About John Crawford “Ford” Adkins
This page was created in a way to honor our amazing son, John Crawford "Ford" Adkins. Ford was born October 25, 2018 in Charleston, WV (a fact he was very proud of to let people know he was from WV). Ford was our first child, the first grandchild on both sides, and the first boy for his Paw and Papa. To say he was the center of everyone's world was an understatement. Even as a very young child, Ford was thoughtful and caring. He loved nothing more than making others happy. He was an old soul with quick wit who kept everyone laughing. When he was only three years old, he was diagnosed with a cancer called neuroblastoma. To be honest, I had never even heard of this kind of cancer. One day I noticed one of Ford's pupils was smaller than the other and took him in to see his pediatrician. I was brushed off several times, but I kept pushing. I took him to the doctor in the beginning of January and finally on March 28th he was able to see a pediatric opthamologist. She checked him for a condition called Horner Syndrome for which he was positive. She told us sometimes it is idiopathic, but rarely a cancer can cause it to occur. She assured us in all of her years of practice she's only had one child have Horner Syndrome due to cancer. She scheduled an MRI, and on April 2, 2022 the world as we knew it came crashing down. We got a call almost immediately after his scan saying they saw a mass and for us to meet the oncologist at the ER as soon as possible. I was baffled. Oncologist?! That's for cancer.. why would we need to meet with an oncologist? I thought surely this isn't happening to my son, but it was happening even if I was nowhere near prepared for it. It could happen to you too. I pray to God it doesn't, but it can happen to anyone just like it happened to us. It was completely out of nowhere. We woke up that morning with a perfectly healthy child (so we thought), and by that afternoon we had a son with cancer.
The next few YEARS were full of constant fear, anxiety, worry, sleepless nights in the hospital, scrolling clinical trials instead of scrolling Instagram, and lots and lots of prayer. Ford was the bravest person I've ever met. I was a grown adult that was scared to death, and these things weren't even happening directly to me-- although I wished it was me instead of him-- and then my child was putting on a brave face and enduring countless rounds of chemo with horrific side effects, surgeries, scans, radiation sessions, pokes and NG tube insertions. It became our new normal over time. We all fought so hard for so long. Ford's cancer was smart and aggressive. It would change to resist every treatment we would throw at it. Eventually, the cancer spread to his lungs and brain, and this disqualified him from any further clinical trials. We had already tried every traditional chemotherapy available, and since his cancer had progressed on all of those, they were no longer options. We were told to take him home and make him comfortable. Just like that.. four years of constant fighting and then one day it is over. I can't express the emotions you feel when you are told your child is going to die. As a parent, your entire life is about protecting your children and keeping them safe and happy. There was nothing I could do about this... no way to protect my child from this. I was totally and completely helpless.
In all bad situations, I try to look for the good. After we were told Ford needed to be sent home on hospice, we decided we were going to make the most of the time we had left. We had just gotten home from a trip to Disney and Universal Studios right before we found out the horrible news that his cancer had spread, and I will be forever grateful that he got to experience that and live life like a normal kid even if only for a short time. We did trick or treating, had an amazing 7th birthday party for him with friends and family from all over, and celebrated Christmas all within a few days. He eventually went to sleep and didn't really wake back up. We snuggled him, talked to him, rubbed and kissed his head, and said, "I love you" more times than I could count. He remained in a coma like state for a couple of weeks, but he seemed comfortable the entire time. I've read horror stories about kids with neuroblastoma in hospice that are in agonizing pain during their final days even with powerful pain medications. It took a lot of time, prayer, and therapy for me to be able to find that one good thing in this situation. At least he didn't suffer in his final days and was home surrounded by his family.
Ford was only given seven short years on this earth, but my goodness he did so much in that time. His entire life was a testimony for the goodness of God. He made so many people smile on a daily basis. He was giving and thoughtful. He loved putting together gift bags for his classmates and giving gifts to other kids in the hospital. He never let cancer slow him down. At his school, he was known as a friend to everyone. That was my Ford. When you think of him, I hope you don't think of neuroblastoma. I hope you think of the adorable, funny, and smart blonde haired, blue eyed boy that loved his family and friends, Super Mario, Disney, shopping on Amazon, going to school, celebrating each and every holiday, and playing his iPad. I hope you think of what a bright light he was in a very dark world. I hope you try to live your life like he did-- with kindness and joy and compassion. This world would be a much better place if more people were like my sweet angel Ford. I was blessed to be the mother of the most amazing person I've ever known and to be in the presence of someone so wonderful for seven years.
We decided to set up this memorial page for Ford and partner with Alex's Lemonade Stand. This foundation provides funds for research for pediatric cancer which is severely underfunded. The chemotherapy drugs used for pediatric cancer are 50 to almost 80 years old, and those drugs were really created for adults and are dosed for a pediatric patient. This leaves the children who do survive their cancer with lifelong side effects like infertility, heart problems, hearing loss, and even additional cancers later in life. No new advancements with chemotherapy for pediatrics have occurred because pharmaceutical companies invest the majority of funds into adult cancers. Federal funding specifically for pediatric cancer sat at 4% for a very long time, but recent estimates show an increase to a whopping 8%. Alex's Lemonade Stand provides funding for pediatric cancer research as well as funding to support families in need that have a child with cancer.
Alex's Lemonade Stand got its start by a four year old girl that had neuroblastoma. She set up a lemonade stand to help raise money for her doctors to help other children. Before she passed away at age 8, her family had raised $1,000,000 through nationwide lemonade stands and public support. This shows that any amount, big or small, helps in the fight for a cure.
In honor of Ford, please support this foundation, so that we can find a cure and stop the suffering of these amazing children. Childhood cancer doesn't affect you until it does. I hope Ford would be proud of those he left behind while we continue to fight for other children just like him. I believe it would make him very happy to know we are honoring him by doing something he loved to do-- take care of others. To remember Ford in a meaningful way, please consider donating to Alex's Lemonade Stand by clicking the DONATE button below. Thank you to everyone for the love and constant prayers throughout this journey and for your continued support in our fight to end childhood cancer.