write2fight.com

Her name is Jennifer!

2008-07-20T19:26:00.000-07:00

You won’t notice me as I line up with the back of the pack at the local 5k this weekend. You might notice my son, tucked into his running stroller in his bright orange “I Know You Can Do it” shirt. You might even offer him a high five, which he will gladly return. But you won’t notice me. I am neither the fastest or the slowest. I am not running in a costume, or the finest and newest in running apparel. I am not the heaviest or the thinnest. I will never be on your leader board. You won’t hear my name at the awards ceremony. You will not notice me this weekend.

I was never a runner. A singer, a cheerleader, an actress, a math nerd, yes. But a runner? No. That was my sister. She played basketball, and she did it well. And in the off-season, she ran cross country and track to stay in shape. In the off season. Three miles a day, three or four days a week. Three miles? My God, I couldn’t imagine. Too much like work, as far as I was concerned.

I married young, when I was twenty three. My husband and I were desperately in love, happy and carefree. Three days after we returned from our honeymoon, I went to the doctor for a routine visit. I was a newlywed, relaxed and tan, and when the doctor began rattling off alphabet soup to her nurse, I didn’t think twice about it. CBC, T4, they meant nothing to me. I was the very definition of ten feet tall and bullet proof.

Six months later, after countless blood tests, uptake scans, ultrasounds, and biopsies, I underwent a partial thyroidectomy for a lump on my thyroid that almost certainly wasn’t cancer.

Only it was.

It was two different types of thyroid cancer, both aggressively attacking my lymph nodes, but fortunately very treatable. Two surgeries and a round of radiation later, I was on my way with a prescription for Synthroid and a clean bill of health. I told everyone I was fine. I thought I was fine. I was far from it.

Cancer changes you. My body had attacked me, so I attacked it back. I ate whatever I pleased, whenever I pleased. I was self destructive. I reveled in feeling poorly, paying my body back for what it had done to my spirit. Depression settled in, and the weight piled on. At the time, I didn’t realize how bad it was but looking back, I’m shocked I was able to keep from my family how very, very sad I was. After three long years and a very difficult pregnancy, I realized something had to change. I was sick and tired of the way I looked, sick and tired of the way I felt. Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I easily talked myself out of doing anything rash, like joining a gym or changing my eating habits. But I did begin to walk. I strapped my son into his bulky stroller and walked around my neighborhood every day. I did it while my husband was at work; I didn’t want witnesses to my huffing and puffing. When I began having trouble getting out of bed because of my sore legs though, I had to let my husband in on my secret. He was immediately supportive, loading my closet with new running clothes and nudging me towards the door when I began talking myself out of my walks. A few weeks later, a shiny new running stroller arrived at our door. I laughed because running? Me? I don’t think so.

Slowly though, I did begin to run. At first it was just one lap, not even three quarters of a mile, around our neighborhood. Then two laps, then three. I can’t even remember who first suggested that I run a 5k, whether it was me (certainly not) or my husband or my sister, who began to run with me and take it in turns to push the stroller, but on June 23, 2007, I lined up to run my first 5k. I was nervous and uncertain and downright terrified. My sister stood beside me, prattling on so I wouldn’t have to talk.

We finished the race in 47 minutes. It hurt, and I was miserable, but as soon as I finished, I knew I’d run another.

And I did. I ran half a dozen 5ks, then decided to move up to a 10k. It was the best run of my life, and before I knew it, I had registered for a half marathon. On February 10, 2008, exactly three years after being declared cancer free, I finished the Mercedes-Benz half marathon in just over three hours. I finished with tears streaming down my face.

I started running to change my body. I kept running because it changed my soul.

My friend Angela is always telling me to take baby steps. I tend to rush into things without looking, expecting perfection of myself, setting myself up for failure. I finally took her advice and changed my life.

And somehow, when I wasn’t even looking, I became a runner.

Submitted by Jennifer Fitzpatrick

Her name is Becky!

2008-06-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

I was born in Canton, Ohio on March 1969. I was adopted into a wonderful Hungarian/Siren Family; whom I cherish dearly. I as well, have a wonderful 15 year old daughter. She is undoubtedly my guiding star.

My mother and daughter have endured alot over the course of the past two years. It has meant the world to me, that they have been lovingly by my side. Unconditionally showing me their support and Love. My family has been my guiding light throughout my journey with Cancer, and I would like to send my unconditional thoughts of Love and Praise.

It's with great sadness that I bring the news of the passing of a Dear Friend who is coincidentally named Rebecca Ann. She was known by all who knew and loved her as Becca. She was only 36 years old and she fought Melanoma avidly, with gracious vigor.

We had actually met, after much confusion in the clinical lobby at the National Cancer Institute. There were four Rebecca's in the lobby that day awaiting to see the Doctor's. It's an odd coincidence, but none-the-less, one that was meant to be. I had in all actuality, thought that it was her sister who had been diagnosed with Melanoma. Becca was so lively the entire wait, you would never have known that she was the patient.

We had corresponded for months and had asked the Doctor's at the National Cancer Institute if we could do our IL-2 Cancer treatments at the same time. Our research nurse was more than happy to make this happen.

Our online community of family and friends, at www.mpip.org (Melanoma Patients Information Page; cheered us both on, during this difficult treatment. We became known, as "the IL-2 Queens". We supported one another throughout this treatment and beyond.

I know, that I have been given a wonderful opportunity to share my story. I feel that it would be unfair and unjust to speak of myself, solely. My Life has forever been touched by Becca.

If you were to visit the Mpip bulletin board today, you would see, what a grave impact she had on the Melanoma community. Many other's, have, as well; aided in my discovery of new treatment options. They have given support, when very little was given or asked of them.

I feel honored and privileged to tell you, not only my story and journey through a Cancer diagnosis, but many other's who have lite the way. They are the true heroes and heroines of the day. It is in great Memory and Dedication, that I submit to you this:

The Power is in YOU! The power was in Becca to help guide me through a very difficult Cancer Treatment. She was sent here, to be by my side. To fight, alongside; myself, and countless other Melanoma Cancer Patients.

I believe in the greatness that surrounds our lives. I believe that everything happens for a reason. My Melanoma diagnosis is a blessing in disguise. I have learned to live stronger, hold on longer, and fight harder.

My be-loved friend, Becca, is a Melanoma Angel. She is watching me from Heaven above. I look forward to the day, that I may say: Thank-You. You touched my Life.

A Cancer patients journey in Life is one paved with great emotional awareness and zest. We learn to look at Life through a different perspective. I believe, that Cancer can be our cure. Our cure to Life's ailments and strides. We have been given a gift. A gift; of LIFE. To learn to truly Live.

Thank all of your reader's for helping raise an awareness. Early detection can and does save Lives. See your dermatologist. Get your yearly Doctor check-up's. Let everyone know, "it's NOT JUST" skin cancer. It's Melanoma, a deadly form of Cancer.

May all those who have fought the good fight and all those who continue to fight the good fight LIVESTRONG and forever long; they with forever be in our hearts, mind, body, and soul.

As far as benefit fundraising... The Melanoma Research Foundation. Dr. Rosenberg at the National Cancer Institute in Bethesda, MD. He is determined to find the Cure for Melanoma. On a more personal note: I want to help outreach to Melanoma Patients/Families in Financial need. It is TRULY very difficult to find resources and funds for your Living Expenses while trying to fight this battle. I'd like to help financial aide those in need ~ A program needs to be made... where the INDIVIDUAL ~ Cancer patient gets the funds needed to help them with their monthly expenses while off work and fighting this battle.

I wish Peace to all in your journey and path through Life. Discover yourself. Live your Life. Make your Dreams come true and hold on tight.

Kind Regards, Becky (stage IV Malignant Metastatic Melanoma patient and warrior)

Submitted by Becky

His name is Paul!

2008-06-15T20:02:00.000-07:00

I was born in a small village in southern Ontario, Canada in 1934 to bilingual French parents (both now deceased) and had 6 sisters and 3 brothers.

I met my dear wife at the office where we were both employed, we were married in 1963, our cherished son Gregory was born in 1964. To complete our life journey, we were also blessed with two fantastic daughters and now two grandsons that we just adore.

The passing of our son's lovely wife Maureen, our daughter-in-law, with that dreadful disease cancer was very traumatic to us, as you are quite aware, was devastating to our son Greg by the loss of his young wife.

Unfortunately, this was not the first time cancer had come into our lives.

This all started with my brother Jules (eldest) with prostate cancer..he had quite a battle with this disease, surgery of the Prostate Gland then Radiation then Chemo and is still dealling with wth the issues of the after effects from all the procedures.

My sister Margaret the 4th one to be born was diagnosed with Kidney Cancer in 1996 but was fortunate to have been detected at an early stage and has been in remission ever since.

My other sister Marie born just before me was also diagnosed with clavicle cancer and passed away in 1998. I was present at her bedside in the Hospital when she died and if anyone else have ever experienced this (as Greg did) it is not pleasant.

And, the story doesn't end there, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer, was treated for the disease, and am a survivor.

We will be making a donation to the Canadian Cancer Society on behalf of all the above mentioned.

Regards
Paul/Terry

Her name is Holly!

2008-05-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

You never think it will happen to you and then it does and then you pray every day for one more day even while feeling guilty for being lucky enough to have one more day.

I was diagnosed with Stage III Metastic Nodular Melanoma on February 14th, 2005. On that day, my world opened up in way I could have never imagined.

From the start, every visit to the Doctor was a chance to get some "good news", a chance to pretend this wasn't really happening but it took 3 visits and 3 rounds of "bad news" to realized that my cancer diagnosis was real and very serious. Only then, did I stop looking for good news and start looking for answers.

I looked for love and support and I found it in my friends and my family. But for answers I went to the Melanoma Patients Information Page. (www.mpip.org) MPIP offered me real information and friendship with people who understood exactly what I was going through, were in the fight of their lives and could offer me a breadth of knowledge that went beyond facts and into real-world experience.

While on MPIP, I made many close friends. Carver, Mellisa, Miss M., Kim, Heather, and Monika just to name a few. Of those six, THREE are gone.

They died while the rest of us have survived. But to what end?

I promised myself when Kim passed on, that with what time I had, I would do whatever I could to help spread the word about Melanoma and that I would continue to live, race and support all fellow cancer survivors to Live STRONG!

May is Melanoma Awareness Month. Along with sharing some sobering statistics and Tips on Prevention dail on my blog (http://triandbehappy.blogspot.com/), I am doing what I can to support my local community's effort to raise awareness. On September 21, 2008 I will race in the SAVAGEMAN Olympic Distance Triathlon. The event raises money for Joanna M. Nicolay Melanoma Foundation. The Foundation, an all-volunteer, non-profit charity based out of Maryland.

My goal is to raise $3000.00 in honor of those MPIP members who are no longer with us and to celebrate and give thanks for 3 years as a Survivor.

http://www.active.com/donate/SavageMan2008/triandbehappy

You never think it will happen to you...consider the possibility that it could and make PREVENTION a priority, please.

• Use sunscreens rated 15 or higher

• Avoid unnecessary sun exposure

• Teach your children good sun protection habits at an early age. The damage that leads to adult skin cancers starts in childhood.

• Stay away from tanning booths

Life is Good! LiveSTRONG!

Submitted by Holly Gannoe

Tommy D

2008-04-24T07:17:00.000-07:00

Two Friday's ago, I had the honor of going to Dr. Tom's office to watch the filming of the video for the Tommy D foundation. The main filming was done in Dr. Andrew's (Jenn's grandpa) office which I honestly hadn't been in since um, I think I was 17. It was amazing. Nothing had changed. It felt safe(sounds strange even typing that a doc's private office was safe). Anyway, I sat and listened intently to the loving way that Dr. Tom explained Tommy's diagnosis and treatment from age six until last August. It was hard to listen to him talk and give the timeline of Tommy's treatment over the years. I felt badly that I forgot a surgery that he had back in 2002. It was hard to think of how I felt the first time I met Tommy when I was just moved here. I never knew anyone who actually had cancer and brain cancer was just so foriegn to me. I remember being worried about how to treat Tommy. Then after I got to know Jenn and family. I knew to treat Tommy as just one of the gang. He was always so pleasant. I really can't think of a time when he was 'in a bad mood' I have said it before but Tommy really taught me to live for the moment. Enjoy every breakfast, every lunch, a cup of coffee, a television show.

I sat in the chair in Dr. Andrew's office and saw Jennifer's dad as a father who had love in his eyes for his son. I saw a man who did everything possible to seek out 'the best' possible treatment for Tommy. When that treatment plan wasn't working as well, then he sought out another plan. There was never a 'this is the end' there was always another option on the horizon. I saw a man who loves his four children. I saw a man who loves Lucille (Jennifer's mom). Tommy relied on Lucille for strength. I saw a man who did everything he could to find a cure for Tommy and s now tryng to make the path easier for others who are diagnosed with this horrible disease. I was honored and proud to be there to witness this moment. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. The whole family teaches me about the person that I strive to be.

April is birthday month for Jennifer's family and I know that Tommy with his grandparents are rejoicing and celebrating each of the April birthday's from Heaven.

Submitted by Michelle

Stephanie

2008-04-02T11:58:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago I had the pleasure of enjoying dinner at Greg and Stephanie Johnson's house to help plan out the 2nd Annual Stephanie Johnson Tri. I couldn't stop looking at Stephanie and their whole family thinking how healthy and normal she looked and how normal their household was. They don't really know how much more time she has, but if anyone were to see her, they would guess 30, 40, 50 years. I am in total awe of their ability to live life to the fullest, while still continuing to be a normal, every day family. I've said it before, but I do not think there is any way I would ever be strong enough to continue on the way that they have. It is just amazing and inspiring.

I pray for them each night, along with several others. I hate that it seems my list is getting longer and longer. I wish I could do more. I really do. I wish I could take just an ounce of hurt out of the hearts of people affected by cancer - both the cancer victims themselves and their families. I wish they could go at least one day with no fear, no pain, no heartache. I wish the people who have been left alone due to a loved one dying of cancer would never have to feel alone again. Uncle Boyd said the silence in his house was deafening after Aunt Linda died. My stomach still turns in knots every time I think of that. Caitlin said she doesn't think she can bring herself to sell her dad's car because it smells like him. Others can't really tell me how their loved one with cancer is doing because they can't bear to know the information themselves. Mom said the other night "I HATE cancer." I wanted to say "no sh**" but I didn't.

Here is "the list" as of today. It is ever-changing and always growing. It sucks.
1. Ellen
2. Stephanie Johnson and her family
3. Mrs. Chandler
4. Alaina's mom
5. Clayton (we met his mom at Tx. Children's)
6. Caitlin and Cary for the loss of their dad in December
7. Elizabeth's grandmother - recently diagnosed with breast cancer
8. Mike and his family, after the loss of his mom in 2003
9. Aunt Linda's family, after losing her in 2003
10. Mishele, after losing her mom in 2005
11. Ruthie's family, after losing her aunt in January

In 11 short days, I will be racing with each of these people in my heart. I will be racing for them and in memory of them. I will be wearing my special #99 proudly, as a sign that I'm part of the Janus Charity Challenge, and racing for "something bigger than myself" as Sissy said.

I'm still working on meeting my goal of raising $5000 for the American Cancer Society, so if you know anyone with some loose change, please point them in this direction.

Submitted by KCWoodhead

Her name is Hannah!

2008-04-01T15:00:00.000-07:00

We met on a retreat in a remote area of Mexico. I knew she was special right away. She is beautiful and graceful, (I teased her and told her she looked like a model for Eileen Fisher!), as well as smart, and has spent her life dedicated to helping others as a Chiropractor, body worker and nutritionist. She is an athlete and a Yogini and meditates daily. She is committed to health and well being both personally and professionally, but in a quiet, unobtrusive manner. I’ve been in the business of natural wellness for many years myself, and I can say that Hannah is, bar none, one of the most knowledgeable practitioners I’ve met in many years. She was an inspiration to me, and very generous with her hands, her heart and her knowledge.

Two days in to the retreat, I sat next to Hannah and we began to share our stories. Hannah’s story, a long journey of 3 years that began when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, humbled me. She was at peak fitness, loving life and felt terrific when she got the sad news that she would need a mastectomy, chemo and radiation to battle her cancer. I listened to her detail the experience of surgery, harsh chemotherapy that wiped her out, then radiation that sapped her energy, of how the entire experience brought her to her mental, emotional, spiritual and physical edges. She shared her journey towards recovery, and of how her life and her body have forever changed. I was very moved by her courage and grace, of how she seemed able to communicate this difficult journey with a sense of levity.

The retreat continued to unfold, and as it did the women began to open their hearts and, as often is the case, the pain of recent losses and disappointments surfaced amongst us. Yoga has a way of softening the heart, especially when you have the time to really dive in. Other stories of cancer and loss surfaced. One of the women broke down and shared that she had recently lost a best friend to a short and intense battle with colon cancer. When she cried, it was Hannah who came over to hold her. Grace in action.

At the end of the retreat, we all traveled the 5 hour journey from the remote location of the retreat to the airport together. As it turned out, Hannah and I had later flights in the same terminal, so we hung out for 5 hours together and had a nice long lunch. I commented on how much she had inspired me with her vigor and grace. After sharing her story so intimately at the retreat, and holding such a comforting space for others, Hannah decided to share yet another aspect of her experience that really moved me. She talked about feeling like she had to hold back expressing her own fears of death and dying from her loved ones so as to ameliorate theirs, of having to be strong even when she felt defeated and exhausted, of never being able to speak of death or failed treatments or an uncertain future, of feeling daunted in a confusing medical arena, of having to weigh tons of complex information and make life altering decisions, of dealing with disfigurement, of changed relationships. The tears came. Hers and mine.

I have a bit of a different perspective than the other stories shared in this forum. I’ve been lucky. The only cancer in my family has been in very elderly distant relatives, and their treatments were not aggressive nor were their cancers, although I am not arrogant in thinking that cancer can’t happen to me...too many really vibrant, healthy people are surprisingly stricken in the circles I frequent, and I suspect in general. As a Yoga teacher and sitting at the helm of a Yoga community rooted in a studio I’ve run for 9 years, I have had the ‘difficult privilege’ of bearing witness to the ravages of cancer in many students’ lives. It is not uncommon for folks dealing with cancer to turn to Yoga for stress relief or as a way of regaining a sense of peace or physical strength. I say it is a difficult privilege because I am always humbled and impressed by the dignity with which people meet such daunting challenges. Because of these experiences over the years, I have been motivated to seek out supporting organizations and resources that I can pass on. I’ve volunteered as a support person myself in a hospice setting and on a hospital unit with stage 4 cancer patients. I know how important it is for cancer patients and survivors to be able to talk about their fears with others who are perhaps a bit removed, who can witness without letting their own fears get in the way. Often, these organizations are in need of funds, as well as volunteer support. Here’s a few favorites. Hope you’ll be moved to help.

www.gildasclub.org
http://www.cancerhopenetwork.org/
www.breakawayfromcancer.org

Submitted by Cyndi

Brad

2008-03-31T16:12:00.000-07:00

Each Spring, I participate in The American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life in memory of my dad, Brad Wilson.

There are many reasons why I decided to start participating in Relay for Life, but they all come back to my dad. He was diagnosed with lung cancer when I was only two years old and although he made a miraculous recovery, I spent my childhood watching his health decline due to the after effects of his cancer. The twenty long years he lived after his diagnosis were filled with pain, illness, and his overwhelming fight to live for his family. Even near the end of his life, when he was in the hospital going through procedure after procedure, he still put his family first and cared only about our happiness.

My dad was always there for me, no matter how sick he was. He never missed a soccer game, or an awards ceremony. He was there when I started high school, when he sent me off to college, and again when I graduated. He was there when I was sick, or scared, or so happy that I had to share it with someone. And for all of those memories I am so, so thankful. But he was not there when I started my first teaching job; he was not there for my wedding; he has not been here to see the woman I have grown up to be, and that is why I participate in Relay for Life.

I Relay because so often when our loved ones are fighting this illness, we feel helpless and out of control. We watch them fight, and feel as if we can do nothing to help them. Relay gives me a chance to give back to my dad, who fought so hard and gave me so much in my life. It gives me an outlet for all my grief and sadness, and a place to put all of my hope for the future. I learned from my dad that anything is possible. That even when the doctors say you have no chance, you can live to watch your children grow up, you can teach them about the kind of strength that makes someone a hero. My dad was the most amazing person I have ever known, and every part of me has been shaped by his courageous fight against this heartbreaking disease.

Help me make a difference.

http://main.acsevents.org/goto/karriewhitsel

Submitted by RunnerGirl

Opal

2008-03-29T06:04:00.000-07:00

My mom: Opal H. Boyte 10.06.1918 to 11.21.94

My mom was never sick a day in her life until cancer arrived. She was the one always taking care of everyone else, always making sure everyone else was happy and healthy.

My mother had eleven cysts removed from her breasts over the years, all benign. As cyst number twelve surfaced there wasn't much alarm. The decision was to "watch it", as all the previous ones were benign. My mom was very religious about getting her mammograms due to her past. Three mammograms and three years later the cyst was "watched" right into cancer!

In 1984 my mom had a mastectomy. It was a difficult time to say the least. I was living in Alaska at the time and my parents were in California. My oldest son was two years old. My mother insisted it wasn't a big deal, women experienced this all the time. My dad however, was another story. I could hear the sheer fear in this voice, my reply was "I'll fly right down!" I remember wating in the recovery room for her return from surgery. My dad, normally the most talkative one in a crowd, had very little to say. All I remember him saying is "I can't lose her!" Tears came easily...

Now 1991, seven years later, the wonderful news comes. The words we all waited to hear, "Opal, you're now cancer free!"

The next two years my mother experienced various health problems. The main issue was she just really didn't feel well. Further testing established the cancer was back, now in her bones. She refused to allow herself to be debilitated by this horrid disease. She wanted, and kept a normal schedule for much of the time. Through agonizing pain with defiant determination my mother fought to the end.

Now 1994, I'm living six hours away from my parents. I drove down for the weekend, my mother was back in the hospital again. I had to work the following Monday, I also knew when I walked out of the hospital that day, I would not see my mother again. Sure enough, the call came at 3:00am Monday morning from my dad, "honey we lost her."

The next four years I spent many hours and weekends on the road traveling to be with my dad. After fifty years of marriage he was like a lost puppy. No matter what I did or said I couldn't cheer my father up. My dad simply did not want to live without my mother! I was sitting next to my dad in the hospital when he drew his last breath...they were finally together again.

Cancer is such a nasty disease with no regard for age or gender. It destroys more than the life of the victim, it destroys hopes and dreams. Cancer cuts a wide swath in the lives of family and friends. I would encourage all to get involved in some way to fight this terrible thing. The odds are high that you or someone you know in your life time will be affected by cancer. Let's do something today!

Thank you for allowing me to be a part of write2fight, for the opportunity to boost awareness.

Sincerely, Patty A. Boyte

Submitted by PattyB

Donna

2008-03-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

My Mom, Donna Lee Wrigley, died from Lung Cancer on Sept 4, 2007 at the age of 59. This is a reprint of the Eulogy I gave at my Mom’s funeral.

We’re here to celebrate the life of my Mom, Donna Wrigley. My Mom was born in 1948.

My relationship with her started when I was born in 1971.

I’ve been told my sister and I were pretty good kids, and there’s a reason. My Mom was strict. There were no “time-outs” in our house. Punishment for the Wrigley kids came in the form of the wooden spoon on a bare bottom. Most of the time Mom only had to bring the spoon out and place it down in front of us to get us to straighten up and quiet down. I think everyone here knows that I’m a runner, but I bet most of you don’t know that I started running because of that wooden spoon. When I was just a little boy, I figured out that when Mom started going around the apartment and closing the windows – I was about it get it – and I would take off running as fast as I could. The reason she had to close the windows was because as I ran through the house I would yell as loud as I could “Help! My Mom is trying to kill me!!!” I’m sure she didn’t find it too amusing at the time, but years later she would laugh out loud while telling that story.

Though she was strict, she also loved to have fun. In the early 80’s, Mom bought a condo in the San Fernando Valley . For the next decade, our weekends were spent out by the pool or at the beach. We would often spend all day by the pool – starting as early as 8 in the morning and staying out there well past sundown.

Mom worked two jobs for many of those years to help make ends meet. She was a legal secretary during the day and a waitress at night. I remember we used to save aluminum cans and about once a month we would recycle the cans and use the money for a movie, or lunch, or if Mom chipped in a little extra, we’d go to an amusement park.

Mom was energetic. When she took us somewhere like Disneyland , she was not the kind of Mom who dropped us off at the front gate and told us to meet her back later for lunch. No, we had to run to keep up with her going from ride to ride. In fact, I didn’t even know Disneyland had attractions like “the Tiki Room” or “the People Mover” until I was an adult. Those were just not fast paced enough for my Mom. I can remember getting off a rollercoaster just 5 minutes before midnight, when the park was about to close. My sister and I would be dragging our feet, but Mom would rally us to get in one more ride before the park closed. So we’d file in behind Mom running across Disneyland , dodging around people trying to get to their cars, so we could get in one more ride.

OCD seems to be a family trait. There’s a running joke amongst my friends that if you lift up a lamp in my house, there will be an outline underneath it with the word LAMP indicating exactly where it belongs. But I still have a long way to go before I can really consider myself organized the way my Mom was organized. Just to give you an example, my Mom kept her office supplies in the top drawer of her desk. Her paperclips were sorted in a small compartmentalized organizer by size. Now, that’s really not that odd. It’s something I would do. But my Mom took it a step further and arranged each paperclip so they were all facing exactly the same direction. Even as kids, I remember our house was always organized and clean. Recently, after the cancer had spread to her brain, she lost some of her motor skills and balance for a few weeks until the radiation treatment started to work. I knew right away when she was feeling better because she was able to start cleaning the house again which really made her so happy.

Mom was also loving, and caring, and generous and when you take all of her traits and qualities, and someone with that level of organization you get someone like Donna who started Christmas shopping in August and had everything wrapped and ready by Thanksgiving.

Unfortunately, my Mom was also a smoker for all of her adult life. Late in 2006 she was diagnosed with stage-4 lung cancer that had already spread throughout her liver.

My Mother’s illness and recent death have been hard on a lot of people, but one thing in particular has been very difficult for me. I was very lucky to grow up with the love and support of all of my Grandparents – My Dad’s parents didn’t pass away until I was 19 years old, and my Mom’s father is sitting here with us today. When my niece Melissa was born 11 years ago, we had five living generations of Women in our maternal lineage. But since then, my Great Grandmother, Grandmother, and now my Mom have all passed away leaving us with only two generations. It breaks my heart to think about my kids growing up without my Mom around. More than anything, she really loved her grandkids.

When my Son was born, my Mom used to call him Grandma’s buddy, which over the years, somehow got turned around and became the name that he called my Mom.

Shortly after my Mom passed away, I told my son that Grandma’s buddy had died from cancer. I didn’t really know what to expect as a reaction from a 4yr old but I felt like he had the right to know. The first thing he did was ask me, “Dad, can’t she just go and get her body fixed?” He knew she was sick and frequently visiting doctors to try to fix her cancer. I had to explain that once someone is dead, their body can’t be fixed. Then I emphasized how important it is that we remember her. He was carrying around one of those big exercise balls at the time, and I could see his eyes tear up and his face sadden as he leaned over and gave the ball a big hug. So I called him over to sit with me so I could give him a hug and try to hide my own tears. Then I asked him to tell me something he remembered about Grandma’s buddy. Immediately his face lit up, he smiled, and he said loudly – COOKIES! I hope we can learn a lesson from my 4 year old and whenever we’re feeling sad about the loss of my Mom or anything else sad in life, we can try to think of a good memory and maybe it will bring a smile to our face too.

It’s now Spring, 2008 - about 6 months since my Mom passed away. My son just recently had his 5^th birthday party, and the night before the party he started crying and told me that his birthday wish was to have Grandma’s buddy at his party. It makes me cry just writing it down.

Donna’s memorial website: http://www.thewrigleys.net/memorial/

Submitted by The Wrigleys

Anna

2008-03-21T16:31:00.000-07:00

My mother was born in a very small town in northern Greece in 1943. Well, we think it was 1943, but since my grandmother didn't read or write and since the church that housed all the town records burned down in the 1950's, it really could have been earlier. Or later. The recollection of the event was that the snow was beginning to melt and spring was approaching, so they settled on March 20th as her birthday. 1943.

She lived in Greece until her early teens. Around this time, my grandfather, a mason by trade, had heard stories of the opportunities in America and after much soul-searching, the family of six set sail. They came across Ellis Island and ended up in Ft. Wayne, Indiana in the middle 1950's. Other family had come across sooner, and my grandfather found work immediately building houses.

None of the family spoke any English, but since my mother and her youngest brother were still school aged, they were enrolled in the local elementary. My mother excelled. She loved school, she loved the social aspect, and soon - she was as fluent in English as she was her native tongue. Well, except when she recited her multiplication tables, that is.

She was the first (and only) in her immediate family to go to college. She attended Ball State, where she met my father, and right after graduation, they were married and my father whisked my mother off to Del Rio, Texas, his first station as an Air Force Officer.

She never complained. No matter where they went. She loved the travel. She loved the new experiences, and she always made where ever they were stationed - home.

She was beautiful, she was silly, she made friends easily and people were instantly at ease in her presence.

My sisters and I were born in succession. Me in 1969, Teresa in 1971 and Crista in 1972. She loved having girls and we loved having her as our mother. Sure, she could be a pain - what mother isn't now and then (myself included), but she was always there for us. There are countless stories, but suffice to say, each one of us was absolutely certain that we were her favorite. And that, in my estimation, is the mark of a good mother.

We were close when I was growing up and even more so as I became a mother myself.We shared everything, good and bad, and I could always count on her completely biased (in my favor) support. She loved me, of that I never doubted. Although I pushed her. And I made her mad sometimes. And I even told her once that based on our blood types, she could never have been my mother.

A time came when I was working quite a bit, traveling frequently for work, and the only interaction we would have were our daily telephone conversations. After these calls, I was often left with a nagging feeling that something was not quite right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew, deep down. In my heart of hearts, I knew, there were too many signs for me to ignore it any longer and in a panic one morning, I phoned my father at work and told him to go home and take my mother to the hospital. Right then. Not after work, not later. Now, immediately.

Something in my tone must have made him realize that I was serious and he did just what I asked and within a day, my mother was x-rayed, CT scanned and in surgery. The cancer, glioblastoma, was in her left frontal lobe - the part of the brain that controls speech. And short term memory. And emotion. Everything I'd been noticing but couldn't seem to put words to.

The doctor came out of the surgical unit and started talking about stages, she was stage 4. He talked about the surgery, words like lobectomy and radiation and chemotherapy. He talked about life expectancy, eighteen months, maybe two years.

And in that instant - life changed. Forever.

I'd like to say that I was the perfect daughter after the diagnosis. That I was there, by her side, the entire eighteen months, giving her support, giving her love, but I wasn't. I was afraid, I avoided seeing her. And as I look back, I can't imagine how it must have hurt her. Even today, I can barely say the words without welling up. But she never said anything, never tried to make me feel guilty, she just loved me. Unconditionally.

The few weeks before she died, again, I knew. I'd get up in the morning, drop my children at school and drive the 45 minute drive to my parents house, where I'd stay until it was time to pick my children up. I spent those last few weeks with her. I watched her, I bathed her, I medicated her. I held her hand and I talked to her. I gave her every ounce of love I had in my heart while she drifted in and out - talking aloud to angels while she dreamt.

The night of her death, I knew that I needed to stay. Something in my heart told me I needed to be with her, so after Thanksgiving dinner, my family went home and my father and I remained with my mother. We held her as she took her last few breaths. We told her it was ok, she could rest, we told her to go be with the angels because we would take care of everything, and slowly, slowly - she let go.

When I look back at those moments, I realize how much that eighteen months changed me. Before the diagnosis, that word - cancer - wasn't even in my vocabulary, but in an instant - I came to know its full meaning. Intimately.

And ultimately, I was left with, what now? I just couldn't not believe that she would be taken that way without there being some sort of purpose. The God that I believe in would not allow it, of that I was certain.

That year, I ran the New York Marathon and raised $6000 for Memorial Sloan Kettering's Cancer Center in honor of my mother and in honor of Fred Lebow, the founder of the NY Marathon who also fought courageously against glioblastoma.

In following years, I offered advice, my knowledge of the disease and an oft used shoulder to friends whose parents or loved ones were diagnosed with glioblastoma.

I cared for my sisters, my father, I took over the holidays and played matriarch to my family.

I met my running partner, Mrs. Cashman, and we realized on our very first run that our mothers had died within days of each other, a few years apart, of the very same cancer. Rare cancer, small world.

I took up triathlon because as I watched my mother's cancer progress, I realized how physically weak she was and I vowed that should that be my fate, I was not going down without one hell of a fight.

I started to blog and the stories of my mother and Papa, and those I love who have battled cancer came pouring out into a medium where I received instant feedback, and virtual love from around the globe.

I did therapy. Lots of therapy, where I finally came to realize that I am strong and that it is ok to be sad... as long as there is purpose.

Today, write2fight.com gives me a new purpose. It gives us a purpose. It allows us to call attention to the stories of those we love, or those of us that are personally afflicted with cancer. All types of cancer. Any type of cancer. Take your pick, there are many.

We have the opportunity, the privilege of spreading the word - we tell our stories, we raise awareness of the charities and organizations that are fighting this monster, we donate and raise money to help in that fight, and we make a difference.

Did you hear that? We make a difference. YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE. It's our purpose, those that are left and those that fighting. It's the least we can do.

Go make a difference.
American Brain Tumor Association

Submitted by Momo

Maureen

2007-11-11T17:15:00.000-08:00

I've never wanted to be a spokesperson for fighting cancer. I would have rather it just stayed the hell out of my life. But, it didn't. And, I can't forget that it did. I will not forget that it did.

Because at the end of the day, and sometimes like today at the beginning, I know that you and I have always drawn the long straw. We are the lucky ones.

I didn't get cancer. My wife did. Breast cancer.

Yes, I lost everything in the world that was important to me, but, I did not lose my life. There isn't a day that goes by that I didn't wish it was the opposite way around.

'What am I going to do?' was the hardest question I was ever asked. Now, it is the hardest question I ask myself. When someone in your life is diagnosed with cancer you get asked that question. You ask yourself that question for the rest of your life.

I'm past my grief. I've moved on with my life, I've loved again and lost, and will love again. My wife made me promise her that I would move on with my life, but never forget her. She made me promise her I'd do all the things we had intended to do...

I know what I want to do.

But, I need help. Your help. I can no longer just sit idly by and give generously to cancer research and survivorship. Because I can't let cancer come into your life, and take away everything that was important to you. You have NO IDEA how horrible this disease is.

No idea.

Governments are not going to cure cancer. Private enterprise will cure cancer, but, only if we fund them.

We.

Me, you. We.

So today, I'm not pulling any punches. I'm sharing with you pictures from my life with my wife. Some of you feel you know me. Take a look at the pictures, that was me. The guy you see racing around in a tri one piece. That is not me. That is me after cancer dragged me into its world -- a widower -- left to try and find his way alone.

I feel more strongly compelled to do this, than anything in my life.

I feel like I am not alone.

I feel like there are many others out in blogland, that have had their lives affected by cancer. Many of you have written about cancer in your blogs; many of you have written to me about your stories; and many of you may have yet to write. Many others who want to do something.

I feel like there has to have been some greater purpose to my having a blog, than just writing about triathlon and my life now. I find it hard not to do something more. We share much of our lives in blogland. Maybe we can share our need to do something about cancer. And, that will make our blogging experience more meaningful, because it has the context of something greater.

We've created this blog just to share our stories of how cancer has affected our lives. Each person that contributes a story, will be listed on the blog. Each blogger that donates to fight cancer, will be listed on the blog.

We will write to fight. Bloggers against cancer.

Events like Breast Cancer Awareness month come and go. Now, we can build out a blogging network that can help in the fight against cancer every month.

We've built this site to create ongoing cancer awareness. The idea behind the stories, will be to share how cancer has affected our lives. But, only have people read the story, these stories, until you want to donate towards the fight against cancer. We will be asking you to donate to the cancer charity of your choice, and just leave a comment on the blog that you have done so and why. In this way, we will create a virtual cancer foundation in blogland, that will be independent from all of us, but championed and built out by ALL OF US. Bloggers helping people understand the need to donate to cancer research and survivorship.

All I'm asking from you to give up, is your stories for the blog, and your donations. For your help.

I hope all cancer ever asks of you to give up is your time and money. Cancer asked me to give up my wife. Let's do something about it together. I want you with me on this one.

If you would like a recommendation on two cancer charities that were important to me and my wife, and would like to honor her memory. You can donate generously as I have to cancer survivorship at The Lance Armstrong Foundation donation page or to breastcancer.org donation page.

Both were a source of inspiration and information to us in our fight together against cancer in our lives, and would encourage you if you do not wish to make a donation to learn more about these resources here at The Lance Armstrong Foundation or breastcancer.org.

Submitted by Greg aka Bolder in Boulder

How to join the write2fight.com movement

2006-01-01T16:52:00.000-08:00

How to submit your story

Please email your story, or a link to your blog story, to lvglrg@yahoo.com to have your story published on write2fight.com.

Each day a story will be published to share how cancer has affected our lives. How we will write to fight. Bloggers against Cancer. To create awareness about cancer and survivorship -- until cancer is beaten...

How to add write2fight.com logo to your blog

Please add the following html to your right-hand content to spread the word about our write2fight.com movement!: