Disclaimer and promise: My mom tells everyone we know not to listen to my book advice because I always recommend "the saddest books." I know I told you I would start giving you some happier stuff to read, Ma, but this probably isn't what you were thinking of. I do promise, though, that if you read to the end of this post, I will not leave you feeling like how I feel after I watch a video on global warming - depressed, doomed, helpless. Keep reading and I'll tell you exactly what you can do, and maybe you won't be so sad for so long.
Liam, known around the world as Prince Liam the Brave, was diagnosed with Neuroblastoma in February of 2007. He was not yet three. Neuroblastoma is a solid tumor cancer of the sympathetic nervous system. It is the most common cancer found in infants and it accounts for 14% of cancers found in children under the age of five. Today, there is no known cure.
But one would be hard pressed to find someone who knew Liam who did not think that he would be cured one day. Liam had a smile that could light up a dark chemotherapy cubicle and a laugh that could fill an empty hallway in the hospital of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. After every scan - good, bad, or ugly (and normally some combination of the three) - there was Liam, in the playroom, at Sloan, a brave, stoic look on his face, ready to start the next treatment.
And Liam had a pretty good supporting cast. Soon after Liam's diagnosis, his family founded Cookies for Kids' Cancer, which has since raised millions of dollars to support pediatric cancer research. (To say that pediatric cancer is underfunded by the government and pharmaceutical companies would be a gross understatement that will not be made on this blog.) Cookies for Kids' Cancer grew out of a bake sale organized by Liam's mom, Gretchen. I use "bake sale" in a loose sense - Gretchen and about 250 volunteers made 96,000 cookies and raised $400,000. I used to think that Gretchen was super human, mostly to make myself feel a little better about how little I have accomplished, donated, given, and loved compared to her. Some part of me always knew, though, that Gretchen is not super human. At her most ordinary, Gretchen is a mother who loves her two children, Liam, and his younger sister, Ella. It is, perhaps, this love that has inspired her to do extraordinary things for many, many children with cancer.
On January 24, 2011 Liam passed away. I am grateful that I got to see Liam's smile in person, watch him help a janitor clean the floor at Sloan, and see him curled up in his mom's lap before he left this world. I know that Gretchen is not super human, but sometimes I still think that Liam is. He had a grace, wisdom, and heart that is hard to imagine in a six-year-old boy who was in and out of hospitals, doctor offices, surgeries, and treatments for most of his young life.
The world will never know what Liam would have been when he grew up, who he would have loved, where he would have gone to college, what he would have discovered, made, traded. The truth is that everyday the world loses another child, another son, another brother, another chance to see what some other kid who just wants to live, could be. Cancer kills more children every year than any other disease; more than asthma, diabetes, cystic fibrosis, and AIDS combined. Every year, 13,000 children are diagnosed with cancer in the U.S. The National Cancer Institute has a $4.6 billion budget - 12% for breast cancer research, 7% for prostate cancer, and less than 3% for all major pediatric cancers.
What can you do? You don't have to write a report, just talk to your friends. Tell someone you know that gold ribbons are for children with cancer. You don't have to find the cure, just support the race. This Valentine's Day, forget Lindt, Russell Stover, and Godiva. Send cookies from http://www.cookiesforkidscancer.org. You don't have to figure out which centers and grants to donate to. Cookies for Kids' Cancer and its prestigous medical advisory board has already done this. Just donate to Cookies and they will do the rest for you. Host a bake sale, raise thousands of dollars - Cookies makes it as simple as possible for you to help. Have another fundraising idea? Do it.
This week I spent $65 on a hat. A hat. Yesterday, I complained about the weather. 18 inches of snow. I am not asking you to never complain about the trivial things in your life. I am not asking you to give everything you have, in every sense of the saying, as Gretchen has, and as I know she will continue to do. I am just asking you to stop for a moment, think about Liam, and give something. Honor him. Help his friends. Help the 40,000 children around the world who are being treated for cancer right now. Help those who will be diagnosed tomorrow. I'm no mathematician, but I know that if we all just give a little, there will be a whole lot of cookies and money for pediatric cancer research going around. I know that more children will start surviving cancer, and that their mothers and Gretchen will thank you. And I know that Liam will be smiling down on us.
