So, last night John mentioned to me that only 3,000 kids are diagnosed with leukemia each year in the U.S. I don’t know why I’ve not seen this number yet with the plethora of information I have pored through to learn everything I can about the disease that is trying to kill my daughter. But, somehow I haven’t.
3,000. How can this be? Do you know there are more than 75 million kids in the U.S.? I looked it up on the Internet. My child is one of 3,000 out of more than 75 million kids to get this disease. That’s a .004% chance that my child could be diagnosed with leukemia.
That makes me so outrageously mad. I really can’t explain why exactly, but maybe it just seems like a cruel joke to get something this rare. To have it rip everything apart this way.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m more thankful than you can imagine that more kids don’t get leukemia. I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But, as John and I both said in the surreal two days between the time a doctor first uttered the word “leukemia” and the time we knew it to be fact, leukemia is something you give money towards when you see the little bald kids on a telethon on TV or on a poster in the grocery store. It’s not something that happens to your kid.
Or, is it?