My close friend Ame and I met the first day of college. An unlikely pairing we would realize years later: Ame, the non-partying, Jewish sorority sister; me, the blonde cheerleader who held a beer bong record (outpacing even the TKE frat boys). We’re almost grown up now and after 20 years together, we’re practically sisters. The most obvious difference between us is my affinity for–and Ame’s lack of interest in–science.
On Monday, Ame’s world was turned upside-down. The unthinkable happened. Her 7-year-old daughter, Morgan, was sent home from school because she felt tired and said her “heart hurt.” Within hours, she was diagnosed with cancer. As her parents kept a bedside vigil, Morgan’s white blood cell count climbed to 136,000. As sick as she felt, Morgan greeted me with her trademark “Hi, Dar!” and never let her daddy out of her sight.
Yesterday, I sat with Morgan’s parents–Ame and Gene–and listened as the doctors at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia explained what type of leukemia Morgan has and detailed treatment options. I could barely comprehend the complicated charts and data despite the gentle tone and soft words the doctors carefully chose. “How will I translate all this for Ame?” I thought to myself. My arrogant thoughts were interrupted when she said: “So, Morgan has a high risk type of PreB A.L.L. We’re relieved it’s not AML. We’re looking at 2.5 years of treatment between induction and maintenance. I understand the possible side effects of the various medications. I’d prefer a Pic to a Port–heard a nurse talking about Pic….”
Ame personified what science literacy experts preach: “average” citizens can understand complex science information when the information is relevant and meaningful and the sources are trusted.
I returned to Morgan’s hospital room where she’ll spend the next month or so. “Dar! Look at my sticker book!” Spirits were lifted. Hope prevailed. Mostly because of Morgan’s cheery smile but also due to the encouraging words from her doctors. Many, many children survive her form of leukemia.
Today, in addition to giving thanks to God for my family and friends, I’d like to give thanks for Morgan. And all who love her are grateful for the scientists and engineers who have devoted their careers to finding ways to keep Morgan in our lives for many years to come.
Happy Thanksgiving.