I was struggling to compose my next blog post, throwing around ideas like the “scan-xiety” that inevitably falls like a wet blanket every time my annual checkups are due, how scared I’ve been or how crazy it makes me when they use terms like “probably benign” on my results. But, instead, I would like to share with you something incredible that has been quietly going on next door to us for over 2 years. 

I lost my hair in May of 2008, two weeks after my first dose of chemo. Try as I might, I couldn’t hide it from the neighbors. I did attempt to be covered most days, for fear that I would scare the neighborhood children. I feared I would become “that” house on the block that is the source of ghost stories and dares on Halloween. Inevitably I emerged for short trips to the mailbox or to call my kids in from outside with my shiny scalp announcing my plight. In addition, I was keeping an online blog of my journey that my neighbors were following. I knew that they were aware of my treatment and they were kind to us, dropping off pre-made thank you cards and gifts for the kids. 

Unbeknownst to me, my 9-year-old neighbor had questioned his mom why people had to lose their hair during cancer. After her explanation, he said, “I bet someone else going through cancer could use some blond hair.” And Wyatt began growing out his hair to donate. His own idea, without any prompting from his parents. For two years, he has been growing out his hair to the required length for donation. Wyatt is a very athletic kid and is constantly running off to baseball or hockey. So you can imagine the kinds of comments this kid has had to endure for his long, flowing locks. He’s been the brunt of many a joke and been called a girl probably more times than he can count. But his mom told me he just smiles and doesn’t say anything, knowing the ultimate goal.

In a world filled with nasty images of cancer, negative stories of neighbors and friends shrinking away in fear after diagnosis, the struggle to find a cure, and the ultimate loss of those dear to our hearts, it’s people like Wyatt that remind me that cancer is a community thing. It touches those around us, and pulls us together in one goal… do what we have within our power to do for those in need. Wyatt was able to see a need and feel compassion in a way that only kids can. Purely, simply, and passionately. There was no question about how to do it, when to do it, if it would work, what others would say, or how it would affect him. He saw a need and he just acted. 

Thanks Wyatt. You are a real hero… even if no one knows it.