Childhood Cancer News

On Saturday, March 24th, ten year old Daniela Owens passed away from Ewing’s Sarcoma.  She fought the good fight and won, and she was woke up in her Savoir’s arms.

The above picture is one that was posted this passed January, just after I started following her.  Purple was her favorite color, and a friend of Daniela’s (who does the updates on Facebook) had posted Daniela’s obituary with a request attached to the end:  ”In honour of our brave Onco princess, please wear purple on Thursday. You can also add a yellow/gold ribbon to show u support Childhood Cancer Awareness! Show your support and join us with your friends this Thursday.”

I wore a purple zip-up sweatshirt and a little gold ribbon pinned over my heart today.

The color purple is popular in the cancer world, mostly because it stands for hope – hope that one day no more families will have to face losing a child to cancer.  You don’t need me to tell you cancer is horrible, but it is so much more so when the patient is a young child, a child who should have his or her whole life ahead of him or her.

The childhood cancer awareness ribbon is gold because a child’s life is more precious than gold.

The childhood cancer world has had a victory this week:  Mattel has finally, finally agreed to make a bald fashion doll (friend of Barbie, name TBA).  These dolls are to be donated to Children’s Hospitals.  Of course, we would dearly love to see these dolls on the shelves of stores everywhere so that everyone who wants one can buy one, but Mattel is doing what they think is best.  They are also making a financial donation to CureSearch and National Alopecia Areata Foundation.  They are doing this without any expectation of profiting from it.

However, MGA, Mattel’s competition, is setting out to release a TRUE HOPE Moxie Girlz/Bratz doll in BOTH GENDERS in mid-June 2012.  They will be available in ToysRUs stores in USA and Canada.  One dollar from each doll sold will go to City of Hope.

I hope this is only the beginning.  Maybe someday soon, the childhood cancer awareness community will be just as big as the breast cancer awareness community.  That is my dream.

Darling Daniela, I know you are watching over your family and friends from the comfort of heaven.  You don’t have to hurt anymore, and for that, I am glad.  Every day down here will seem like an eternity for those who knew and loved you, who still love you, but it is only when their time comes will they truly understand the true meaning of the word “eternity.”  Did you see a sea of purple down here when you looked?  I hope you danced with the balloons that were released for you.  Fly free, little one.  I’ll see you in my dreams.

Lone Wolf (book review)

Ever since I discovered Jodi Picoult by picking up “My Sister’s Keeper” years ago, I find myself looking forward to March of every year, because Picoult releases a new novel like clockwork.  I always preorder the book from amazon.com, often when it first shows up on the website, because I do not want to miss it.  The thing I love the most about Picoult’s writing is that she has multiple narrators, so that we can see the story from more than one character’s point of view.

“Lone Wolf” was told in the voices of Luke Warren, his children Cara and Edward, his ex-wife and children’s mother, Georgie, and later on, Jodi throws in the voice of two other characters – Joe, Georgie’s present husband, and Helen, the court-appointed guardian for Luke (who cannot speak for himself due to a traumatic brain injury sustained in a car accident and the fact that he is in a coma – he narrates his part of the story in italics and I think, from somewhere in the great beyond, telling us his memories of living in the Canadian wilderness trying to infiltrate a wolf pack.  Luke’s narrating is in part comparing life in a wolf pack to family relationships back in civilization.

Luke and his 17 year old daughter Cara were in a horrific car accident at the beginning of the story.  Somehow, with a shattered shoulder, Cara manages to get them both out before the car explodes.  At the hospital, Luke is put on life support without any hope of regaining consciousness.  Georgie calls Edward (who is gay but that isn’t a big thing in the book – he’s not dating anyone during the events in the book – it is just a part of who he is like his eye color or another physical characteristic.  It is something for whichI applaud Jodi Picoult.  Not only does she have a gay son herself, but she understands and accepts it as who he is.  She creates characters accordingly)  who had been overseas for the last seven years due to a falling out with his father.  Edward comes home as quickly as he can.  Luke’s driver license shows that he is an organ donor, so after speaking with the doctors and nurses, Edward wants to turn off the ventilator and donate Luke’s organs.  Cara, on the other hand, wants to hold out for a miracle, hoping against hope that her father will wake up and make a full recovery, despite what the doctors are saying.

I think Cara is the least likable of all of Jodi Picoult’s characters, in this book and others combined.  She will say anything to get her way, regardless of whether or not it is true.  I do sympathize with her a little in that she is a young girl who is desperate for her father to recover, but that went out the window with a very loud crash the more I read of the book.  She’s very immature, regardless of the responsibilities she shouldered while living with her father. I liked Edward much better – he’s the one trying to do what is right for everybody in his family.  Cara, it seems, is only trying to do what is right for Cara.  She does not seem to care that the odds of her father being even half of the man he was before the accident IF he woke up are slim to none.  If I had to say why she wants her father alive, I’d say it is because she does not want to go back to living with her mother.

There are some twists to the story to keep it interesting, which works well against the story itself.  I loved this book because it got me to thinking about wolves, and not in the terms I usually think of them (which is, of course, the werewolf kind).  It was a bit refreshing to learn about the life of a wolf, and what the roles are in a pack, and how they function as a whole.   The story as a whole gave me a lot to think about, and it left me wanting to know more about wolves.  On the last page of the book, Picoult recommends another book by a real life (and “thankfully” healthy) Luke Warren, The Man Who Lives with Wolves by Shaun Ellis.  I cannot wait to check it out.

Catch-up

It’s been a while since  I’ve done a gratitude post (I’m a slacker, I know), so I might as well start it up again today.  This week, my sister Jacqueline is home for her spring break, and it’s nice to have someone (human, not canine) here, plus my niece was here Tuesday and yesterday too, and that’s always fun.  She’s a smart one, that kid.  We had fudgicles for dessert last night and she opted for the last ice cream sandwich instead.  BUT when she was done with it, she wanted bites of mine.  I can’t say no to her.  Like EVER.  She has me wrapped around her little finger so tight.  Obviously, if what she wanted to do was dangerous I would not let her do it…  but…  A little more ice cream never hurt anybody, right?  Haha.

I am excited to go see The Hunger Games tomorrow afternoon with Jacqueline.  I am grateful that my dentist appointment went well yesterday (you know you’re getting old when you grew up with said dentist – it’s a small town), no cavities, and he was able to temporarily fix one of my front teeth which was very sensitive and also occasionally painful.  I think it had a small chip in it – the enamel was wearing away or something.

Confession:  I am ashamed to admit that, even at age 30, I still bite my fingernails.  I should probably stop that, no?  However, it’s really hard for me to use nail clippers on my left hand, since my right one has a mind of its own.  Figuratively speaking, of course.  I didn’t bring this up yesterday at the dentist, but I have a feeling that it probably has something to do with what’s going on with my tooth.

I am grateful for the fact that Sarah Michelle Gellar is back in TOP form on TV’s Ringer.  Interesting storylines, betrayal, cute guys, cliffhangers like every single week…  the show leaves me breathless.  Last week, I finally caught up (after a week-long marathon of DVRed episodes).  SMG plays twins – one’s evil, one’s… well, let’s just say redemptive.  On Buffy the Vampire Slayer, SMG had multiple roles as the show evolved and man, she does it sooooo well.  Ringer is without a doubt one of my favorite shows.

I am grateful for everything good in my life.  Sometimes I am even grateful for the bad things, because I know they are necessary.  Everything can’t be sunshine and rainbows all the time.  

I say a prayer of thanks every time I read on Facebook that a child with cancer is doing well, and beg God for mercy when a child isn’t doing as well as I hoped.  

Please keep 10 year old Daniella in your prayers as she was just put on a breathing monitor.  She has Ewing’s sarcoma, and it has spread, and she’s very uncomfortable.  She cannot stand to be touched because it hurts too much.  Her family lives in South Africa, and her mother Elize is trying her best to do everything for Daniella and her two siblings herself, often relying on the kindness and care for friends and strangers alike.  Please, Lord, have mercy.  

 

Lessons in Humility

God has always known what he was doing in my life, and He still does.  I believe that with my whole heart.  My lessons in humility began early.  Number one was the cancer diagnosis.  At just 16 months, I was being primed for this world, this life.  Maybe I won’t completely understand it until I step into Heaven itself, but I understand it was necessary.  Maybe that is an odd thing to say about cancer, especially when I am talking about childhood cancer, but I know there is a reason behind it.  There’s a reason behind everything, whether or not we see it while we’re here.

I got another lesson in humility the summer before I turned three – the viral infection that damaged my brain stem and the disabilities that immediately followed.  I got another lesson when I began school and started to understand that I was different than everybody else.  I have asked God “Why”  so many times, over and over.  I have sobbed my heartbreak to Him countless times, and in His silence, I turned away from Him.  But He never left me.  He never leaves, not even when He is silent.  He’s just waiting for us to call out to Him, to say that we’re ready for Him.

According to Wikipedia, humility is defined as “a quality by which a person considering his own defects has a humble opinion of himself and willingly submits himself to God and to others for God’s sake.”

I know I cannot do anything apart from God.  If I try, I’ll fail.  It’s that simple.  His reasons may be beyond us in this life, but that’s okay.  I think that if we were meant to know them, we would.  We are put here on this life not to question “why,”  but to listen to that small, still voice inside of us, take action, and when the time comes, to die and return to God.

It sounds simple, but you and I both know that life can get complicated and messy a lot more than it is nice and neat.  That’s life for you.  I think we get  lessons in humility not because God is angry at us and wants to punish us, but because he wants us to depend solely on Him.  This world is great, in parts, but it will fail us if we are not careful.

Listening to the Soul

Remember Pinocchio? There is a Jiminy Cricket on your shoulder, giving the very best advice. It is you, your authentic self, the one you were in first grade, before you learned to massage your personality into a form that would suit others. Sometimes it’s hard to hear its message because all the external voices are so loud, so shrill…, so adamant. Voices that are loud are always meant to bully. Do not be bullied. Acts of bravery don’t always take place on battlefields. They can take place in your heart, when you have the courage to honor your character, your intellect, you inclinations, and, yes, your soul by listening to its clean, clear voice of direction instead of following the muddled messages of a timid world. So carry your courage in an easily accessible place, the way you do your cell phone or your wallet. You may still falter or fail, but you will always know that you pushed hard and aimed high.

Anna Quindlen

Our souls whisper to us – theirs are the voices that come from our hearts.  Our souls know who we really are.  Who we are meant to be.  Sadly, most of the time, the voices in our heads are much louder and much more demanding.  We tend to ignore the soul, and  go with our heads.  And then we run into trouble.

Our heads do not have our long-term interests in mind.  Our heads live in the now, with no concern for the future.  Our heads cause us to act in the heat of the moment.

I challenge you today to be still and listen.  Quiet your thoughts and just listen.  What do you hear?  The soul is often so used to being stifled that it may take some time before you hear anything.  Be patient with yourself.  Don’t rush it.  Close your eyes if you have to.  Breathe deep.  Focus on that one thing – your breathing.

My soul is telling me to write.  It sounds simple, doesn’t it?  My head threatens to get in the way, complaining that I am writing, can’t my soul see?  But I know what it all means.  I have to write more.  I just have to.  And I will.  Sometimes when I get inspired, it quickly peters out, because I stop listening to my soul, and start listening to my head.  But I am determined.

If not now, then when?  I must seize the day.  Life is too short to do anything else.

Wild At Heart

Some things – okay, most things – are easier said than done.  I think we all want to be more than what we actually are, and we tend to get depressed when we fail.  We know we’re only human, but we still want to be more, to give more, to feel more.  We hold it against ourselves – it sounds funny, but it is true.  In this world, we are going to get disappointed, and we are going to get our hearts broken.  And if we try to hold our breaths and tread lightly, then we are not really living.

The solution to this, I think, is to be wild at heart.  For example, I can’t really go anywhere by myself.  I don’t really have a lot of physical stamina.  I am a dreamer, yes, in order to make my dreams come true, I have to go at it one step at a time.  When I don’t do that, I tend to get overwhelmed and I give up.   I am a fighter – I’ve been one my whole life.  I accept my limitations but I am not giving up – I know I have not even begun to touch on my potential.  Yes, I am limited, but God isn’t.  And with God, all things are possible.

I treasure my dreams because it is only through their promise that I will begin to live the life that I am meant to have.  When I learned to read, it opened up a whole new world for me, and I felt something click inside.  Yes, I was on the right track.  It is amazing to me that I was able to recognize it for what it was back then, and that I knew, even at 7 years old, what I was meant to do with my life.  Or I knew half of it.  The rest didn’t come until much, much, much later, when I was finally able to see past my own pain to that of others.

It took me a long, long, long time to be content with what I have.  Seriously.  It was one step forward and half a dozen steps back for a while.  But now, I know what I am here for.  For the rest of my life, I’ll let God guide me.  He won’t steer me wrong.

The Real St. Patrick

The St. Patrick day lore is plentiful, so much so it lead me to do some researching…    Not many people know very much about the man behind the myths.  It’s really not at all surprising to me that the modern day celebration of March 17 actually has little to do with the facts.  Today is actually the 1,551st anniversary of his death.  He was not actually Irish either – he was British.  And despite the fact that his parents were aristocratic Christians, he really had no interest in Christianity as a young boy.

When he was sixteen years old, his life changed drastically.  He was kidnapped and sent overseas to tend sheep as a slave in the chilly, mountainous countryside of Ireland for seven years.

That had to have been the worst thing ever – but the experience also led him to belief in Jesus.  Where he was resistant to Christianity before, he fully embraced it because of this thing that had happened to him.  One might argue that his faith is what got him through the tough times.  Because if not that, then what did?

One day, he heard a voice, and it told him to escape.  And he did.  He got on a pirate ship (which I find to be very funny) and went back to Britain, where he was reunited with his family.

I think it is quite impressive that he was able to find his family again – but then again, they owned a townhouse, a countryside villa, and servants too, so it wasn’t as if they would have picked up and run when Patrick disappeared.  They probably stayed put, hoping against hope that one day they’d see their son again.

Then the voice returned and told him to go back to Ireland.  He got ordained as a priest, goes back to Ireland and spends the rest of his life trying to convert the Irish to Christianity.  His work was very hard – he was regularly beaten by thugs, harassed by Irish royalty, and admonished by his British superiors.

He used the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity – the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but there is nothing specially Irish about shamrocks – clovers can be found everywhere.

March 17 had been a feast day in Ireland, but not much else for a long time.  Irish Americans are responsible for making it what it is today – they brought the parades, packed pubs and green silliness.  It’s interesting to note that the original color associated with St. Patrick’s Day was blue – but over time (since the 17th century), green ribbons and shamrocks were worn to celebrate the day.

Today is also my grandpa’s birthday, and he is Irish to boot – we like to tease him and say he is a leprechaun, but I really don’t think he minds at all that much… If you ask him if he’s a leprechaun, chances are he will say yes!

Hope is closer than you (and I) think

First, I’d like to say that, yes, I know that image above is kinda freaky.  I mean, I have read too many ghost stories and seen too many ghost movies for my mind not to go there.  So, in disregarding that, the image does make a point.  Hope is always within reach, if you look for it.  And trust me, I am looking for it.

Hope.  What does it mean?  It’s the feeling that something is possible when you want it badly enough.  It’s the feeling of confidence that things will turn out for the best.  It’s a particular feeling that makes you look forward to something (the hope of something better to come).  Hope is the ground on which we stand.  Hope for a better tomorrow when today was awful.  Hope for someone sick to get better.  Hope can also be a person or a thing (example:  That doctor was her last hope).  Hope is the foundation in which we build our lives on.  Hope is what keeps us going.  Without hope, we would get nowhere.  We would all be moping fools.

One of the reasons why I haven’t been posting regularly is that I am trying to work something out in my head, and I know that if I write about it on here, I will lose interest in it.  And I can’t do that.  Not this time.  It’s too important.  It’s like a bird with a broken wing.  I can’t let it go until it is ready.  I have dropped bits and pieces here and there, mainly because I know I cannot do this alone.  I need other people to keep me grounded – so I don’t go crazy and give up before I even begin.  I’m always coming up with new things – what-ifs, maybes, and how-abouts.  Some of them will work, but a lot of them won’t.  And that is okay.  It’s a process, and it’ll take time, but I’ll get to where I am going.  I have no doubt about that.

Hope keeps me going – the hope of a better world, with no diseases, no wars, nothing bad.  Yes, I am a dreamer, but I do know that such a world exists – a world we cannot see with our human eyes.  It’s called Heaven, and it’s safe there.  Heaven is the safest place ever, but the only thing is, you have to die to this world in order to go there.  And the people you leave behind – they don’t know where you are.  They don’t know if you are safe.  That is where hope walks hand in hand with faith…  In order to believe in anything, you have to be open to it, right?  This makes me think of the quote in LeAnn Rimes’ book/movie, Holiday in Your Heart:  ”We are so far from God, who do you think moved?”

Here’s a clue:  It’s not God.

Desperate Housewives rewrite – end of “You Take For Granted”

Mike sees the intent in the loan shark’s eyes through the open window of the car before he even sees the gun.  Quickly, he pushes Susan out of the way and drops to the ground at the sound of the gun firing.  It fires again, and this time he feels the bullet graze his head.

Mike (calmly, quietly, and sternly):  ”Stay down, Susan.”

He knows he doesn’t have to tell her to be quiet.

He hears the squeal of tires as the car makes a turn about and roars out of the lane.  He waited a beat, two beats, and then crawled on his belly to Susan, shutting the door with his foot.  Any minute now they”d be engulfed with concerned neighbors and police, but now, right this minute, he wanted to be with his wife.

Mike (gently, reaching out to her):  ”Susan?  You okay?”

She lifts her head, a curtain of her dark hair hiding half her face.  Her wide eyes were filled with tears.   “Mike? You’re bleeding.”

Mike (sitting up and gathering her in his arms):  ”It’s okay.  We’re both okay.”

Susan sobs quietly into his strong shoulders for a few seconds and then bolts upright:  ”MJ!”

Mike:  ”He’s okay.  He’s at a friend’s house.  Remember?”

She nods.

Mike knows from here on out things will be different.  He will have to fake his death.  Susan will have to play the grieving widow, and his son will have to be told of his death.  Nothing more, not until it was safe.

He hears a commotion on the front porch, and quickly moves to the side as Bree barges in the house, followed by Gabby and Lynette.

Gabby:  ”Oh my gosh.  Are you guys okay?  I called the police.”

Susan covers her face with her hands.  ”Maybe now they’ll take us seriously,” she moans.

Bree:  ”Mike, what happened?”

Lynette:  ”Yeah, what was that?”

And so Mike told them, and then he told them of his plan.  He’ll disappear.  And when the time was right, Susan and MJ would join him.

Susan (moaning):  ”Julie!  And the baby!  We can’t just leave them…”

Lynette:  ”They’ll be fine.  I’ll take care of everything on this end. “

Mary-Alice (Voice-over while the police arrive and begin to take statements):  ”Yes, in our neighborhood, there are people we see every day, and every day, we take them for granted.  As we go about our lives, we may be too busy with a mundane task and miss one another completely.  Or we might give a polite wave, only to return to what we were doing.  One moment, we’re spending time with a loved one, and the next, we’re wrapped up in our work or preoccupied with our own problems.  What a shame these neighbors take each other for granted…  Because before you know it, the life you once had is gone.”

The War on Terrorism Problem Pile

 Anyone who thinks that he or she has it bad, that his or her life cannot possibly get any worse than it is at present, should just go try living in Central Africa for a week.  Or maybe he or she should just go spend some time on a children’s oncology ward.  That would be the cheaper option, and he or she (probably) won’t get killed doing so.

I know I don’t really talk about current events on here, but today I am going to.  Yesterday, a soldier from the state of Washington opened fire upon Afghanistan civilians, killing 16 people, nine of whom were children.   That is a tragedy.  Downright shocking.  I mean, the Americans are supposed to be the good guys, right?  So what are they doing shooting up villages of defenseless civilians?

And to top it all off, the Taliban is vowing to avenge these deaths.

If this keeps up, this war and the dozen or so like it (okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit) will never be over.  So it’s okay for them to kill us and our children, but when it is our soldiers doing the killing, it’s not okay?

I am in no way advocating revenge killing.  An eye for an eye does not work, because the cycle keeps going.  One person kills another person to avenge someone else, and another person kills the killer, and so on and so forth.  Where do we draw the line?  If we cannot count on the enemy to be the bigger person and stop the vicious cycle, than we must be.  Of course, we cannot ignore something as big as 9/11.  We cannot ignore the terrorists, especially when we are turning into terrorists ourselves.

It seems that the military base where this rogue soldier was from might have had a hand in what happened.  It’s not just rogue soldiers – it’s a whole base.   Whether it is a lack of discipline or something else altogether, there is a problem, and that problem is creating more problems for us.  And there’s no end in sight.