A Lion in the House-Part II

There really isn't any way to adequately describe the tragedy of terminal childhood cancer. The fear expressed at times in the faces of these kids is just harrowing.

My observation in watching this is that if one had to choose, early childhood would be the most tolerable and least traumatic of a period to endure such an ordeal. As the doctors/nurses repeated throughout the film, no matter what happens, they continue to be kids. The most trivial game can brighten their present, and distract them from their pain. But once a kid hits their teens, that more developed sense of forethought and sense of self sets in, and with it a complicated view of their illness.

I hate to imagine what it would be like at that age contemplating a future without you in it. As I watched Tim (above) asked by his doctor, after all treatments to eradicate his cancer had failed, if he wanted to discontinue treatment and go home, putting it behind him, or to resume a miserable course of treatment to try to prolong his life as much as possible, I felt the utmost sympathy for his response that he never wanted to stop. He's 16-what else is there but the future? That's everything that is supposed to be. There is absolutely nothing to justify any other action; no fond memories of years well spent, of growing up and recognizing yourself, of children raised and successful-there is nothing except the future. What a question to be asked at that age, and how forceful of a push to maturity.

And as the viewer you are always hoping that a kid will come through, knowing they won't. And as one watches Tim submit to this realization, watches his evident depression while in his hospital bed, his mother's denial and avoidance, and his corresponding loneliness, and voiced fear of death-you can feel nothing but a visceral sense of the hell that this is. Kids don't die this way, you think.

Any parent watching this film who wasn't filled with gratitude for their fortunate reach into the genetic lottery is an idiot.