Beating Cancer, one day at a time

Beating Cancer, one day at a time

Friday 5 June 2015

Relay For Life

For those of you who don't know, Relay for Life is an annual fundraising event hosted by the Canadian Cancer Society. My Mom has been the volunteer president for years now, as well as a two time Cancer survivor, so it's always been close to my heart.

I've always attended every year, but I have to admit, I never stayed long. I would go, listen to the opening ceremonies, buy some luminaries and then leave shortly after the walk started. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't completely overwhelmed by the evening.

One of the first times I remember crying, really crying, after being diagnosed was on our way back from one of my appointments. Mom was with me and could barely hear what I was trying to say through the tears, "I...have...to walk the first lap." The sudden realization that I was a survivor, and what that entailed at Relay, really struck home.

Like I said, I've attended Relay for years, I've watched people walk the track amongst friends and family while candle lit luminaries light their path. But I've never wanted to walk the first lap. The one that meant I too have Cancer, I'm a survivor.
 
Last year every survivor carried a paddle to illustrate how long it had been since they were diagnosed. It's always so inspirational to see women like my Mom holding a sign that says '20 years.' At the time my paddle said '59 days.'

The whole experience was so new to me. It had been less than two months since the diagnoses and I was still struggling to understand it all. I had started chemotherapy, lost my hair and was spending all my time in and out of appointments. I missed the reality of the life I once knew. But more than anything, I missed work and all my friends.

I knew how important the evening would be but I didn't think anyone really knew about it. I assumed I might see some close friends and family, but I could never have anticipated the response I received. When they called all the survivors to the track for the first lap Mom and I joined hands with my Aunt (also a survivor) and prepared to take the first steps.

There's really no way for me to describe the next part. The honour of walking amongst a hundred other survivors as a crowd full of people cheer you on. I had watched this ceremony take place for years, but to actually stand amongst them and understand the struggle, there's no words.

I often talk about how the most important thing to a survivor is support. I have to say, I've never felt more love and compassion on that open field than I have in my entire life. Like I said, the diagnoses was all so new to me. To know that everyone there that night understood what I was going through. Whether they were a caregiver, volunteer or friend, they knew.

As we walked along the track and saw their faces, I shared every smile, felt every tear. The way people can join together and unite for such a cause, any cause really, is unbelievable. I had never met the hundreds of people that were cheering us on, but I didn't need to. We were all there for the same reason, and in that moment I didn't feel alone.

People often dress up in costume along with their survivor shirts and paddles. The three of us decided to wear capes. Looking back, it couldn't have been more appropriate. Not only did we feel like superheroes, but I swear we didn't just walk that first lap, we flew.

The relay is to celebrate life and all the survivors, but it's also to honour everyone that is no longer with us. The whole field is filled with luminaries lit up with names of survivors, past and present. Personally, I didn't expect to see many with my name. But as we approached the end of the track, Mom pointed to a bunch all placed in the shape of hearts. There they were, 300 to be exact. All personalized with my name and messages from friends and family.

I instantly broke into tears. I tried very hard to hide behind my sunglasses, but I couldn't. To know that everyone had been thinking of me the whole time meant everything. Everyone from work, including my regulars, had taken the time to donate and fill out these little white packages. All personalized with inside jokes and words of wisdom. I spent hours walking through each and every one of them, and I still have them a year later.

A lot has changed since my first Relay as a survivor. A year later, I would never question the support and love I have around me, but at the time it was still all so new. I can't thank everyone enough for taking the time to donate or be there. It meant the world.

I'm not feeling too well tonight, chemo was just a few days ago. But I can't wait to see everyone. The Canadian Cancer Society has become an extended part of my family. They do so much for myself and the community. I can always count on them to have my back.

I certainly don't expect to see 300 luminaries lit up with my name on them tonight, because I don't need to. But just to be able to walk the track and share the field with so many others is an honor in itself. I encourage everyone to participate if they ever have the chance. Unfortunately we've all been touched by someone battling Cancer. It's a terrible disease that units us, but beneath all the heartache and bittersweet memories is something beautiful. A chance for us all to stand together as one. As the sun sets, the speeches commence and the luminaries are lit one by one, we all join together for the same reason. To fight back, celebrate and remember!