Paging Bob Geldof

As time goes by it seems the angrier I become. I do not believe David and I were chosen to parent a child with cancer because “we are strong enough to deal with it”, nor do I believe that the children who die from cancer are any more special than any other child on Earth or that they have been called home to god. I am sick of reading these hogwash supposedly comforting words. I am also fed up with the truth of this horrific disease not being exposed. Whilst the image of the happy bald child playing in the sun may be more pleasing to the eye than a child throwing up so aggressively that he or she shit themselves, the nasty and cruel reality should be out there. I would love to run a PETA style advertising campaign, in your face, this is what cancer does, and it is NOT about cute bald kids and their bravery. Bravery does not beat cancer neither do smiles. Neither does prayer. They may help the individual I am sure but at the end of the day have no bearing on the end result. The only chance at a better cure rate is more money. And to be perfectly honest were I to see a cute and fluffy seal cub being clubbed to death or a happy bald kid, guess where my money would go? I know that prior to Scott’s diagnosis I had absolutely no idea what childhood cancer entailed or to the extent of those diagnosed. I am sure that I must have seen campaigns for pediatric cancer to raise awareness but cannot recall a single image or slogan yet certain images, such as Romanian orphanages, fluffy dead seal cubs or AIDS victims, will stay with me for life. Pediatric cancer is very, very ugly and can take many years to overcome or to die from. I would love to take your hand and show you around our oncology unit, and whilst there may be hope and smiles there is also an untold story of pain, worry and immense suffering.