Before cancer, I was never a morning person, but now I love waking up in my home with the entire family under one roof. Most nights, I wake up around 3 am in a panic. Did I dream up this terrible nightmare that my 4-year-old son had cancer and had four inches of his leg cut off? I rush to Gus’s room to check on him and sometimes lay next to him. I tell him I love him to the moon and back and that I am so proud of him. I know these moments are what matter most in life. Right now, it is easy to get sidetracked by arguments over vaccine hesitancy or mask mandates that are still in place. I wish everyone would slow down and view this as an opportunity to help their neighbor. Believe me, it could be so much worse. I have watched a handful of families lose their children to childhood cancer and have been humbled and blessed by their friendship.  We share the common bond of childhood cancer....

On our diagnosis day, we were told that our four-year-old Gus had Ewing Sarcoma. What doctors didn’t know was the particular type or variant he had. Tumor Sequencing Tumor sequencing is vital, as some variants of Ewing’s sarcomas have poorer outcomes, require specific drugs, and prohibit the use of other drugs. The variant determines the treatment plan. Parents need to know the type of cancer their child is fighting- and if the hospital doesn’t know, parents should demand to have the tumor genetically sequenced. As Dean taught me, “The pathology report is king.” Treatment I could go on and on about the horrors of the treatment Gus endured: scary nights when our son’s heart was beating so fast it seemed as though he was having a heart attack… or beating so slowly that he was unresponsive; the endless needle pokes for blood and platelet transfusions; the horrific bowel movement issues;...