I am standing on the playground at the Phoenix Zoo, surrounded by happy children. One little girl races past me, eager
for a turn on the slide. A little boy earnestly informs me that he is “gonna grow up to be an el’phant!”.
Brothers and sisters boost their younger siblings onto the jungle gym. Mothers stand by with picnic lunches and babies in
arm, bragging about their children.
Sound familiar? This scene could describe any typical family reunion or classroom feild trip
to the zoo, but let's take a closer look: The little boy who wants to become an “el’phant” has a glass
eye. One of the babies in arm has an angry wound where an eye used to sit prior to surgery. And the mothers
are bragging, not about grades or scout badges, but about their children’s strength in the face of a frightening disease:
retinoblastoma cancer. This gathering is anything but typical.
On March 18th, I had the opportunity to visit the Phoenix Zoo and meet a group of sixteen children who are
currently battling retinoblastoma. Founded by Colleen Crowley, the Retinoblastoma of Arizona (RBAZ) support group meets
every two months to give RB children a chance to leave the hospital and experience what life is like for “normal”
children. For me and for the other members of the "Life for Linda" team--an ASU student organization that uses
music to raise funds for child cancer victims--interacting with these children was both both heartbreaking and inspirational.
Although we saw more ducks than bears and ants than lions, I thoroughly enjoyed exploring the zoo with Sarah (head of the
"Life for Linda" team and a survivor of retinoblastoma herself) and a new little friend from the RBAZ group. To keep this
friend entertained, Sarah and I slashed our way through tropical forests and explored the African savanna. . .all
without setting a foot outside of Phoenix!
After our morning adventures, the group gathered to eat lunch. As I ate my salad, I listened in on a conversation between
several parents. I was amazed at the way they were able to discuss the horrific details of retinoblastoma in such a down-to-earth
manner. For them, intense treatments and long hospital stays are merely necessary evils that their little ones must
patiently endure. Every day, these parents and their children experience things that I would deem unimaginable and almost
unbearable. The very thought was sobering.
At the same time, however, I couldn’t help noticing that the children were hardly the somber, emotionally-scarred
creatures that one would expect such a situation to produce. Instead, they were bright, energetic, and full of high hopes
for the future. Any stranger watching the children play would never have guessed that they weren’t completely healthy.
I am grateful to have met a group of people who have all their priorities in the right places--particularly a little boy
who won’t let cancer crush his dreams of becoming an "el'phant"!
(For more information about the "Life for Linda" organization, visit www.lifeforlinda.org.)