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I just started the book it is a really good book from the jump. It is sad too though. When i read some of the stories i wanted to cry.

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In the book Crenshaw there is a boy named Jackson and his family. Jackson's family is not very wealthy, Jackson has an imaginary friend named Crenshaw, Crenshaw is a cat that is invisible to everyone in the family except Jackson.

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Crenshaw the cat is the imaginary friend of a boy named Jackson. So far, so good. We learn that Crenshaw likes purple jelly beans .

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When you purchase an independently reviewed book through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.

A 400-pound gorilla casts a large shadow. In 2013, Katherine Applegate won the Newbery Medal for "The One and Only Ivan," the story of a gorilla kept in a strip-mall circus. Ivan, the gorilla, frees himself and a young elephant by communicating with humans through finger-painting. "Ivan" was a winning tale for many reasons: It was based, loosely, on a true story; it addressed the issue of animal cruelty honestly, but in a manner that children could handle; it was technically original, telling the story from Ivan's perspective, in short chapters that read like prose poems. But the primary reason "Ivan" has become such a beloved book is Ivan himself. His frank wisdom about life, both human and animal, provokes laughter and thought; his aspirations - to become an artist, and to liberate himself through art - feel universal.

So when I picked up Katherine Applegate's next novel, "Crenshaw," I was immediately excited. On the cover is a giant cat, sitting on a bench beside a small boy. Hurray! I thought. Another huge mammal! But "Crenshaw" is not the book I was expecting.

Crenshaw the cat is the imaginary friend of a boy named Jackson. So far, so good. Jackson sees Crenshaw on a surfboard. We learn that Crenshaw likes purple jelly beans (the only unbelievable element of the book up to that point; everyone knows that purple candy is gross).

But another story line begins nosing its way in. Jackson's family, it turns out, is very poor. Jackson and his sister, Robin, never have quite enough food. Jackson's mother, a music teacher, was laid off during recent school budget cuts. Jackson's father has multiple sclerosis, which forced him to quit his job building houses. And a crisis is coming. Jackson's family has been homeless before, when Jackson was in first grade. Now that he's going into fifth grade, it appears they may become homeless again.

Applegate explores the world of working-class poverty with understated empathy and quiet humor.

" 'You do realize we can't live in the minivan again,' my mom said.

" 'No,' said my dad, 'we can't.'

" 'Aretha's a lot bigger. She'd take up the whole middle seat.'

" 'Plus she farts a lot.' My dad sighed. 'Who knows? Sunday at the yard sale somebody might give us a million bucks for Robin's old highchair.'

"'Good point,' said my mom. 'It comes with extra Cheerios stuck to the seat.' "

But as Applegate draws this world closer to us, Crenshaw the cat recedes. We go 10 pages, 20, 40, 100, with Crenshaw barely resurfacing at all. It's as if Applegate set out to write a book about a huge mammal and ended up with a human family that she cared about more.

As in "The One and Only Ivan," repression is a primary theme. Jackson has decided that facts are his friends. He hides his pain from himself and his parents. This is why Crenshaw appears to Jackson, after having vanished from his life for several years. He says to Jackson, "You need to tell the truth, my friend . . . to the person who matters most of all." Crenshaw stands for Jackson's psychological freedom - to imagine, to love, to be honest with himself and his family. Psychologically, it works. Narratively, less so. We don't care for Crenshaw the cat. He is insouciant without being witty, wise but not particularly kind. He isn't a character. He's a symbol.

Some children will be disappointed. I was, initially, disappointed. But if we manage to get past our personal agendas for Applegate and her huge mammals, we may find something very valuable indeed in "Crenshaw."

Applegate's prose is simple and poetic enough to appeal to literary adults, children who struggle with reading and just about everyone in between. And in "Crenshaw," her human characters are everything the huge cat is not. Jackson is witty and wise and struggles against problems too big for him. His parents' hardships are achingly real, but their love for Jackson is equally palpable. We love this intermittently homeless family - not because we pity them, but because we admire them."Crenshaw" is not for every child. But if the reader can handle some tough facts of life, she will be richly rewarded. Not by the huge mammal. By the humans.

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'Crenshaw,' by Katherine Applegate (Published 2015)

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When you purchase an independently reviewed book through our site, we earn an affiliate commission. A 400-pound gorilla casts a large shadow. In 2013, Katherine Applegate won the Newbery Medal for "The One and Only Ivan," the story of a gorilla kept in a strip-mall circus.

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This book is about a cat so far and their family is poor. They have to live in a car

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When jeffrey parents foind out

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when jeffrey has cancer

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When jeffrey had to fight cancer

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After a long battle with stage 4 lung cancer, three-year-old Ayden Brown of Las Vegas died Friday, according to his mother.

Ayden's mom Lindsey Licari confirmed his passing in a Facebook live video posted Friday at 7:18 p.m.

Today, I lost my son. In this world, there was not one doctor, one person that could offer my son any options at all. And he aspirated and stopped breathing. And I tried to do CPR and bring Ayden back. But I wasn't able to. And they tried again, the hospital six times. And even when I saw lines straight, I still knew God could still help him. But Ayden's body couldn't take anymore. So today, I lost Ayden because we live in a world that doesn't prepare for child cancer. And I am broken in so many ways. But they messed with the wrong mom and the wrong kid. Childhood cancer will never be the same now after Ayden. And I will never stop. I will never stop, until you guys stop letting these kids die. Because my son fought to live. He fought his whole life. He fought his whole life to live. And you filled him with poison until his organs couldn't take it anymore and his body fell apart. So you think they took my son and it's not going to change something about cancer? Then you're wrong. Because that little boy was my entire life. He was my entire life. And I had to watch my son dwindle away in front of my face and there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing I could do about it no matter how much help I could get my son. No matter who I called, there was nothing I could do. But I knew if this disease was going to take Ayden, everybody in the world would know who my son is. Everybody will know Ayden Setoshi Brown. He was three years old. He could tell you every planet in the solar system. He was phenomenally smart and he loved me so much and I loved him too. He didn't deserve to die. These kids don't deserve to die. And if I can do anything in my power, I will make sure that no mother feels how I feel today and have to put their kid in a bag.

In Aug., FOX5 first shared the story of Ayden Brown and it captured national attention, and donations on a GoFundMe page reached $258,840 as of Nov. 3 to cover his medical expenses.

Ayden was treated in Arizona when doctors gave him three weeks to live, but he fought and surpassed that number.

"We were told that his tumors had progressed so far that it was pushing against his heart which was building fluid and no longer made him a candidate for any trial or surgery or radiation," Licari said in late Oct..

Licari and Ayden moved back to Las Vegas and she started researching holistic and herbal medicine.

"Help poured in from every way you can think of and we got help from a herbal doctor as well as other moms who've gone through this," Licari had said.

The financial support from the community paid for all their expenses in Arizona, medical equipment in their home, appointments and much more, she said.

"To have the resources that were made available to us, it made it easier, and now we can pay our rent. I can stay with Ayden," she had said.

Licari said she felt called to help other families going through the same thing.

"Ayden is a bad case and he's been amazingly blessed with support and love but there's a lot of families besides me and Ayden too that are out there suffering and don't have a voice and don't have resources. At least your necessities should not be a worry while you fight for your kids," she said.

To read more about Ayden's journey and learn more about the foundation in Ayden's name, go to AydensArmyofAngels.org.
Copyright 2017 KVVU (KVVU Broadcasting Corporation). All rights reserved.

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Ayden Brown, 3, dies in battle with cancer

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After a long battle with stage 4 lung cancer, three-year-old Ayden Brown of Las Vegas died Friday, according to his mother. Ayden's mom Lindsey Licari confirmed his passing in a Facebook live video posted Friday at 7:18 p.m. Today, I lost my son.

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jeffrey has cancer

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When on page thirty-two, when all bombs hit Mahmoud's house and they tried to escape the house
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Infected Mushroom - Spitfire [Monstercat Release]

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http://theoneandonlyivan.com/ivan/
'The One and Only Ivan' is actually based on a real story.

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"The One and Only Ivan" | 60second Book Review

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LONDON (Thomson Reuters Foundation) - More Syrian refugees in the Middle East are falling into debt and facing poverty, partly as a result of exhausting their savings with shortages of essential aid worsening their plight, U.N. agencies and local governments said on Tuesday.

Some 70 percent of refugees in Lebanon are living below the poverty line, compared with 50 percent in 2014, according to the Regional Refugee and Resilience Plan mid-year review, carried out by U.N. agencies, local governments and aid groups.

In Jordan, 90 percent of registered Syrian refugees in urban areas have fallen below the national poverty line, while more than 67 percent of families are living in debt.

Families have been forced to cut out meals, spend less on healthcare, borrow money, and pull children out of school and send them to work, the report said.

"One of the more striking things of concern to us is the specter of poverty hanging over the Syrian refugee populations and host communities in the five countries that take the most refugees - Turkey, Lebanon, Iraq, Egypt and Jordan," Leo Dobbs, spokesman for the U.N. refugee agency (UNHCR), told the Thomson Reuters Foundation.

"A growing number of people after years of being in exile, exhausting their resources, are entering poverty," he added.

The amount of funding received by aid agencies and local governments has increased this year to $1.38 billion, compared with $1.06 billion last year.

But the number of refugees has risen too. There are more than 4.8 million Syrian refugees, up from 4 million last June.

The majority are living with host communities in neighboring Jordan, Lebanon and Turkey. In Lebanon, Syrian refugees make up about a fifth of the population. Turkey hosts the largest number - nearly 3 million.

"Their infrastructure is creaking, they are finding it more and more difficult to provide basic services and shelter and medical aid," Dobbs said, speaking about the region's local governments and municipalities.

At a conference in London in February, U.N. and aid agencies appealed for $4.54 billion for the region's Syrian refugee crisis. By the end of May, donors had disbursed some 30 percent of this.

More than 250,000 people have been killed and more than 11 million displaced in Syria's five-year-old civil war.

U.N.-brokered peace talks have stalled. The United Nations' envoy to Syria told the U.N. Security Council last week it remained unclear when the next round peace talks would take place.

With no end to the war in sight, governments and aid agencies are looking at how to help refugees earn a living.

At the London conference, donors pledged funding and expertise to help create up to 1.1 million jobs for refugees and host-country citizens by 2018, aided by private-sector investment.

Lebanon, Jordan and Turkey agreed to act to open up their labor markets to refugees, while in Jordan there are plans to give up to 150,000 Syrian refugees work permits to do manufacturing jobs in special economic zones.

Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan on Tuesday outlined plans to grant citizenship to some of the Syrians who have sought refuge there, particularly those with qualifications of use to Turkey.

Reporting by Alex Whiting, Editing by Katie Nguyen.; Please credit the Thomson Reuters Foundation, the charitable arm of Thomson Reuters, that covers humanitarian news, women's rights, trafficking, corruption and climate change. Visit news.trust.org

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office of the un high commissioner for refugees

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Running out of resources, Syrian refugees fall further into poverty, d

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LONDON (Thomson Reuters Foundation) - More Syrian refugees in the Middle East are falling into debt and facing poverty, partly as a result of exhausting their savings with shortages of essential aid worsening their plight, U.N. agencies and local governments said on Tuesday.

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When Jeffery's family finds out he has cancer

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I will never forget the look on the doctor's face just before she told me that my five-year-old daughter had cancer.

I had taken Clio to the emergency room that morning for a 104.5 fever - the culmination of two months of vague symptoms we hadn't been able to pin to any diagnosis: occasional bellyaches, pain in her hips and legs, frequent fevers that would spike in the late afternoon and be gone by the next morning.

Two visits to the pediatrician over the previous month and a complete blood count had revealed nothing. In fact, I'd felt rather silly after her blood work came back normal: I had convinced myself - with help from Google, that enabler of hypochondriacs and worried mothers everywhere - that Clio had leukemia. But the only thing her lab work (done three weeks earlier) had suggested was a virus.

Now, here we were at our local ER. The doctor, a forty-something woman with a warm smile and a face that looked somehow familiar (maybe she looked a little like me?), took blood for testing and noted that Clio's liver felt enlarged. She ordered X-rays and an ultrasound, and we ordered a grilled cheese sandwich for Clio to eat after the tests were done.

I ran up against a wall of mental resistance each time I tried to tell myself - in my calmest, most sympathetic inner voice - that this was our reality now.

Forty-five minutes later, when we passed the doctor on our way back to the exam room after the ultrasound, her smile was gone. She sat behind the nursing station with a folder in her hands, watching us intently as we passed. Her eyes went first to me, then flicked down to Clio, who was chattering happily, clutching the tiny stuffed bunny she'd been given by the X-ray technician as a reward for being brave.

I can picture the doctor's expression as we passed with total clarity, and yet when I try to describe it, words fail me. Anxious? Pitying? Thoughtful? Sad? None of them are quite right. But I know what I thought when I saw it: Something is wrong.

Still, when we got back to our room and there was an IV pole by the exam table my first thought wasn't, "This must be for us." It was: "They must have put this in the wrong room by mistake." Followed by "What happened to Clio's grilled cheese?"

I ducked back out and asked our nurse where Clio's lunch was.

"We had to have them take it away," she said softly. "We're going to come in and talk to you."

At that point another nurse came over and said to Clio, "Do you want to come play with some Legos with me, sweetheart?" and led her away.

The doctor and nurse came into the room and closed the door.

An hour later, Clio and I were being transported by ambulance to an acute care hospital in downtown Boston. The bags of fluid and antibiotics from the IV pole that wasn't supposed to be in our room dangled above her gurney. And the missing grilled cheese sandwich? Taken away in case Clio needed to be put under anesthesia when we got to the hospital; she would need an empty stomach.

My hands were trembling and my mouth was dry, but I did my best to keep smiling and talking to Clio, who was shaken and anxious by this point. Getting the IV needle into the back of her hand had been miserable - I had to physically restrain her while she screamed - and I knew there would be plenty more "pokes" where we were headed.

"Isn't this cool?" I said, with desperate enthusiasm, gesturing around the ambulance. "All these gadgets and things? And look! We can watch out the back! We're going across the bridge into Boston! We're going so fast, huh?"

Everything was going so fast. While we were hurtling toward Boston, my mind was still back at the local hospital, trying to remember the exact words the doctor had used, hoping to find some kind of reassurance in them.

"Her blood work is very concerning," she'd said. "I know this is a hard word to hear, but we're most likely looking at some sort of blood cancer."

I seized on the "most likely," and pressed her on what she meant.

There was a remote possibility, the doctor said, that it was an infection of some sort. "I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for that."

The nurse put her arm around my shoulder, then, and asked me if I wanted to take a minute before they brought Clio back into the room and got things going for the transfer to the other hospital.

"We have to go right now? Today?"

"Her immune system is basically shut down at this point," the doctor explained. "They'll want to figure out what's wrong, and start treatment right away."

I nodded numbly, then walked down the hall to the bathroom. I cried silently for a minute, then collected myself and wiped my eyes - there would be time for this later. Right now, I had to focus on Clio.

I stepped out into the corridor - the only place I could get any decent cell phone reception, and spotty at that - and called my husband, Alastair. He was at a street carnival with Clio's twin sister, Elsa, and could barely hear me above the noise.

"Her blood work is bad," I told him. "Either some kind of infection, or maybe cancer." It hurt to say the word. It hurt even more shouting it so he could hear.

The phone signal stuttering in and out, I told him we'd talk later; right now he just needed to pack a couple of bags and meet us in the city.

"OK," he said, "I'm coming."

The ER at the city hospital made the local hospital's feel cozy and almost quaint by comparison. Equipment beeped, phones rang, and nurses, administrators and medical students paraded in and out of our curtained bay while we waited to be admitted to a room upstairs.

Between this and trying to distract and comfort Clio, Alastair and I barely had a chance to talk. But I do remember reiterating to him that the doctor at the previous hospital didn't say it was cancer; she said it probably was.

I clung desperately to the possibility that it wasn't. Because our child couldn't possibly have cancer - all those other leukemia-like symptoms and Google be damned. We weren't one of those families, facing months and years of treatments and being brave and doing walkathons and all the rest. Those were other families (the poor things; how awful). Not us.

As for the head ER pediatrician who eventually came in to look at Clio who told us that most kids who had "this disease" did very well with treatment, he must have been given the wrong information; apparently no one told him that this wasn't a done deal. Didn't he know that there was still a chance it was some kind of infection?

"I suppose there's a very slight chance," he said when I asked. "But I highly doubt it."

The oncologist we met the next morning said the same thing: she was 99.9% certain it was leukemia. Still, I didn't believe it. Rather, I couldn't believe that any of this was happening. It was all a mistake.

Even when the tests for leukemia cells in Clio's blood and bone marrow over the next two days came back positive, and we knew without a doubt that it wasn't a mistake at all, I ran up against a wall of mental resistance each time I tried to tell myself, in my calmest, most sympathetic inner voice, that this was our reality now: We were a family with a child with cancer.

It's been two and a half months now since Clio's diagnosis. She's doing beautifully, and although she has a long road ahead - two more years of chemotherapy at least, the next six or seven months of which will be intensive - all signs point to a full recovery. Her type of leukemia, ALL Pre-B, has excellent cure rates, and she has responded well to treatment so far.

Her limitations and treatment schedule have, of course, had a huge impact on our daily lives: Clio isn't starting kindergarten this fall with her sister because her immune system is too compromised by chemo to be in a crowded space with other children. Soccer, which she was so looking forward to starting, will have to wait, too.

Meanwhile, there will be countless clinic visits and hospital stays, and managing our work schedules and childcare coverage around those, adding in the ever-present possibility of an unplanned hospital stay feels like a full time job. And then there are the medications to administer, records to keep, insurance paperwork to fill out.

But for the most part we've accepted and are accustomed to our new reality. We're getting through it, one day, one treatment cycle, one challenge at a time. The shock and fear of the first days are long gone, replaced by patience and determination.

But there are times - in the middle of the night, first thing in the morning, or when I have some other brief moment to reflect - when I still can't quite believe that my daughter has this illness.

And to this day, when I think about that first, kind ER doctor's face as she was about to deliver the news (which on some deep, intuitive level I was already expecting) I feel a chill inside. And if I think about those first hours too hard, for too long - as I did when writing this piece - I find myself holding back tears. It's all too real.
Editor's note: September is National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. If you would like to show support for families like Jane's, please visit The Jimmy Fund and St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.

Article Posted 5 years Ago

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The day my daughter was diagnosed with leukemia

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â€œWe werenâ€™t one of those families, facing months and years of treatments and being brave and doing walkathons and all the rest. Those were other families (the poor things; how awful). Not us.â€ Jane Roper writes about the day her daughter was diagnosed with leukemia, only on Babble.

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The little brother jeffery has leukemia cancer

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Roswell Park Comprehensive Cancer Center

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Childhood cancer is rare, yet it remains the leading cause of death from disease for children age 14 and younger with about 12,000 new cases diagnosed each year. Among the 12 major cancer types that afflict children, leukemias and cancers of the brain and central nervous system account for more than half of all new cases.

The Good News

As devastating as a cancer diagnosis is to any family, you have every reason to hope for a cure. While the incidence of pediatric cancers has risen slightly over the past decades, the number of children who survive their disease increased significantly. The five-year survival rate for all pediatric cancers has improved from 63 percent in the mid-1970s to 83 percent today. This improvement is due to significant treatment advances, which result in a cure or long-term remission for a substantial portion of patients.

Types of Pediatric Cancers

Leukemias: Blood cell cancers account for one-third of all childhood cancers. The most common types in children are acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) and acute myelogenous leukemia (AML).

Brain and Spinal Cord Tumors: The most common solid tumors in children are gliomas and medulloblastomas.

Lymphomas: Both Hodgkin and non-Hodgkin lymphomas (cancers of the lymph system) affect children.

Retinoblastoma: This cancer affects the eye's retina.

Sarcomas: This disease includes bone cancers such as osteosarcoma, Ewing sarcoma and soft tissue sarcomas. The most common type of sarcoma in children is rhabdomyosarcoma, a cancer of muscle, tendon, cartilage or bone.

Wilms' Tumor: A form of kidney cancer that typically occurs in children.

Neuroblastoma: A cancer of the peripheral nervous system that is common in children.

Germ Cell Tumors: These tumors originate from germ cells, typically in the testes or ovaries.

Symptoms of Pediatric Cancers

Early signs or symptoms of childhood cancer are difficult to recognize because they may also indicate far more common illnesses and injuries. Children often get bumps and bruises or feel sick. Parents should ensure kids get regular medical checkups and seek attention for a symptom that doesn't go away, such as:

An unusual lump or swelling

Unexplained paleness or lack of energy

Easy bruising

Ongoing pain in one area

Limping

Unexplained fever or illness that doesn't go away

Frequent headaches, often with vomiting

Sudden eye or vision changes

Sudden unexplained weight loss

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Childhood cancer is rare, yet it remains the leading cause of death from disease for children age 14 and younger with about 12,000 new cases diagnosed each year. Among the 12 major cancer types that afflict children, leukemias and cancers of the brain and central nervous system account for more than half of all new cases.

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Ivan is a gorilla that lives in a zoo in the mall.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsj_3c8mA3M

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Ivan is a gorilla who is held in captivity with more animals, but his life will change --Aziah

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Jeffery has to visit many hospitals for treatments

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PORTLAND, Maine - A 9-year-old Maine boy with cancer has died a week after his wish for a Christmas celebration was fulfilled.

Jacob Thompson's family announced on social media that he died Sunday at Maine Medical Center in Portland. His family thanked those who sent Christmas cards and prayers, saying they brought joy and encouragement to the boy and his family.

Jacob was admitted to the hospital in October after four years of battling neuroblastoma, a cancer that starts in the nerve cells and generally affects infants and young children.

He loved Christmas and asked for cards. The response was overwhelming. Cards poured in from around the world. Police organized a caravan for him. The University of Maine hockey team paid a visit.

Knowing time was short, his family held a Christmas celebration at the hospital earlier this month that was replete with a tree, gifts and a visit from Santa.

"You brought Jacob joy, and you brought us all optimism for the future. Thank you for taking the time, and taking an interest in our sweet boy's journey. Sadly, there are many others like him that we hope you will continue to help," the family wrote Monday on Facebook.

The boy loved penguins. His family urged people to make a donation to a penguin rescue group, Operation Gratitude "or pay it forward in your community."

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9-year-old boy with cancer dies after thousands of strangers give him early Christmas

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PORTLAND, Maine - A 9-year-old Maine boy with cancer has died a week after his wish for a Christmas celebration was fulfilled. Jacob Thompson's family announced on social media that he died Sunday at Maine Medical Center in Portland. His family thanked those who sent Christmas cards and prayers, saying they brought joy and encouragement to the boy and his family.

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when Jeffrey is battle with leukemia

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UPDATE DEC. 8: Sadly, Taylor Hammond has lost his battle with Leukemia and passed away. Keep his family and friends in your thoughts.

ORIGINAL STORY: A child dying from cancer isn't using his last days to rest.

With the help of complete strangers, 10-year-old Taylor Hammond's final wishes are coming true.

Taylor has made a "life list."

"It's definitely not a bucket list because I don't like buckets," explained Taylor.

He's been doing some amazing things. He and his family just got back from Hawaii. Some things are simpler, like seeing a good movie.

Taylor has been fighting leukemia for more than four years. It keeps coming back. Now it's terminal. They don't know exactly how many more days Taylor has left.

Taylor came up with a list of things he wants to accomplish in his life. People who don't even know him are contributing to make sure he gets them all done.

"It feels like the whole world is my family and they're never going to let me down," said Taylor.

It hasn't been easy. Just going out to a movie is complicated for Taylor and his family. Taylor's immune system is very weak. That's a big reason why his parents home school all six of their adopted children.

The entire family has been checking off items on Taylor's "life list."

"This is something we're never going to forget. I mean, you heard him, he said, 'this is the most amazing thing that's ever happened to him,'" said Brian Hammond, Taylor's father.

There are still a few more items to do, like meet Floyd Mayweather.

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UPDATE: 10-year-old Las Vegas boy dies after battle with Leukemia

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UPDATE DEC. 8: Sadly, Taylor Hammond has lost his battle with Leukemia and passed away. Keep his family and friends in your thoughts. ORIGINAL STORY: A child dying from cancer isn't using his last days to rest. With the help of complete strangers, 10-year-old Taylor Hammond's final wishes are coming true.

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When Jeffrey had leukemia

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Jeffery has cancer

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twenty one pilots - Cancer (My Chemical Romance Cover) [Official Lyric Video]