Remembering Cathy

A week ago last Friday, a high school classmate of mine, Cathy Atchison, died after a long battle with cancer. My sister informed me that the funeral was scheduled for Wednesday.

Almost instantly, I decided that I would go. I don’t know why. I hadn’t seen Cathy in many years, so long ago that I can’t remember. Was it our 20-year class reunion? No, I don’t think so. The ten-year? Not sure. Her sister, Lisa, lived up the street from my parents for a number of years with her husband and family. I know Cathy visited Lisa on a few occasions; did I see her then? I can’t remember.

But I needed to go. I didn’t know her as well as others did (and I obviously didn’t keep in touch with her). We sang in the same choir for three years and had one or two classes together. That was it.

Why did I need to go? Did I feel guilty for not going to another classmate’s funeral two years ago? I knew Les better than I knew Cathy. But I made a feeble excuse for missing his funeral – something about misunderstanding the date or time or…

Maybe I needed to go because Cathy and I were the same age. She suffered through a long and often painful illness, going through it with grace and humor, maintaining her compassion for others and caring more about the well-being of her family, friends,co-workers, and other cancer patients she’d come to know than her own.

Listening to the pastor during the service and talking with friends afterwards (a strange combination of sadness, laughter, and reunion), I learned that she was initially diagnosed with breast cancer. She beat it, but the cancer returned, spreading to her brain, where the doctors found 34 individual tumors. She beat that, too, thanks to aggressive treatments. Unfortunately, the cancer was also aggressive. It spread throughout her body – in more places than one could count. But treatments and medicine and prayer and faith and hope and love chased away the tumors yet again.

Finally, after seeming to be healthy and in good spirits (the latter, as usual) up until a few weeks ago, her body succumbed. After nearly ten years of fighting courageously, the God who watched over her and protected her and loved her all of her life, called her home.

Cathy died on Friday, May 18, 2007. She was two months shy of her 41st birthday.

I went to her funeral, hoping to see classmates who I’ve lost touch with over the years and whose names I barely remember. I needed to see them in order to remember Cathy. I needed to see Janine and Missy and Michele and Angie and Keri and Jan and several others who I faintly recognized but couldn’t quite remember.

I needed to remember Cathy, in order to remember myself. To remember that, once upon a time, she encouraged me to be all that I could and to live life to its fullest.

I left the church, and as I walked across the parking lot in the fading twilight, I promised Cathy that I wouldn’t just continue to exist. I would live.

All right, I'll admit it...

I know, I know…It’s been two weeks since my last entry. What can I say? I’ve been busy. No, really, I have. Lawn care, gardening, and spring maintenance on the sprinkler system. I began (and almost completed) a long-overdue interior painting project. There is also that daily nuisance called a job that intrudes on my ability to relate as many “updates” as often as I would like.

That being said, I readily admit that none of those activities are the real reason for first degree negligent blogging. I've only mowed the lawn twice, my sprinkler system still isn't fully functional and my mom has actually done all the gardening at my house thus far. The truth is…I’ve been training for the 3-Day.

I can no longer deny that the walks I take throughout the week are just leisurely strolls, meant to take my mind off life’s daily stresses and get a bit of exercise after a day spent sitting in front of a computer.

I can no longer deny that it’s “too early” for training, since Day 1 is exactly three months from today.

I now wear my “training shoes” and wicking socks when I walk with co-workers on my lunch hour. I wear a fanny pack and carry a water bottle when I walk the four-plus mile route I’ve laid out through my neighborhood. I have even succumbed to (gasp!) joining some of my 3-Day teammates for “official training walks”.

As they say, the first step in dealing with a personal problem is admitting the truth about it.

Hello, everyone. My name is Scott…and I’m a 2007 Breast Cancer 3-Day walker in training.

Gee, I may have to start actually writing something about training walks, fundraising and the other activities related to my preparations for the Twin Cities 3-Day in August. I’m not sure I’m ready for that step quite yet.

Fear And Loathing...And Hope

I’ve been negligent in tending to this blog, as my most recent entry is nearly three weeks old. I could claim that I haven’t come up with a worthy enough topic, but that wouldn’t be true. I’ve thought of a number of things to write about, but I just haven’t been moved to translate the ideas to actual words.

Perhaps I’ve been afraid to write. There has certainly been plenty to be afraid of, if you pay too much attention to the news. Last weekend, a horrific tornado, bringing winds in excess of 200 miles an hour, completely destroyed the town of Greensburg, Kansas. News outlets flooded the town and surrounding area with reporters (an ironic metaphor for the actual flooding occurring simultaneously along rivers and streams in Missouri) to take pictures and interview local residents, asking stupidly obvious questions like, “How does it feel>” and “What are you going to do now?”

The news programs followed the “team coverage” of the tornado with stories on wildfires in drought-stricken forests, then segued into reports on the ongoing war in Iraq, the standoff between Congress and the White House over troop withdrawals, and the early debates between the 2008 presidential candidates.

It all seems so overwhelming. There are a litany of problems facing our country – and each of us as individuals. Health care, education, crime, poverty, and the “soaring costs” of everything from a gallon of gasoline to a gallon of milk. And, of course, it’s all caused by religious fundamentalists, illegal immigration, global warming, hip-hop music, and Paris Hilton. (insert semi-sarcastic laugh here)

On a personal level, I feel nervous, anxious, and even afraid that my attempt at a career as a “real” electrical engineer has failed. I don’t feel comfortable in my current position, nor have I ever really felt comfortable in the 18 months I’ve been there. I ask myself the same questions, over and over...Do I need to find a different job or try harder to do this one better?

Then, almost as an answer to a prayer, I realize that there have always been challenges and struggles and problems threatening our way of life as a culture – and our very existence as human beings. As each year passes – each decade, each generation – I am reminded that nations and businesses and people have wondered if “it” was all going to end at any time. History tells us that people didn’t always solve every problem, but they endured it – with faith in God and in each other.

May 6th was my parents’ 45th wedding anniversary. I can barely comprehend the worries and anxieties they have had to endure during that time. But they did endure them. And so did their children.

The Breast Cancer 3-Day is all about endurance and survival. My friends living with breast cancer are not only surviving, but thriving and relishing each day of their lives.

Last week, I came across the phrase “focus on the now”, from a book I’ve been reading. The book doesn't have much to do with surviving times of fear and loathing; it's about how artists and writers find their creativity, especially when it hides itself. But in a chapter on overcoming the mental and emotional difficulties of creative drought, the following words seem relevant to all of us:

"What may be hard is always bearable – perhaps not in our projected future, but in that moment, precisely now. When we trust ourselves – and trust God – we find that we will become what and who we are meant to be."