Event helps grant wishes for kids with cancer

Volunteers call BASE Camp a "beautiful distraction." It’s an outlet for the soon-to-be-blind child whose sabotaged dream was to be a baseball player, and a way for the twins with leukemia to make the most of a movie night with friends and family. It’s a treasured hour-an-a-half pause from chemo's chaotic oppression, and a fairy godmother for the little girl whose "second wish" after remission into leukemia is a trip to Disney World.

For kids like Danny Whitaker, hospitals become and all-too-familiar second home. At the tender age of 5, Danny was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Now, 10 years later and after 52 treatments, Danny is a survivor. His relationship with BASE Camp started when volunteers delivered a simple meal of chicken nuggets to his hospital room. He couldn't resist the wafting scent and scarfed them down — and it was the only thing that motivated him to avoid the feared and dreaded feeding tube.

Danny's mother Cindy Whitaker said that simple act of benevolence is what sparked her to volunteer with BASE Camp for a year before finally becoming a staff member. Vibrant art pieces painted by her bright 16-year-old hang along her walls — pieces that he created over the years at BASE Camp's art programs as memories of how far he has come from that onerous journey.

The sixth annual Black and White Event to benefit BASE Camp will be May 8 and 9 at the Rosen Plaza Hotel. For more information on how you can donate, visit http://bit.ly/1Gq1Axk

Every year for the past four years, a weekend-long "black-and-white" event offering 30 hours of entertainment and dancing aims to fundraise for BASE Camp. With 700 tickets sold out and a wait list for its upcoming May 8 event, it's still accepting donations. Attendees come adorned in black-and-white outfits for the poolside event. Heissam Jebailey, who organizes the party every year, said the purpose is to give parents a lighthearted break and let people celebrate while supporting the organization.

"There's hundreds of kids that are ill because of cancer … and the parents, it gives them a chance throughout the year to maintain a sense of normalcy — and that's what the black-and-white event allows them to do: be filled with laughter instead of all the treatments they have to do [for their kids]."

Twenty percent of each ticket is donated to BASE Camp, and the funds support the organization's office of resources, children's art camps and three daily meals delivered to families who spend their days in the hospital. As of Sunday, the event has already helped raise $1,000 in separate donations.

BASE Camp's art programs allow children to paint, sculpt, write and even act to cultivate alternative, expressive escapes from the reality of the diseases these children endure.

"We're not here to solve anything — we're just providing relief," said Sandy Bonus, who runs art camps for the organization. "I want to share a happy day — I want to share just a normal day so that somebody that's the age of 6 can feel normal, even if it's just for a day … so that they can have relief from the pressure of that illness."

BASE Camp president Terri Jones said that along with personally delivering three meals per day to children in the hospital and holding movie nights and art camps, the organization aims to support families as a whole. The office has groceries for families who can't afford enough, and offers support for coping siblings whose brother or sister were struck by the disease.

"The dynamic of the family — it's just like a war or something," Jones said of the effects of the ravaging illness. "They have this wonderful, beautiful, healthy child that's now faced with this journey, and this journey is just so horrible … the going to the hospital week after week after week."

Jones recalled a 16-year-old boy whose dream was to become a pilot. He had already plunged into applying for vocational schools, and the day he received an acceptance letter was the day he received the news that he had bone cancer, halting his lifelong goal.

Despite an emotionally taxing job of observing crushed dreams and helping build new ones, Jones said she wouldn't trade it for the joy and relief she witnesses in a mother's eyes after delivering a meal to her child's hospital room.

"We feel like family friends, we don't feel like just associates, people who work for an organization — we feel like we've become their friends," she said.

And just like Jones, Jebailey said seeing a smile on a child's face in the middle of adversity is what keeps him going, what motivates him to keep the hope alive for the kids — and their parents.

"Being able to do this for them and see this firsthand, to see them smile, is the best feeling — and makes everything we're doing worth it."