Did You Vote for Kids Like Kingston to Die?

I originally wrote this in response to a few people in another thread who were asking about what causes Kingston’s type of cancer and why I take issue with the idea that prevention alone is the answer. I’m sharing it here as its own post because I think a lot of people genuinely don’t understand the difference between adult cancers and pediatric cancers—and why prevention, while important, is not enough.

Until every type of cancer is fully understood, prevented, and eliminated, the argument over where funding should go shouldn’t even be happening. Kids who are already sick still need treatments. They still need clinical trials. They still need a cure.

Here’s the full post:

How did Kingston get cancer? What causes medulloblastoma when it’s not genetic, environmental, or linked to carcinogens?

Medulloblastoma isn’t the kind of cancer you get from your environment, your food, or your parents. It’s not preventable, and it’s not caused by something you did or didn’t do. What happens is this: during early brain development, one tiny group of cells in the cerebellum starts dividing way too fast. And when cells divide too fast, they don’t copy their DNA perfectly every time. That’s when mistakes—mutations—happen. If the wrong mutation lands in the wrong gene, you get a tumor. That’s medulloblastoma.

Think of it like this: if you’re rushing to build a house and you skip checking your measurements, sooner or later you’re going to mess something up. The structure might still look okay for a while, but the foundation is flawed. With cancer—especially this kind—it’s that same kind of flaw. The growth outpaces the quality control, and the body doesn’t catch the mistake until it’s too late.

This is not one of those “everything causes cancer” situations. Yes, lots of things in the world are carcinogenic. You can basically throw a rock and hit something that’s been linked to cancer in some study. But Kingston’s cancer was not caused by pesticides, food dye, red meat, plastic, or shampoo. It was a biological accident during early brain development. That’s it.

And the hardest part? There’s no warning. No early symptom. No test to catch it beforehand. It’s not like you feel a lump or start coughing. By the time symptoms show up—headaches, balance problems, vomiting—it’s already grown.

The vast majority of pediatric brain tumors, including medulloblastoma, are caused by spontaneous genetic mutations during early development. They’re not inherited, not caused by toxins, and not linked to infections. There’s no diet or lifestyle factor that could’ve prevented it. And there’s currently no technology—none—that can predict when or how that mutation will happen in a healthy baby or young child.

That’s not just my opinion. That’s backed by research from St. Jude, Dana-Farber, UCSF, Mayo Clinic, and more. Even the AI imaging studies you may have seen—like the one from Cedars-Sinai—are in very early stages, and only apply to kids who already show signs of tumors. They’re not designed to predict cancer in healthy kids before anything even starts to go wrong.

There are also no vaccines in the works for medulloblastoma. None. No clinical trials, no immunizations being tested, and nothing close to becoming available. The only cancer vaccines we currently have are for virus-linked cancers like HPV and Hepatitis B. Medulloblastoma isn’t caused by a virus, so those don’t apply.

Even if we somehow uncovered and eliminated every environmental cause of cancer by the end of 2025—if no new diagnoses ever happened again—we’d still have 45,000 kids in the U.S. alone who were diagnosed between 2023 and 2025. Every year, about 15,000 children and adolescents under 20 are diagnosed with cancer in this country. Globally, that number reaches several hundred thousand. Those kids still need treatment. They still need research. And they still need a cure.

So while prevention might help with some adult cancers, it would not have saved Kingston—or the tens of thousands of children already in the fight. And when people act like prevention alone is enough, it hurts. Kids like my son are being treated like an afterthought because the funding is shifting toward stopping cancer before it starts, instead of saving the ones who already have it.

Why are we even debating the need for a cure for already sick children—many of whom won’t live to adulthood without one?

Most people who know me—and feel like they know me well enough—should know I researched everything. I questioned it all. Where did I take him? What did I feed him? Who or what was responsible? I would’ve lit the world on fire to fix it if I could have.

I’m genuinely curious: where is the motivation to push back on this topic coming from? I’m not trying to be rude, and I truly hope it doesn’t come across that way—I just honestly want to understand. What is it about this argument that makes you so sure prevention is enough? Kingston was three years old when he was diagnosed. How much could I have realistically exposed him to in that short time? What could I have possibly fed him or used around him that would’ve caused a malignant brain tumor before he was even out of toddlerhood?

When we’re talking about cancers like medulloblastoma—caused by mutations that science still can’t predict or prevent—it’s not just inaccurate to say prevention would’ve helped. It’s dismissive of what families like mine have lived through. It’s dismissive of the kids still here, still fighting.

I get it—cancer is terrifying. If it hasn’t touched your life, of course you’d focus on preventing it. That’s human. You want to protect yourself and your kids from ever having to face it. But the reality is, cancer already exists. It’s already happening. Tens of thousands of children are in treatment right now. So yes, prevention has value—but a cure is still absolutely necessary. Shifting all focus away from treatment and research for the kids who are already fighting isn’t just shortsighted—it feels like abandonment. It feels like saying their lives don’t matter.

Have you seen research that proves I’m wrong about this? Because I’ve looked. I’ve spent years trying to find answers. And if there’s something out there that shows this type of cancer is preventable, I’d want to see it. But every study, every doctor, every institution I’ve spoken with has said the same thing: this was not something I could’ve stopped.

They don’t need cleaner food labels. They need a cure.

And honestly, it might be helpful to post this response as its own standalone post—because I think there’s a lot of confusion and misunderstanding about the causes of childhood cancer. It’s simply not the same as most adult cancers. The broad assumption that all or most cancers are caused by things we could’ve prevented is, quite frankly, wrong.

Phew. I wrote and rewrote this about eleven times trying to make sure it was delivered with respect, backed by facts, but also grounded in my honest feelings about the conversation as a whole. I hope you all understand where I’m coming from, and that this can be received by people on both sides of the debate. If it helps clear up even one misconception or opens someone’s eyes to what families like mine are living through, then it was worth the effort.