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  On
March 5, 1998, we were blessed with the birth of a baby
girl and named her Quincy Aidan Lee. Her two big brothers,
Brody and Keenan, age four and two at the time, were
thrilled to have a little sister. Quincy was a happy
and healthy baby who blossomed into our beautiful little
girl with auburn hair, an infectious smile, and eyes
that shone with the excitement of life's promise. She
was a loving child with a big heart and a nurturing
soul. She was spunky and expressive and always managed
to keep her older brothers on their toes. Our family
of five was living a wonderful dream.
 Things
began to change in October of 2001, when Quincy started
experiencing mysterious pains; first in her lower back
and then in her arm. The frequency and intensity of
these pains kept increasing over the course of the month.
Even with several trips to the doctor, the cause of
her pains could still not be discerned. By the time
Halloween came, it was obvious that something was seriously
wrong. Quincy, however, put her pain aside to go trick-or-treating
with her brothers around the neighborhood for one last
time. In the morning, we brought her to the pediatrician
again, which resulted in our being sent to the emergency
room at Children's Hospital in Oakland. After many tests
and scans we learned our lives were to be changed forever.
Quincy was diagnosed with Stage 4, Alveolar Rhabdomyosarcoma;
a pediatric solid tumor cancer with a very poor prognosis.
 Shortly
after her diagnosis, we transferred to the University
of California, San Francisco for treatment. UCSF became
our home away from home for the next 2 ½ years. Quincy
went through a very aggressive and intensive year of
chemotherapy and radiation treatment. Her remission
was brief and her cancer returned in February, 2004.
Through it all, Quincy was incredibly resilient; she
would let neither her treatments nor her pain and discomfort
get in the way of leading a happy life. During her last
year she would have chemo in the morning and kindergarten
in the afternoon. We were so willing to make those tri-weekly
chemotherapy visits to UCSF for the rest of our lives;
but it was not to be. Quincy passed away on August 4,
2004 at age six. She died in our arms after a very long
and difficult night. Shortly before she left us, she
somehow summoned her strength one last time to ask about
her brothers and say that she loved us.
A life is an uncertain thing. While its length can
be measured by the passage of time, taking stock of
its essence is something altogether different. The Quincy
Lee Foundation is a testimony to the love that surrounded
Quincy in her life and a celebration of the love she
made known in the world.
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