Originally published July 12, 2006. Fourth of four parts.

April 2006

Cyndie French is out of the house for the first time in days.

She is sitting at a pizza parlor with other American Cancer Society volunteers, chatting about an upcoming charity event. She is trying, for just a couple of hours, to distract herself from the fact that her youngest boy, Derek, has cancer and her oldest son, Anthony, has disappeared.

Suddenly a gaunt Derek pushes through the restaurant's door, looking like a punch-drunk boxer. He has a shiner around his left eye and a pained look on his face, and he is stomping toward them.

Derek has come here, with a reluctant Grandpa Patrick Degnan, to scold Cyndie.

Mom! he yells. What are you doing here? You need to be home with me! I'm the one with cancer! Me!

Cyndie is momentarily speechless.

Everyone, she says finally, putting her hands on her son's shoulders, meet Derek.

Derek is 11 and battling neuroblastoma, a cancer of the nerve cells. The disease has spread throughout his body, and his pain is relentless. He spends his good days creating virtual universes on his computer and his bad days writhing in bed.

The bruising on his face is from the cancer, which is invading the orbit of his eye. He has trouble catching his breath because the tumor has wrapped around his aorta, the main artery from his heart.

UC Davis Pediatric Hospice nurses now come regularly to the family's home to try to make Derek more comfortable. But it is Cyndie's attention that he demands, 24 hours a day, every day. Tonight he ordered Grandpa Patrick to bring him here.

Come home! he yells, as other restaurant patrons watch in horror. Fix me! Let's go!

Cyndie can feel her face turning red. She has heard words like these many, many times before.

She asks Derek to sit beside her and convinces him to stick around for a slice of pizza. As she finishes her meeting, he is content.

For Cyndie, the volunteer work is survival, a way to feel productive and forget, for just a while, that her bank account is negative and her family is falling apart.

Cyndie, a single mother of five, has lost almost everything to Derek's cancer. She has given up her business -- a tanning and nail salon -- to be with Derek around the clock. Sometimes she can't pay the rent on time. Her family lives on proceeds from car washes and raffles and spaghetti feeds.

Her daughter Brieanna, who is 6, has moved in with her dad in Orangevale. Derek's brothers Micah and Vincent are getting counseling at school, but they are distracted and are failing classes at River City High School.

Cyndie's oldest son is 18 and an adult, but she is worried about him, too. Anthony left home in August after he and his mom had a horrendous fight about whether they could afford an Internet hookup for him.

At first, he kept in touch by cell phone, telling his brothers he was OK and living with a friend. But no one has heard from him in a while. Cyndie is working her connections at radio stations and the West Sacramento Police Department to track him down. So far, no luck.

Life has never been harder or more complicated for Cyndie. But she is unwilling to sacrifice the charity work, which she believes may be Derek's legacy, the answer to the questions she has been asking herself since his diagnosis on Thanksgiving Day in 2004.

Is there a reason for all of this? What can she learn from it? What good can come of it?

She is still pondering those questions weeks later while rushing from grocery store to party store, assembling volunteers and hustling food for a fundraiser.

Her cell phone rings. It is Jonathan Ducore, a UC Davis pediatric cancer doctor, with results from Derek's latest body scan.

The tumor, Ducore tells Cyndie, has invaded the base of Derek's brain, the area that controls breathing. It is in his lungs. It is in his liver, which is why Derek's belly is bloating, making him look like, as Cyndie says, one of those starving children in the magazine ads.

His time is very short, Ducore tells her. I'm so sorry.

To comment on this story e-mail journey@sacbee.com or phone (916) 326-5596. The Bee's Renee C. Byer can be reached at (916)321-5279 or rbyer@sacbee.com. The Bee's Cynthia Hubert can be reached at (916)321-1082 or chubert@sacbee.com.