Three and a half years ago, I went overnight from being a high school teacher mom of two "normal" teenagers and the godmother of a rough-and-tumble three-year-old to spending almost every single day of my life for the next six months nursing that same three-year-old through one horrific battle after another. 

In late January 2007, I received a call at school from my daughter, who was Kieran’s babysitter.

“Mommy – Kieran has CANCER!”  I could not make any sense of that statement.  Kieran?  You mean the little bundle of energy who runs us ragged?  The one who just “helped” me put up the Christmas tree?  The one who was sitting on the floor learning German from your brother’s textbook just a few weeks ago?

Cancer.  Maybe Wilm’s Tumor.  Maybe lymphoma.  Maybe – God forbid – neuroblastoma.

Three days later, the verdict was in:  Stage IV high-risk neuroblastoma, with negative histology.  I almost fainted when I saw his CT scan, because the tumors were in his adrenal gland, his lungs, his liver, his kidneys, and his bone marrow.

He had just turned three on Halloween.

Kieran’s mom had taken him to the pediatrician because he was running a fever, and she thought he probably had strep throat.  We will be eternally grateful to the pediatrician who did a complete exam and found the mass in his abdomen.  He was transferred by ambulance to the Medical College of Virginia.

And so our journey began.

Debilitating but effective chemotherapy, countless fevers and infections, numerous surgeries, and a bone transplant ensued before he was pronounced NED (no evidence of disease) in September of 2007. He then went to Memorial Sloan-Kettering in New York for radiation and to receive painful 3F8 antibody treatments that will hopefully keep the neuroblastoma at bay.  Along the way, he contracted a lung infection that put him on life support for a month and had neurosurgery for a suspected relapse that, thankfully, turned out to be a benign tumor.

As horrific as many of the details of Kieran’s story are, his is not the most heart-rending. He has health insurance and a network of supportive family and friends.  He is HERE, his cancer is in remission, and he will start first grade in a few weeks.  I will be at his flag football games this fall   He's very excited that he has CLEATS, just like his hero, my college football player son, does.

The past three years have turned me into a tireless fighter for Kieran and his little friends.  I have written articles for our local newspaper, seen to it that Kieran's story has been covered in the same, held numerous fundraisers, and spoken to the opening session of the Curesearch meeting in DC..  Our strongest supporters for “Kieran’s Kure” are my high school students.  Do not ever let anyone tell you that young people today are self-centered and uncaring, because nothing could be further from the truth.

More advocates in Congress

As frightening as these past three years have been, “I wouldn't take nothin' for my journey now" (to quote Maya Angelou).  I feel blessed to be on this journey and to have met the people, particularly the kids, along the way.  I'm now a high school teacher, a mom of two college students, a godmother of a soon-to-be skinny little flag-football player, a friend to many pediatric cancer patients and their families, and a woman with a mission to find a cure.

I do this for Kieran, Ila, Zach, Eli, Blaze, Khalid, Kassidy, and Lily -- who are doing well right now.  I also do it for Jensen, Alexis, Aislyn, and Patrick, who are not.  And I do it for Owen, Charlotte, James, Bayler, Grace, Isaac, and Ellie, who did not survive the fight.

I don't want one more parent to hear, "I'm sorry, but we are out of options."

In the midst of his bone marrow transplant, when he was in such pain that he could not stand to be touched anywhere but on the sole of his left foot, I asked Kieran if there was anything I could do before I went home for the night.  He whispered to me, “Can you just make it all go away?”

I’m doing everything I can to see to that, Buddy.  Everything I can.