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I may be SLOW but childhood cancer is UGLY!

Why on God’s Green Earth is this middle-aged, out of shape, and extremely sweaty mama posting early morning selfies? Because September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month! I have committed to running 100 miles to raise funding for Alex’s Lemonade Stand. 

96 cents of every dollar donated goes directly to research. Relay for Life only donates 1 cent of every dollar, and The National Cancer Institute only dedicates FOUR percent of its entire budget to all childhood cancers COMBINED. 

Childhood cancer is NOT rare. Approximately 1 in 285 children in the U.S. will be diagnosed with cancer before their 20th birthday. Each day, 43 children are diagnosed with cancer in the United States, which means 15,590 children annually. Cancer is the leading cause of death by disease in American children, resulting in the death of approximately 1,800 kids each year.

Let’s do something about it. Donate 1 penny for every mile I run ($1.00). Donate more. Join my team and run, bike, swim, Zumba, skateboard, surf, roller skate, or even Electric Slide your miles. Share these posts. Hit “like”. Wear a gold ribbon. Use an awareness frame on your Facebook profile photo. We can make a difference. Let’s do this! 
 

Because, after 12 years, my Mr. KACHOW is still here.

 I am incredibly lucky and blessed to be able to describe Alec that way. Eleven years ago, on 8/25/2011,  my precious 22 month old was diagnosed with Stage 4 high risk neuroblastoma cancer. He had 3 tumors. One was in his right clavicle lymph node. One was gigantic and covered his entire trunk. And the last one was in his mediastinum, next to his lungs, and wrapped around his heart. 

He was about to die. Statistics said he would. Further statistics said, in a case like his, relapse was pretty inevitable, and would be fatal. They were scared he wouldn’t even survive the surgery to have the port placed to start the chemo. The day before he was running around raising havoc. No symptoms. 

I learned to take life minute by minute. And I relied heavily on my default mode- grateful and happy. Appreciating every moment. The soul crushing, gut wrenching, terrified times. The covered in vomit and screaming times. The down on my knees begging and desperate not to let him see me cry times. The quiet, squeezing, wrap him up in my arms, Mama is here times. The Oh My God stop running down the hall with your IV pole you have fifteen lines running times. The stupid jokes at 3 am giggling uncontrollably times. The completely unexpected bonding with his little buddies and their mamas who were also laughing through their tears and becoming part of our extended family times. 

And the knowledge that his cancer tried to rob me of all of those incredibly precious moments fills me with rage and frustration.

And I think about all he has been through in his 11 year fight. And all the things he still deals with every day without complaint or the inherent knowledge that it SHOULD NOT be this way. It’s the only life he knows. Things no kid should have to endure. And I think about his friends who didn’t make it. And I think about the kids on the front lines, battling for their lives, before they can even ride a tricycle. And I stay up at night. And I turn it over and over in my head.

 It’s hard to be the constant voice shouting in the back WE ARE HERE WE ARE HERE WE ARE HERE WE ARE HERE. But I *have* to. Someone has to. 

Because the National Cancer Institute dedicates only FOUR percent of its funding to ALL childhood cancers COMBINED. Because American Cancer Society and Relay for Life use cute bald kid pictures to raise money but only donate ONE PENNY of every dollar raised to childhood cancer. Because only ONE new chemotherapy has been approved in the past 20 years. Because childhood cancer is the number one cause of death by disease in children- more than diabetes, asthma, cystic fibrosis, and pediatric aids- COMBINED. Because cut, poison, and burn is not the best we can do for our children. Because these kids are dying. 

So I will sweat through the miles. And I will wear the sweaters. And I will walk in the gold boots.  And I will make a fool of myself in the dresses. And I will pass out the ribbons. And I will speak at the presentations. And I will contribute to the documentaries.  And I will run the marathons. And I will make the connections. And I will fight the apathy and the greed and the hopelessness. And I will give people a way to help. And I will always do *something*. I won’t sit down. I will NEVER shut up. Because Alec is here. 

And these kids are worth the fight.