A Strange Meeting

Darren and I met about ten years ago, at a party where we each were promoting our respective businesses. It was a networking event of sorts and I was in full gear. The room was packed! But, you could not have missed Darren if you tried. He was striking -- tall and lean for a rugby player, he had a wide, welcoming smile and a very compelling Irish brogue. Upon hello and name exchanges, I quickly handed him a flier to an event I was hosting. Without skipping a beat, he handed me a flier to his, but with a couple of drink tickets and an invitation to get in for free. Wow! (Why didn't I think of that?). By happenstance, both of our events were on the same evening and we were contending for business form the very same crowd of which we were part. We were competitors! But really, even at that, he had managed to charm me and I never really thought him "the enemy." So for years we vied for the same business almost always, until he and his business partners decided to deviate from their current business and do something else. That was when Darren began to be a really successful and noted businessman in our city. His business grew by leaps and bounds, but never had he changed from the Darren that I had met years back.

Still charming and impish, still welcoming and unassuming, still tall and strong. What a great success story! He came here from Ireland a few years before this success, taking a chance and couch-surfing at friends homes for about a year. To then see him owning several enterprises in the city and being featured in local magazine's "Society Page" as one of the city's eligible bachelors was quite a fete! On any given night, you can see him walking on his street with the biggest, scariest pit ball -- Sam in stride with him. He and Sam were so popular in their neighborhood that local merchants always had a treat for Sam whenever they walked by. They were quite the pair to behold. If you didn't know that Darren and his pit bull were the biggest sweethearts, you'd walk the other way if you happened by them in an alley.

On my second chemo session last year, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw Darren walking down the hallway at Dr. T's chemo treatment clinic. Sure, we hadn't seen each other in years and I'd heard rumors that he was ill. But I also heard that he'd gotten well subsequently. So to see him in a chemo clinic was quite shocking. I didn't know what to do with myself. Both of us being as private as we were, I wanted to give him his space (as I didn't know what treatment he could be undergoing). But also, I wanted my own space. The last person I wanted to see in the clinic was a business colleague (we were sort of friends too). So, I quickly put my head down behind a book, raised the book high and "hid" from Darren.

Well, son-on-a-gun, if he didn't plop himself down at the chemo chair immediately to my left. Argh! Still, I kept the book in front of my face, but it would have really looked funny if I moved the book to the left of my face. I just hoped he wouldn't turn to see me. Riiiiiiiiiight! "C!" he exclaimed! "Wat in de world are ye doin' here?" he continued in his charming Irish brogue. And there it was. We had to face each others...business competitors and colleagues sitting side-by-side in a chemo clinic. "If someone 'ad toold me years ago, dat you 'an me would be meetin' in a plece lak dis, I would've punched dem in da mouth!" he said, smiling weakly and winking. And my! How strange is life. Darren's younger than me (by at least 10 years), strong, fit, never smoked...but...

Darren had lung cancer. He looked emaciated and tired. His strong rugby build was gone. But he still had his hair. Certainly, it was hard to process this vision of the former "force to be reckoned with." He said that they thought the chemo had worked, but subsequently, his oncologist discovered that it hadn't. And so the cancer had metathesised to more areas in his body. He was in the clinic for a Neulasta shot, as his immune system had gone awry. He told me that at this juncture, his oncologist didn't have anymore solutions to his cancer.

I begged him to go see my Dr. T (who is in the same practice group as his oncologist). I told him how amazing Dr. T was. He urged him to find a new, alternate route. He nodded "okay" But, he seemed resigned. After his shot, he gave me a peck on the forehead, wished me all the best, and left.

Last night, at Relay for Life, I lit a Luminaria for Darren. He passed away a year ago this month. He was young, strong, fit and never smoked a cigarette in his life. Yet lung cancer took his life.

Cancer is an equal opportunity killer.

Relay for Life? Or Celebrate Life?

After I went into remission, a very urgent need came to be that I needed to do something about the cancer experience. The core of my belief system is that everything happens for a reason. And, cancer is a big THING! I cannot let the experience or the lesson go to waste. All of that must be put into something good. I had great intentions. I was going to make a difference for those touched by cancer! Although, I was wisely counseled by my boyfriend and my brother that I should probably take things in stride and put it in first gear and take some time to heal and regroup, before any major undertaking. Well, of course it turned out that it was wise advice. I had just about enough energy to go to work daily and maintain the rhythm of the once-interrupted life. It takes time to put things back together, I suppose. Life certainly did not stop or slow down, just because I had to. So, it turned out that it was the best advice.

And now, I finally have my bearings. So, I took some time to research how I could get involved and give back. There are a lot of choices. But, in the end, I chose The American Cancer Society's Relay for Life, in keeping with my former post and a belief that we are all in this together. Yes. There are different kinds of cancer, including mine. But, I wanted to support the organization that helps all cancer. And the American Cancer Society was the best choice for this. I also liked Relay for Life because of its communal character -- camping for 24 hours with your "team," amongst other teams.

So, this was quite an an important decision for me. It was sort of a "coming out" to my community at large -- many of whom did not know I was sick at all. It was also a chance for me to involve my friends and family with cancer, at last! I had my reservations and trepidations about all of this. But I was done keeping my cancer under a bushel. It was time to share. I've had a year to have to almost all to myself. But, the world doesn't benefit from that. Does it? Only in my "coming out" and sharing the experience with others will it do anyone else any good. Time to get over my introvertedness and time to let go! I was not doing anyone any good by keeping all of this under wraps.

Still and all, it took about a couple of weeks of clicking on Relay for Life's website to read up on what it involved to be a Team Captain and to raise funds as well as organize a team for the event. I had to talk myself into committing to it -- being a team captain and assembling a team for the event, with the help of my friends and community of course. And what a "coming out" party it was going to be! We were going to "camp" for 24 hours while raising money for the cause. Brilliant!

Last night, as I put the final touches in the Evite for Relay for Life, I got a phone call from one of my very good friends to discuss another very good friend's bridal shower/bachelorette party. The date and venue was set. All I needed to do was post my response to the event's Evite. Done! Am there with bells on and all that. Of course!

BUT. . . (you guessed it!)

The aforementioned shower/bachelorette party is the same day as Relay for Life! (May I just say that I was mildly annoyed and discouraged? After all that thought and self-prodding to finally do something AND involve everyone else, someone had the nerve to get married!)

Momentary quandary: Should I go through with the commitment to myself and the powers that be to do Relay for Life? Or, should I be a good friend and attend said bridal shower/bachelorette party? Herein lies the rub: The very community that I wanted to finally open up to and involve in my cancer journey will be a the bridal shower. So, really, in the larger (or smaller) scheme of things, what was more important?

Yes. I had (definitely) grand and (perhaps) honorable intentions in doing Relay for Life with my community of friends and family. But really, do gestures of gratitude or reason have to be that grand in order to count? Or, is being there for a good friend during a very important occasion of her life, as grand as being at Relay for Life? Here, the old adage rings true. Charity begins at home. In this instance, I didn't have to make a big splash to make a difference. I am blessed to be alive to share in this wonderful time of her life. There are currently over 200 teams registered to participate in my city's Relay for Life. But my girlfriend only has only a few of us with whom to celebrate her impending marriage.

There wasn't a quandary after all.

The United Colors of Cancer

Until I was diagnosed with cancer, I'd always associated color pink with cancer. There was a time of year when pink surfaced everywhere, it seemed. Yoplait would start its pink cup covers drive and I diligently collected my Yoplait tops and sent them in so that donations may be made for cancer. Little pink tents would pop up at stores everywhere asking for donations to cancer. I contributed to several girlfriends' efforts for the Avon Walk and the Race for the Cure, all that while thinking "[the color] pink = cancer." It is a credit to those who have worked so hard to further breast cancer awareness and research that pink has generally become the trigger color for cancer awareness for most people who are uneducated about it. Breast cancer awareness has opened eyes and hearts everywhere to the awful existence and effects of cancer. And it is absolutely impressive, the breadth that breast cancer awareness has reached. I never would have thought I'd see the day when big, manly NFL players would wear something pink on game day to raise breast cancer awareness. Such a manly gesture for a feminine problem. In my humble opinion, our common psyche has equated the color pink to cancer awareness.

Last week, while my my daughter and I were watching TV a new Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial came on. It featured several people holding pink buckets of chicken. One woman said, "I'm doing it for my sister;" a man declared "I'm doing it for my wife;" and a little boy ended the commercial saying "I'm doing it for my mom." Afterwards, the male announcer declared that KFC was donating a portion of their chicken sales to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. The commercial ended with an announcement that the fried chicken purveyor was donating a portion of it's chicken sales to the Susan G. Comen Foundation. At which time, my daugher turned to me and said "Well, I'm going to get a bucket and wrap it in teal and say 'I'm doing this for my mom.'" It took a few seconds for that to register. So much so that my daughter saw the puzzled look on my face. To which she addressed "Mom! Teal is the color for ovarian cancer!" Duh! But of course! How could I have missed that? Easy! To this day, I still equate cancer awareness with the color pink. So, I wasn't I wasn't thinking teal chicken buckets at all, even though I've been dubbed a "teal warrior" for having survived ovarian cancer.

But, because I am now an ovarian cancer survivor, should I shed pink for teal and put my efforts toward ovarian cancer research instead of my tiny donations and efforts towards breast cancer awareness and research? Do I owe that to my "tribe" now? It seems as though there's a prevailing sense that one should be loyal to one's "tribe" and advance research and awareness for their sort of cancer. And rightfully so! I wouldn't want to inflict ovarian cancer on anyone. So yes! I want a cure for it and am keenly aware that my efforts and donations will help that cause. But, ideally, what I really want and wish for is equal funding for all types of cancer and not just ovarian cancer (just because that's the cancer from which I'm in remission). I want everyone to have a fair shake at cancer research and awareness, no matter how obscure the cancer.

I wish there were a United Nations for cancer -- each cancer represented, but a united front to eradicate the disease altogether. While I understand and appreciate that each cancer behaves differently, I am also aware that financial backing or publicity and coverage for certain cancer research is not as abundant as that breast cancer or prostate cancer, for example. I just wish that each of the other cancers represented by the ribbons above had the same backing and support -- the same resources like Susan G. Comen Foundation for breast cancer research and awareness. If everyone pooled resources together and cross-referenced each other's work, then I believe there's strength in numbers and unity of purpose. -- much like that of Stand Up To Cancer's mission statement:

". . .to accelerate groundbreaking cancer research that will get new therapies to patients quickly and save lives. SU2C's goal is to bring together the best and the brightest in the cancer community, encouraging collaboration instead of competition. By galvanizing the entertainment industry, SU2C creates awareness and builds broad public support for this effort. This is where the end of cancer begins."

Kudos to organizations like this and the American Cancer Society! There is strength in numbers, certainly. And I believe in that. I do stand in steadfast support for my sisters who have been affected by breast cancer and ovarian cancer. But, I am equally hopeful and supportive for all my brethren who have been affected by cancer -- whatever kind or color it is. It may sound naive, but in this case, cancer is cancer and together, we must eradicate it -- all of it.

(Does this make me a cancer socialist?)