I know you don't want to, but please do it anyway. The boy has to go through a cycle of 25 monthly treatments, and subsequently has his disease go into remission, with everything going along nicely - everything 'heading in the right direction' - only to have the leukemia come back again. Now, the boy will have to go through yet another 25 treatments - but, after 22 of those treatments, there's no sign of progress, and the boy decides to go home - to die... He leaves this Earth six weeks later.
...and now...I'm looking into the eyes of the mother of that boy.
She is bravely trying to hold back her sobs of grief. Her heart is breaking for the umpteen millionth time as she again tells the story of her brave young man, who had to leave her at 14 years old. A young man, I say, because he took it upon himself to get involved in the lives of other children on the Oncology ward of my favourite hospital in the world, McMaster Children's Hospital - otherwise known as Mac Kids. He participated in fundraising events, and he remained involved in the lives of other children and families, even when he knew there was little hope left for him. His mother works at this hospital, and she tells me that she would work at no other. She wants to be here, no matter what sad memories it may bring up for her, because she wants to give her love and support to other families who are going through what she has suffered through.
...and her family is just one of thousands touched by Mac Kids every year.
When I am given the opportunity to host at Radiothon, I am consumed by emotion. I am always the first announcer among us to cry, and I'm not ashamed of that. I love this place, and I am honoured by the presence of the brave families who approach the microphone to tell their personal stories. When you have the opportunity to interview nurses who break down in tears while speaking about the children who inspire them, as well as talk to child care professionals all the way to the top, including a man I consider a dear friend, Dr. Peter Steer, (himself a brilliant pediatrician and surgeon, and the President of the hospital), who admits that it is the children who inspire him to go on, to find better researchers to do better research, to seek out the best doctors in the world for the hospital, to acquire the best medical equipment necessary, and to do whatever it takes to improve the quality of the lives of those children - you are overwhelmed with humility. At least, I am. I feel I don't deserve this chance to be inside this world, to hear these very personal, always inspiring, often heart-wrenching insights into the lives of people who have been through so very much, yet still have the strength to share with the world their reasons for recommending that we all give to this wonderful home-away-from-home-and-far-more-than-just-a-hospital which, even when a child is facing imminent death, strives to make the quality of life for that child something to celebrate.
Did I mention I love this place?
I also walk away after three days of Radiothon wishing that we could have done more. We raised 265,000 dollars this year - a little better than last year, which was also up from the year before - but no one can put a price on the kind of care, the incredible research, the expertise and passion of the doctors and nurses, the work of the Foundation, and all the volunteers - all of whom share the goal of never, ever giving up on any child.
Liam and Morgan were born in this heavenly hospital. Their mother was cared for on the Maternity ward for over five weeks, while at risk of giving birth from the 28th week of her pregnancy.
The twins came into this world in the best possible place they could have arrived, and I will be forever grateful.
Liam didn't need a respirator, but both babies needed to be fed through their noses for a while. Liam hated the tube, and regularly pulled it out. No easy feat, considering the tape in place to keep it there.
To see my tiny little Morgan on a respirator - well, you can see for yourself how scary it looks.
Their guardian angels. The lovely woman closest to the travel isolette (this picture, by the way, was taken moments before the babies were transferred to St. Joe's hospital) was the twins' primary care nurse, LouAnn. I will never forget her, and hope that the twins will be able to get to see her, and she them, many times as they grow up.My babies have come a long way, and would not be where or how they are today, if it weren't for the care they both received at Mac. I will always be there for McMaster Children's Hospital, if there's anything I can do to help. I owe them so much.
