I hate the concept of sick kids. No, not the idea of children themselves, but the thought that it actually happens. I had a relatively nice childhood, but it is very irksome when not the case. For those who missed this, I was born with three holes in my heart. Not one or two, but three. Holes. In. My. Heart. OK, I will stop being a drama queen now. Why did the holes wait to manifest themselves until I was 31? I have no idea, but the fact that I was never very athletic makes a lot of sense. There are kids younger than 10 who have had strokes. I have been privileged enough to interact with teen-aged stroke survivors. They should be thinking about cars and sports and prom and such. Instead, they are thinking about speaking. It's not fair. I started this blog to say illness is stupid. It doesn't matter whether the victim is young or old. Being sick stinks. I lost my mother almost 10 years ago. Breast cancer, I had prepared for it, not a stroke. Even though I shopped for wigs with her (while she joked about looking like Farrah Fawcett) I have a soft spot for sick kids. Which is why I am donating my hair to Locks of Love. Also, thanks to Kelsey. You know why.