FOR THE STORIES

I relay for the stories.

Everyone has a story and each story is precious.

Cancer is a scary thing. Cancer has a tendency to end stories far before we are ready to finish them. I have seen stories end abruptly, leaving me confused as to why some lives end just as they are truly beginning.

The reality that cancer really does take those close to us first hit me as a 15-year-old. After a soccer match on Saturday, April 2, 2011, I was greeted by a text nobody should ever have to read, “Ty passed this morning. I’m sorry, Paddy.” Coach Ty was 44. He left so many pages unwritten.

           

Ty was one of the first figures I can remember on the soccer field. Five years before his death, Ty was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. He was given fewer than 6 months to live. To think that fazed him was to underestimate Ty.  He taught his players to “always give it your all” and  “never give up.” He didn’t care if it was merely a game or his very life for which he was fighting. As I look around the room at Ty’s memorial service, I saw hundreds of young people whom he had touched. The room was full of athletes. These were the “tough guys.” The tough guys were crying. I was so grateful to be among them.

Ty’s fight with cancer showed everyone around him that nothing could stop the determined. Each time I step on a soccer field I think of Ty; I think of the way he carried himself into challenges he faced. Ty was a huge influence on me, both as a soccer player and as a person. He not only told me to be a competitor, he showed me how to be a competitor. He taught by the way he battled on and off the field. I am a better person for having known Ty Lewis. For that, I will always be grateful to him.

           

            I believe the reason I love the battle stories is because my story would not be possible without one. The warrior I will forever cherish is my mother. As a young momma of one she was told she had a tough battle against cancer in front of her and even if she were to emerge victorious she would no longer be able to have children.

            My mom was one of the lucky ones. She battled and was victorious- she beat cancer. I am one of nine children. That is eight extra stories that cancer could not take from us. Not only has her story been an unbelievable one, but also because of her victory the world has so much more life. This is the reason I relay.

I relay because nobody should face an unfinished story. I relay because I believe that through every step we become closer to finding a cure. I relay for Ty and I relay for Mommy, the authors of two amazing stories.

With Relaylove,

Patrick Foss '16

THE LUCKY ONES

I’m a lucky kid.

I grew up in a boring part of Ohio in a middle-class family. I’ve never won the lottery, guessed the exact number of jelly beans in the jar, or even been chosen as a line leader.  But I am lucky. 

The first time I ever really felt it was when I was about eight years old sitting at the dinner table. “Mom,” I asked, “It feels weird to hug grandma. Why?”

After a few moments, she explained to me that my grandma is different: she had to have one of her breasts removed in her forties after almost passing away from breast cancer. In fact, she told me that the cancer came back two more times, and that if had not been for the new medicine, my grandma might not be alive.

 “Oh.”

“But aren’t we lucky that we have her, and that you guys have gotten to spend so much time with her?”

I nodded. I had no more questions.

About five years later I was watching Sportscenter with Kyle and Payton when my dad came in and pressed the power button on the TV.

“Guys, can you come in here for a second?”

 Around the very same dinner table he calmly explained that our mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer. But they had caught it quickly. The cancer was stage one, and there was very little chance that it had spread to other parts of her body. And he was right. Within about a year, the tests results came back; the Tamoxifen had done its job. There was no signs of cancerous cells, and all of her medical examinations were negative. My mother had beaten the disease completely and was never even forced to endure chemo. We were lucky again.

It took me about three years to get to the point where I was comfortable enough to type the word “cancer” into my Google toolbar, but when I finally did I was shocked. Statistically, one out of every eight women born will be diagnosed with breast cancer. In 2010 alone, about 206,966 women new cases of invasive breast cancer were diagnosed in women.

But one number stood out to me above the rest: two. According to Breastcancer.org, a woman’s risk of breast cancer approximately doubles if she has a first-degree relative that has been diagnosed with breast cancer. With a younger sister, I couldn’t help but feel like Ebenezer waiting for my third ghost.

           

I started participating in Relay for Life in order to make sure that the story of cancer’s past is very different than the story of its future. Funds provided by Relay and the American Cancer Society have been instrumental in developing drugs and treatments, like Tamoxifen, that have been crucial in diagnosing women during the early stages of cancer so they can survive and live comfortably with the reality of their disease. Over the past ten years, cancer incidence has dropped about 7%, and the chances of a women passing away from breast cancer has decreased to about 3%.

I’m fighting to create a world where cancer is eradicated and my sister is more than just a simple statistic.

Just like millions of women, she will be just another lucky one.

With Relaylove,

Drew Souders '16

Entertainment Committee

CELEBRATE

Growing up, March 13^th was always a day of celebration in my household. It was my mom’s birthday, and there was nothing better than eating cake and ice cream while we watched her face light up as she opened her cards and presents. Today is March 13^th, and I would do anything to be able to spend her birthday with her again.

To put it all into perspective, my mom wasn’t sick on her birthday in 2010. By her birthday in 2011, she had passed away. I never thought that cancer would affect a beautiful person like her. She was selfless, compassionate, loving, and a wonderful mother. But cancer is relentless, and with the blink of an eye, she became terminally ill with multiple brain tumors. It all happened so fast – one minute they weren’t even sure it was cancer, the next minute she was in a wheelchair, then next minute she was having brain surgeries and chemotherapy. Later, the seizures began, and before I knew it, I was sitting in her hospital room holding her hand, talking to her even though she was no longer responsive. A few days later, I woke up and she was gone.

Every single day without her is tough, but days like today are especially hard. Today is her birthday. It’s supposed to be all about her. We are supposed to spoil her and show her how much she is loved. We are supposed to celebrate as a family, and it’s a day that I never really pictured to happen without her.

She may not be here with us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate. We can continue to celebrate her life, her love, and all of the ways she touched the lives of the people around her. She truly was an incredible woman, and I am so lucky that I got her out of all the mom’s in the world.

There is one more thing I want to celebrate today – the progress that has been made toward finding the cure for cancer. Not only do I relay in memory of my mom, but I relay so that one day, everyone who has been affected by cancer in some way can celebrate happily knowing that no one else will have to suffer from this disease.

We can do it. We can do it because of organizations like Relay For Life. Happy birthday, Mom – we WILL finish the fight for you.

With RelayLove,

Ashley Self '15

Survivorship Committee Chair