"My name is Curt, and I’m from Algona. My daughter Shelby, who is 16, is strong, bright, and full of life. But earlier this year, I came terrifyingly close to losing her.
It all began with what we thought were simple stomach pains - maybe a virus, maybe a bacterial infection. For a couple of weeks we tried everything, hoping it would pass. But the pain got worse. Much worse.
One night, I rushed Shelby to the emergency room at MercyOne. They ran tests, trying to track down the cause of her symptoms. A scope gave us no clear answers. But then the radiologist looked at her chest X-ray and immediately noticed something no parent ever wants to hear:
“There’s air in her abdomen.”
Everything stopped.
Within minutes, doctors discovered perforations in her intestines. Shelby needed surgery - right away. I watched them wheel my little girl down the hallway, and in that moment, I felt completely helpless.
Shelby spent 16 days in the hospital, split between the pediatric ICU and the pediatric care floor. For more than two weeks, the hospital became our home. I burned through all my sick days and vacation time just trying to stay by her side. Our real home was 2.5 hours away, so the Ronald McDonald House gave me a place to sleep. Shelby and I ate most meals in the cafeteria. Every day was a blur of worry, monitors beeping, and hoping we were turning a corner.
And then, in the middle of all the fear and exhaustion, life kept happening outside the hospital walls.
While Shelby was still recovering, it was my son’s birthday. We hadn’t had a chance to plan anything - not a gift, not a celebration - because every bit of energy we had was going into helping Shelby heal. It broke my heart.
But then a social worker stepped in and introduced us to something we’d never heard of before: the Variety Compassion Fund.
Through the fund, we were able to get gas money for the long drives back and forth. Even more, they helped us buy a birthday present for my son - a gift we never would have managed to get on our own in the chaos of those days. We picked out a Switch Lite for him, and from the hospital gift shop, he even picked out a stuffed elephant. It seems small, but to us… it meant the world. In the middle of crisis, someone helped us give our boy a moment of joy.
I can’t describe what it feels like to be drowning in stress - terrified for your child, unsure how to make each day work - and then discover that strangers have chosen to care about you. People who will never meet us were still willing to step in and lift part of our burden.
It was amazing. Truly amazing.
To those who have already donated to the Compassion Fund: thank you. You didn’t just help financially—you gave us comfort, stability, and hope during the hardest two weeks of our lives.
And to anyone thinking about donating, I want you to know this:
Even a little bit makes a huge difference.
Expenses pile up fast when you’re living in a hospital. Your donation—no matter the size—can ease a family’s stress in ways you can’t begin to imagine.
From a dad who lived it:
Your kindness changes lives."
— Curt, Shelby’s dad
