I find it fitting that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. A year ago today my family and I were shook to the core by the words you hope to never hear. For a disease which will affect half of all men and a third of all women in a lifetime, cancer has a way of remaining estranged in everyday life. Routines carry on and we tackle the days tasks without acknowledging that over 1,500 people will succumb to the rapid spread of abnormal cells. All the while we carry on, unassuming, not cognitive enough to appreciate the beauty and delicacy in each breath. We let life pass by unappreciated, subconsciously classifying opportunity and occasion as arduous tasks and mundane agendas. Ive been diagnosed with breast cancer has a whole different tone when it comes from the same voice that would read you Goodnight Moon. Your thoughts of staying strong for the rest of your family are thrown out the window when scenarios start to run through your head. The reassurance does little, because the pain you feel for the person you love is crippling, and youd do just about anything to take the burden upon yourself. It doesnt discriminate, it doesnt play favorites, and it certainly doesnt fight fair. Its a beast, and even the strongest will find themselves fighting a battle way out of their league. Its not just a firm blow, its continuous jabs to you and those around you as you collectively huddle together in hopes of dodging the knockout punch. Youve got a passionate and supportive team in your corner, but ultimately its you who has appointment after appointment, you who takes the needles, and you who will have the scars. But we had a fighter, a warrior, an optimist, and a believer. Shortly after my Moms diagnosis my Family participated in a Susan G. Komen for the Cure® walk in Concord, NH. For years my mother had collected souvenir rocks with insignia from meaningful family trips carved in to them. While the rest of us walked the grounds enamored by the outreach and support of a community we never imagined joining, my mom walked to the survivors tent, rocks in hand for each Family member. As we prepared to leave that day my mother gave us all one of the rocks. She explained to us that the power and energy of the survivor tent were in these rocks, and that any time we felt overwhelmed or scared to hold that rock. She told us of the encouragement she received, the friends and advocates she gained, and the confidence she built in her ability to overcome the diagnosis. Now we have a survivor. Despite everything my mom was facing, it was most important for her that her family and friends were at ease, confident, and brave. That rock has stayed with me everyday for a year straight. Its with me on flights, it sits at my desk during the workday, and it lays at my nightstand as I sleep. Its what helps to get me through hard times, and it serves as a symbol of perseverance, strength, family, love, and support. Its also a constant reminder to be thankful, to remember those who have been taken far too soon by this disease, and to welcome the individuals who will fight that same battle in to this community of advocates and supporters with encouragement and a rock of their own. Laurie McDonald, thank you for being our rock. Your strength is unwavering, and your spirit is unparalleled. Im so proud of your perseverance, outlook, and toughness. You are my hero and an inspiration to us all. I hope you all will consider joining me in making a donation to the Susan G. Komen fund. My donation is in honor of my Mother, and in memory of Michelle Cadorette, Rita McDonald, and Merry Drench. Donations can be made at komen.org, and their Facebook page is Susan G. Komen. #LaurieStrong indeed.
Posted on: Thu, 09 Oct 2014 20:52:57 +0000