Lady Rose Fairy

Nintendo DS Lite Sarah Smith The American Red Cross and Moonlightblooddrive.org will honor Sarah Smith and her bravery in her fight against neuroblastoma Diagnosed with Stage IV neuroblastoma in May of 2002 when she was six years old, she's been through too much and grown up too fast; however, she still manages to sprinkle each day with her special, custom blend of giggles and joy, compassion and courage. In July of 2005 she was declared to be in remission; in June of 2006, she relapsed in her adrenal gland, femur, hip and backbone. After three rounds of Accutane, her scans came back clear. She did two additional rounds of Accutane and is now considered to be back in remission. Whatever lies ahead for our perky princess, we know that she is definitely up for it! She's not only our daughter, she is also our inspiration. For those of you who may be new to our family, let us give you a brief history. We spent fifteen years traveling full time, doing about 160 concerts in churches every year. Sarah and her brother Nathan, (18) were on the road with us since they were about four weeks old and have been in forty states, Canada and Mexico. For seven of those fifteen years, our family lived year-round in a 45 foot, custom-built two-bedroom R.V. pulled by a Kenworth semi truck. In our fifteen years on the road, we recorded thirteen CD's of original music. When Sarah was diagnosed on May 17, 2002, we left the road so that we could dedicate ourselves to doing everything possible to help her get well. Sarah's dad, Rev. Steve Smith, now pastors First Assembly of God in Smithfield, NC. “Am I going to die when I’m a kid?” Six-year old Sarah had been sitting quietly in the back of our van as we drove home from Wal-Mart that July evening in 2002. I had no idea what was going through her sweet bald head until the air was sucked right out my lungs by that unexpected and heartbreaking question. Trying my best to keep my composure I replied, “How do you feel about that, Sarah?” She replied softly, “I’d prefer to live.” And live she did. Six years later, after beating every odd that every doctor threw her way, she is just about to celebrate her thirteenth birthday. Her chances of surviving five years when she was diagnosed? Twenty percent. Her chances of surviving after she relapsed two years ago? Well, let me just say that there are no long-term survivors of relapsed Neuroblastoma. But I guess Sarah didn’t get the memo. She lives life large; she lives life with the kind of zest and joy that only a cancer survivor can truly understand. And how did she get to this miraculous point in her life? Certainly, prayer and faith and chemo and doctors and a bone marrow transplant all played a big part. However, the life saving chemo and the bone marrow transplant would not even have been treatment possibilities had there not been the medical miracle of blood transfusions available to her. When chemo whipped up on her red blood cells and turned her into a pale and listless shadow of herself, it just took one transfusion for her cheeks to blossom and for her to jump up off her bed and jump back into life. In the weeks after her immune system had been completely wiped out by intensive chemo in preparation for her bone marrow transplant, she would have died many times over without the numerous transfusions of platelets and red blood cells she received. I remember the dozens of times I would sit in a chair beside her hospital bed, watching the precious liquid drip into her small veins and I would wonder about the people who had taken the time out of their day to donate. I would silently thank them for what they had done because without those donors, my daughter would be dead. Without those donors, the answer to “Am I going to die when I’m a kid?” would have been, “Yes.” Sarah carries in her body the legacy of the contributions of literally hundreds of people. Although their blood cells and platelets have by now been replaced with ones that Sarah’s own body has made, those cherished strangers will always be a part of the miraculous second chance at life that our daughter was given.