want to eat, she just wanted to play. Taking time out to eat was wasting time. She wanted to be in the moment, to soak it all in, and enjoy herself. Why do adults forget this uncomplicated fact of life. To be in the moment, and enjoy ourselves, and our kin.
I wonder if it’s because we are lied to. We are led to believe that we have endless time, and that people are out there every day trying to save us, from ourselves. To give us more time… The efforts are fruitless, and the money is evenly distributed, and kids are our number one priority. So, if I told you that the average loss of life for a child who succumbs to brain cancer is 71 years, and then if I told you that the average loss of life for a person who succumbs to breast cancer is 16 years, would you feel safe? Would you stop, and think about the food you’re feeding your children, or the choices you made at their last exam? Would you trust the system to care for them? Then if I said that the #AmericanCancerSociety gives .01% of every dollar that you donate to our children, and that the #NationalCancerInstitute gives less than .04% of every dollar, would you still feel safe, and secure in our current system? Would you be concerned that the poisons that they use to “save” our children cause these children’s as adults to succumb to more cancers, and diseases as their bodies are weakened, and suffer further. Would they get more money than from the ACS, and NCI as adults? I’m going to assume that as 95% of them get closer to the ripe old age of 45, which is the average age at which our children will succumb to other diseases caused by chemo, that as long as it’s not a rare disease, and also not a non-profitable disease, they will be fine and well taken care of, if they make it…
No, I don’t feel secure anymore. I remember that moment, in that hallway, when we were told Katherine would die, and why… We learned that we are the advocates, and the families are the warriors, and that no one else is going to do it, but us. We didn’t feel safe anymore, and neither should anyone, anywhere.
Everything is moving around us. Fast. But there she is, smiling at me… Hoping that I will be in the moment with her. I’m still trying Katherine. I promise.