How You Can Help My Mood, Part 2.

So Rebecca’s still got brain cancer.
That’s not a way to start a happy post, but it happens to be the truth: Rebecca is five, and she’s about to go in for dangerous proton therapy and a cocktail of chemo.  No child should be forced to go through this.  No family should.  And I posted an article yesterday on how misleading the survival rates are for children’s cancer (hint: lower than grownup cancer), and though Rebecca’s chances are better than many others, they’re still not good.
So we walk.
A couple of weeks from now, I’ll be doing a two-mile walk to raise funds to help battle children’s cancer.  I will be doing it in a big swoopy purple cape, for Becca loves purple and she loves capes.  I doubt the funds raised here will help Rebecca directly, but here’s thing:
Rebecca is a window.  Rebecca is how I view the millions of other families enduring this, the uncertainty, the terror, the oscillating between hope and despair until you collapse in a wet heap in the middle.  Nobody should have to go through this.
Let me repeat: nobody should have to go through this.
And so I’m going to do my small part to try to fix this.  I’m not a doctor, or a researcher, or anyone who’s scientifically gifted in any way.  But I have a voice, and a small audience, and I am going to ask that audience to donate if they can.
Because fuck cancer.  Let’s take that fucking tumor and shove it down the universe’s throat.  With a smiling girl with an uncertain future by the wayside, laughing, in her own purple superhero goddamned cape.