Our son, Scotty, was (and is!) a wonderful 17-year old honor student at Loganville High School in Loganville, GA. He is a good student, he plays in the marching band and he is absolutely great! No parent could have a better son than the one we have.

A year ago, in April of 2006, he was diagnosed with medulloblastoma—a brain tumor. During the 6-hour surgery, our neurosurgeon, Dr. Kevin Stevenson, removed the tumor, but it was malignant. My wife, daughter, our parents and friends...we were all so hoping this would be nothing of consequence. With the pronouncement of cancer, we were devastated.

And then we were introduced to Dr. Claire Mazewski and the Aflac Cancer Center and Blood Disorders Service. Dr. Claire told me she could save my son's life. She assured me his prognosis was excellent and with radiation treatments and chemotherapy, he would stand an excellent chance of living a long life. But we know SO many people at Aflac; there is not enough room on FIVE pages of paper to tell you about all our favorites. We've already mentioned Dr. Claire, but we also love the director, Dr. Woods. (Scotty says that if he didn't have Dr. Claire, he would definitely want Dr. Woods). We absolutely love Kate, Maggie, Ann, Liz, Jennifer, Katie, Brenda, Melissa, Pam, Peggy, Olivia, Judy, Nicole, April, Dara, Debbie and SO many others. We whole-heartedly believe in Dr. Claire and all our friends at Aflac. I say friends, but over the last year, they have become more like family!

I am happy to tell you that Scotty's tumor was removed completely and his radiation and chemotherapy treatments now over, we want to insure that his horrible disease NEVER comes back. To date, his MRIs and his spinal tap have been completely clear. He is considered cancer-free. But cancer is insidious. It is persistent. We continue to hope for the best. But, as my son says, a year of his life was stolen from him by something that no child should ever have to go through.

Like so many parents we've encountered at the Aflac Cancer Center, we were sailing along so serenely a year and two months ago. We anticipated our child's first prom, his senior year of high school, his graduation and his moving on to college. But all that went on hold. You've heard the expression of having the rug pulled out from under you? Scotty's diagnosis and subsequent surgery pulled the WORLD out from under us! Here, now, today, the feelings are no less intense, the pain of what has happened to him has not been alleviated and our worst fear continues to be that we will lose our son. He has endured months of chemotherapy and weeks of radiation that made him SO sick, so tired and so miserable. He has had sleepless nights, vision problems all that would absolutely destroy an adult. And he's somehow handled it. Thank God.

No one wants to even consider the loss of a child, but how much greater the desire NOT to consider the loss of your own child? "Oh, it's too bad it's happening to the family down the street; pass the biscuits, please." That was me. Cancer happened to other people. With all the parents that I have met through this ordeal, we all seem to have this in common. We all said, "It couldn't happen to us."

For those of you who may read this, you would not want to even entertain the tiniest thought about your own child having the diagnosis our children—my child—has had to face. I hope you never do...no matter how old your child is.

Here's a thought: There's a song by a Christian artist named Mark Schultz. I am not sure of the title, but it contains the line "...see, he's not just anyone, he's my son." Regretfully, far too many other children and their parents deal with this same problem: childhood cancer. Perhaps that should be our theme song—be it girls or boys--...for all of us.

Sincerely,
Steve and Cathy
(Proud parents of a soon-to-be cancer survivor)