Race For The Cure

By Jeni Hinds

It was early in 2005 when my mother learned that she had breast cancer. It began with a lump that was found during a mammogram that unfortunately was much overdue. My mother is the type of person who always puts the needs of others before herself so the condition of her health wasn’t at the top of her list of concerns.

At first she didn’t even tell the family because she didn’t want to scare anyone, or worry herself over what might be nothing at all. But the biopsy came back positive as cancerous and they were going to have to remove the lump. At first, she didn’t really want to discuss it; I suppose she didn’t feel as though it would really help the situation. But eventually she told us about the necessary surgery that she had scheduled for later that month. I made sure that I was there.

Anytime someone hears the word “cancer” certain images and possibilities pop into their mind. These usually include side effects of chemotherapy, emotionally difficult and never-ending nights in the hospital and of course an outcome that no one in the world could ever prepare for. This is especially true for families who have little knowledge of the subject or what they are going to be dealing with over the next several months. In my mother’s case, we had very little information regarding exactly what kind of breast cancer it was and how bad she had it.

On the day of her surgery I was calm and collected. I kept telling myself that it was all going to turn out just fine because quite frankly, I couldn’t handle any other scenario. I was waiting in the lobby with my father and brother while they prepped her. The nurse came out and told us we could see her one at a time before they had to put her under. As I rounded the curtained off section where her hospital bed was, I took a deep breath and tried to put on a happy face for my mother’s sake. At first I couldn’t interpret her expression because she looked very tired. Of course this could have been the fact that her surgery was scheduled for 5am, or perhaps the small amount of painkillers that she was already on, but then I saw it….fear.

Tears began to stream from her eyes and it was all I could do to hold back mine. Obviously this wasn’t the first time I had ever seen my mother cry, she cries at almost any movie whether it has a happy or sad ending. But it was the first time I had ever seen her cry because she was scared. I quickly imagined what she would do if the roles were reversed, so I told her that everything was going to be ok and that I would be waiting for her when she woke up. As they wheeled her away, I found myself repeating this over and over in my head, “It’s all going to be ok”.

A week went by and the tests came back. The entire lump they removed was cancerous. The good news was that the type of cancer she had was Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. I know it is never technically “good news” to have cancer but it could have been much worse than it was and I was thankful for this. It was a non-invasive cancer, which means that it wouldn’t spread to other organs, lymph nodes or surrounding breast tissue. Chemotherapy isn’t necessary with this type of cancer; instead radiation is the preferred form of treatment. However, two surgeries later the doctor determined that the cancer was in too many places and a full mastectomy was necessary. This would eliminate the need for radiation treatment but it was going to be a much harder recovery process.

She fought through all of it, never once letting it get the best of her. My mother is a ridiculously optimistic woman, and even though she was in a lot of pain, she enjoyed the fact that she was going to be able to rest and watch television for a few weeks. After the hard part was over, I helped her look at options for reconstruction surgery. I’m sure this sounds strange, after all not a lot of women can say they have been implant shopping with their mother. It did help to lighten the mood however and brought us closer together in the process.

Mom stayed strong through all of it and now four years later, my mother is healthy and cancer free. Just because our fight is over doesn’t mean that it is for everyone else. This is why I am happy to announce that both my mother and I will be participating in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in St. Louis on Saturday June 13^th , 2009.

Race for the Cure has been raising funds for research and awareness, celebrating survivors and remembering loved ones lost to the disease for over 25 years and has grown to over one-million participants. The global race takes place in Washington, D.C. but most major cities will hold their own for those who are unable to travel but still want to help the fight. Twenty-five percent of race net funds go to benefit breast cancer research and grants and Seventy-five percent of funds will stay in the community to aid education and treatment.

The goal is to raise $ 3.5 million dollars in what will be St. Louis’s 11^th Anniversary of Race for the Cure. The race itself is a 5K, but since most of us probably are not runners there is an option to walk the 5K or 1 mile to show your support.

With over 1,000 teams and almost 60,000 people participating, Race for the Cure St. Louis has already raised $2,280,110.36. Registration and events begin on Saturday, June 13^th 6:30am. If you cannot make it to the race but would still like to show your support you can donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation or attend one of the many restaurants involved in Dine Out for the Cure on June 11^th , 2009. To participate or for more information please visit www.komenstlouis.org . We hope to see you there!

 

Posted by Jhinds on Jun 10 2009. Filed under Charities, Health, Parades / Events and Rallies. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.