It’s the dog days of summer over here. Long stretches of hotter than hot days that bleed into evenings where the sun never seems to set.
The boys spent the last couple weeks in the upper peninsula of Michigan, more or less feral, jumping off cliffs, eating wild turkey, and learning to perfect the standing backflip (Go Jude!)
Selah and I spent time in the Pacific Northwest and soaked in all we could with my best friend who had the audacity to marry an Aussie and reside half the world away.
Rivers, Snakes, Toads, oh my.
We all reunited last week at home, for the final couple weeks of summer. Selah was enrolled in a week of outdoor, nature based day camp. Rivers, snakes, toads, oh my. Creepy, crawling nature isn’t exactly her thing, so each day took convincing. Her best (“best, best, best”) friend was there, which helped. But no matter, by Thursday, the heat and the wildlife had finally worn her down.
Adamant from the moment she woke-up- she could simply N-O-T, not go. Slowly, I talked her in to it- Girly girls? Sure. But we don’t turn down camp because some 10 year old boy chased us with a snake the day prior! I got her to camp and proceeded with the drop-off checklist- confirming she had everything including sunscreen, already applied.
She pulled me aside to whisper with tear-filled eyes, “Mom, I really don’t think I can be here today. I just really don’t want to get skin cancer.”
Although completely confused about why skin cancer was top concern at 8am on a Thursday, her resistance to the fully outdoor camp was becoming a little more clear. The night before she looked at her barely tanned skin and fretted that she was “completely burned.”
“You have sunscreen on, Seh. Reapply at lunch. It’s all good.”
“No, but mom! If you get sunburn you get cancer. I do not want cancer!”
I assured her she was protected and pulled the camp counselor aside.
“Not sure what’s going on, but she’s very worried about sunscreen and skin cancer. Maybe her brothers have said something about it…”
The counselor stopped me and started apologizing. She had explained the importance of sunscreen every day this week while cajoling kids to reapply. The concept she floated was that the sun can cause cancer.
For most kids it’s a motivator, because for most kid’s cancer is abstract.
I pushed back on the apology. Of course they explained it like that. No problem. I get it.
It wasn’t the rivers, snakes, toads, after all.
Cancer as a Given
Cancer has been Selah’s reality since she was eleven months old. Which is to say, forever.
When she was three at a well-child checkup, she practically begged the doctors for ‘the chemos’ and wailed in the car afterward because no one had given her ‘the leukemia.’ Because at three, cancer felt like lots of attention.
During preschool, she was shuffled between Meemaw, a nanny and half-surviving parents navigating clinical trial medicine half a country away. Cancer became a lot less desirable.
Cancer is the water we swim in, but who gets it and why, and the age old question of what exactly causes it- those seem like questions as old as time. The folklore of our family always circling it, but never defining it.
And now, the 8 year old is at camp wondering if it is merely the sun.
A Sad Powerpoint
When Beau was diagnosed there were almost no resources on leukemia for kids, nor their siblings. When I asked our Child Life specialist for a book, she suggested I make my own PowerPoint.
Which was crazy. Which I did.
For Beau’s classmates:
Slide one: Beau is sick.
Slide two: Beau will be bald.
Slide three; No, it’s not contagious.
On and on. (ok, it was slightly better than that, but this was pre-AI, pre-Canva.)
That sad PowerPoint is why I was so eager to tell my Heavy Wait community about Melissa Gollnik’s new children’s book.
Meet Stanley
Slow Is the Way to Go tells the story of Stanley, a young baseball-loving sloth who has been diagnosed with leukemia. With the help of his friendly healthcare team, and his lucky shoes too, Stanley learns how leukemia affects his body and what can be done to slowly fight it.
The book arrived and I handed it off to Selah, “Let me know what you think.”
I walked into her room at bedtime that night and found her enraptured, pouring over the details of every page. She’s asked to read it most nights since, trouble is, she always has to find it because at some point between her going to bed and the next evening, Jude or Beau has taken the book to read themselves.
Ruining a Story with Facts
One night I found her and Beau reading it together.
“So Beau, you had a stem cell transplant, like Stanley?”
“No, I had a bone marrow transplant,” he corrected.
But that wasn’t right.
A bone marrow biopsy, yes. A bone marrow aspiration, yes. Cell therapy, yes. But a bone marrow transplant, no.
I stood outside the door and pondered how to correct him. He and Selah were making sense of something nonsensical and it didn’t feel like the right time to ruin a story with facts.
A couple days later in the car, Stanley came up again. Selah asked the same questions, mapping our experience to a cartoon sloth. This time I interjected and gently explained the difference between aspiration, biopsy, and transplant.
Beau looked at me, listening but confused and mainly annoyed at being corrected. Any parent of a teen knows this look.
“Huh….ok,” he conceded.
“It’s all the same I guess, and different.” I said, remembering how long and hard we fought to not have transplant be a part of our story. And now 5 years later it’s a: six in one, half dozen in the other retelling.
“Alas, Selah, it’s similar, but Beau isn’t a sloth.”
Everyone smiled.
Slow Is the Way to Go
Melissa Gollnik’s children’s book, Slow Is the Way to Go, follows Stanley the Sloth through leukemia diagnosis, chemotherapy, and stem cell transplant.
The book was inspired by her cousin Brent, who experienced childhood leukemia in the 1980s.
Sadly, Brent died of his cancer when Melissa was just ten years old, the heartbreak shaping her life. She went on to became an oncology nurse, drawn to providing care during moments that matter. Years later, she wrote this book as a tribute to him, teaching newly diagnosed children what to expect.
When I asked Melissa for her bio, she said, “the book exists because of Brent’s courage.” Which is true. But it also exists because even long after Brent had passed away, Melissa continued to speak the truth of him.
Brent existed. Now so does this book.
“Slow Is The Way To Go” launched on January 30, 2026, Brent’s birthday. 🧡💜
How to Purchase
If you or someone you know would enjoy reading Slow Is The Way To Go, you can purchase the book from Melissa a couple of ways.
- Send Melissa a Facebook message with your name and mailing address. She will connect with you for payment.
- Email Melissa directly: nurseauntiemg@gmail.com
- Amazon-Least ideal to a self published author, but Melissa understands sometimes we need a two-click option.
Donate a Book
Slow Is the Way to Go can be found in various children’s hospitals around the country, including:
- Dana-Farber Boston Children’s Hospital
- Duke Children’s Hospital Durham NC
- Texas Children’s Hospital Houston, TX
- Seattle Children’s Hospital
- Children’s Wisconsin Milwaukee
- St Jude Children’s Hospital
- Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital Stanford Palo Alto, CA
One’s missing from that list: Children’s Hospital of Colorado. Our hospital.
After reading the book, Jude asked why we didn’t get it when Beaudin was diagnosed. From that conversation, we decided it was only right to donate a big, ole stack of Slow Is the Way to Go to Children’s Hospital of Colorado. For the Beau’s, the Jude’s, the Selah’s.
If you don’t need a personal copy but want one in a kid’s hands, help us with our idea and donate here. All proceeds will be used to get copies of this book to patients in Denver. $20 for a kid to start making sense of something nonsensical.
I received an advance copy and compensation for this feature. All thoughts and adoration of the book are my own 💜
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