Get your box of tissues ready and read what this mother says it is like to have a child with cancer.
This reminds me that not all parents with seriously ill children have the wonderful support that Cooper’s family has. I will pray that this mother receives more support too.
It’s tough to read this, but I think it’s good for all of us to be given an unvarnished view of what this journey is like for this mother.
I hope you never have to hear the words,
“Your child has cancer.”
I hope you never have to hear,
“The prognosis is not good.”
I hope you never have to prepare for your child
to undergo radiation or chemotherapy, have a
port surgically inserted into their chest, or be
connected to IV poles.
Look at you with fear in their eyes and say,
“Don’t worry Mommy, everything will be okay.”
I hope you never have to hold your child as
they vomit green bile.
I hope you never have to feed them ice chips
I hope you never have to watch the “cure” you
pray for slowly take away their identity, as they
lose their hair, become skeletal, swell up from
steroids, develop severe acne, become barely
or unable to walk or move, and look at you with
hope in their eyes and say, “It’s going to be
I hope you never have to stay in the hospital for
weeks, months, or years at a time, where there
is no privacy, sleeping on a slab, with your face
to the wall, where you cry in muffled silence.
I hope you never have to see a mother, alone,
huddled, in a dark hospital corridor…crying
quietly, after just being told, “There is nothing
more we can do.”
I hope you never have to watch a family wander
aimlessly, minutes after their child’s body has
I hope you never have to use every bit of energy
you have left, with all of this going on around
you to remain positive, and the feelings of guilt,
sorrow, hope and fear, overwhelm you.
I hope you never have to see a child’s head
bolted to the table as they receive radiation.
I hope you never have to take your child home
(grateful but so afraid) in a wheelchair because
the chemo and radiation has damaged their
muscles, 35 pounds lighter, pale, bald and
And they look at you with faith in their eyes and
say, “It’s going to be okay, Mommy.”
I hope you never have to face the few friends
that have stuck beside you and hear them say,
“Thank God that is over with,”…because you
know it never will be.
Your life becomes a whirl of doctors, blood tests
and MRI’s and you try to get your life back to
While living in mind-numbing fear that any one
of those tests could result in hearing the dreaded
“The cancer has returned” or “The tumor is
And your friends become even fewer.
I hope you never have to experience any of these
Will you understand…
Author: Carol Baan