team honeylamb

This is one of my all time favorite photos! June, 1996. Almost the eve of our move to Minnesota. We had a rip roaring South Twenty-eighth Street Block Party. The Lightening Bugs played. We made Hot Tamale t-shirts and, of course, there were lots of activities for the kids. Sean was just four. He and Jake spent a good amount of time practicing their artistic skills on peoples faces. Great memories. That’s tiny Anna McVicker watching Sean paint!

On our very first visit to the old chemo ward, on that very first, very long day of treatments back in 2013 we could hear a baby crying. Of course we couldn’t know if she was there with her parents for their treatment or for her own, but the sound was unsettling.

When we saw young children in the chemo or radiation areas of the Med Center it just broke Jim’s heart. Mine too, of course, but I think the person who has cancer has a greater connection with anyone who is in a similar state.

While we were in the waiting area one day there were three children waiting. One, a girl about 8 or 9 waiting with her grandmother. She was rather laying across the small sofa immersed in her game-playing devise. How can you tell which is in for treatment? By the identification bracelets they wear. The girl had one, the grandmother did not.

There was a young African American man. Man? I put him at 13, 14? Skinny, lanky, tired. He and his mother were taken back first.

Then there was a young couple with a toddler. This was their last time driving from Des Moines for her treatment. The mom was holding her and the child entertained herself playing with her mother’s hair. She was hungry and the dad rummaged through a backpack packed just for that purpose and found a treat. I imagine they were ready for any possible want or need.

When it’s your turn the nurse comes out and cuts off the ID band from the last place you stopped, radiation, blood draw, scan, etc. and puts on the one for chemo. A nice young nurse came out and cut the child’s band off. She brightened up immediately. Then she saw the new replacement band. I will never forget her reaction. First she cried, then this tiny being composed herself and allowed the band to be put on her wrist without a fight. It was the saddest thing I have ever witnessed, that one so very young already possessed this sense of resignation. She knew what was coming and knew there was nothing she could do about it.

When they were taken back the dad left the backpack in the waiting area. When he came out to retrieve it he gave us a tired smile. I imagine that to him the only thing good about that day was that it was their last. I hope it was.

Jim had signed up for a study. I think it was for some new drug that would prevent or lessen the sores you could get in your mouth from all that radiation. He had 35 radiation treatments. Torture for a cure! The study was in a room right across from the exit from the third floor cafeteria. One day, and I wish I had a picture, this tiny girl stopped him on our way out of the cafeteria. She looked right up at him and simply said, “I need a hug!” My big guy bent down and gave her the sweetest hug. “I needed a hug too,” he said to her as her mother and I watched. The moment is imbedded in my memory. It was in his as well.

As you might imagine eradicating childhood cancer was at the top of Jim’s priorities.  He started recruiting friends to be a part of The Great Cycle Challenge a few years ago. And rode in it while he could. This year Bill Swearingen organized Team Honeylamb in Jim’s honor and they are doing a pretty good job. If you want to add to their total feel free to click the link below and donate to your favorite rider. And thank you so much from both of us! (you might have to copy and paste!)

https://greatcyclechallenge.com/Teams/TeamHoneylamb