Uncategorized

In our continuing effort to meet the needs of patients in treatment for childhood cancer and their families, CURE is thrilled to introduce the Bowen Story Lodging Fund. This fund makes available financial assistance to eligible families who have a need for overnight accommodations due to their child’s cancer treatment. Through a partnership with Hotel Equities, CURE can now offer hotel accommodations for up to five nights for a patient whose travel to and from appointments are a minimum of 100 miles round-trip and for whom other accommodations are not available.

Many families living outside of Metro Atlanta must often travel long distances for treatment. Due to the side effects of chemotherapy, unscheduled and urgent trips resulting in overnight stays are not uncommon. Besides the medical cost of treatment, these travel and lodging expenses can become significant. Bowen’s family experienced this during his treatment.

“During Bo’s cancer battle, lodging became a necessity,” Recalls Bo’s father, Scott. “Living eighty miles away from Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, there were times we rented an apartment during treatment to save us from driving so much. The Bowen Story Lodging Fund for these families can help when other avenues are full or can’t accommodate the situation. We are proud that Bo’s fund can spread its wings in helping in the lodging area. Living such a distance from treatment, it can truly be a blessing to have a place to stay while there. We’re proud to expand in helping more families.”

We are excited to offer this additional assistance to eligible families as they travel for appointments and treatment. Many thanks to The Bowen Story Fund and Hotel Equities for helping us to meet this need.

The night before we checked into the hospital for port implant surgery and first round of chemo, our daughter, Mary Tipton, asked if she could sleep in our bed.  Of course.  Absolutely.  Once we were tucked under the covers she turned to me and said, “Mama, I feel like I am too little for this to happen to me.”  She was terrified of what she was about to endure.

This was not a moment we were prepared for.  I had thought about how to help her when she lost a soccer game or if she felt left out at school or how to comfort her when a boy breaks her heart for the first time.  But, this scenario… this is not in the baby books.  It is a parent’s worst nightmare come to life.

The months of treatment took a brutal physical toll on MT.  She lost her hair and her appetite.  The skin on her joints cracked and bled.  The horrible side effects that the oncology team discussed with us happened.  They were listed, plain as day, on the Treatment Consent Forms.  So, at least we had a heads up for the physical damage.  We knew it was coming.

But, the list of potential side effects did not include the emotional trauma.  No mention of PTSD, anxiety and insomnia on the Cisplatin warning labels.  Survivor guilt, depression and crippling fear?  Not on the bags of Bleomycin and Etoposide that were pumped into her little 8 year old body.

How do you comfort a child when she loses her hair?  How does that feel for her?  Why, oh, why do other children make cruel comments to a bald little girl?  And how to help her recover from that?   Does she worry about dying as much as we worry about losing her?  Does she feel panic every time she has an ache or pain?  Will she ever sleep well again?

As much as we tried to find the right words and ways to comfort her, we could see Mary Tipton was struggling with her emotions.  She was withdrawn and reluctant to be around anyone other than family.  I remembered reading about the counseling services provided by CURE and reached out for help.  Mary Tipton was, frankly, not excited at the prospect of going to yet another appointment.

Trying to respect her privacy, we did not ask MT too many questions about her counseling visits.  But, we could sense the relief in her. She had a safe place to talk about cancer and its aftermath.  She could talk to the counselor about how embarrassed she felt when a kid at the swimming pool kept asking her why her head was so white and so bald.  And how she cried the day she rode the school bus home with a friend and the bus driver tried to make her sit on the “boy” side of the bus because of her short hair.

The counselor used play-based therapy methods to draw MT’s fears out into the open.  Our little girl started smiling more and actually looked forward to her counseling days. She began to enjoy all the things she loved to do before cancer.

It is an incredibly difficult transition from the cocoon of cancer treatment back into “normal” life.  There is no normal after childhood cancer, but that is what our daughter yearned for so desperately.  Don’t get me wrong, MT knows she has been given the merciful blessing of survival, but it doesn’t come without its own set of challenges.

So many days she cried that she just wanted to be a normal kid.  Why did cancer have to change everything?  The counseling helped all of us understand how to help Mary Tipton adapt to this new, post-cancer, scanxiety-ridden, amazing gift of life.  Counseling helped MT refocus on the positive and learn to carry on when faced with life outside the shelter of the hospital and constant companionship of her (admittedly) overprotective parents.  There is joy to be had after cancer and counseling helped us find it.

 

Mary Tipton has physical scars from surgeries and treatment.  The scars have faded a bit with time.  The emotional scars, although she will carry them with her always, have begun to heal as well.  We are so grateful to CURE for supporting our family throughout Mary Tipton’s diagnosis, treatment and recovery.  Counseling support is an invaluable gift for families fighting childhood cancer and I encourage parents to reach out to CURE to find out how to get started!

Imagine you are running the longest, hardest race of your life. You have suffered through a great deal of pain and many setbacks along the way, but come to a point where the end of the race is near. Just as you round the last corner and see it in sight, the finish line disappears like a vapor in the wind and you must trudge on. You find yourself wearier than you ever thought possible and doubt your ability to finish, but there is no choice; you have to keep going. Once more, the finish line comes into view and once more it vanishes as you approach. How would you feel? Frustrated? Angry? Confused?

This type of cruelty is common with childhood cancer.

Meet Olivia. At the age of eleven, doctors found a tumor in her right arm that they diagnosed as Ewing’s sarcoma – a rare childhood bone cancer. The treatment for Ewing’s involves several rounds of extremely harsh chemotherapy to shrink the tumor, followed by surgery or radiation to destroy the tumor, and then more chemotherapy to ensure it never returns. This standard protocol hasn’t changed in decades.

Olivia rocked through this challenge. She endured the chemo and said it didn’t even make her very sick. After two surgeries, she finished her last round of chemo in April of 2015 and thought she had crossed the finish line. Little did she know her race wasn’t finished.

The following November, Oliva was on a Junior Youth Assembly trip to the state capital in Atlanta. During this event, she was able to push a bill through a mock congress requesting more funding for childhood cancer research. But shortly before it was over, she developed a rash and began to feel sick. She felt so bad that her father came to pick her up and took her straight to the hospital.

Olivia laid in bed and realized something was very wrong when her parents kept getting pulled out of the room. Soon she was taken to a different hospital by ambulance where she was told that she now had acute myelogenous leukemia (AML).

This secondary cancer is a direct result of the treatment she received to cure her Ewing’s sarcoma. Although it is rare, one of the chemo drugs, Etoposide, is known to sometimes cause the onset of AML. In killing one cancer, Olivia was, in effect, given another. Her finish line moved.

“I can’t do this again,” she told her parents.

Olivia remembers being frightened and angry. But she kept moving. This treatment was much rougher than the first. In fact, everything the doctors gave her sent her body into a downward spiral until they were forced to put her on a ventilator to give her battered body a chance to rest.

She spent thirty-three days on the ventilator – a time her parents remember as very touch and go. Finally, her body began to fight back and she got strong enough to do a bone marrow transplant. To facilitate the transplant, doctors had to suppress her immune system, leaving her vulnerable to any possible germ that could elude the most sterile of environments. She struggled with several maladies during the transplant recovery period and was forced to go to the emergency room three times. As a result of the transplant, Olivia even contracted a virus that is often associated with lymphoma – a disorder that forced her to get another round of chemotherapy.

This circle of madness was frustrating and scary for her and her parents.

“We were so scared, yet again, that now she might have a third cancer and even more scared that the new marrow she was building was going to be destroyed by yet another chemo,” said her father, Matt. “How can this happen to one child – three cancers in three years? It was like our legs were kicked out from underneath us and someone punched us in the gut over and over.”

 

Fortunately, she was never diagnosed with lymphoma and her bone marrow stayed intact and as the immunosuppressant’s were backed off, her new T-cells slowly began producing normal cell levels again.

That was nearly a year ago. Olivia is back in school and doing well. She has finally crossed the finish line. She and her parents know how special that is.

“Each day is a gift,” added Matt. “I am so grateful I can look into her big, beautiful, green eyes and tell her I love her and she tells me the same.”

Olivia’s family credits their faith and the support of their friends and community in Cartersville with carrying them to the finish line of their race against childhood cancer.

 

Many children face the same problems Olivia encountered. The unfortunate reality for childhood cancer survivors is that the side effects of treatment can be long term and devastating. CURE is working to fund research that will bring safer treatments with fewer side effects to children who so desperately need them. Won’t you join us?

At the tender age of three years old, Christopher has been through a lot. In 2014, what seemed like just a lump in his belly was diagnosed as stage IV Wilm’s Tumor. He spent the next seven months in a fight that included chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation. He became a frequent flyer with trips between the Atlanta and New York hospitals where he received treatment in which he lost a kidney, an adrenal gland, and several lymph nodes. But on March 15, 2015, Christopher was declared NED (No Evidence of Disease). He has spent some additional time in the hospital due to asthma, but is now doing great. In fact, after his latest scans, doctors decided to move him to the survivor program where they will monitor his progress annually.

Although the cancer is gone, he bears a large surgery scar on his abdomen along with several scars from ports that will always tell its story.

His family is dedicated to fighting childhood cancer so that someday, other children won’t have to endure the same torturous treatments that were forced on Christopher. One of the ways they do that is through CURE Childhood Cancer’s Lauren’s Run. Money raised at Lauren’s Run is dedicated to funding lifesaving pediatric cancer research and that money is raised by teams such as Team Courageous Christopher.

Christopher’s parents, Franz and Christa, have engaged in several fundraisers in his honor. Last year, their Lauren’s Run team raised over $9000! One of the keys to their success was a personal touch. They made this card and mailed it out to friends and family to tell their story and ask for a gift.

“It’s hard to ask for money,” said Christa. “But in the end, you just have to ask and remember that this is for children and so many are affected.”

She’s right. Statistics tell us that nearly 16,000 children will be diagnosed with cancer this year and nearly 20% of those children will not win their battle. More needs to be done.

Would you join Christopher and his family at Lauren’s Run? More importantly, would you join them in raising money for others to fight the battle? You can either join an existing team or start your own and bring your friends and family into the fight. The day is not just a run, it is a great family experience that culminates in the CURE Annual Picnic where there will be games, inflatables, face-painting, food, and much more.

It is really such a small thing. But the more people who do this small thing, the greater our total effort becomes until we create an avalanche of caring that finally finds a cure for childhood cancer. Your first step in following Christopher starts by clicking here!

What would the pediatric oncology and hematology world be without Dr. Abdel Ragab?

What if Dr. Ragab wasn’t there to treat me in the summer of 1981?

What if he wasn’t persistent, thorough, thoughtful, and forward thinking?

What if he didn’t fight for my life like I was one of his own children?

What if he didn’t fight for ALL children he treated, like they were ALL his own?

Where would so many of us be?

 

Dr. Ragab treated me in the summer of 1981 for a rare and deadly hematologic disease called Aplastic Anemia. I arrived at the Egleston clinic run by Dr. Ragab as a very sick 12-year-old. My bone marrow had virtually shut down, producing very few of the blood cells necessary to keep me alive. As Dr. Ragab sat in the trailer that he called his office and lab, he delivered the news to my parents that my diagnosis was bad and almost always fatal, with only a 10% cure rate. He was fully aware of how hard and important the summer months would be for me and my family and how unlikely a cure would be. Yet he fought for my life, presented my parents with treatment options, and gave them hope.

1981 was decades before the internet arrived, so Dr. Ragab was my family’s most valued informational resource. We couldn’t Google, “Aplastic Anemia,” and come up with dozens of websites listing information about the disease or read about another family’s experiences with treatment and best practices. Dr. Ragab was our Google and he was a tremendous search engine to have on my team. He was well educated, expertly trained, and brilliant. He was connected to the pediatric cancer community on a national and international level. He was thoughtful, empathetic, reassuring, and always hopeful. I sometimes wonder where would we have been if he weren’t all of these things. What if he had been a small-minded doctor who only thought locally and not globally about where a cure might be? What if he weren’t proactive, always trying to stay one step ahead of the disease?

When the limited treatment options were quickly exhausted for us at Egleston, he led my parents to an experimental treatment at UCLA. Although few children were enrolled in the protocol, Dr. Ragab testified that I had run out of local options and advocated to the doctors in charge that I be permitted into this early phase trial. It was this treatment that eventually saved my life. Dr. Ragab was responsible for introducing us to it as a life-giving option and shepherding us through the process until we returned to Atlanta.

When I returned home after a month of grueling treatment, we rode the roller-coaster to recovery with the sage guidance of Dr. Ragab and his team. The ups and downs of daily blood counts that must have sent my parents into moments of doubt and despair were coupled with my demands to be allowed to return to school. Dr. Ragab treated me medically, but he also helped my parents decide how to help me live within the confines of my disease restrictions.

Dr. Ragab cared about my medical well-being as much as the emotional well being of my entire family. It was his big-hearted concern for all families connected with his clinic that endeared him to us, and his passion for CURE Childhood Cancer that led my parents to serve on its board for many years after my recovery – raising money for lab space, lab equipment, vital research, and support of other families in their darkest days. He became much more than just a doctor to our family; he became a leader, an advocate, and a friend. I wouldn’t be here today watching my children grow and flourish if it weren’t for him.

 

 

In three short years, the Believe Ball has raised more than $2.7 million to further CURE Childhood Cancer’s mission to find cures for cancers which affect children and to provide critical support to patients and their families. Every year, we honor someone who has made a significant impact on our mission and the children we serve. This year, we are proud to honor CURE’s founder, Dr. Abdel Ragab, for his lifelong dedication to finding a cure for childhood cancer.

In 1975 when Dr. Ragab arrived in Atlanta, he immediately realized an urgent need for a special microscope to distinguish between types of leukemia in order to put patients on the correct protocol. He organized a group of his patients’ parents to begin raising money and CURE was formed. What started as a research lab in a temporary trailer has grown into a top ten pediatric cancer research center. Dr. Ragab’s dedication and vision for children battling cancer was the very foundation upon which this great institution has been built.

Please consider being a part of a special tribute to Dr. Ragab by making a donation in his honor. We will surprise Dr. Ragab with the tribute gift total on May 13, 2017 at the 4th annual Believe Ball.

 

 Donate Now

 

 

Lauren’s Run was inspired by two wonderful girls, both named Lauren and both battled cancer. For the last 22 years, Lauren’s Run has carried on in each of their memories. Hundreds of families have gathered to walk and run in support of CURE, raising more than $3.6 million for lifesaving pediatric cancer research. Lauren’s Run truly brings the community together, with families, schools and companies forming race teams to support our fight.

Lauren Zagoria

Lauren was a perfectly normal child. Her eyes were the deepest blue imaginable, brimming with curiosity and intellect; they were the focal points of a little girl’s beautiful face. Total strangers would stop to marvel at her beauty and ask whether her hair was natural. She was a child who was easy to adore.

In retrospect, though, her beauty was fragile; her eyes were those of an old soul.

In 1991, when Lauren was just 21 months of age, a new vocabulary was introduced into her world – a litany of words full of dread, horror and very little hope. A perfect daughter diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a particularly brutal pediatric cancer that to this day has beaten doctors and researchers and remains a nightmarish disease with no cure.

Literally overnight, Lauren’s world changed from dolls and birthday parties and the security of her home to medical teams and punishing treatments and the insecurity of hospitals. Doctors, residents, interns and nurses, scanning, invading and almost always delivering one more bit of bad news, chipping away one more piece of her family’s collective soul. And the loathsome chemotherapy – how it changed her. It robbed her strength, stole her hair, deformed her body and deadened her deep, blue eyes. From bone marrow biopsies without anesthesia to twice-a-day radiation treatments, she bore it all with a courage, bravery and dignity well beyond her years. She never complained; she never quit; she never stopped loving or trusting those who cared for her. After 14 long months of struggling, the disease was just too big for one little girl.

In the end, Lauren left us a legacy. It is in her memory and her honor that her family carries her fight forward each year with Lauren’s Run – committed to finding the cure for the disease that took this beautiful child from us.

Lauren Kochman

Lauren too, was a perfectly normal little girl, with no signs of illness or disease. She was so full of life, and enjoyed every minute of her short time on earth. She always had a twinkle in her eye and a smile you could see peeking from behind her “binky.” The thing her family remembers most is her love of music – she loved music and loved to dance.

One December morning the Kochmans’ lives were forever changed. What they thought was a common stomach virus turned into their worst nightmare. Lauren was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. She was only 16 months old. Lauren was immediately admitted to the hospital to begin what turned out to be a never ending round of procedures: surgeries, blood tests, bone scans, bone marrow biopsies, chemotherapy and more.

Lauren was so strong and brave; after each invasive procedure she quickly bounced back to her happy, loving self. She never lost trust in her family. Her illness forced her into maturity; in some strange way she seemed to understand what was happening and knew her time here would be brief.

Lauren’s treatment went extremely well; her family had high hopes for her recovery. She took chemotherapy with ease. Her doctors called her the “chemo poster child” because she rebounded so quickly after each round. However, after Lauren’s fourth round of chemo, she became extremely sick. Her immune system was too weak to fight off the illness. She fought hard, but could not recover.

Ironically, it was the treatment, not the cancer, which took their little girl’s life.

Even though it is difficult, they decided they must go on – but on a different course with different priorities. They now feel the need to help fight for a cure for cancer and prevent this awful disease from taking another child’s life. In Lauren’s memory, her family continues the fight the Zagorias started, with Lauren’s Run.

My wife and I never thought we would ever hear either of our daughters ask, “Mommy, Daddy, am I going to die?” Yet here we were in April of 2015, sitting on the edge of our bed having this conversation with our 12-year-old daughter Kayla. With no warning, what we thought would be a routine doctor visit turned into the discovery of a suspicious tumor that would ultimately be diagnosed as Wilms Tumor, a form of kidney cancer. We have never cried so much in our lives. I never knew that so many tears were possible. But like soldiers, we had to fight and it took every bit of our mental, physical and spiritual strength to get through the next few years. Even now we are still dealing with the post-traumatic effects and emotional scars of treatment.

And it seems that every three months when we go in for routine scans, we are once again reminded of all that we’ve been through. In the case of most trauma, it’s usually possible to leave the place of trauma once it is over and never return. That is not the case with our trauma. It has been so important to learn how to cope. We all have different perspectives now on the fragility of life. Some of those perspectives are good and some are bad. We now know that at any moment anything could happen – a sobering reality that we continue to deal with and one that will be life-long.

Immediately after this tragedy occurred, CURE Childhood Cancer connected us to a competent and qualified counselor through their Partners in Caring Counseling Program. It was a very helpful resource that I can honestly say made a huge difference in our ability to cope.

Counseling has been a huge help. Many people have a stigma about counseling, thinking that it is for “insane” or “weak” people. But that could not be further from the truth. The sanest thing to do is to seek the help of others during times of tragedy and uncertainty. It takes courage to admit when you or your family needs help.

 

“Courage doesn’t happen when you have all the answers. It happens when you are ready to face the questions you have been avoiding in your life.”

-Unknown.

 

We are grateful that CURE was able to facilitate the counseling for our family. It was an indispensable service that greatly helped us. I often hear stories of families destroyed by cancer – marriages ended and lives taken or lost. I would suggest that much of that destruction is due to people not knowing how to cope with the trauma they are forced to face. Our family is still going strong and that is largely because we sought the right help at the right time.

We encourage others to do the same.

 

 

Written by Kevin McGee, Kayla’s daddy

For more information about CURE’s Partner’s in Caring Counseling Program, click here.

Guilt can be an unusual motivator. Everyone feels guilty about things from time to time. Most of us tend to suppress our guilt impulses with the hopes of wearing them down to manageable feelings that can be side-stepped and eventually forgotten. But guilt can also be a call to action. In the words of John Patrick with Harry Norman, Realtors, “Guilt can be a good thing. It will either make you shy away or kick you in the pants and force you to do something.”

John grew up in Thomaston, Georgia, a small town about an hour and a half south of Atlanta. John and his friend, Scott, went to high school and church together and even sang in the same quartet. They each went their own way after graduation; Scott stayed there and John moved to Atlanta to pursue a career in real estate. They stayed in touch, but their paths didn’t cross again until Scott’s son, Bo, was diagnosed with medulloblastoma, an aggressive pediatric brain cancer. His treatment brought Scott and Bo to Atlanta.

John immediately went to the hospital to see if there was anything he could do to help. The offer didn’t pan out and John lost persistence. Over the next few years, they kept up with each other only through social media connections. At the same time, John and his wife Katherine were starting fertility treatments. John found out his wife was expecting about two years later – news that brought him great joy and also bred guilt over how happy he felt while his friend was experiencing such tragedy. That guilt was only compounded by the arrival of his healthy son, Jack, just thirty-three days before Bo lost his battle with cancer. Thinking about how easy it is to let the business of life get in the way, John regretted not being more proactive in helping Scott’s family during such a difficult time. The guilt gnawed at him and threatened the natural joy of new life.

It took some time, but John refused to let the guilt get the best of him. As he watched as his friend mourn and try to keep Bo’s memory alive through fundraising, John decided it wasn’t too late to help. The first thing he did was hold a Movie Morning at a theater for his clients and friends, where they screened a children’s movie and collected new books and DVDs as admission. Those items were donated to the cancer floor of a children’s hospital.

In the meantime, the Story family’s efforts grew and they partnered with CURE to take their Bowen Story Fund to the next level. Since they personally experienced the sobering, financial burdens of traveling 50+ miles each time to the hospital over the course of several years, the goal of the fund was to help families by providing gas cards, lodging, and meals while in treatment.

John sought ways to join his friend in this mission and approached the CEO of Harry Norman, Realtors, who was particularly sympathetic to the cause after losing his nephew to cancer years prior. Together and through committee, Harry Norman, Realtors decided to adopt Bo’s cause as the beneficiary of their next charity event – The 10^th Annual Bowl-A-Thon in 2015. By selling sponsorships to vendors, contractors, and business associates, the event raised over $46,000 in Bo’s honor.

The most recent event, 11^th Annual Bowl-A-Thon was another huge success raising a little over $60,500. This year, a fellow agent brought her daughter who is fighting childhood cancer to the lanes and everyone there got to see the importance of their labor firsthand.

And what does this mean to Scott?

“I never questioned John as to why he wanted to help,” he said. “As kids, we grew up carefree in a small town. Then, life took the drastic turn with Bo. Just seeing John there meant more than he knows. As Bo battled, even the smallest gestures meant so much. After Bo left for heaven, John stepped up and really did so much for Bo’s fund. The last two years John, and Harry Norman, Realtors, have been a driving force for the fund. John is still constantly brainstorming ideas to help the fund. I want to say that John is a dear friend. A friend with one of the biggest hearts I have ever known and it feels wonderful knowing that the fund has someone like him that we can count on every year.”

“I can’t thank Harry Norman, Realtors for sponsoring Bo’s fund the last two years. Over $100,000 raised in two years is phenomenal. I know that I’ve expressed my thanks to Dan Parmer, John, and all of the employees at various events. But, again, thank you. You each help support families battling childhood cancer and help Bo’s legacy live on by inspiring others to do the same.”

 

As an artist, Morgan Webb mixes paints for a living. Like everyone, she gets burned out with her job at times. And when your job is also what you love to do as a pastime, burnout can steal your leisure pursuits and make it doubly hard to re-energize. But Morgan found a secret. She began mixing something else into her paint – a purpose.

It all started a few years ago when her husband’s aunt was fighting cancer at Memorial Hospital in Savannah. During her time there, she noticed that the walls were blank and asked if she could paint a mural for the kids on the pediatric ICU floor. Since she was willing to donate her efforts, the hospital readily agreed. People appreciated her work so much that she was given a commission to do a second mural on the pediatric oncology floor. It was during that job that her life took a turn.

Children on the floor enjoyed watching her paint. Since they were stuck in the hospital for longer periods of time, she got to know some of them, including a little girl named Cora. Every time she was able, Cora would ask her mother to take her to see the painting, and she struck up a friendship with the artist. Morgan became so enamored with the little girl that she painted her right into the mural. She also began looking for more opportunities to meet the young cancer patients and encourage them.

She painted pictures atop the bald head of a little girl named Cathleen and her mother (who had shaved her head in support) simply because it made them smile. Then she began giving art lessons to a little girl named Ella who was in treatment, and she watched the joy art provided. She has driven to Atlanta for years to paint faces at CURE’s Annual Picnic following Lauren’s Run and even held a painting party for the pediatric oncology nurses to give them some relief from their daily stress.

For Morgan, it always goes back to the joy which surrounds children. Whatever joy she gives them, she gets it back double.

“People are afraid to step in and help because they think it will be sad to be with them,” she said. “But when you do things with them, you see just how inspiring and brave they are. It is heartwarming and always worth it.”

Her childhood cancer community has experienced loss of late, including her friend, Ella. But every single time she feels down, someone sends a message to her or a child says something which encourages her and helps her know that she is right where she is supposed to be. She was recently able to paint another mural at the Oglethorpe Mall and of course, she included some of her friends from the hospital in the mural.

 

She paints for a living, but she also lives to paint with “her” kids. It is what she can do – her purpose, and Morgan knows that anyone can find their place serving others if they look hard enough.

“People think you have to have a big bank account to do something,” Morgan said. “But you don’t have to give a ton of money to give.”

Thank you, Morgan, for mixing your paint with purpose and painting smiles on the faces of children with cancer.

 

 

 

 

Valentine’s Day is a time to reaffirm those most important in our hearts and lives – spouses, children, parents, and loved ones of every type. Even pets get special presents from their owners on February 14^th. In fact, Americans spent nearly $20 billion on Valentine’s Day last year with the average present costing $98. The most popular gifts are no surprise: candy, flowers, and jewelry. Feel cheap yet?

The day is drawing close, do you have your gift picked out and dinner reservations made?

The pressure is mounting.

Setting cynicism aside, the day does offer a nice way to share feelings. But what can you do if someone you love is in the hospital, in the midst of treatment, or is consumed by the health battle of a child or parent? It might take some planning, but here are some creative thoughts on how you can give love to your sick Valentine.

 

1. Visit. If you have a friend or loved one battling illness, an intentional gift of presence can be just what the doctor ordered. Of course, you must be sensitive to their treatment schedule and how they feel. Be attentive to them while there and be ready to cut the visit short if they appear in need of rest. Here’s a bonus tip: if your spouse is sick, clear your calendar and take a day with the sole purpose of giving the time to them.
2. Write a note. People don’t correspond enough and that makes a handwritten note all the more precious. Turn off everything with a keypad and screen and retrieve a pen and paper. It might take some practice since you can’t backspace, use acronyms, or insert emojis, but a few pages of written sentiment relay special feelings that an email or text cannot.
3. Make something. Not everyone can handcraft a jewelry box or sketch a portrait, but surely there is something you could make. Remember how special it is to be handed a gift from a proud child and come at it from that angle. Love isn’t found in the gangly, glazed ashtray given to a non-smoker; it is realized in the hours spent forming clay on the potter’s wheel with the recipient in mind. Poor quality will be overlooked and may even become its own fond memory in time.
4. Offer a helping hand. If your loved one is in treatment, chances are they need help of some kind. Think mundane, behind-the-scenes, no chance of glory acts they simply cannot do for themselves right now – run carpool for kids, do the shopping, fix a meal, clean their home. Practical help can be a lifeline to someone drowning in the reality of sickness.
5. Be their audience. A patient in treatment hears more words than they can take in, but they seldom feel heard. If you can take the time to sit by their bed and hold their hand, do that. If not, offer your ear through the phone. Listening to their hopes and fears is a real way to help them recharge for the fight ahead.
6. Be Practical. If you are inclined to give a gift, know that most treatments have dietary restrictions and if chemo is involved, they might not be able to stand the smell of flowers. Everyone is different, but you might want to shelve the candy for this year and look for something that will help them feel better or even take their mind off their trouble. You wouldn’t want to give them something they can’t eat or worse, makes them sick. Some practical suggestions are magazines, books, quality hand lotion, lip balm, fuzzy socks, or a journal with pens, just to name a few.
7. Plan an outing. If your Valentine is too sick to travel now, plan a future getaway for the end of treatment. Maybe it is a concert, a weekend away, or a much-needed vacation. This can be a huge help because not only does it communicate your love, it gives them an end-goal to point toward – something good to focus on when the treatment gets hard.
8. Give a distraction. Is your sick Valentine a reader or movie junkie? A few new books or movies could go a long way toward taking their mind off of their illness. For kids, gift cards for music and apps or a device to play them on can break the boredom of long hours in the hospital.

 

These are just a few ways you can give love to your Valentine when they are sick or stuck in treatment. The choices are endless. Mostly, what you should try to convey is that you are right beside them every step of the way. Regardless of what you spend, a thoughtful gift will affirm your devotion and make their circumstance a little more bearable.