the newsletter hit today, but something is wrong. there were several changes made, and i think it was better the way i wrote it. but as you read, notice the one word that is in bold and all caps. that is the word that was flat-out deleted by whoever edited this.
and i'm disappointed.
Why We Walk
Dallas/Ft. Worth Coaches
I'm not sure where my mom got the "3-Day Bug", but she been really excited about it. So excited about it, I joined her and our team, "The 3 R's".
Right off the bat, I will admit something extremely selfish that I'm not too proud of. The first thing that came to my mind when my mother mentioned the walk was, "Ooh, maybe this will help me get in good shape after having had a baby."
Not, "Oh yeah! Let's raise money to help save lives!"
No, it was something selfish like, "What a way to shrink my pant size."
However, my reason for walking has since taken on a whole new meaning.
A few weeks after we signed up, my mom found a lump in her breast while she was taking a shower.
"Don't worry too much," she said. "It's probably nothing."
No such luck.
After several appointments, the doctors determined her tumor was malignant. My mom has breast cancer. My beautiful, not-even-50, energetic, exciting, smart, funny mom has cancer. I'm still in shock.
Since finding out, my mother has had two lumpectomies – the first one did not leave all six margins clean. She has an appointment with her medical oncologist and will soon determine the plan for chemotherapy. This means she will likely be bald for my little brother’s wedding in September.
I can't tell you the number and variety of thoughts that have run through my head regarding this situation.
"Seriously, GOD? We sign up for the 3-Day and then she gets diagnosed with breast cancer? Umm, that's not really that funny. That's just plain mean."
And, "Why my mom? She's been through so much lately. If there's anyone on earth who doesn’t deserve this, it's my mom."
And finally, "I wish there was just a pill she could take to make it go away."
That thought remains as my motivating factor to walk these 60 miles. We have to find a cure. My great-grandmothers and my grandmothers on both sides had breast cancer. My mom has breast cancer. I don’t want to get it, and I don’t want my baby daughter to get it.
The money and the miles I sacrifice over the next few months pale in comparison to the glorious day when our doctors and scientists can say: “We’ve beat it.”
I, for one, cannot wait for that day.
My laces are tied and ready. And I walk.