Reasons I Relay

On Saturday May 8, 2010, I shaved my head for cancer. This was slightly planned, but the bribery didn’t really follow through. I was hoping that people would donate to me if I did it. Instead, I was sitting at the Relay for Life, no donations, unsure I had enough hair for a wig and wanting to do it anyways. A friend told me that he would give me the minimum amount of donations I wanted because he didn’t like the other motivating factor of him shaving his head. So I did it. I was a little anxious, but now, I couldn’t be more proud. A young survivor (I think she is 13) helped inspire me. She didn’t tell me that having cancer changed her life. She didn’t tell me her horror story. Instead, she told me about the best gift she has ever received: her wig. Her wig made her normal, it stopped people from staring. Her wig encouraged her to continue to live as a normal child. Later, I found out that another child who shaved his head (he had over a foot of hair!) did it in part because of the same survivor. They had become friends and it wasn’t until she lifted her wig one day that he realized that his friend was a survivor. With Brooklyn’s story ringing in my ears, all doubt left my mind and my heart. I was giving my hair, the best and only true gift I can give to a cancer patient. Although I would have still liked to have raised more money for it, it no longer mattered. This gift was coming from me, from my heart and from my head, and it held the possibility to make someone’s life better. Not just a possibility, my hair held a guarantee that someone would get a wig and know that some person donated their hair for them. This thought continues to give me a warm, almost butterfly feeling, in my stomach. I can’t help but smile.

Today, I went to work for the first time with my bald head. I was a little apprehensive about what the reaction would be. I had received mostly positive responses from my friends and family who knew about the choice I had made. I walked into the office, a scarf around my head. The first question was “Did you shave your head?” With a smile and a “yes” I took off the scarf to show what I looked like now. I didn’t know we had a survivor in our midst. She gave me a hug and wiped a tear from her eye. She told me how she remembered losing all her hair during chemotherapy treatments, and how much my gesture meant even to her. I had expected to be encouraged to wear my scarf. Instead, I was encouraged to only wear the scarf if I wanted to. I was encouraged to show the world the statement I had made. I proudly wore my head bald throughout the day. All my boss had to say was “Where did your hair go?” When I responded with “Cancer Wigs” he congratulated me and carried on his way. I had some laughter; I had some jaw-dropping. But everyone was encouraging. I don’t know why I expected otherwise. I couldn’t have shaved my head for a better cause. One person did thank me for leaving stubble so that he knew I wasn’t sick, but generous. I don’t know how to ask for donations for it though. It has never been something I have been good at doing.

Have you ever met a cancer survivor or a cancer patient? Survivors are the most incredible people I have ever met. I have never heard a negative word about their situation. They are the most determined people out there. Survivors are strong and courageous, and determined to beat the disease that has infected their bodies. Currently, a woman I am proud to call “Mom” is undergoing chemotherapy. She tells me that she will beat it, because she has support of entire communities. She tells me she will beat it, because she has more living to do. She tells me that she will beat it, because her case is different from anything the doctors have ever seen. She tells me that the prayers she knows people are praying fill her with warmth every day. A Survivor speech at Relay for Life this year told me that as she sat in the room, receiving her chemotherapy, she heard a cheer go through the room; it was all the others that had ever had to sit where she was sitting, encouraging her to continue to fight. Relay for Life is a time when our community pulls together. I was there for the entire 24 hours this year. The track never had less than 100 people on it (I am sure there was more). There were people lining the track all night, cheering people on, offering encouragement. The community raised over $360 000 towards Cancer research and Patient care. That is incredible. But to me, the best part of the Relay for Life is being able to see the survivors and know that you are making a difference to them. You can also see that every person there has a story about how cancer has affected their lives. You know you are not alone in your grief or your prayers. You are never alone with the Canadian Cancer Society involved. That is an incredible feeling that grows inside you. On Friday night, I was exhausted and depressed. Life was going downhill fast. Today, after spending 24 invigorating hours at the Prince George Relay for Life, I still feel exhausted, but I feel empowered and not alone. I might have different issues than the other feet that walked the track, but somehow, we are all connected and no one is alone.

Every year, the Relay for Life inspires me yet again. Every year, I feel a stronger connection to the fight against cancer. When I was 21, my doctor found moderately cancerous cells on my cervix. We removed all of these cells during my biopsy, and so far, my yearly checks continue to come in clear of cancer. I am now four years cancer free. I do consider myself a survivor, but when I hear the stories of those that went through chemotherapy and surgeries, I feel unable to tell them that I too, am a survivor. I know I am, but I just feel so little compared to these incredible people. I relay so that no one else has to hear the three scariest words out there: “You have Cancer.” I relay for everyone who has heard those words. I relay for everyone who has had cancer, everyone who has had chemotherapy, everyone who has lost a fight against cancer, or knows someone who has. I relay, because I am a lucky survivor. I relay because I refuse to give up the fight against this disease. I am sure it is not “cancer” but rather “can-cure” and I relay so that that can happen. My team is always small, but we do all that we can to fight cancer and support and encourage those who have ever had to live with the disease. I relay because I care.