My heart breaks every time she pleads with me, her face upturned and eyes hopeful.
Her place is not on a hospital bed, tubes and wires snaking in every direction.
Not in the examination rooms with somber-faced doctors and beeping machines.
Nor on the operating table with grim surgeons and tense nurses.
My little girl’s place should be at home with her loving family. At the park joining the neighborhood kids’ games and shenanigans. At kindergarten living, learning, and laughing with her friends.
The nightmare began when she was not even two. From one day to the next, she was plucked out of her blissful existence of fun, laughter and play and jolted into a scary world. A world of serious diagnosis and aggressive treatment.
But my little girl yearns to go back. She doesn’t understand why she can’t join her friends in kindergarten. How can a mother watch her child go through this pain?
Currently, there is one course of treatment that can save her life and enable her to go back to her former happy-go-lucky existence. But it comes with a price tag.
But what price does a mother put on her child’s life?
It seems impossible. My only option is to turn to you my dear brothers. If 1000 people each give $180 the goal can be reached and a life can be saved.
Please open your hearts for how much longer can I face my child as she beseeches me,
“mommy, when can I go back?”
In the zechus of this my Hashem bentch you with bracha and Hatzlachah ad bli dei.
