Skip to main content

Cancer Sucks



Knowing that every person in my life has been touched SOMEHOW, by cancer, I am constantly amazed at how many people are so callous towards those suffering from cancer. Whether it's an employer, or someone who just either doesn't know or doesn't care, it's sad to see that type of indifference.

In this case, I have a very good friend of mine who's father is suffering from stage 4 oropharyngeal cancer. He's a great man who has worked hard his whole life, and is now unable to work due to the treatments that he is going through. His daughter is trying to take care of him and help with the bills, and as anyone who has tried to live and fight cancer knows, that is extremely difficult to do. So she doesn't know it, but I asked her for the fundraiser page she started for his treatment.

Anything that you can give, whether it's a dollar or a hundred, will be greatly appreciated by the family and I know it will help him be able to focus on fighting this horrible disease rather than worry about how he's going to pay for his treatment.



Please click this link to help my friend and her father.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

He Will NOT Stop Crying!!

"He will NOT stop crying!"
That phrase characterized my son's first few months of life. Screaming, crying with no relief. Change the diaper, change the clothes, feed him, rock him. NOTHING HELPED!!
And I heard it all. "Oh he's colicky." and "well, he's just an irritable baby" (that gem was from his pediatrician) and "flip him end to end" and "he's just manipulating you" (yes- the four month old baby). 
I was an emotional, confused mess. All I could think was there was SOMETHING wrong with my sweet boy. I KNEW it. And no one would listen except my husband. As a first time mom, albeit a "maternally advanced" mom, you get treated like you just don't know. You get dismissed. But I digress.
Did you know that the sound of an infant's cries are used in torture? I am not surprised. Listening to the boy child cry was pure torture and all I could do was cry with him.
I went round and round with doctors, who wouldn…

Post Partum Depression: The Myth

I used to be like everyone. I figured PPD was mostly just a sad woman with a newborn who's hormones were  out of whack. Then when my son was born, we experienced a pretty traumatic birth and C section. My milk never came in. I started Reglan to help produce milk and it caused PPD. I saw a doctor, got off the meds, stopped trying to breastfeed, simple right? I'm fixed. 
Except it's not that simple. Yesterday my son turned 9 months old and I still struggle daily with PPD. Turns out it wasn't "just the medication". I'm in school full time. I don't work. I'm blessed to have my surprise miracle son, as well as the opportunity to stay home with him. But that's not right either, because PPD doesn't care how blessed you are. This is the silent struggle. The stigma. Sure, once we're all being candid behind our screens we'll talk about it. With strangers. With "internet friends". I mean, if you talk about it with PEOPLE you'll b…

Mom Chronicles Day 299

Mom Chronicles Day 299:
When The Boy isn’t walking but proceeds to climb up the ottoman, up the couch, over 247 loads of laundry, over the back of the couch to stare out the window. #adventurous #belay #notyet #startwalkingfirst #itbegins #grabthewine 
By leaving stuffed animals on the floor you will cause The Boy to initiate growling phase 3. Phase 3 includes bending over to eye level with the animal in question and really showing that animals who’s boss. 
If you think you have a fast baby now, I propose Naked Baby Diaper Races. To win, you and your baby must reach the finish line with you chasing while he laughs madly and crawls away with lightning speed. Contestant babies must be only wearing socks. Mom’s must carry the diaper in question.
Peaches for breakfast end with exploding poopat lunch. 
The dishwasher has become the new “It” place for climbers galore. Lounge in the streams of dishwater as Mommy works in the sink above. Just make sure as you are climbing in you don’t bonk. Bonks …