I am a member of the Collective Bias Social Fabric community. I have been compensated to share my experience with you by Collective Bias and their client, Mastercard.
Monday night I went out with some girlfriends for a much-needed break. It had been months since we’d been together. Our time together was priceless, and as a bonus? It was more than just reconnecting with friends. As a proud MasterCard holder, I got to help fight cancer with MasterCard while laughing it up with some girlfriends and devouring some delicious dessert. Because from now until December 31st of this year when you dine out with MasterCard and spend $10 or more, they donate to Stand Up to Cancer through their Dig In & Do Good program. It’s time to get your eat on, because MasterCard will donate up to $4,000,000 to Stand Up to Cancer. No, I did NOT add an extra couple of zeroes there. That’s four million bucks!! And that? Is something I’m more than happy to be a part of. Because like all of you, I’ve been affected by cancer. And I want it to GO AWAY. Here are some of the stories I wish I didn’t have to tell…about cancer and those I love.
My daddy and the trouble with prostates
Unless you’ve been reading this blog for over five years, you might not know that my dad had prostate cancer. In March of 2008, we had a huge snowstorm. And on a snowy day when there was no point in even getting out of my pajamas, my mom called and said, “I have something to tell you about your daddy’s prostate.” Typically not the words you want to hear from your mom at anytime, period, but especially when the word “cancer” is in the next sentence.
Since this month is “Movember”, it’s fitting that I’m re-living our family’s experience with prostate cancer now. Fortunately, it went about as well as an episode of cancer can go. My dad got his prostate removed in May of 2008, and it was effectively a cure as it was found very early and there was just a small amount. Prostates! WHO NEEDS ‘EM? Not this guy:
I am very, very thankful for the surgeons and technology that enabled my dad to beat his cancer and still live a happy, healthy life. And I’m thankful for programs like MasterCard’s Dig In & Do Good that make cancer research and developments in treatment possible with funding! Here are some memories we wouldn’t have made without those people and tools:
It has been a great joy of mine to see my father dote on my children.
FYI, I pretty much hit the jackpot in the dad department!
I get overly-cheesy about the Best Dad Ever. Whaddya do? It’s been five-and-a-half years since we waved bye-bye to my dad’s prostate (c’mon, not literally) and his cancer. Five years of endless thanks! (I do have *one* memory thanks to prostate cancer that I wish I could forget and I pray my dad doesn’t remember…it was an, um interesting conversation we had when he was still loopy on pain meds! And that is all I will disclose! Sorry, Dad!)
Unfortunately, not all cancer stories end this way. And for our family, cancer has also brought heartbreak that is difficult to put into words. But I’ll try – for awareness, for love, for the importance of remembering someone I wish everyone in the world had been lucky enough to know.
This is my Aunt Kathy. She more famously holds the title of Emily’s mom and Anna’s mom. Here we are together at my Grandma’s house on my 2nd Christmas. Concealed beneath her blouse and empty gift box is her pregnancy – she was about four months along with Emily here. So you could say this is the first pic Emily and I took together!
What I remember most about my Aunt Kathy is her warmth. She was a physically and emotionally warm person. I still get a physical sensation of warmth when I recall her smile, which was so beautiful. I see it in her daughter’s faces often.
Kathy was 34 and the mother of two young daughters when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. You’ve seen Emily and I write passionately about ovarian cancer awareness many times before. And this is why.
Kathy had surgery. She had treatments. All was thought to be well, for awhile.
But it wasn’t. She had more cancer to fight. And it already had the upper hand.
The last time I saw my aunt was my 9th birthday in September 1986. She gave me a Minnie Mouse nightgown for that birthday and my mother saved it for years. My mom then gave it back to me when I was an adult and I gave it to Emily for Kate so she could have something her Grandma Kathy picked out.
We lost her a few weeks later on October 27, 1986. TODAY, my friends, would have been her 64th birthday. (The date this post was to be published was not chosen by me. Coincidence?)
Twenty-seven years later and I do not talk, think, or write about her without crying. She was beloved by me but it doesn’t compare to what her girls lost. Most of the tears I shed are not for myself, though I do miss her. They are for what her husband, daughters and grandchildren do not have because of cancer. I can’t really communicate the loss. Although as she would have wanted them to, her daughters have grown up to be smart, kind, talented women and wonderful mothers they still miss her every day, and no amount of time can make her loss less tragic.
Hang in there with me, friends, I know this is getting real. But cancer is real. And we’ve got to talk about it. It’s vital to spread the word about campaigns like Dig In & Do Good and and get behind companies like MasterCard that are using their corporate citizenship to fund cancer research. And I believe this next example will show you why.
Twenty-five years after losing my Aunt Kathy to ovarian cancer, I was shocked and frightened when one of my good friends, Elizabeth (aka E) was also diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She was 38 and had three young kids and this cancer thing seemed to come out of nowhere. E was one of the most healthy, exercise-loving people I knew. But one minute she was feeling really bloated and the next – wham! – stage 3 ovarian cancer. In the blink of an eye, her life changed. She underwent a big surgery including a complete hysterectomy and the doctors were able to get all of her cancer. She then had several months of chemotherapy – a special, research-y kind which she was so happy to be able to get. If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you’ll recall that Emily and I led a group of E’s friends who blog into a fundraising effort called “GimmE Five!” and YOU and all our readers helped us raise over $2,000 for her family in one day, and ultimately over $5,000! These funds paid for some cancer-related expenses and for E and her husband Steve to be able to hire a nanny for their three young kids while E had chemo.
Six months after her cancer journey began, E was officially cancer-free, and had a par-tay to celebrate!
Over two years later, she is still doing great. All of her checkups have been excellent. This September, coincidentally Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month (seriously ladies, KNOW THE SYMPTOMS. Soapbox: your ovaries can kill you a lot faster than your boobs can.), E had the chemo port that had been inside of her for the better part of three years removed. We all thank God for healing E, and for the special researchy-chemo that knocked out her cancer. And for all the new technologies that are available for E and for all of us women that weren’t available in the 1980’s.
A couple of months after her cancer-free party, E guest blogged for us during Ovarian Cancer Awareness month about her journey up to that point. If you didn’t read it then, read it now.
Now E spends a large amount of her time volunteering at her kids’ school, and taking them on adventures near and far with her husband, Steve (they are traveling FOOLS!).
E’s primary identity is not “cancer survivor” – but she is one!! She is a reminder to me of lots of things: be aware of your ovaries, no one is immune to cancer, God is good in all things, and cancer research is vitally important.
We all have cancer stories. Thanks for listening to mine, and please feel free to share your own in the comments. And remember during the crazy busy-ness of this holiday season, that until December 31, 2013, fighting cancer is something you can raise your fork and your glass in honor of. Because you can Dig In & Do Good and be a big part of contributing up to four million dollars to Stand Up To Cancer when you eat out and spend $10 or more on your MasterCard.
Do it, my friends! Do it so that one day we won’t have any more cancer stories to tell.
That is heartbreaking for Emily. My childhood best friend and next-door neighbor lost her mom to leukemia when she was 13. Just seeing how she grew up from that point is disturbing at best. It sucks that cancer can rob people in the teens, twenties, thirties …
My best friend’s mom died very quickly from ovarian cancer – as did her grandmother – so my best friend is on super high awareness and all the checks they can do. Jackie was 65 but she never got to see her daughter marry or see her grandchildren.
Thanks for the awareness. I kind of wish I had a Mastercard now!
Thank you for sharing your stories, Jenny. And Emily…I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine. But what I can imagine and what Jenny has shared breaks my heart. My grandpa died of leukemia. And later, I worked for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and saw how horribly cancer affects so many. I’m with Jenny – I want it to just GO AWAY and leave us alone!!!
Lovely post, Cousin.
After reading this, I got myself a shiny new MasterCard, and I’m going to use it at dinner tonight!
I am so sorry that your family has been touched in so many ways by Cancer. It just breaks my heart. Now after reading this I want to run out and get a MasterCard myself.
Thank you so much for sharing these stories; Em, it makes me so sad to read about your mama. It sounds like she was a wonderful, beautiful soul, though! I see your face in the photos of her! I’m glad you have photos and precious memories to treasure. I’ve lost two grandparents to cancer, several extended family members, and a friend just this year. I wish it would GO AWAY for good. I’ve used my MasterCard on Food about four times already today; just doing my share. 🙂 xoxo
This post had me in tears. I have serious female problems and doctors never seem to take a woman in her early 30s seriously when she says, “I need surgery”. I’m afraid of the C word so hard. I had two uncles pass away from cancer, one was only 8 years older than I am right now when he died, only 5 years older than I am right now when he was diagnosed. I love that this post went live on her birthday. What a great birthday gift. xo