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This story happened one week ago.
We had a team at Bamboozle in New Jersey. On the road, Chad was nearing the end of the Pick Up The Phone Tour. At the Bungalow, our interns were packing and saying goodbyes as their four-month internship came to a close. As for me, I had the weekend off – no TWLOHA events or festivals, just another average weekend in Central Florida (or so I thought.)
Saturday night my husband and I drove to Melbourne High School, the same school we graduated from almost ten years ago, for the 2010 Relay For Life event. The American Cancer Society Relay For Life is an annual event that takes place in parks and schools across the globe. It’s a memorial to remember loved ones lost to cancer, a time to celebrate with those who have survived, and a chance to fight back against this awful disease. As we approached the school we saw hundreds of cars lining the baseball field, filling the parking lots, and overflowing to areas across the street. I was blown away. I hadn’t even walked up and I was already in awe.
Music was blaring. Kids were running, playing, laughing. Booths were on both sides of the walking track selling merchandise, goodies, and food to raise additional funds for the cause. Tents and sleeping bags were set up for the night ahead. There was a rainbow of t-shirts in different colors, each t-shirt representing one of the thirty-nine teams participating that evening. Teams were made up of school faculty members, co-workers from local businesses, families, and groups of friends who in some way or another had been affected by cancer. The second we walked up, we were greeted by our friend Sean. Sean was a groomsman in our wedding and has been one of our closest friends for years. My husband and I were participating for him and for his family. His father, after a long battle with an extremely rare cancer, passed away on August 13, 2008.
The entire Relay for Life was dedicated to Sean’s father, Dr. Thomas McIntyre. He had been a prominent member of the community and was well known in the education system – he had spent years as a teacher, dean, principal and superintendent in the county. To me, he was just my friend’s dad. To me, he was a father of three boys and a husband, now missing from this family I love.
The word “SURVIVOR” printed across the back of purple t-shirts reminded everyone that the person wearing the shirt had lived through their battles with the disease. They stood out in the crowd. Without saying a word, they could relate to one another. Smiles were passed back and forth from one survivor to another, a small gesture with a lot of impact. They didn’t need to describe chemo to each another or the side effects that resulted. They had known it, felt it, it had consumed their souls, and they came out on the other side.
I thought of my friend Stacy. Her mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 Non Small Cell Non Smokers Lung Cancer in December 2004. Up until a few weeks ago, her mom would’ve proudly worn a “SURVIVOR” shirt too. But after five years in remission she was re-introduced to her worst enemy. Five years cancer-free and suddenly life changes. Again. It doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make sense. I wished in that moment that Stacy and her mom were there too, just so they could be loved, and so they could be reminded they were not alone. So their hope could be renewed.
There was a sense of unity and strength on the field that night. As the sun began to go down I noticed volunteers lighting tea lights in paper bags, each bag with the name of a friend or loved one who passed away from cancer or a message celebrating someone’s recovery. Each bag represented a story, a life. In my mind, there were too many bags, too much pain and too much struggle. It was difficult to look at. Even those celebrating in their recovery had walked through a time I could not begin to relate to. At sunset, the Luminaria Ceremony took place honoring Dr. McIntyre and all of the others affected by cancer in our community. The ceremony ended in silence, walking around the track lined with glowing luminaries.
It was a moment to reflect. A moment to remember. A moment that doesn’t happen frequently on a high school baseball field. As the lap ended, I turned to my husband and told him how crazy it was that we could’ve been walking for me; about a month and a half ago, I was tested for both bladder and kidney cancer. For some reason, I got the good news. My doctor looked me in the eyes and said I would be fine. “You do not have cancer.” I remember walking into the doctor’s office that day thinking my life could change drastically, but for some reason I was spared the diagnosis. So the question flips, why not me? Why am I so lucky? That night I was surrounded by hundreds of people whose lives had changed with a doctor visit. They had not received the good news I did. They received the bad news. The pain, the unending doctor appointments, procedures, prescriptions, treatment options, all of it. I had walked that path for a few months and it scared the hell out of me. Some have dealt with this for years. Some still do every day. And for some, like Sean’s dad, the cancer was just too strong.
That night I was invited into a community of people filled with hope, determination, and love. It was community at its finest; raw and honest. It was not sugarcoated. It was okay to be sad. It was okay to be happy. You didn’t have to act a certain way. The way you were was accepted. I hope that in whatever you are dealing with you are able to find a place where you feel safe being who you are. Whatever baggage you may carry or struggles you deal with, I hope that you can find a community like this one. Do not be ashamed. It’s okay to be scared, just do not live life alone. Talk to the people in your life you trust, or can learn to trust. Let them love you.
You are NOT replaceable.
With Love,
Jessica :)
UPDATE: As of yesterday, my friend Stacy’s mom received the news that she is cancer free again! We are all so excited and hopeful for the future. Day two and counting…Posted in General by Chris Youngblood
Comments (21)
The relays are awesome. I participate in the festivities and the candlelight ceremony yearly. I had a rare form of bone cancer at age 14. I'm 7 years out now. That is so awesome!
1 | Left by Frank | May. 7, 2010 at 2:28pm
This was really beautiful. And really accurate as well. I will be participating in my second Relay for Life next week at my school. I know that our Relay will be just as magical, and your article was moving. Thanks. :)
2 | Left by August | May. 7, 2010 at 2:42pm
This is an amazing blog post. I've been involved with Relay in high school, and even participated on the planning committee. The dedication and passion behind those working for the organization and those who participate are inspirational. There is so much pain in their stories, but they always have hope for the future. There is only one thing wrong with this blog. It's about the "Survivor" shirts. Those who wear those shirts are not necessarily cancer free. The moment they hear the diagnosis, they are considered survivors. The cancer has not won, so they have survived. Your friend Stacy's mom could/should've still worn a survivor shirt with pride, even after her diagnosis. The shirts are a sign of the warriors who have fought and are fighting the disease, not just those who have already won.
Love always,
Becca
3 | Left by Rebecca | May. 7, 2010 at 3:14pm
This is great. I've never seen a better description of the Relay. I've been involved with it. I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia when I was five and I'm 12 years in remission. Thank you for this. And remember, never give up fighting.
4 | Left by Caitlyn | May. 7, 2010 at 5:52pm
you have inspiring words but i cant belive them i amd 17 and was dignosed wit cancer over a yeah ago and no one has helped me they have all left me alone in the dark avoided me and pushed me away i trust no one cause all they do is lie to things about me or use me you speak of hope but what if there really is none
5 | Left by edward | May. 7, 2010 at 7:57pm
Thanks. You're right. I'm not replaceable.
6 | Left by Theh0pe | May. 8, 2010 at 5:39am
This is really cool. I wish our town had something like that to support others through this battle that is so common...
7 | Left by Kendra | May. 8, 2010 at 3:14pm
The last paragraph really struck me. A month ago I had no will to live. After 3 weeks in intensive treatment - I am realizing life is about relationship ... despite all the garbage we can go through. Being in treatment was truly the 'real world' - a place where we could be open. honest. vulnerable. there were no walls. no masks. It was real. Now, back in the fire, the mask is firmly back in place, the walls are being repaired and I am learning how to live again. I know I'm not replaceable, but there are days where I wonder if I'm needed.
8 | Left by chris k | May. 8, 2010 at 8:58pm
I went to the Relay for Life in my state and when we did the silent walk to remember the surviors i looked at each bag and cried.
9 | Left by Malana M | May. 9, 2010 at 11:42am
Thank you so much for this beautiful posting. I am one of many chairpersons for the event, and the thoughts and feelings you beautifully portrayed are exactly what we were hoping to achieve. Our theme this year was "Connecting Communities For A Cure"...and what you so eloquently stated, i.e., that we are NOT alone, and that we have a great, loving, supportive community, is what the 2010 Melbourne Relay For Life was all about. Thank you again, and please come back every year! Help us spread the word about this terrific, loving event. Not only is it supportive, it raises a TREMENDOUS amount of money for local cancer patient services. Bless you for posting this!
10 | Left by Pat Scordino | May. 9, 2010 at 5:45pm
This blog made me cry. Yesterday I lost my grandmother to breast cancer. I knew I wasn't alone, but I still felt it. It's so nice to know that there are communities of people like this. And communities of people that made it through.
11 | Left by Hannah | May. 10, 2010 at 6:44am
Edward...There is hope. Everyone here supporting this website cares about you and we will never leave you in the dark or push you away.
12 | Left by Nick | May. 10, 2010 at 7:11am
Thank you for honoring my friend Stacy and her mom Sam. It has been a emotional time for family and friends but we can celebrate once again that the fighter won the battle, again! Courage. Amazing.
Thank you again for your kind words, hope has been renewed!
13 | Left by Shannon | May. 10, 2010 at 9:57am
My grandmother just won her second battle with cancer and is now in remission. It is really hard to cope with someone that close having cancer, and I've lost couple of people to it. This story is amazing and cngratulations to all survivors. The strongest I know.
14 | Left by MOrgan | May. 13, 2010 at 6:19am
I'm on a relay for life team in honor of my Dad. He battled Colon cancer for two years, was in remission, then was back on for three years. I chose our Team name to have to do with Harry Potter for one reason in particular
If you're a total dork like me, you will remember that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out on July 21, 2007. I desperately wanted to go to the midnight party for it, but 11 is a bit young for that according to my family. But Dad went and got it for me that day anyway, claiming he would get it for me the day it came out when I had finished Half Blood Prince. Nearly everyone on Dad's side of the family was dyslexic and he was thrilled beyond words that I'm not. And, a lot of times, I had to be quiet for him so I read a lot. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was not the last or most expensive gift he gave me, but it was the most meaningful.
He died two years and one day after I got the book. I won't forget either of those days. They both mean so much to me
15 | Left by Tabetha | May. 15, 2010 at 4:13pm
i participated in relay for life when my school district he;d them. i also spoke at one. i think they are great. i know relay for life was very supportive to me since i lost my dad, grandma and a family friend to cancer. also my mom wore one of the survivor shirts and i think this program is a great one to see.
16 | Left by Jackie | May. 15, 2010 at 7:03pm
I was at the Relay For Life, at Melbourne High. I have liver cancer, and it has spread to my stomach; but I am still fighting strong. It was good to see that other people have beat cancer, and that I could too.
17 | Left by Maxxy | May. 16, 2010 at 1:41am
That's beautiful. I absolutely love Relay For Life. I lost my dad last year to cancer, and I'm doing what I can to help fight it.
18 | Left by Megan | May. 17, 2010 at 6:01pm
Yesterday my best friend's mother who is practically my own was diagnosed with brain cancer.
I held my friend's hand for hours while she cried, I don't know what to say other than I'm here for her.
19 | Left by abbey | May. 18, 2010 at 8:07am
The greatest thing Relay For Life is the connection. For survivors, the common bond of knowing...and showing hope for newly diagnosed patients. For grievers, the common bond of "being there" for your loved ones, and for new friends who are devastated,and know they can seek you out. You don't have to say ANYTHING. Just be there. That's what Relay does. It brings us together to meet people we can help, by simply knowing...and being there.
20 | Left by Anon | May. 18, 2010 at 3:49pm
my best friend was diagnosed with cancer when we were in the 6th grade, we are now 17 and she's been cancer free for 2 years! Relay is what got us through the hardest times! 6 of my friends have had cancer, and fortunately only one has passed. Thank you so much to everyone who joins the millions of us in the Relay For Life event! you truly have no idea how much it means to know people care enough to stay up all night to show their support!
21 | Left by Lex | Jun. 20, 2010 at 10:45am
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