Ty was just the sweetest little boy. He was my whole entire world from the second he was born. He didn’t start talking until he was 18 months old, but then he found his words quickly and had so...
Ty was just the sweetest little boy. He was my whole entire world from the second he was born. He didn’t start talking until he was 18 months old, but then he found his words quickly and had so much to say. He loved buttered rolls and blue lollipops. He braved the high slide at Magnolia Park all by himself, curls bouncing as I’d watch him climb the high ladder with a pit in my stomach. He loved to race me home on the boardwalk -- his three steps to my one. He held his baby brother and my heart grew even more. He chased down ocean waves. He flew kites. He gave great hugs around the neck. He went tubing behind the speedboat on Schroon Lake days before his diagnosis. My dad drove the boat just as he used to drive me on that same lake when I was a kid. Ty was almost three years old and life was great.
Swimming in the lake
I loved my life then, I just didn’t know how much because I took it for granted. All of it. I hated that I worked so much instead of being grateful for how that work enabled us to have so much. I lived three blocks from the ocean and walked there in the morning, regretting that I couldn’t stay there all day instead of being grateful for the view at that very moment. I complained about the lack of sleep my babies caused when I would give anything to rock them in that rocking chair again. I worried about having enough money for completely unnecessary clothes and accessories, instead of being grateful that I had the money to pay for good healthcare insurance. My eyes were not yet open. There were so many things I was simply unaware of.
Awareness slapped me in the face the day Ty was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Awareness of everything I had, and how suddenly I stood to lose it all. I couldn’t continue working knowing the treatment he had ahead. We would have to leave our house by the ocean to better meet his needs. I would have to trade time with his baby brother for time in the hospital with Ty. But obviously, I was most aware of the reality that I might lose him to cancer. A fault line had ripped through my whole entire world, leaving everything - every single thing - teetering on the edge. All these years later, I still live close to that edge.
Today is the first day of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. I became aware of a lot of things following diagnosis day in 2010, including the staggering number of children who get cancer. That September, the gold ribbon representing childhood cancer came to my attention when I stepped out of the elevator on the 9th floor at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center for the first time. Who knew the color gold was used for the kids? Quite fitting, I thought, because we all know that “nothing gold can stay.” I just hoped that meant growing older for Ty, and not the other impossible outcome. The one that became my reality. The one where he died in my arms two years later.
CANCER does not discriminate. It has impacted each and every one of us in one way or another -- the children being the most innocent victims of all. I have seen tiny infants receiving chemotherapy. Third graders who didn’t know life before cancer after years of relapses. Teenagers who went from playing football one day to facing their own mortality the next. We have to cure this disease. It has to happen. I personally know far too many kids who are depending on research to find those cures right now and it breaks my already broken heart.
We have all seen the impact of research since the onset of the pandemic. Imagine the inroads we could make if that level of funding was awarded to the scientists trying to cure childhood cancer. But when it comes to childhood cancer you can take it from me… it’s up to us to raise the funds and it takes a village. It’s not fair and it’s not right that parents are running marathons and hosting bake sales to support the research, but it’s another reality I have become very aware of over the years.
So today, on September 1, I'm asking my village to support Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Please consider doing any of the following this month:
Make a donation to the TLC Foundation in memory of Ty, or any organization close to your heart that funds childhood cancer research.Fundraise for the Ty Louis Campbell Foundation on Facebook or Instagram.Support Ty's Dad as he trains for the triathlon by donating to "Team TY" in their efforts to raise money before our annual TYathlon.Sign up to participate in the triathlon or the 5K yourself! Tell your friends to join you on September 25th!Have your kids “Take a Stand” against childhood cancer by selling painted rocks, lemonade, seashells, gold ribbons, or whatever they want to sell in support of our efforts. Up to three registrants will win Amazon gift cards!Support Wildcats “Spirit Day” activities at Westlake on September 26th.Sign up to golf with us on September 27th at Anglebrook Golf Club.Buy something from the Pret*ty store and wear it with pride, or gift it to someone else to help raise awareness.Slap on a gold ribbon and tell people why. Encourage them to donate or fundraise, as well.Go Gold on social media by changing your profile picture, sharing posts, and using the hashtags #gogold, #superty, #cancelchildhoodcancer.Ask your local stores if they would allow you to place a change bucket for TLC on their counter throughout the month, and collect the donations afterward.Talk to your child's preschool or day care about signing up to host a welly walk during the school year ahead.LET YOU KIDS JUMP IN MUDDY PUDDLES!
There are so many tragedies impacting the world we live in, and countless worthy causes. This is mine. Thank you for loving and supporting my family through this as we continue to grow our nonprofit in memory of beautiful #SuperTy. He was here. His life was important. He continues to make a difference. Thank You.
