Every three months The Rabbit has her iron and celiac levels checked. As an 8-year-old, she has pretty choice words to say about being stuck with a needle quarterly. As her mother, I don't love it either. But in the medical building, before we round into her doctor's offices, we pass the children's outpatient cancer wing. I actually try not to look in and rush The Rabbit past too. Yet last Tuesday, at one of her check-ins, I paused long enough to look through the glass window to see a young boy, a YOUNG boy, with IV bags attached to his arm, and his father, tired but smiling, snuggling next to him.
I thought of this as I read today about a young 15-year-old British girl with terminal cancer named Alice, and her bucket list of what she wishes she could do if she had more time. To swim with sharks. To stay in a caravan. To have a purple iPad. To have a back massage. To have her hair done...."...if they can do anything with it," she wrote.
It made me think of being 15. And then I thought about The Rabbit turning 15.
Alice isn't asking for money. But she is asking readers to think about time. Her time. Our time. Take a little of it and head over to her blog today.