Relay for Life

Last week, I had the opportunity to participate in the Relay for Life that supports the American Cancer Society. It was such an amazing event - really powerful and emotional. I had wanted to do the relay for a few years when I heard about it on campus but was always too busy to really do it.  This year I was able to go and I joined my church group. I raised $360. I had to raise my goal after it was met twice. I asked my mom if she wanted to do the survivor’s lap. So she and my dad came for the beginning of the event.

Walking the survivor’s lap was really interesting. Everyone cheering and clapping around the edges as the group of survivor’s walked around. But it was being in that group of survivor’s that was surreal. Cancer really affects everyone. And although I didn’t have cancer, I survived just as much as my mom and in the same way as my dad and brother. We made it through. And here they were clapping for us. Clapping because we made it.

I was young when my mom went through treatment the first time. Do you remember what you were doing/thinking/feeling when you were 11? Was one of your biggest concerns how your mom was feeling? In my 11 year old mind, I thought I understood but looking back I didn’t actually understand as much as I thought I did. My mom did chemo the first half of that year, which was the second half of my fifth grade year. My mom continued to work part time and was even my Girl Scout leader. The summer between fifth and sixth grade she did radiation and was all done with treatment by the time I started middle school.

Then two years ago she was diagnosed again. Although I was 10 years older, that same feeling was there. Would everything really be okay? I knew it would be but there is always that moment of doubt. It is a helpless feeling you have. Standing by as someone you love goes through such a terrible thing. There are some things you can do but nothing that stops it.

I once visited my mom while she was getting her chemo treatment that summer of 2008; I was going to relieve my dad who had taken the day off work to drive and be there for the eight hours of treatment. This was the third of four treatments so they knew the process well by this point. Because of my young age when she had cancer before, I never went to her treatments. My brother and I would stay with friends or our grandma.

It was weird to be on the chemo floor. Stations are set up around the edges of the room close to the windowed walls. Small televisions and headphones are provided along with magazines and other distractions. Some people had relatives or friends while others were alone. Everyone was at different stages of treatment. You hear of numbers and statistics but all that is meaningless until you put a face with it or a family member becomes part of those statistics or even yourself.

It was hard to sit and watch the process as different drugs were given throughout the day. These chemicals are supposed to target the cancer cells but also destroy good cells. As one bag of drugs emptied another was hung. My mom would note the time and calculate how much longer she would be there knowing it would be over soon but not soon enough. And yet she remained positive knowing she was one step closer to being done with all of it.

It has been almost two years since then and she is still free from cancer.  Her hair has all grown back.  The scans are normal.  And she has slowly regained some energy. She has survived.

After the survivor's lap, they had cake for the survivors and the survivors could talk while everyone else started relaying. The survivors could connect with their stories which is the point of Relay to show that you are not alone.  After my parents left, I walked the rest of the first hour. Then again from 9-10.

Later on at about 10, they had a family talk about how cancer has affected their lives. The mom and son had both been through it. But the son who was 15, I believe, had started treatment in the fourth grade and had taken many different drugs over three and a half years. They had a representative string of beads to show all the treatments he had taken.  And that string was something like fifteen feet long. The mom spoke of the heartache of watching her son go through such pain and I could identify with that in watching my mom go through her treatments. Then they asked everyone to hold up their cell phones for who they knew with cancer or how it had touched their life.  In the end, everyone was holding up their phone. There was a stillness about everyone holding up their phone. The silent lap followed with Divine, the women's accapella group, singing. Everyone piled onto the "track" and filled it all the way around. And we all walked in silence. There was this calmness in walking that lap. At first, I was walking mostly by myself, unaware of others, but by the end I was walking next to my fellow team members. I remember specifically realizing half way through how one person in particular was walking right next to me. There was a comfort in knowing they were right there with me and in knowing I was not alone. (If you were that person ... thanks!) I find it interesting how that lap has paralleled my own journey. For a long time, I didn't let others in. I was not open to looking for support. But once I did look around, I found people who were willing to listen, give advice, and just be there if and when I needed them.

I finished the Relay for Life walking the last hour from 6-7 in the morning. My pain from walking for almost 3 hours and tiredness from maybe 2 hours of sleep is nothing in comparison to those who go through cancer treatment. That is why I relay.