in the next day – they did a quick blood test and called us at home that afternoon.  The doctor said his counts were all very low and he needed to see a specialist first thing Monday morning. We didn't need an appointment – just to go as soon as we got our other children on the bus to school, they’d be expecting us.

The next morning we drove almost an hour to the doctor's office. We had been told he was a specialist in blood disorders but we didn't know he was also an oncologist until we were sitting in the waiting room. All around the room were letters from grateful parents and messages of hope. I kept thinking this isn't happening to us – he doesn't have cancer. He's such a baby. Just 2 years old and still in diapers – cancer is something that happens to grown ups.

Everyone in the office was very gentle with us and explained everything very slowly and carefully. First they did a blood test. Then they did a bone marrow aspiration and spinal tap. Then after what felt like hours, the doctor came back into the room and said, "I'm sorry, it is leukemia." Our whole world came crashing down around us. By now it was 2 in the afternoon and we were an hour from home. Our girls age 7 & 8 at the time, would be getting home from school soon. Someone needed to meet the school bus. How would we explain this to them? We needed to go home and see the girls, pack some things for the hospital and call friends and family. After the longest day of our lives, everything was happening too fast.

Worst of all, during the difficult procedures Carlos had endured that day we had promised him a ride in daddy's jeep for being such a good boy. We desperately wanted to keep that promise. But Dr. Joe told us we couldn't go home. We couldn't go pick up the girls and explain things to them. Carlos' ride in the jeep would have to wait. We needed to go immediately to Yale New Haven Children's hospital where he would be admitted. He needed blood transfusions and other medications to stabilize him immediately. He had to be prepped for surgery the next day. Then the doctor said we would probably be there for a week to 10 days. We were stunned.

132 weeks of chemotherapy later our son is a thriving first grader. This coming January will mark his 5th year in remission. In some ways we are grateful for this experience – it made our family stronger. It truly shaped and defined our lives. Everything comes instantly into focus – you learn quickly who are your true friends and unfortunately who are not. It was a long hard journey but Carlos was always so positive and smiling. We used to say we were going to put a sandwich board on him that said, "I'm a Chemotherapy Patient" and take him through the adult unit at the hospital. Carlos never waited to "feel great" to play he just was happy with not feeling really lousy. He went to school when he could. Friends came to visit when he couldn't go outside. He watched endless movies and learned to play video games. He ate ice cream for breakfast and waffles for dinner. He tells us he's lucky. Because he had cancer but he didn't die. We feel lucky too.

— Liz Salguero