That Festive Time of Year

I want to tell a little story. Bear with me here a bit.

When I first started my chemo treatments, my doctors wanted me to check into the hospital for the first week to make sure I was able to tolerate all the meds. Luckily, my system seemed to handle them very well. Actually, I felt really good for that first week. That means that I was bored as hell sitting in that tiny little hospital room.

So it didn’t take me long to talk the nurses into letting me leave the floor whenever I wanted—as long as I was back in time for treatments. On the third day—with IV in tow—I headed up to the pediatric floor of MD Anderson. They have a heck of a nice setup there. A full kitchen and dining area so parents can cook familiar meals for their kids. Computers with Internet access. A two-story gym with all sorts of toys. A “craft” room. They even have a classroom where kids can keep up with their schoolwork.

After playing catch with a little 4 year-old boy, I met Shannon. (not her real name) She was the cutest 12 year-old girl you’ve ever met. Tall and thin with the signature baby-smooth bald head that left no question as to whether she was a patient or guest. She had a type of bone cancer and she and her mom had temporarily moved from out of state for treatment. She recently had her right tibia (shin bone) removed and replaced with one from a cadaver. At the time, she was in the middle of yet another round of chemo.

But, like a lot of kids in that situation, she was tough. After talking to her a bit, I could tell that she knew exactly what was going on. She knew things were going to be rough for a while. She even seemed to have processed the idea that her situation might not have a positive outcome. But instead of shrinking into a well of self-pity (as she had every right to—her doctors were starting to think that her body wasn’t accepting the new bone and that they would need to try the surgery again) she was up and doing crafts with her mom and helping to plan how to juggle the rest of the family’s schedule.

And Shannon was independent. When she wanted something to drink, she got up and got it herself. That may not sound like much, but realize that she was on crutches with a big IV pole to drag around. That was an impressive balancing act.

While her mom was in the kitchen area cooking some dinner, we were talking and she said that she really missed playing dominoes. As well-stocked as that floor was, there were no dominoes to be found. So, while Shannon and her mom ate some dinner, I snuck out and found the last box hiding in the back of a gift shop.

You should have seen her face light up when I walked back in with that box. We spent the next couple of hours playing dominoes with her mom. I finally had to leave to start my treatments, but for those couple of hours it seemed like it took a little of the burden off her mind. Maybe that’s just what I wanted to see. But if I was able to put a smile on her face and help her have a few laughs with her mom, that seems like a well-spent effort.

The Child’s Play banner is back up. You know what to do.