Why You Should Never Say, “I Can’t Imagine What You’re Going Through…”

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When something tragic happens, we often find ourselves saying, “I can’t imagine what you are going through.” It’s a common sentiment, as accepted as “get well soon” or “I’ll be thinking of you.” I myself, have sadly used this phrase more times than I can count. Yet, it wasn’t until my sweet, baby girl was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, that I began to look at the sentiment differently.

childhood cancer

 

You see, when my daughter became ill, I began to imagine EVERYTHING. Every possible scenario filled my head. I tried to shake away the terrible ones, focus on the good. Yet, as soon as those thoughts were banished, new ones came rushing in, and they were even crueler. After all, a cancer diagnosis can bring an adult to their knees, but a cancer diagnosis for a child? A playful, loving, innocent child with her whole life ahead of her? That is too much to imagine. 

 

Yet, this is the problem. We need you to imagine. We need you to look at our babies and see yours. To allow yourself to feel those horrible feelings that you often shake away before they fully come. Because our children – YOUR child- only receive 4% of the National Cancer Institute’s funding. Yes, YOUR child. Your child may not have cancer, but they are still only receiving 4% of future research. That means if they ever get one of the 100+ types of pediatric cancer, and more than 15,000 children a year do, your child would have outdated treatments, adult-sized procedures, and dosages of meds, and zero cures. Your child would suffer because we are still decades behind in pediatric cancer research. 

 

So please, imagine. Imagine holding your child and wondering what tomorrow will bring. Imagine brushing hairs from their pillow before they see that more has been lost. Imagine whispering everything will be okay, as wires and cords cover the both of you or holding them down as brave nurses pierce needles into their tremoring body. Imagine the look of help and hurt they give you. After all, you are mommy, you are supposed to protect them. You promised them that everything would be okay. Imagine holding their hand, wiping away tears, as they tell you they want to live… and you know they don’t have much time left. Imagine trying to prepare your child for death, not knowing how to explain, and not wanting to give them up. Could you say goodbye to your world, your heart, your baby and watch helplessly, as time slows and so do their breaths? Imagine what it is like for 15,000 cancer parents and their families, friends, and communities. These fights take a village and cancer is burning villages to the ground.

 

childhood cancer diagnosis

 

Imagine these moments and feel that pain, for us, you them, for you. Because, we cannot fix things unless we are ready to fight for them. As adults, we must be ready to say, “I’ll take less,” so we can close the gap and give children more than 4% of funding.

 

We are making big advances in adult cancers, but these advances do not equal advances for pediatric cancer. Not all cancers are alike and adult and pediatric cancer are genetically very different monsters. Is a life without our children, your child, worth keeping our 96%?

 

Allow yourself to imagine that. I have, and I do not believe it is. #MoreThan4 #illTakeLess #FeelBetterFoundation

 

About Melissa James:

A cancer mom and advocate who started the non-profit, Feel Better Foundation, which helps families create legacies for their warriors battling any life-threatening illness, disease, or cancer. To learn more, visit www.feelbetterfoundation.com and take the #illTakeLess Challenge. Join Melissa for awareness, food, fun, games, and dancing at Feel Better’s Glow & Give Family-Friendly Dance Party featuring Platinum Music Productions, October 7, 4:30-7:30 pm, Coffman Park Pavilion, Dublin, OH. Free Admission.

 

1 COMMENT

  1. Thank you! As an epilepsy momma to three toddlers with epilepsy, I feel you. I don’t know what it’s like for cancer, but I do understand. One of my toddlers is on his last medicine option and will likely never outgrow his. I get it. The news of something so big and uncertain for your child is a painful. For a long time, I felt like a failure for not “protecting” my child.

    Frankly, I agree with you. 4% is absolute crap. Disease and conditions in children have a LONG term effect over a lifespan. I wish I could send you a chart that shows 2013 NIH estimated research funding per patient. Below is some of the information from it.

    “STDs: $1805; Cancer (all forms): $671; smoker: $150; Epilepsy: $0.82”

    4% of $671 is $26.84. Any child’s life is worth more than $26.84. I get it, and it makes me so angry and inspired at the same time.

    Again thanks for sharing!

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