09/01/2024
My Golden Statement
To all the families working desperately to save your child, our hearts and souls are with you during this Pediatric Cancer awareness month. This is the month we work even harder to share our children’s stories, voices, and experiences because we do not want anyone else to have to endure cancer, especially pediatric cancer. We share so that everyone feels how precious and vital it is to Go Gold in September.
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For the parents who experienced their world crumble around them as they stared at the small paper that listed the type of cancer while you faintly heard the doctor say, “I am so sorry.”
We grieve with you.
To the child that endured their first IV for port placement surgery, the first of many pokes, scans, and possible surgeries that were still in the future and lay ahead. For the small veins and terrorized eyes of both child and parent as they had a team of medical personnel help hold your child still so they could get the line placed.
We cry with you.
For the parent who has left the room for a few moments to utilize the luxury of laundry facilities available to you steps away from your room. Providing you the ability to wash items like blankets and pillows that smell of home, and favorite shirts, so they are ready for the next round of treatment, which begins in the hour. We know you steal the few moments of quiet with no infusion pumps beeping or blood pressure cuffs vibrating, just wash machines humming. We see you even if you refuse to let the tears fall.
We hold you up.
To our friends and family, we struggle to get through the days of travel, lab work, chemo, hospitalizations, transfusions, and life. Your love, helpfulness, and willingness to sit with us do not go unnoticed.
We appreciate you.
For the nurses that work determinedly with us, taking care of our children as they get sick, need medicine, to be bathed, give chemo, blood, fluids, or just comfort. To look at something day after day on a floor where cancer is the only ailment, you work tirelessly against a disease that constantly fights to take.
We are grateful to you.
To the parents who travel hours and hundreds of miles to get the specialized pediatric treatment closest to you, who have to quit jobs, or work extra hours to pay bills, work tirelessly to keep schedules, and find comradery in the hospital room next to yours.
We journey with you.
For the families who desperately wish to return to normal but laugh at the world because you no longer know what normal means, it has been redefined for you.
We understand you.
For the nurse who comes in the early morning hours to check on both child and parent because it had been a long day of battling pain and nausea with no relief in sight. Both of you are exhausted, and finally, your child is getting a few hours of rest. As they rest, you weep, and your nurse comforts you.
We thank you.
To the doctors who fight hard and mask much, we know you weep for us when you say there is “nothing more I can do.” When you leave that room, it cuts deep to have to deliver that message to us.
We mourn together.
To the siblings who work extra hard to minimize the impact of cancer on their lives. Who may not even know it until later when they have grown, how it has disrupted your life during treatment, invaded your home, and impacted school for you. We know the need for grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends to help take care of you is complicated and chaotic.
We love you.
For the parent guardian who prepares themselves for scans and tests like they would a boxing match, knowing that results could upend their path or keep it steady. We know you are preparing and working through all questions and possibilities.
We hold our breath with you.
To the child who loses so much from hair loss, time away from school, restricted interactions, and sometimes unbearable pain, we fight for the years that cancer won’t be present and cannot strip away the light you bring to this world as you fight to live.
We battle with you.
To my child, who fought every day with strength and bravery that no superhero could match. Whose soul shines so brightly with optimism and hope that it eclipses the sun. You have taught us more about life, living, and loving than anyone could imagine.
We miss you.
We love you.
We continue to fight for all of you.
Author and pictures: Kori Orlowski
