When Tuesday died, pediatric cancer awareness became my mission. It was my passion and the sole reason I chose to go back to college, earn my CMA, and work in the oncology field.
It drove me crazy when September would roll around and I would see posts on Facebook that would say silly things like,” I’m not wearing underwear,” and when you’d comment on it you’d get a private message telling you it was part of Breast Cancer Awareness. And it would tell you how to play along.
September is Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month. Not breast cancer.
And then I got diagnosed.
And honestly, I felt weird saying anything about my cancer.
For multiple reasons.
But mostly because I didn’t like seeing people look at me differently.
And because it was September.
Even now, in November, I’m struggling with rectifying why the funding is so low for pediatric cancer and why breast cancer is one of the highest funded cancers.
Don’t get me wrong.
I feel blessed that it is, because the advancements in treatment are the difference between the kind of cancer I have killing me or my survival.
Just two weeks ago, my daughter’s friend’s 18 month old baby girl, M, died of a brain tumor. She hadn’t even been diagnosed with cancer until she died.
She went in for surgery and didn’t come back out.
The shock hasn’t worn off.
And I doubt it will for a very long time for her family.
I feel so torn and guilty.
And I’m sure I shouldn’t.
But why the hell is cancer so random?
Why did an 18-month-old baby die and I’m still here?
I’m sure a million reasons could be answered, but none make any real sense.
I have breast cancer but I’m pretty certain I will never stop being a pediatric cancer awareness advocate.
If one family can be spared the grief of losing their child, it’s worth the effort.
Please donate to Pediatric Cancer Awareness.
Or place a donation in my Gofundme with the note “For Baby M” and I’ll pass it on to the family.