* * *
When Kaity asked me to write a guest post for her blog, I instantly said, “Sure!” Thinking there could be nothing easier. I share my story all the time. I talk about Massey and why I’m invested in its mission all the time. I talk about my participation in the Challenge all the time. But boiling it all down to a blog entry that makes sense is more—ahem—challenging than I expected.
Kaity and I have many similar perspectives related to our respective cancer experiences. One of the most notable is that I, like Kaity, at this moment in time, am amazed to be able to say that cancer has given me way more gifts than it has taken away. I always qualify that statement with “in this moment,” because, if there is one thing you learn from cancer, it’s that a whole lot can change in a moment. Like all survivors, my risk is high and I know that cancer could be lurking around any corner of the avenues of my life, and there may be a time that I wholeheartedly retract the statement. But for now, someway, somehow, I can tell you cancer has brought the most amazing gifts to my life. But that’s another post in and of itself.
The short version of my story is that I was diagnosed with a liposarcoma in my chest when I was 28 years old. It came out of nowhere—it was not something to be prevented, expected, or avoided in any way. My son was ten months old, so on top of it all I got to add in the worry that my pregnancy had somehow contributed to the growth of the enormous tumor that was removed from my chest. Following surgery, I underwent three months of radiation treatment—cake, really, compared with many cancer experiences, though the radiation was risky and only possible thanks to the latest and greatest capabilities at Massey Cancer Center. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even claim the cancer experience, not having gone through chemo or lost my hair or spent days vomiting.
But having spoken and shared stories with many cancer survivors over the last eight years, I know that none of those things are the primary definers of the cancer experience. The true bonds of cancer survivorship go a little deeper. I claim the cancer experience because of the night I bolted awake in the middle of the night, with the startling realization that I could die and my son would have no memory of me (I believe that’s called facing your mortality).
I claim the cancer experience because I spent an afternoon in tears with my mother when we my doctor said he would guarantee me three years…and the tears were of joy because surely my son would remember me if he had three more years with me.
I claim the cancer experience because I will never go to the most routine of doctor appointments without having an annoying amount of medical history to share. I claim it because I know what it’s like to wonder if a headache is a brain tumor or if a cough is more than a cough, and I claim it because a direct result of being cured of your cancer is to be automatically at higher risk for the next one.
I claim the cancer experience because not a day goes by that I don’t actively feel extraordinary gratitude that I was able to receive the most incredible care for my disease by the most remarkable, compassionate, brilliant doctors and nurses at VCU Massey Cancer Center.
About a year after I completed my treatment and life was starting to return to a new form of normal, I was simultaneously compelled to do several things. I wanted to show gratitude to those who had saved my life. I came from a nonprofit professional background, so I knew that meant getting involved, volunteering, making contributions—whatever they needed that I could manage, I was all in. I also wanted to reclaim my health, to show my body who was boss after more than a year of mental and physical fatigue from the constant beating and battering that cancer imparts on your body and soul. I took two actions that seemed at the time quite separate and distinct. I wrote a modest check and mailed it into Massey Cancer Center with a short note about my experience, my gratitude and my desire to help. I also signed up for the Ukrop’s Monument Avenue 10k.
It was January of 2005 and I became a runner. Having never run more than two miles on a treadmill, I joined the training team at the Midlothian YMCA, determined to prove that my scarred lungs were not going to hold me back from the physical fitness I now value more than ever. The 10k was so much more than a 10k. It was a ticket back into life.
Over that year in 2005, I not only continued running, but I got involved with Massey as a volunteer. A strange twist of fate gave me the opportunity to work at Massey—a most wonderful opportunity and a gift that never would have come my way if I hadn’t had cancer. Oh, life and its irony!
The following year was the second year of Massey’s partnership with the Monument Avenue 10k and there was no question that I was running again and that I would use my run to support Massey. That year I raised a little more than $600.
Eight 10ks, seven Massey Challenges and more than $27,000 raised later, why do I accept the Challenge? I have four reasons:
1. Because I can. I do not take my lungs for granted. I see people who—for many reasons—need assistance with their breathing just to walk down the street. That could have been me. My lungs, my body –it can run and run far! I don’t love running, and don’t really want to run MORE than a 10k, but as long as I can run 6.2 miles, I will run.
2. To celebrate. Every year I run the 10k with a race bib that proudly declares my run to be in honor of Dr. Ted Chung. I run to celebrate my health and those who gave it to me through their dedication to science, medicine and saving lives.
3. For maximum impact. I will give to Massey Cancer Center for the rest of my life. However much I can, however often I can. But my dollars are turned into so much more when they are combined with the generous donations of my friends and family each year. Over the last seven years, I’ve raised more than $27,600 through the Challenge! I certainly can’t write a check for that amount of money, but nothing makes me more proud than being able to claim responsibility for those funds being put to work saving the next life that needs it. One day that the life that needs saving could again be mine. Or worse, my son’s. I will never stop doing my part to find better treatments and cures for cancer.
4. For FUN. The Monument Avenue 10k is addicting, and the Massey Challenge is even more so. The question is not so much why do I do it, it’s why wouldn’t I do it. Each year has been unique and rewarding it its own way. I’ve conquered the race course alone. I’ve run with a group of the best friends a girl could have. I celebrated my five-year cancer-free milestone by running with my sisters and their husbands. Ever since cancer tried to take my life away, I very consciously do things that are life-giving. The 10k and the Massey Challenge are just that.
To me, my 10k is a little like life itself: The race is mine to run. I can do things to make it as easy and as fun as possible, though there are always challenges beyond my control. But at the end of the day, I always know I’ve done my best and I’ve done my part to make the world a better place.
Want to support Julie in her run for Massey? Click here to find her personal fundraising page. Want to start your own fight against cancer? Click here to join the Challenge yourself!
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love talking about VCU Massey Cancer Center, my story, and the Massey Challenge! I also just love hearing from others supporting Team Massey! Drop me a comment - I'd love to hear from you!