By Ray Lenarcic

Your child has cancer—four words no parent ever wants to hear. I know. I heard them. My youngest daughter was diagnosed with a brain tumor several years ago and has survived to date. I’ve worried about her every day since the diagnosis, worries exacerbated every time she mentions that she has a headache. Hopefully, you can understand when I say that I want to leave this world before her.

Unfortunately, I suffered through several vicarious experiences with pediatric cancer victims long before Jennifer’s, which, much as I try, I can never forget. The first was the most traumatic. A beautiful, blonde-haired five-year-old daughter of an area Vietnam combat vet whose trip to the hereafter began when she was diagnosed with hemolytic uremic syndrome, an illness causing blood clotting in the kidneys. She recovered, only to shortly thereafter suffer a stroke that left her in a coma for ten days and paralyzed on the right side. Blindness and continuous seizures followed. Then came the hallucinations. In her father’s words, “There are times when she sees flames that we have to pretend we are extinguishing…she says they are hot and burning. She also sees snakes that we have to remove, and she sees worms that bother her. The other day she was seeing a couple of kitty cats and was pleased.” A few months later, the frightening black world of pain and creepy-crawly things mercifully ended. In the final analysis, even the best minds at Boston’s Children’s Hospital didn’t know what killed her. But her daddy knew. Unlike his twin brother, who didn’t see combat in “Nam and whose children are fine, he saw plenty, often feeling the cool mist dumped on him from the C-120’s overhead. Trouble was this welcome respite from the jungle’s heat contained TCDD (Agent Orange), which ultimately would be found capable of killing not only plant life but more than one generation of humans as well.

Then there was the ‘ Nam combat vet student of mine at Herkimer County Community College whose son contracted aplastic leukemia. The little warrior, thankfully, successfully won his battle with the disease, but not without a difficult struggle. The love, courage, and sacrifice demonstrated by his family while facing what seemed like an interminable nightmare proved inspirational to my students and myself. As a result, we became Agent Orange activists and formed SAV (Save-A-Vet)-advocating for years for better treatment for Vietnam veterans at VA hospitals in Syracuse and Albany.

The next victim was my godson, the progeny of a Vietnam combat medic. I’ll never forget what Histiocytosis X, a rare cancer, did to the then dark-eyed, perpetually smiling five-year-old. Numerous tumors surfaced in various parts of his body. The one surgically removed from his cheek left that side of his face permanently numb. His father once told me that his greatest fear was that he would go to his grave not knowing whether dioxin caused his problems and his little boy’s and that he would spend eternity asking the same question over and over “Did I kill my son?” I’m happy to say that the boy survived his battle with Orange (dioxin). I’ll always be thankful for the incredible support provided to him by HCCC Coach Paul Wehrum’s championship lacrosse team, which literally adopted the young warrior. Their special relationship was featured in a Sports Illustrated for Kids article.

And last but not least was the young Valley boy who lost his courageous battle with a “one in a million” illness after being “adopted” by a wonderful bunch of guys belonging to the Frankfort Kiwanis Club. My Kiwanian brothers and a special “uncle” helped fund and build an extension to the boy’s home-a room with a skylight so he could see the stars at night. Next to the word courageous in the dictionary should be his picture. His death left us all asking the same unanswerable question-why him?

When my wife Kay informed me last Monday morning that Angelina “Lena” Dorsagno had succumbed to a Neuroblastoma she’d beaten three times previously, I was shocked. I had just viewed a recent picture of her beautiful, smiling face as she was undergoing treatment. My article entitled “Dreams” was published the week before – an effort to interest readers into making donations to the family along with acquainting them with the hard-working, conscientious 17-year-old student whose dream was to meet her idol, Taylor Swift. We regret not having the time to make it come true. Another young life snuffed out long before its time, another family doomed to experience a sense of grief that will never go away.

In Lena’s memory, my wife and I and the Herkimer County Hunger Coalition are establishing a scholarship to be presented to a 2024 graduating senior girl at her school (Proctor) who possesses some of the same qualities that made her so special-nobility of courage-conscientiousness-strong work ethic and a capacity to dream large. We hope that each recipient in the future will go that extra mile in Lena’s memory to become all she is capable of being, thereby adding additional meaning to a life that ended far too soon. And readers-you can honor Lena’s memory best by giving your children a hug and a kiss and an “I Love You” every night from here on out. You never know when you might hear those four words.