"What's the right thing?"

My nine-year-old (almost ten) just asked me this question. We were talking about a retreat I may attend in April, at The Crossings. A "Crazy Sexy Cancer Boot Camp" retreat. I've usually adhered to a self-imposed policy of NEVER going to an event called boot camp anything, but I may change my mind.

Anyway, the child asked me if I was going to the retreat that has "cancer souvenirs" and the trapeze. Cancer souvenirs is a term coined by my pal/fellow parent Sue, who got the honors of running me over to Southwest Regional Cancer Center for my aforementioned Neulasta shot. In a corner of the waiting area is a basket of T-shirts for sale, put out by the Cancer Connection, a non-profit. On the back of the shirts is "10 Reasons Why" something something. I haven't paid very close attention to it. But Sue, marketing professor, was immediately hooked. "Cancer souvenirs!" she said. "I never thought of marketing cancer." Honestly, neither have I, but really, it's everywhere — once you're in Cancer Land. The term "cancer souvenir" has stuck, however.

I replied that I thought the lady leading the workshop has some great things to say, but that I am very skeptical of some of her advice. Like what? kid asks. (Wow, not expecting this.) Well, I said, (and now I'm paraphrasing) what she has to say about nutrition isn't backed up by scientific documentation. By comparison, the guy I went to for advice about what to eat and take not only has the opposite point of view, he has the education to make himself more credible.

"What's the right thing?" she asked me.

Wow, not expecting this, either.

I told her unless I was convinced otherwise I would follow what the man with the PhD in oncology and nutrition said. I will listen to the person who I feel has the most authority to give me advice.

This is just my way of doing things. I'm not very concerned with what other people do — even if I AM outright mystified why they are doing the things they do (junk food, all raw food, and God knows what else).