“Trying to plan for a future… while still fighting to hold onto it.”
One thing that pediatric cancer teaches people very quickly.
That is… there is no such thing as a “future”.
No more phrases like “next month I’ll…”.
No more plans like “this summer we will…”.
There is no longer any guarantee that the plans you make today will still be in place tomorrow.
Everything gradually recedes… leaving only the present moment.
Because a fever can strike at any time.
The pain may appear in the middle of the night.
A phone call, a test result, just a word from the doctor… all of these can turn everything upside down in an instant.
And then, people stopped planning for big things.
Instead, they began to live for the little moments.
A fishing trip is just across the road.
A meaningless laugh that only they could understand.
A pleasant hour.
A peaceful afternoon.
A perfect day.
Those little things… become everything.
Then reality struck again.
Will had big plans for this weekend.
The boy was supposed to go on a big turkey hunt in Tennessee.
The license has been purchased.
The plan was carefully prepared.
Everything is ready.
But now… perhaps that won’t be possible.
This morning, Will woke up with a terrible headache, similar to a migraine.
He has a slight fever.
My body aches.
The chills had started the night before.
All the family could do was pray that all these symptoms were a reaction to the immunotherapy.
They monitored his temperature hour by hour.
Try to control the situation to avoid hospitalization.
Will is taking strong painkillers.
And then lie down and rest.
The mother said that when he woke up, they would check on him.
But the truth is… they already knew the answer.
This is the part that not everyone sees.
The most difficult part.
The weight was on Will’s shoulder.
And his parents too.
These plans had been in preparation for months.
These are people who have dedicated their time, effort, and even money to waiting for that day.
And then, finally…
They had to say something nobody wanted to say.
“Perhaps we won’t be able to get there.”
The feeling of guilt… is so heavy it’s suffocating.
They thought about all that others had done to welcome their family.
And then the cancer appeared.
It took everything away.
Friends try to plan trips to the beach.
Make a reservation.
Schedule time off from work.
Get everything ready.
But Will’s family couldn’t even give a definite answer.
They have to consider every possibility.
Waiting for the scan results.
Think about “what ifs”.
What if I can’t go?
What if someone else loses money?
What if all their plans fall apart simply because their world changes once again?
Life at work wasn’t any better either.
The father has only three months left until his retirement.
But he still didn’t know what he should do.
Had the war ended by then?
Or are they still fighting?
Is the family still in Alabama?
Or they will have to be transferred to Texas for treatment.
The job required him to have a plan.
We need to define the future direction for the organization.
But all he felt was helplessness.
And guilt.
Because he didn’t have the answer.
He just wanted to keep himself alive long enough… to reach retirement age.
But what if the treatment doesn’t go as planned?
If time runs out.
He may never reach that milestone.
And that’s another burden.
Nearly 25 years of dedication.
But I’m still not sure if I can finish it.
Then I felt guilty again…
Because I had thought about that.
Instead of focusing entirely on the battle his son was facing.
He was supposed to go to work this morning.
But he did take Charlie to school.
Then go back home immediately.
Because Will looked at him and said.
“Dad, can you stay in the room with me?”
The boy didn’t need to say that he was scared.
His eyes said it all.
Cancer doesn’t just take away your health.
It ruined the plans.
It takes away the certainty.
It takes away the ability to say “we’ll be there” and actually keep that promise.
It takes away the future.
And replace it with… the present.
A very strange place to exist.
A place where people are grateful for every moment they have.
But we also understand just how fragile it is.
However, this journey also taught them a lesson.
Sometimes… “the present” is enough.
And there are days…
It has to be enough.
Cancer has taken so much from us.
These children… deserve more than this.
They deserve better treatment.
These studies are more effective.
A clearer future.
And this world… needs to do better for all those children who are fighting day and night.
