Childhood Cancer - How We Can Help

Did you know that, despite that fact that over 13,500 children will be diagnosed with cancer and about 2,500 kids in the U.S. alone will die from this disease this year, only about 4% percent of the annual budget of the taxpayer-funded National Cancer Institute (NCI) is dedicated to childhood cancer?  

Hearing that makes we want to do something about it.  All cancers are devastating; childhood cancers are the worst in that the smallest, most vulnerable amongst us are affected, not just by the disease but by the ravages of the often brutal treatment.  Obviously the children who have been diagnosed with cancer who have not survived have had a great deal stolen from them, as have their families.  But here's another point to consider:  even children with cancer who do survive are being robbed of those months and years of their childhood and are often left with secondary effects of the cancers and/or the treatments that they had to endure to make it to adulthood.

Through reading about cancer in general and then about childhood cancer specifically, I found out about a campaign called The Truth 365, which is an organized effort to educate the public and generate action to help fight childhood cancer through film and social media.  Through the group behind this campaign, individuals like you and me are able to DO SOMETHING to help, through taking just a few minutes of our time.  It isn't a telethon or a fundraiser; it's an awareness campaign, and it's something that has never been done before in this way.

If you are interested in helping in the effort to protect children from this terrible disease, post a link to this blog entry on your social media accounts like Facebook and Twitter and share it with people you know. Then take some time (about an hour, but well worth it) to watch the powerful documentary film produced for The Truth 365 to find out some simple things that you can do to help battle this terrible beast:

The organizers of this group are trying to raise awareness to increase funding for research and treatment of childhood cancers, not just so that more children who are diagnosed with cancer live but also so that those who do survive are not left with a lifetime of detrimental side effects of treatment.  They want people to understand that the statistics that we hear - that up to 75-80% of children who are diagnosed with cancer survive - paint a picture that is not all together accurate.  That statistic, for example, is only based on a five year survival rate, and many of the children who make it to that point do not go on to survive longer term.  They want everyone to be aware that the increase in survival rates that we hear about in kids with cancer over the past few decades have mostly come from these children being given greater and stronger amounts of drugs that were developed for use in adults and that very often no one knows exactly what the effects of these treatments in children will be.  They want us to see that doctors and other health care professionals who are trained to treat these very sick kids and to research the treatments that can save them are having to spend time fighting for funding instead.  They want us to know that with no money and with just a few minutes of our time, we can do something to help in this cause.

The film will enlighten you to the facts that we all need to know, whether we personally know a child who has cancer or not.  Through the film and through viewing the group's website, you will find out about action steps that need to be taken to further increase awareness and support and to secure the funding needed.  You will learn in viewing the film is that each of our Congressmen have been asked to sign a pledge which affirms his or her support for children with cancer.  

A listing of those U.S. Representatives and Senators who have signed the pledge has been posted here -  

http://www.thetruth365.org/pledge/  

by state, so that we can see who still needs to be encouraged to sign this pledge.  For example, in Tennessee, two members of Congress have yet to commit: 

They are asking us to contact members of Congress who have not signed the pledge to ask them to do so.  Most of the contact info you need is right there on the site; if you live in Tennessee, you can click here for Bob Corker's contact info and here to contact Chuck Fleischmann to let them know the importance of their commitment to this issue.

When you get to the website, bookmark and check back as often as possible to find out about the latest iniative of the group  and how you can help, often with just the click of a mouse button.  

There are lots of causes and organizations that ask for donations of money and items, especially during this time of year, but this one is unique in that all they are asking for is a few minutes of our time.  The greatest reflection on us as a society and in my opinion as individuals is the way we treat those who are less fortunate than we, and I can't think of an easier way to do that than to participate in this effort.

Road Trips

 My parents took my sisters and me on lots of road trips when we were growing up.  Both sets of our grandparents and the rest of our extended family lived in states other than where we lived, and it seemed like we piled into the station wagon and hit the road fairly often.

Like lots of families during that time period, we traveled on a pretty low budget.  We packed a cooler and a bag with things like colored pencils and paper and a deck of cards, and we were good to go.

We took lots of camping trips, did a good bit of sightseeing and touring, went to Disneyworld and several water parks, and made it to the beach on several occasions.  All of that blurs together as Good Time Family Fun in my Memory Bank.  There were, however, a few specific events during my childhood involving family road trips that I remember as standing out the most, things we did while traveling as a family that I think about again and again, memories that always bring a smile to my face.  I’m not even sure of the exact timeline of these.  All three happened as part of the travel my family was doing - they were side-shows, far removed from the main event; they were spontaneous; and they were unforgettable.

We lived in Albert Lea, Minnesota, when I was in kindergarten.  I loved that house for lots of reasons; I learned to ride a bike without training wheels in the front yard there, my younger sister came home from the hospital as a newborn to that house, and it had a cool laundry chute that went from the second floor to the laundry room in the basement.

One day, our parents were packing the car before we embarked on another road trip, and my sisters and I were in the den gathering up a few books and toys to take with us.  The TV show that was on came to an end, and the next thing that came on was a movie: “The Wizard of Oz.”  I had never seen it before, and I was mesmerized from the start by the tornado scene, the characters, the way it went from black-and-white to color, and the music.

About 30 minutes into the show, my parents completed their last-minute preparations for the trip.  I’m sure they were ahead of schedule for the time they had planned to depart on the trip; my dad hated to be late and went to great effort to make sure our family was on time wherever we went.  He came into the den and started his battle cry of “Load up!  Time to go!” but then saw us sitting on the floor, as he termed it, “glued to the TV.”  When he realized what we were watching, he and Mom sat on the couch behind us, and we watched the rest of the movie together, with Dad singing along to every song in the movie: from “We’re Off to See the Wizard” to “The Merry Old Land of Oz” and “If I Were King of the Forest.”  The movie and the music were great, and I’ll never forget how time seemed to stand still as my family sat there in the den that day, entranced, entertained, and together.

A few years after that, my family had moved to another state, and we were in the car again on a road trip.  I don’t remember where we started or where we ended up, but I do remember the best part of that trip:  Dad was driving along the highway while the rest of us looked out the window.  I don’t know who saw the little carnival in the hillside first, but I do remember the moment when all of had it seen it.  My sisters and I oohed and aahed at the Ferris wheel and the other rides we saw.  It looked like fun, but we were On the Road and On a Schedule.  Probably no one in the world was more surprised than we were at that exact moment in time when, without a word, Dad pulled onto the two-lane road at the foot of the hillside and started driving towards the carnival.  I remember thinking I was dreaming.  He pulled into the gravel parking lot, parked the car, and said, “Who’s up for some rides?”  Better than Christmas!

 When I was a pre-teen and even into my high school years, my family celebrated New Year’s Eve by staying overnight in a Holidome about 100 miles from where we lived.  My sisters and I each got to invite a friend, and, once we got to there, our parents pretty much unleashed us in the open space inside the hotel.  We ran in the halls, jumped on the beds, rode up and down the elevators, went into the sauna room, ordered room service, watched music videos on MTV (which we weren’t allowed to have at home), and swam in the indoor pool.  Just enough freedom, lots of fun, excellent people-watching (one year we watched a woman swim laps in the pool for hours in a shower cap) – it was perfect.

I’m not sure if there is a specific lesson from or a point to looking back at memories like these, other than just remembering and thinking about how much fun we had together as a family.  Maybe there’s a little bit of a “Take time to smell the roses” lesson in there, and that we certainly did.  We definitely appreciated each opportunity, each day, and each other along the way, and for that, as well as the memories that time will not allow us to forget, I will be forever grateful.

I remember riding in the backseat of the car with my sisters, barreling

down the highway on family trips, listening to Dad sing this song.