April 08, 2008
Some time ago a friend asked me why on earth I choose to work with kids suffering from cancer when there are so many other less painful ways to volunteer.
Here is why, in the words of Irma Bombeck:
“This is a warning. If you can’t handle optimism, don’t go around children with cancer. If you feel tears are more appropriate than laughter, don’t even think of dropping in on a camp where they are. If you don’t want to put yourself at risk for feeling good about yourself, your life and the world…wear a mask!
Children of cancer are carriers of courage.
There, you have been warned.
Hang out with them and you will undergo a metamorphosis that you cannot control. You’ll find yourself saying things like “Have a good day!” or “See you next year.”
I visited a day camp in Phoenix one afternoon, and as I sat on a small chair with my knees under my chin, a small camper with cancer, about three years old, put his arm around my shoulder and positioned his face two inches from mine. “Do you know what?” he asked.
“What?” I answered back.
“I’m going to the circus this afternoon,” he bubbled.
“That’s wonderful," I gushed.
A counselor leaned over and said, “You’re not going to the circus, Kenny. That’s the other group. You’re going swimming."
Most kids would have ripped out a sink and thrown it against the wall in disappointment. Instead, he turned to me and said with equal enthusiasm, “Do you know what?”
“What?” I asked.
“I am going swimming this afternoon!”
Kids with cancer seem to have a gift for cutting through the “what if,” “what should’ve been,” “what might have been" and getting right to “what is now.”
Bert was five years old and fighting neuroblastoma. He loved to draw. One day when he was asked, “Are you going to be an artist when you grow up?” he said indignantly, “I am an artist.”
An adult friend asked a young girl named Christiana what she would like for her eighth birthday. The small child, diagnosed with neuroblastoma, rubbed her hand over her bald head, then rested her face in her hands and said, “I don’t know. I have two dolls, two sticker books and a Cabbage Patch doll. I guess I have everything.”
Posted by trevor at April 8, 2008 03:08 PM
Comments
I must applause you for what you did. And, it's true that cancer patient appreciates those little things that we usually take for granted.
My mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was 8 years. Growing up watching my mom having surgery after surgery and chemotherapy is not easy. She passed away 19 years ago but the memories is still fresh in my mind.
For cancer patients, having the opportunity to live today is a luxury. There's so much we can learn from them.
Keep up your good work. That small gesture means a lot to those sweet children.
All the best to you.
Posted by: aishah at April 9, 2008 01:25 AM