In honor of Pediatric Cancer Day on February 15th, we are re-posting this blog from Stephanie McKeever
Image from Unsplash
You know that floor in your children's hospital you've never seen but wondered what secrets it holds? The one that requires a chaperone for admittance? That's oncology — the ninth floor in our children’s hospital.
Our first day on the ninth floor, the doctors never said, "Your child has cancer." You know those childhood cancer commercials that tug at your heart? Never happened. My husband received a phone call that confirmed a biopsy, but once we were on the oncology floor, the word cancer was never uttered. Medical textbook words were used, and the rush was definitely on. We knew exactly what was happening without ever being explicitly told in those basic words.
Though no one mentioned the word cancer, I learned a lot about it during those days on the ninth floor. We learned all the typical things; how to access a port-a-cath and a PICC line, tube feed, gained an obnoxious amount of stress weight while my son at the same time lost the equal amount of weight from chemo, all the while catching a lot of yuckies in a bucket. But, most of the things learned weren’t medical. Mostly, what pediatric cancer taught me was about love.
Mostly, what pediatric cancer taught me was about love.
Love gets spread thin when cancer hits. We who have close-knit families tend to think of being surrounded by family when going through an illness as monumental as cancer. Not always. Quiet nights would echo the lonely cries of a child at bedtime or the calming, familiar nurses voice as they lovingly coaxed through painful procedures. Some cried out for a parent who had no choice but to leave and care for the other children in the family. Most parents need to work throughout pediatric cancer. Even family love gets tested within these walls. Day in and day out the most difficult scenes are played out. Limits are reached quickly when everyone is experiencing trauma.
It was a rude awakening when I learned not every child takes one of those much-seen Make-a-Wish trips. The trips are for 18 and under while pediatric hospitals care for kids even older. Some kids are just too sick to ever leave the hospital. Both of those situations applied to our son. Love is lacking many days in some rooms. But, when love lacks the most is on rare occasions when families take the Make a Wish trip without the child who is sick. Read that last sentence again.
Few kids meet celebrities or go to private events with major sports teams. Even fewer find themselves showered with love and likes on social media for the, "Fighter." Some kids fight that painful fight with only the nurses, techs, and custodians coming in close to hold their hands, their heads, their bodies up, and truly knowing how difficult their lives have been.
Just like the world outside, the oncology floor has our kids who have disabilities and special needs. Cancer isn't picky. Sometimes our special hearts have to deal with one more fight, one more sickness, one more pain, one more night awake, one more. And maybe one more way to lead someone to the hope we have in Christ, hard as it is.
Love God.
At the end of the day, when the hospital room door closes, it’s only you and your child in the quiet. There is no alone like the alone of pediatric cancer. This is where the rubber hits the road in your faith. Recently, I came across the verse I highlighted in my bible the first night of chemo, which was the first night in the hospital. Remember, they put you on the fast track."Record my lament; list my tears on your scroll. Are they not in your record?" (Psalm 56:8). Love God. He's the only one with you when the lights go out.
Love others.
Our oncology department is seeing more admissions of babies and teens. Babies get cancer? Yeah. It’s easy to love on babies when they are sick, but there are teens, too. Teens are just getting ready to plan, dream, and wham-o. There are people loving our teens well by sitting close, keeping them safe during depression, and dealing with what my family called the poop sandwich of cancer—chemotherapy, radiation, bone marrow transplants, sickness, mucositis, infections, bone resection, limb salvage, and more. I treasure friends who came close and ‘sat in the dust’ (Job 2:13) with us.
Wanna love others with me?
Next March is our Evan's birthday. He loved to receive gifts. He would say, "For me? Evan?" A friend started Evan Kindness Day. It’s a day filled with sharing kindness in memory of our Evan who passed away fighting cancer and Type 1 Diabetes. Take the opportunity with us to love someone else like our great God does. You might find loving others to be so transforming it will become your new norm. Let's shower others with God’s love together.
"And you must love the Lord God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength. The second is equally important: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' No other commandment is greater than these. ~ Mark 12:30-31 NLT
Stephanie McKeever writes with honesty & levity about disability & grief, and guides towards the goodness of God throughout. You can find her feeding her chickens at her backdoor. Find more from Stephanie at stephaniemckeever.substack.com.
