Letters From Laken
Donation protected
My name is Laken, and I learned to fight when I was 11 years old.
On the evening of February 27th, I was taken by ambulance to Arkansas Children's Hospital in Little Rock, after doctors found a plum-sized tumor in my brain.
The next morning, I was being prepped for emergency surgery. Doctor after doctor came into my room to explain to me what was about to happen. I don't think they thought I understood.
But all I would say to them was ... Just get this thing out of me!
And they did. All of it! (Thank you, Dr. Albert :)
When I woke up from surgery, I felt awful. I had been throwing up for a month before doctors paid attention to my mom’s gut instinct, and finally found the tumor. And while I had gotten used to the throwing up, now I couldn't see. And it scared me. A lot.
But my mom was there by me the whole time, and promised me that everything was going to be ok. And I believed her.
The first couple of days of recovery were so hard. My head hurt so much from the 2 incisions, that I would scream out in pain. My vision was returning, but I couldn't focus, and it made me really nauseous to try.
My parents and I spent a lot of time talking in those first couple of days after my surgery about choosing how I want to recover, and how I want to get through the treatment ahead.
How it would be perfectly normal to focus on myself. My pain. My fear. My sacrifices. My hair!
But I could also choose to spend the year ahead in radiation and chemotherapy focusing on others. Thinking about others. Praying for others. Even serving others. Having an "attitude of gratitude," and using this experience to encourage people who are also going through a difficult (or worse) time in their own life.
I spent a lot of time in bed asking God ... What can I possibly do? I'm only 11.
And one morning, it hit me. I love to write. And no matter how badly I feel, I can always pick up my pen, and share some words of appreciation, or encouragement, or recognition, or even condolence, with someone who is going through a tough time themself.
When I shared the idea with my mom, she said ... “Letters from Laken.”
And I said, yes. Letters from Laken!
I started making a list in my head of all of the people who had been involved (so far) in saving my life. The surgeon. The ICU nurses.
Then a list of the people who had helped my parents by bringing meals and donating to help them cover the travel expenses. By making my 12th birthday party (a month to the day of my ambulance ride to Little Rock) amazing.
My mom started sharing stories with me about other families that are going through the same things we are. Some without any hope at all.
And I thought ... I could write a letter a day, and never run out of opportunities.
So that's what I am doing.
On May 13th, the day after I finish my first 6 weeks of proton radiation therapy in Dallas, I will begin dropping handwritten letters into my mailbox. Letters of appreciation. Letters of encouragement. Letters of condolence. And letters of celebration.
And I am not going to stop. Like, ever.
As I write, my parents have been busy building me a website and setting up social media accounts. Believing that the world needs a little hope and encouragement right now, and that I might somehow be able to offer a little, by way of my testimony and outreach.
I know now what I am supposed to do for the rest of my life. Change the world for millions… one letter at a time.
The day after my surgery, my mom (a very successful business owner) began contacting her customers, and letting them know that she’d decided to walk away from the business she had built over the past 5 years to focus 100% of her time and attention on me during my recovery and treatment.
And while that decision has already made a significant impact on our family, I cannot tell you what it means to me.
I created this GoFundMe campaign for 2 reasons:
1. I’d love to invite you to be a part of my ministry of hope and encouragement, by helping me pay for the supplies I will need to write at least one letter a day for the rest of my life. I'm not asking for a donation. I want to WORK!
2. I’d love to relieve some of the financial burden off of my parents, and make it a little easier for my mom to stay home with me and my siblings. Where she can put some of her business genius to work, and help me “make a dent in the universe” (as my stepdad Matt likes to say) by serving others.
I hope you will follow me on Facebook. My page (currently under construction) is called “Letters From Laken.”
Thank you so much!
On the evening of February 27th, I was taken by ambulance to Arkansas Children's Hospital in Little Rock, after doctors found a plum-sized tumor in my brain.
The next morning, I was being prepped for emergency surgery. Doctor after doctor came into my room to explain to me what was about to happen. I don't think they thought I understood.
But all I would say to them was ... Just get this thing out of me!
And they did. All of it! (Thank you, Dr. Albert :)
When I woke up from surgery, I felt awful. I had been throwing up for a month before doctors paid attention to my mom’s gut instinct, and finally found the tumor. And while I had gotten used to the throwing up, now I couldn't see. And it scared me. A lot.
But my mom was there by me the whole time, and promised me that everything was going to be ok. And I believed her.
The first couple of days of recovery were so hard. My head hurt so much from the 2 incisions, that I would scream out in pain. My vision was returning, but I couldn't focus, and it made me really nauseous to try.
My parents and I spent a lot of time talking in those first couple of days after my surgery about choosing how I want to recover, and how I want to get through the treatment ahead.
How it would be perfectly normal to focus on myself. My pain. My fear. My sacrifices. My hair!
But I could also choose to spend the year ahead in radiation and chemotherapy focusing on others. Thinking about others. Praying for others. Even serving others. Having an "attitude of gratitude," and using this experience to encourage people who are also going through a difficult (or worse) time in their own life.
I spent a lot of time in bed asking God ... What can I possibly do? I'm only 11.
And one morning, it hit me. I love to write. And no matter how badly I feel, I can always pick up my pen, and share some words of appreciation, or encouragement, or recognition, or even condolence, with someone who is going through a tough time themself.
When I shared the idea with my mom, she said ... “Letters from Laken.”
And I said, yes. Letters from Laken!
I started making a list in my head of all of the people who had been involved (so far) in saving my life. The surgeon. The ICU nurses.
Then a list of the people who had helped my parents by bringing meals and donating to help them cover the travel expenses. By making my 12th birthday party (a month to the day of my ambulance ride to Little Rock) amazing.
My mom started sharing stories with me about other families that are going through the same things we are. Some without any hope at all.
And I thought ... I could write a letter a day, and never run out of opportunities.
So that's what I am doing.
On May 13th, the day after I finish my first 6 weeks of proton radiation therapy in Dallas, I will begin dropping handwritten letters into my mailbox. Letters of appreciation. Letters of encouragement. Letters of condolence. And letters of celebration.
And I am not going to stop. Like, ever.
As I write, my parents have been busy building me a website and setting up social media accounts. Believing that the world needs a little hope and encouragement right now, and that I might somehow be able to offer a little, by way of my testimony and outreach.
I know now what I am supposed to do for the rest of my life. Change the world for millions… one letter at a time.
The day after my surgery, my mom (a very successful business owner) began contacting her customers, and letting them know that she’d decided to walk away from the business she had built over the past 5 years to focus 100% of her time and attention on me during my recovery and treatment.
And while that decision has already made a significant impact on our family, I cannot tell you what it means to me.
I created this GoFundMe campaign for 2 reasons:
1. I’d love to invite you to be a part of my ministry of hope and encouragement, by helping me pay for the supplies I will need to write at least one letter a day for the rest of my life. I'm not asking for a donation. I want to WORK!
2. I’d love to relieve some of the financial burden off of my parents, and make it a little easier for my mom to stay home with me and my siblings. Where she can put some of her business genius to work, and help me “make a dent in the universe” (as my stepdad Matt likes to say) by serving others.
I hope you will follow me on Facebook. My page (currently under construction) is called “Letters From Laken.”
Thank you so much!
Organizer
Matt and Jessica Fifer
Organizer
Bentonville, AR
