Who would give me flowers this beautiful? And Why???
They are a "thank you" from EARJ S.O.S. (Service Oriented Students) club for my delivery of a speech during the kick off to the Cancer Walk-a-Thon to take place March 22.
Here's my speech in print (like most speeches, always better when delivered):
They asked me to speak today because I walk.
I walk because I am no stranger to the cancer monster. I think only a few of us remain strangers to this illness that reportedly impacts over 12 million new cases annually. In 2007 alone, 7.6 million cancer deaths occurred worldwide. (about 20,000 cancer deaths a day) How does a person begin to fathom statistics of this size?
It has to be made personal.
My mother is a survivor, currently undergoing chemotherapy again, battling for the third time in the last 19 years. She has managed to find resilience in her Faith and lives knowing that each day is truly a gift.
My father is a survivor, currently outliving the predicted survival rate for his type of cancer. He is living as one of the 15% predicted to survive gastral and esophageal cancer.
My maternal grandmother was a survivor. She lived with a mastectomy half her adult life, before the research identified the benefits of reconstruction for breast cancer survivors.
My paternal grandfather was a survivor.
I lost Brian, my 16 year old cousin, to this illness.
Four months ago, October 2008, I lost Jason, my 38 year old cousin.
My family tree is riddled with this ugly illness, running through its branches. It is insufficient to simply be "tired of it".
One would think traveling the road once would make it easier a second time, or a third time, or a fourth time, but it doesn't it only makes me more angry. One would think having so many firsthand experiences would help the grieving process the next time around. It doesn't. It is horrible and hard and feels unfair every time. And every time I am left with the feeling that there is very little that I can do to alleviate the pain my loved ones experience. There is very little I can do to avoid living my life in waiting: for the results of a medical exam, for the next diagnosis in my family. For me it isn’t a matter of “if” it is a matter of “who is next”. And now I worry most about my daughter, my nieces, and nephew, the next generation of my family.
Because I know fighting this illness changes a person. Watching a loved one fight this illness changes a person. Once a person is diagnosed, everything is different. And most of the time for most people, things being different is not ok.
It is just different, and we all have to find a way to survive.
So, what can we do?
We do what I’ve been doing since 1995.
We walk.
We walk because we believe. We walk because others can’t. We walk for our mothers and our fathers and our sisters and our brothers. For our friends and our colleagues we walk.
We walk and we shoulder the courage to continue to fight to change the statistic that claims this disease will personally affect 75% of the women sitting in this auditorium by the time she turns 60.
We walk to preserve the quality of life for a cancer survivor.
We walk because we need to continue to find the answers to questions about treatments and prevention and survival and one day elimination of a disease that is far too common. We walk for ourselves when there is nothing tangible left for us to do.
We walk in honor of the survivors we know. We walk in memory of the loved ones we’ve lost. We walk.
hoping that in 25 years our children and their children won’t have to.