A cancer diagnosis not only affects the individual but the entire family as well.  Especially when that individual is a loving three-year-old little boy who gives the absolute best hugs.  Our close-knit family all felt the effects of this diagnosis and were all in for the battle.

Around Easter of 2023, my sweet nephew Cameron had a stomach virus, or so we thought, keeping him home from the family gathering.  Cam threw up once a day, a few days in a row, but otherwise seemed fine.  When he started telling my sister, Cara, and her husband, Lee, that he was feeling dizzy and started walking with his head tilted to the side, they decided to get him checked.  After hours in the emergency room, the medical staff performed an MRI and then sent my sister and Cameron home, finding nothing wrong. Meanwhile, his symptoms persisted.  Thankfully, Cameron’s younger brother, Evan, had a previously scheduled routine visit with his pediatrician who told Cara to also bring Cameron.  We are certain as soon as the pediatrician saw Cameron, he knew what was going on, sending them immediately back to the hospital for another MRI.  To the whole family’s shock and horror, it showed a brain tumor.

I will never forget that phone call from my sister.  I knew I needed to be strong for her, promising Cameron would be okay and that there was no way it could be cancer.  I remember talking her off the hospital’s bathroom floor to go back in to be with Cameron because I knew he was probably scared.  The doctors said the best course of action would be to first resect the tumor and send it to pathology to see what we were dealing with.

My sister is not a typical parent.  She does not just listen to what doctors tell her.  She reads, researches, and talks to people.  Cara was a warrior during this time.  She had him transferred to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia for his surgery. The resection was performed the next day.  The doctors and nurses at CHOP were nothing short of phenomenal.  Cameron was amazing through the surgery.   His surgeon was confident it was a complete resection, and the tumor was sent to be tested.  The wait for pathology was agonizing.

The second phone call was far worse than the first.  Pathology showed Cameron’s tumor was Ependymoma PFA cancer, and a very aggressive one. I was in the car when Cara called.  I came home and collapsed on my floor, devastated.  How could this possibly be happening to Cameron?  I never felt so incredibly helpless.

At the time, my parents were babysitting my other nephew at my sister’s house.  I drove down there to pick him up so my parents could head to Philadelphia to be with Cameron, Cara, and Lee. I was able to spend a fun afternoon with Evan at the park, him having no idea what his big brother was going through.  CHOP had strict rules about visitation, and it was so hard to not be able to be at the hospital myself, but I was thankful my parents could be there. Upon returning to my own home, I knew I needed to tell my own children, then 11 and 13, that their precious cousin had cancer.  That was an incredibly difficult conversation.  My son cried and my daughter was angry.  Once again I felt helpless but my husband and I did our best to reassure them that Cameron would be okay.  I just hoped I was right.   

Before the doctors could come up with a treatment plan and even decide if there would be a treatment plan, Cameron needed a spinal tap to make sure the cancer did not spread to his spine.  We were told if it had, all they would consider was comfort care.  Our entire family was on edge waiting for those results, praying he would have the chance to fight this.  Thank God we finally received some good news.  The cancer had not spread.

Chemotherapy does not work on this type of cancer, which in my mind was a blessing and a curse.  Cameron did not have to endure the havoc chemo could inflict on his little body. Yet it was scary knowing there was not a drug to help combat his cancer.  For six weeks, five days a week, Cameron was put to sleep for proton radiation.  Cara, Lee, and Cameron lived at the Ronald McDonald house during the week while Evan stayed with my parents.  This was such a hard time for my sister.  I know it killed her to be away from Evan while also witnessing what the daily anesthesia was doing to her sweet boy.  They tried to make the best out of their time in Philadelphia, taking walks in the city and visiting the zoo.  On the weekends, they were able to come home and for two days live as a “normal” family.  Most kids were tired when they received radiation but not Cameron.  He came home and learned how to ride a bike.  He blew bubbles, drew with sidewalk chalk, threw water balloons - all the things a three-year-old boy should be doing.  My kids and I went down on the weekends to spend time with all of them.  It was important to me to be there for not only Cameron, but also my sister.

Thankfully today Cameron is doing extremely well.  He is back at school, playing with friends, and enjoying sports.  His vocabulary has exploded, throwing in zingers any time I talk to him.  We are so grateful for the doctors at CHOP and pray his scans continue to be clear.  Like all children, Cameron deserves the opportunity to live a long, healthy life. I am also thankful for the support PCFLV has shown my sister and her family during this journey.  They have been an amazing support system, connecting my sister with other families so she never felt alone in this fight.

Written by Cameron’s Aunt Erin

Please consider helping children with cancer and others in our community by scheduling a blood donation at Miller-Keystone Blood Center: https://donor.giveapint.org/donor/schedules/zip