I’ve been a sucky blogger recently. My last post was about a million years ago, or so it feels. And for someone who prides themselves on being a rock star multi-tasker, I’ve done a shit job. I’m sure a few of my readers are feeling neglected, like that kid in gym class who gets picked last, or that cheap bottle of wine in the back of the fridge. I haven’t forgotten! Mama still loves you! She’s just been a bit…preoccupied.
2 months ago, my friend Sherril emailed me, telling me the story of her childhood friend Lori, who is currently battling her third round of ovarian cancer. After her first diagnosis, the husband left. Abandoning her and their kids, leaving them to fend for themselves. Much like cowards do. So Lori is left by herself with these 4 kids and forced to work multiple jobs just to make ends meet while undergoing treatment at the same time. Sherril wants to put together some type of fundraiser to help Lori not only pay rent and put food on the table, but perhaps have a bit set aside for the kids. A cushion. In case. Sherril then asked me for my professional help to make this happen. After hearing Lori’s story, my jaw dropped and my heart bled. Of course I said yes. Why?
Because cancer sucks. No matter what form or fashion it chooses to show it’s ugly face, she’s the same Bitch. Breast, colon, ovarian, brain, it’s all the same. And she seems to be taking the best of all of us. I don’t think there’s not a single person on the planet that hasn’t known of someone, somewhere, somehow, suffering from this incurable disease. Be it close friend or family, casual acquaintance or the friend of a friend of a friend, it’s out there and difficult to avoid.
Because I have personal experience with The Bitch herself. In the fall of 2006, ten months into my relationship with my husband (back then just my boyfriend), he was diagnosed with testicular cancer. We were both shocked. Neither has dealt with anything like this before. He gave me the option to stay or walk out the door, no harm, no foul. But it was already too late. I was deeply in love, my soul already committed, so there was no other option. Together we would do what we needed to do and fight the good fight. We went to endless doctor’s appointments, discussing the many options available. We hugged. We kissed. We cried. We held hope high while holding our breath. We survived surgery and recovery. And sighed a deep breath when his bill of health came back clean. We eventually conceived the most amazing baby boy you could ever meet. Fuck you cancer, this is one battle you didn’t win!
Lastly, because I’m human. I have an overwhelming sense of compassion and empathy. I wear my heart on my sleeve and tend to express every single emotion I have every time I have one. So of course my knee-jerk reaction was to help in any professional way possible. Pull my strings, work my marketing magic, and put on my big-girl PR panties, all in the name of love.
I’ve never met Lori or her kids. Never kissed their cheek nor embraced them in a hug. But I feel for them, and will do everything within my professional power to help them fight The Bitch. I'm not doing this for power or glory. I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. And a small part of me is looking forward to the challenge of facing The Bitch once again and telling her to fuck off one more time. So off I go on my noble steed. Care to join me for the ride?
For more information on the Fight Like A Girl fundraiser, visit~ http://www.facebook.com/FightLikeAGirlCancerFundraiser