Up until now, I've been a pretty casual participant in any causes that have come my way. Casual, as in the sense that whatever good I was doing didn't have much to do with my everyday life. Until now. Even helping put together the cervical cancer event last month, although near and dear to my heart because I lost my grandmother to cervical cancer, wasn't affecting my life...RIGHT NOW.
But things have definitely changed.
Until now, I've been on the outside looking in. Pressing my palms up against a pane of glass that had the real people on the other side. Those people weren't me or my loved ones. Those people were going through it RIGHT NOW.
I decided to do the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 2 days before my mom's breast cancer diagnosis on May 18th.
Right now, I am those people.
I am the one with a loved one who has cancer.
And if you've ever felt the pain of seeing your own mother look you in the eyes, terrified and scared, and tell you, "I have cancer," than you know how hard it was for me to even put those words on paper, computer screen, even to say them outloud.
My mom has breast cancer.
I sat at Wyatt's baseball game the other night, talking about the Race for the Cure with someone (who also happens to be my chiropractor - an awesome one at that) who has done it a few times and she introduced me to her friend whose mother had been through the same thing, 12 years ago. I listened as she told me about her mom's fight and win against breast, uterine, and then another type of cancer. She told me that is why she walks the walk.
She asked me how long it had been since my mom's diagnosis and I sat there, wearing my new pink ribbon hat given to me by my good friend, and tried to count the days. Three weeks? I told her. Not really sure because I didn't have a calendar in front of me, it felt like about three weeks so that's what I said.
"She'll be ok," she told me.
And I believe her.
When I got home I checked the calendar. Not because I'd written the day of the diagnosis on there, but because my inner organizational freak (you'd never know it looking at my kitchen sink right now) was really wanting to know exactly how long it had been.
She was diagnosed on the anniversary of the Mt. St. Helens eruption.
Damn volcanoes anyway.
In two weeks we have organized a team of 12 to walk and/or run in the Race for the Cure and have raised over $1,600 for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. We've been given pink bracelets to wear. We've made buttons. I've become a team captain and try every day to make sure everyone on our team is getting the information they need. My friend Kim has been not only a wealth of information on participating in a 5K (she's got a few of them under her belt), but she's also picked up pink ribbon mardi gras beads, bright pink flower leis and the supplies for the buttons at the craft store. And...she motivates me every day to walk, and sometimes even run.
I even ran up a hill the other day and this morning, I got out of bed at 6:45AM to walk our 5K IN THE RAIN.
If we can do all of that in only 2 weeks...imagine what we can do for the course of my mom's treatment?
We're going to rock this thing mom. I promise. And you're going to be just fine. I can feel it in my bones.