World Cancer Day: When Their “Rare” Is My 100% Child

World Cancer Day: When “Rare” Becomes Your Whole World

World Cancer Day is meant to raise awareness. To shine a light. To educate. But when your child has cancer, days like this don’t feel symbolic — they feel deeply personal.

Neuroblastoma is often described as rare. Rare on paper. Rare in statistics. Rare in conversations that happen far away from hospital walls.

But “rare” is only rare until it happens to you.

And when it happens to you, it is no longer a percentage or a headline — it is your entire child.

Other people’s rare is my 100% child.

Maya didn’t choose this disease. We didn’t choose this life. And yet, from the moment cancer entered our world, every single part of our family’s existence changed — routines, priorities, dreams, and what “normal” even means. Childhood, as most people know it, was taken from her without consent. And as parents, there is no deeper pain than watching your child endure something you cannot take away.

Alongside the medical trauma came another reality we were never prepared for: survival often depends on kindness. Fundraising wasn’t a choice. Advocating wasn’t optional. Asking for help was not something we wanted — it was something we had to do.

To those who have chastised us for fundraising, for sharing Maya’s story, for being visible in our desperation — please understand this: there is no worse scenario than having your child’s health and future stripped from them. Pride dissolves when survival is on the line. Silence is a luxury we do not have.

And yet, despite everything, gratitude remains at the core of our hearts.

We have been carried by people who gave without conditions. People who showed up without being asked. People who never wanted recognition, praise, or anything in return. That love — unconditional and steadfast — is what keeps us going.

Hope doesn’t always look gentle. Sometimes it looks stubborn. Sometimes it looks fierce. Sometimes it looks exactly like Maya — refusing to give in, refusing to shrink, refusing to stop smiling even when the world has been unbearably cruel.

This is why we share. This is why we speak. This is why we keep going. Not for sympathy. Not for attention. But for awareness, compassion, and the chance that one day, no parent will have to learn what “rare” really means the hard way.

And finally, a reminder — clear and unapologetic:

To those that don’t have anything kind to say, and can’t donate or won’t share Maya’s story, then please scroll on… or please unfollow us.

Our child’s life is not a debate, and our hope is not up for commentary. Kindness costs nothing — but in our world, it can mean everything.

To those that have asked:

PayPal to dellanie_nash@yahoo.co.uk (as a gift)

Santander

D C Nash

Sort code 09-01-36

Account 4957 9984

Reference: Maya’s Journey

Thank you for all your kind words, generous donations and/or for keeping us in your thoughts.

#WorldCancerDay

#ChildhoodCancerAwareness

#Neuroblastoma

#CancerMum

#CancerFamily

#ChildhoodCancer

#RareCancer

#CancerDoesntDiscriminate