OTHER KIDS WERE STARTING KINDERGARTEN. MY daughter, Kaylee, was starting chemotherapy, one of six grueling rounds she underwent after being diagnosed with neuroblastoma at age four. Doctors said she had a 20 to 30 percent chance of surviving.
“That’s a number,” I said. “That’s not my daughter.”
My husband, Jamie, and I prayed for guidance and opted for an aggressive treatment at the Cleveland Clinic.
We tried our best to keep things as normal as possible, but Kaylee didn’t understand what was happening. Whenever a nurse started an IV, Kaylee would ask why she had to get another “pokey.” Enter Miss Sarah, a child life specialist. She spent hours working with Kaylee. She explained things about cancer to Kaylee—and me—in terms she could understand. Miss Sarah became like a family…
