One of Many Firsts

There are times in this journey that something happens that makes me feel horrible.  I mean, really horrible.  Things like the number of people who continue to take the time to send cards of encouragement- something I always have good intentions of doing when I know someone is having a hard time or on a journey of their own- but never quite get around to doing.  Things like people who go out of their way to find something to do to help make things a little easier, because they knew we wouldn't ask.  Why do those types of things make me feel horrible?  Because it makes me realize how selfish I've been in the past and how I have lived in a world engulfed by my own little "bubble" where the only things that mattered were things that pertained to me or to my family or close friends. 

A few weeks ago, I had the honor to attend a local event that made me have "one of those moments".  You see, it was not the first time for the event.  No, it had taken place for several years.  It wasn't that I had never heard of the event- nope.  I had heard of others who had participated.  But, I guess because I never had a direct tie to the cause for the event, I never paid much attention.  In fact, I paid so little attention that I had no idea just how the event would impact my life.   I was not emotionally prepared for such an event. 

What was it?  It was our local Relay For Life.  Wow.  How had I missed this all these years?  Oh yea, that's right.  I didn't have cancer and I didn't have any family members with cancer, so why bother?  AGH!  How selfish of me!  And to be completely honest, I wouldn't have gone this year if it hadn't been for our local Pediatric Clinic (where my mother-in-law works) asking me to be there because their team was walking in honor of another employee and myself. "Sure, I'll come for a little while," is what I thought.  I had no idea how wonderful that night was going to be emotionally to help me in this journey. 

If you've never been to a Relay for Life event, make a promise right now to find one to be a part of, if not this year then next.  Jamie and I took the kids, my parents also came, along with my sister and her family, and my mother-in-law and sisters-in-law.  We all had an absolute blast! There were so many different activities going on besides just walking around the track, but the walking around the track is probably what had the biggest impact on me and my journey. 

First of all, anyone who is currently battling cancer or is already a survivor all wears the same shirts.  So everywhere you look, you can see many others who understand your journey.  They know best, because they've either been there/done that, or they are doing it right now.  This year's shirts were purple and across the back of the shirt it says "SURVIVOR".  If I'm being completely honest I felt weird wearing it because right now I don't feel like a survivor, maybe mine should have said "FIGHTER".  Anywho...I was reminded that you become a survivor the minute you are diagnosed.  So I wore my purple shirt with pride.  To begin the event, the first lap is walked by everyone in the purple shirts.  The rest of the crowd gathers around the track to cheer on the survivors.  And as we walked, I read the names of so many written on the bags that lined the track.  And then to see 4 bags with my own name on them!  Wow.  Powerful stuff.  I did my best to hold it together, even though I'm not very good at that kind of thing.  But then, for the 2nd lap, they had all of the caregivers join us to walk a lap.  So Jamie and my mom joined me (along with Karlie, who didn't want to miss any action) and we walked the second lap.  I held it together pretty well, until the DJ started playing the Martina McBride song that tells my story almost to a tee, except that I'm only 32.  At that point, I lost it.  And like he always does, Jamie simply put his arm around me.  No words were needed.  With that one movement I knew it was okay.  It was okay to cry, it was okay to be scared, it was okay to have doubts and fears- because no matter what, he will love me through it and never leave my side. 

After those 2 laps we spent time visiting with many people and participating in the activities they had- not to mention all the fabulous food available.   We heard of the Luminairia Ceremony that would take place at 9pm and I was not about to leave before that event.  It was so powerful!  All of the bags (luminaria) were lit to line the track. 

Then all of the lights around the stadium were shut off, and many people had purchased glow sticks for the ceremony.  So in the complete darkness, other than the candles in the bags, it was announced..."If you are a survivor, please break your glow stick now."  And all around you saw lights begin to glow.  Next "If you are a caregiver or family member, please break your glow stick now."  And more lights lit up.  And finally, "If you know someone affected by cancer and you support them on their journey, please break your glowstick now."  Just to see all of the glowing lights around the stadium was powerful.  To know that even though at times I feel all alone and like no one truly understands what this journey is like, there are always others out there who have been through or are going through the same thing.  Then, they began to read the names of those affected by cancer.  Some names were in memory of, some in honor of, and others in support of...This was probably one of the hardest parts of the night.  Yes I knew they were going to read my name, but there's something about hearing your very own name read in that context...almost a type of validity, that yes, I indeed have joined a group of people who I never intended to join- but for that matter, neither did they.  I have joined a group where the support is tremendous, but not one person in the group wanted to become a part of that group, and I really wonder if that feeling ever changes.  Somehow I doubt it.  But I think the hardest part about being a part of this group is the unknown.  There were a lot more names of those who had lost their battle, than there were for the survivors and current fighters.  When you are in the group, that's something you notice.  When people join this group, some survive and some don't  That's just fact.  And I truly believe that each of them began their membership ready to FIGHT!  But sometimes no matter how hard the fight, the cancer wins.  And this event is to "Celebrate, Remember, and Fight Back!"  So we celebrated those who have won the battle, remembered those who hadn't, and pledged to Fight Back alongside someone we know/love. 

Jamie and I have promised to make this an annual event for our family from now on.  Not just because I now have cancer, but because we know how wonderful of an event this is.  I am embarrassed by the fact that I have never been until now.  This event is one way that I plan to "Pay it Forward" in the future.  It is an event that next year, I can't wait to wear the shirt that says "SURVIVOR" and actually feel like one!  And maybe next year, there will be someone there that has just joined our club, someone who needs some support and encouragement from those who have walked their shoes, from someone who understands the journey they are walking,  just like I did this year.  And I pray that I will no longer just have good intentions of ministering to and encouraging others, but actually be able to follow through and make a difference.  Please consider finding your nearest Relay for Life event and getting involved! 

A HUGE thank you to the Columbia Pediatric Clinic doctors/nurses/staff for a wonderful night.  Thank you for letting me be a part of your team.  Thank you for your love and support!  That is a night that I will never ever forget!