WHERE 

Last Days of Autumn Brewing, Knoxville

WHEN

October 6, 2024

"When September began in 2006, I wasn’t a cancer momma. On the 26th of that month, that year, I became one. Cancer mommas are a breed apart. We fight even after our kids are gone because the heartache is nothing we wish on anyone. We fight. We cry. We collapse. We get back up. We do it again and again. If my heart can handle it, you can surely pay attention and do something. One last time." - Kathy Wolff

For over 10 years, Kathy, with the support of the rest of the Wolff Pack, has raised tens of thousands of dollars for CureSearch. The CureSearch mission will always be one close to our hearts. 

After years of being absorbed with childhood cancer, our family has decided it's time to retire Team Graham's Magic. It's time for us to move away from the tragedy and onto the next adventure. It's time to let our brown eyed boy grow up.

Join us October 6 at Last Days of Autumn in Knoxville for one final Packers game day fundraiser. And if you can't be there, please consider donating to make the last season of fundraising for Team Graham's Magic the best one yet!

All money raised goes directly to supporting CureSearch.

Our journey into the world of childhood cancer began with a limp. It was the first sign something was wrong. Graham was 8 years old. He played football, basketball, video games, Legos, and tormented his two older sisters, Emily and Karly. He was an honor roll student and had just started 3rd grade. I watched him limping for a week or so. I convinced myself it was a pinched nerve. I made an appointment with our doctor a week later. The next sign was startling and sent us to East Tennessee Children’s Hospital before that doctor appointment. He was using his left hand (he was right handed) for his school work and when I asked why, he said he couldn’t feel his fingers on his right hand. The diagnosis, given in the emergency room, took my wind, my heart and my legs right out from under me. There was a large mass on Graham’s brain. We still didn’t know how much worse this whole diagnosis would become, but at this point, I was sure it couldn’t get worse. Prepare for a major brain surgery to remove a large tumor from our son. In just a matter of minutes we were thrust into a major medical crisis. The date--September 26, 2006.

Two brain surgeries, a two week hospital stay. Diagnosis: p-net cancer. Off to St. Jude, prepared for treatment which, at the time, was a horrific thought in itself, but it was going to be Graham’s cure. One week at St. Jude. CHANGE of diagnosis: Glioblastoma Multiforme Brain Tumor. Graham had one of the most aggressive, untreatable, statistically ridiculous brain cancers that exist. A GBM. Eighty year old men get these, not eight year old boys. When the world-leading pediatric brain cancer doctor gives you this news, there is no digesting it. It makes you sick. There is no way to put a positive spin on that conversation.

We chose treatment at home. Graham had 30 high dose radiation treatments combined with oral chemo. In the scheme of cancer treatments, this is fairly simple. Since there were (and still are) no viable treatment options, this meant less invasive medical procedures. No port. Finger pricks sufficed, for the most part, during his treatment. We spent more time across the street from Children’s at Thompson Cancer Survival Center. They were where I gained most of my information and support during treatment. Our clinic visits were few. 

The tumor was removed by surgery and the follow up treatment made Graham cancer-free at the end of January. His scans were clear in March of 2007. We were able to step away from the clinic. Our next scan would be scheduled in October. Graham had physical and occupational therapy. He regained his use of everything. We had a great spring and summer. He did all the fun stuff kids should do. Don’t get me wrong, we knew what we knew about his cancer. Our concern for Graham’s quality of life was always our primary focus. We knew, if or when this cancer came back, there were no options.

On September 30, 2007, Graham had a brain hemorrhage. The cancer was back with a vengeance. Looking at him, you never would have known. I can’t say it caught us off guard, but in a way it did. He was doing so well. 

I won’t go into too much detail about the final weeks. We were in and out of the hospital a few times. The second visit was another surgery on November 1 to relieve the pressure on his brain. He never got better. On December 5, 2007, Graham died at home in his Dad’s arms. He was eight days shy of his 10th birthday.

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