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Health & Fitness

Survivor's Circle

HERs Breast Cancer Foundation Fundraiser is a life-affirming event for survivors and family alike.

I am coated in calamine lotion as we speak. At least my forearms are.  I am not sure if this is poison oak , I didn’t even know if those things grow at Quarry Lake in Fremont, CA, but I’m itching and coated in a pinkish, powdery film.  Some hikers web site, post-itch, says that the area has a lot of poison oak though I never touched any foliage.  This probably wouldn’t have mattered.  I have a sibling so violently allergic to poison oak and poison ivy that she can get it just from breathing near the stuff and end up in the hospital with a swollen throat.  So, maybe I’m more sensitive than I know.  

But even with all the itching, I’ve never been better, thanks. I participated in the HERs Breast Cancer Foundation fundraiser this past weekend. And event that necessitated me getting there around 6 a.m. 

Yes, 6 a.m.  

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Generally speaking, the only thing that gets me up that early is a stranger, usually a pilot employed by United Airlines; specifically, a flight to somewhere that is leaving at 6 a.m.  But it was worth it, despite lying in bed at 4:45 a.m., awake, and wondering what insanity I had wrought with this decision. 

It was a beautiful day and if you live in the Bay Area, you know that September is always mixed bag, weather wise.  It can dawn fair and mild or it can be sizzle into the triple digits by 10 a.m.  You can also get an annoying rainy drizzle which is what happened on Sunday but as this event was held on Saturday, we were blessed with great weather.  The park was humming with activity by the time I arrived though the sky was still a smudge of midnight blue; the sun wasn’t even up.  My company was also a corporate sponsor so I wanted to set up our booth before we did the 5K walk. 

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I was tagged to participate in the survivor’s circle, something I had mixed feelings about.  So many who could not be there with us, it was going to be hard and surprisingly, I don’t like the limelight.  I prefer to move quietly behind the scenes to make things happen.   

Plus, after being in that chemo room with so many heroic people, I honestly don’t think of myself as special in any way. 

Still, there was something reassuring about wearing the pink tee shirt HERs gives to survivors.  We seek each other out; after all, we all speak the same language.  We know cancer shorthand, can ask about treatment, years/months clean, prognosis, hair growing back, you name it, all in a heartbeat and without pussy footing around.  It’s calming somehow, to talk to a survivor of triple negative (a most aggressive form of breast cancer) who is sliding past year nine of being cancer free.  One woman in the survivor’s circle had 35 years cancer free. 

That’s what I want, I thought to myself when they announced it.  

I want to be cancer free 35 years from now, enjoying Baby Claudia with her children, my future great grandchildren.   

Speaking of Baby CJ, as usual, when it is a big event, Claudia does not disappoint.  She held court for hours, getting her cheeks pinched, strangers trying to cuddle her, play with her, talk to her, and she had not even one melt down.  In fact, she didn’t even fuss, not even on the long walk.  She smiled, cooed, waved and yes, participated.  In fact, she kicked her feet happily during the walk as if to urge us on to a faster pace.  Go! Go! Go! 

I could almost hear her baby thoughts as we walked the 3 miles around the lake: We should totally do the 10K next year, Claudia was thinking.  Look at all the other babies in their strollers with their moms and nanas, this is just so great….why is mom talking to that lady about a double stroller?  Is there something going on that I don’t know about??? 

Not yet CJ, but your mom would dearly love to give you a baby brother in the next couple of years. 

The day started out emotionally difficult for my daughter, as I knew it would be.  After all, reminders that she’d nearly lost me surrounded her.  She arrived with CJ wreathed in smiles and her own face damp with tears.   

I know honey, it’s hard to remember what we all went through. 

But being that it was my amazing daughter, she pasted a smile on her face, took a deep breath and plunged into the festivities of the day.  There were dogs to pet, booths to explore, food (lots of that thankfully as CJ is seriously not a morning baby and feeding her is a full-time job most days), pre-walk/run warm up, ceremonies, cheering on the runners (and there were some serious runners participating in the 10K), it was a full day. 

I did fine during the survivor’s ceremony though I dithered in my head about what to say when they put the microphone in front of me.  Next month I’ll be cancer free two years but for today, I decided it was one year, eleven months.  Best not to tempt fate, I decided. 

There was a moment when we in the survivors circle were handed small picnic baskets that I instantly realized something was moving inside of them.  The survivors next to me explained that they were actually homing doves and we released them into the air, they flew around in graceful circles overhead a few times before returning to their owner who generously supplied them for the event every year. 

Our dove was absolutely huge and Ninja like so I kept a tentative finger on the edge of the basket (my version of being supportive) and watched the nice lady next to me release our frantic feathered friend into the skies beyond.  Clearly, our dove had descended directly from pterodactyls straight out of the Jurassic period. 

I did ponder, albeit briefly, how my beloved Staffie Sophia Eleanora would have cherished this moment and made a mental note not to bring her to the event next year no matter how well trained she was.  Raw bird is one of her favorite things in the world or so one would think by the way she stalks them. I know CJ would want Sophie to come and walk with all the other cool, well trained dogs, but I knew that it wasn’t in the cards.  I made another mental note to explain the concept of ‘prey instinct’ to CJ when she got older.  

Three miles and many other participants takes a bit of walking so my daughter and I actually had some time to talk.  And not about baby teething or bottles or pampie changes.  It was about life.  She was struggling over the age-old notion of being a stay at home mom versus having a career.  Kids, I reassured her, are more important than anything, so if you and your husband decide you should stay home for a few more years, go for it.  I never had that choice, my ex (her father) forced me back to work with his threats and rages and endless demands for money, something I figured she was old enough to know about.  Sadly, she wasn’t surprised.  Other than that, the conversation was positive and life affirming.  

“Maybe I’ll be pregnant again this time next year,” Brittany remarked thoughtfully as we trudged along, CJ’s feet kicking with excitement as we neared the finish line.  Faster mom and Nana, FASTER!!! 

Which led into my silent question, pregnant or no, would she want to do this again?  As we pulled CJ out of her stroller for a much needed bottle, pampie change and snack, I dearly wanted reassurances that we could make this an annual mother-daughter-granddaughter event.  It had meant that much to me, the connection I shared not only with my family but all the other survivors.  

“CJ is going to need a cool new outfit for this event next year,” Brittany said out of the blue as she changed her in the shady grass behind our booth. 

 “And you might need a maternity top,” I added.  

We both smiled.  

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