Sick 4-year-old girl from Norfolk, Va., gains a new Las Vegas family

It's a big country. More than 300 million people call it home. There's heartache untold from here to Hyannis Port.

But you're kidding yourself if you think we're not all connected by a common thread of humanity. It's a lesson 4-year-old Savannah "Nana" Reid teaches every day from her bed in the oncology unit of Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters in Norfolk, Va. That's about 2,500 miles from Las Vegas.

What's so special about the kid? For starters, she's a sweet little brown-haired spirit who likes to dance and sing and play. "She's like a little Hannah Montana," her mother, Resa Reid, says.

Nana was diagnosed in February with Wilms' tumor, a form of childhood kidney cancer. About 1 in 250,000 children gets it, and the cure rate is high if it's caught before it metastasizes.

Unfortunately, Nana's grapefruit-sized tumor had started spreading to her lungs. Following surgery to remove the tumor and one kidney, she started an intense chemotherapy and radiation program.

She's lost her hair, her mother tells me, but not her delightful spirit. Resa spent much of her youth in Las Vegas. Resa's father, Rick Rosen, is regularly heard on Fox Sports 920 radio with Marty Rodick.

With that, the thread starts to emerge.

Then there's Eric Snyder. In addition to his weekend sports radio duties, Snyder is the general manager of the Montana Meat Company restaurant and bar at 6731 Centennial Center Blvd. He knows Rosen and, like many in their circle of friends, has been touched by Nana's story.

But it's more than that. Snyder, the lighthearted hail-fellow, many years ago lost his 3-year-old brother to leukemia. Snyder was 12 at the time. He saw and felt the impact of that loss on his family.

So when Nana Reid was diagnosed, Snyder couldn't wait to do his part. A fundraiser for Nana featuring an appearance by UNLV basketball coach Lon Kruger and very likely a number of his players is set for 5 p.m. Thursday at the restaurant. There will be a radio simulcast, a silent auction and a lot of food.

The Reids never thought they'd be in a position to need help. Resa was a successful graphic designer. Husband Eric was busy running a construction company. They had a happy Nana and a healthy 20-month-old son, Eric Jr.

"Once we found out she had cancer, everything changed in a heartbeat," Resa says.

Now Eric Jr. lives with relatives. Resa and Eric have lost their medical insurance and scramble to work while caring for their Nana.

Maybe a restaurant fundraiser seems like a small gesture in the grand scheme. But for the Reids, it's an enormous act of kindness from a bunch of guys who are essentially strangers living on the other side of the United States.

"It is crazy," Resa says, taking a moment away from Nana's bedside. "I can't even talk about it without crying."

And so she starts, but adds, "It's amazing to me that people who don't even know my daughter are reaching out to help us."

The child is rapidly reaching a medical crossroads. In a few days, the family will know whether the intense chemotherapy and radiation are working to shrink the lesions on the lungs. If not, there will have to be more surgery.

Back in Las Vegas, Snyder takes time out from his work at the restaurant to say, "I saw what my mom and dad went through. If there's something I can do, I'll do it. My staff is really into it. It's good. And it makes you feel good to be able to help.

"She's not getting her treatment here, but it's still a local family's kid. And the kid's such a fighter."

Resa Reid can barely believe it herself.

"People, when they hear it's a child with cancer, are amazing," she says. "Perfect strangers that I don't even know are helping us.

"Nana's only 4, but she totally understands what's going on with her. She asks, 'Mommy, are they praying for me?' I tell her yes. It's amazing to me how people love her and they don't even know her."

For a $75 ticket, there's a three-course, Montana-sized meal, two drinks, a T-shirt, and the knowledge that you're part of a thread of humanity that reaches from Las Vegas all the way to Norfolk.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295.