The Latest from Ukandu

Years ago, Emily Perl Kingsley wrote Welcome to Holland, an essay about preparing for one journey only to discover that life has taken you somewhere entirely different. You planned for Italy. You imagined what it would look like. You prepared for it. You pictured the places you would go and the experiences you would have. And then the plane lands somewhere else.

I have thought about that metaphor many times over the years while sitting with families whose lives have been changed by childhood cancer.

As I walked through The Loft surrounded by families, friends, partners, supporters, and people who have helped imagine this place into existence, I was struck by something one of our parents, Julia Thompson, said in remarks to commemorate the day:

The audacity.

The audacity of Ukandu to believe families affected by childhood cancer deserve something this extraordinary.

Throughout Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, we’re sharing stories about what childhood cancer asks of children and families—not only during treatment, but long after it ends.

This week, we turn to what comes after treatment—and why the word “survivor”, while worthy of celebration, doesn’t always tell the whole story.

A More Than Medicine Installment

For families affected by childhood cancer or another serious medical condition, "back to school" can mean something entirely different. School may not look the way it once did. For families affected by childhood cancer or another serious medical condition, "back to school" can mean something entirely different. School may not look the way it once did.

A More Than Medicine Installment

For families affected by childhood cancer or another serious medical condition, "back to school" can mean something entirely different. School may not look the way it once did. For families affected by childhood cancer or another serious medical condition, "back to school" can mean something entirely different. School may not look the way it once did.

A More Than Medicine Installment

This was my first Ukandu Family Camp.

For months, I had heard people talk about it with a kind of reverence that was difficult to explain. Families counted down the days until camp. Volunteers smiled when they spoke about it. Colleagues simply said, "You'll understand once you're there."

They were right.

A More Than Medicine Installment

June is National Men's Mental Health Month.

Like many men, I'm pretty good at convincing myself that things can wait. A nagging symptom? Probably nothing. Stress building up? I'll deal with it later. Something doesn't feel quite right? Let's give it a few more weeks and see what happens.

If that sounds familiar, you're not alone.

A More Than Medicine Installment

There is something extraordinary that happens at Camp Ukandu.

For one special week, in one very special place, the things that brought everyone together—the diagnoses, the treatments, the losses, the scans, the scars—are allowed to rest for a while.

And people simply get to be human with one another.

A More Than Medicine Installment

Recently, after spending time talking with some of our incredible Ukandu volunteers about grief, loss, and the experiences so many families in our community carry, I found myself continuing to think about grief long after the conversation ended. Not just grief after death, but the quieter forms of grief that families living with serious illness often carry every single day.