The Reason For The Season

On Saturday, I joined a group of people on a training walk to unofficially kick off the 2007 Breast Cancer 3-Day walking season. I’m sure a lot of walkers have been in training mode for some time now, either on indoor treadmills or by taking advantage of modestly acceptable weather outside. (I even ventured out last Sunday afternoon, braving a chilly, post-snowstorm wind, to put in a few miles.)

Last week, I caught up with the latest news regarding one of my survivor friends; news that reminded me of the reason for all this walking.

Jill and I worked together for a short time several years ago, until she moved on to another job with a different company. Admittedly, our contact with each other became intermittent at best, although we kept in touch via mutual friends. In January 2005, Jill was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer. It was – as it always seems to be – a surprise to an otherwise healthy, 30-something mother of two beautiful young girls, Anna, age 2 and Isabella, 4 months.

She began chemotherapy, first taking six cycles of a combination of two drugs, Adriamyacin and Cytoxan, and then four more cycles of a drug called Taxotere. There would be others over the course of the next two years – Abraxane and Carboplatin and Avastin and Navelbine and Zometa, the latter of which was used to strengthen her bones, particularly her spine, where the cancer later spread.

She lost her hair and was sick for days following each chemo treatment. Her emotions ranged from crying uncontrollably, to cheering the work the drugs were doing on the cancer cells, to laughing at how her daughters referred to her wig as “the lady” when they saw it sitting on its styrofoam head.

Despite the seemingly endless chemo and radiation treatments, Jill has continued to live a full life, working and praying and having fun and raising her children and traveling with her family, taking vacations to Massachusetts and Hawaii and Alaska. She’s been so lucky and so blessed to have a loving husband, named Keith, and many friends and relatives to help her, especially during a not-so-good day (or a not-so-good week!).

The roller-coaster ride of treatments and tests and praying and crying and more treatments has gone on for more than two years. She has gone many weeks at a stretch with no pain or discomfort. And, of course, she has experienced periods of time when she’s felt like crap. She’s felt the fear of being diagnosed, the joy of seeing a scan that shows a cancer-free body, and the anger at hearing the news that the cancer had returned.

But she is a fighter. She screams and swears at the cancer and will never accept her fate as just another victim. And she has hundreds of people in her army – family, friends, colleagues, other survivors – supporting her and praying for her. She’s now starting a new series of chemo treatments, which she hopes will kill the cancer in her bones and keep it from spreading to her organs. Ultimately, there is no cancer cell that stands a chance against her.

Her battle continues. She believes that as long as there are available treatment options, there is hope. I believe that she survives because her work on this Earth is not finished.

My work isn’t finished either. It’s time to start walking again…for Jill.