I have a card hanging on my refrigerator—it's a card with a picture of roses and a pink breast cancer ribbon.  It's from my friend Nicole in Ohio. She sent me a beautiful bracelet in the mail the other day with this pretty card.  Joey just noticed the card today.  He looked at it and said, "Is this cancer?"  I asked him what he meant and he replied, "Is this card cancer?"  He must have recognized the pink ribbon which he has seen around our house and in the community too. I told him the ribbon signifies cancer.  And I asked him if he knows what cancer is.  He said: "It's medicine and love." 

I think Joey is right, in a simple sort of way.  For him, cancer translates into medicine.  For almost a year now, he has been shuffled around during my endless doctor appointments.  He sees my port and knows that's where medicine goes.  He saw me in the hospital connected to tubes full of medicine.  He sees my pill case that sits on the kitchen counter.  He knows medicine made my hair fall out.

And he knows cancer means love.  How could he not?  He's seen people deliver meals and send flowers.  He stood on the front porch with me when friends delivered my hand-made quilt and he watched me open my new bracelet from Nicole.

The love is endless—as is the medicine.   And Joey's wisdom continues to amaze me.  I never knew a 4-year-old could be so smart.