The first lap at any Relay For Life event is for the
survivors. Inspiration built out of tragedy!
For the
majority of women, shaving their legs is a job, they probably would
not like to have. For my ex-wife, Betty and me, it was a day of
celebration. It was the first time in well over a year that there was
any hair on her body. It was proof that the effects of chemotherapy
and radiation were leaving her body. In November of 1999 she had a
mammogram. It came back positive for breast cancer.
For
the next year and a half, our lives, as well as our four children's
lives, revolved around clinics and hospitals. Meeting many different
doctors and nurses, each one, showed a unique form of caring and a
loving concern for Betty. Four surgeries, eight different rounds of
chemo, and thirty straight days of radiation, showed her strength and
her will to live. I don't believe it was fear of death that kept her
going, it was a will to live for me. It was a will to live for her
children. It was a motherly belief that her children still needed
her. It was a believe that she wasn't done raising her children. All
of us share a lifetime of memories and we pray, for a lifetime of
future memories!
Watching her shave her legs, brought a
smile to her face and a tear to mine. Our hopes and prayers might
still be recognized! Her long red hair, which disappeared first, came
back shorter, thicker, and had a wave to it. As time went on, we
began to get involved in a small way with different cancer events. My
favourite, is the annual Relay For Life. Because, its was a
chance for me to cheer for her and many other survivors, as they are
honoured on the first lap. The one that was the most emotional
happened at Haymarket Park, in Lincoln. A brand new baseball park,
which in 2001, also became the home for the Lancaster County Relay
For Life.
The survivors stood in a line, underneath an
archway of balloons, ready to start their lap, along the right field
line. Led by children, these people, men and women, of different ages
and different backgrounds, would follow the concourse, around the
park, listening to the cheers honouring them! My youngest daughter,
Lisa and I, stood by first base and started clapping. It seemed like
we were the only ones doing it. But as the walk progressed, the claps
got a little louder. We continued to clap as they reached center
field and the applause continued to grow. By the time they reached
left field, the stadium became alive! As they headed toward the
infield, the place was rocking! The echoes of the cheers bounced
around the ballpark. Better then any homerun, because there was no
losing team. These survivors were all winners, and everyone there,
was proud to be a part of their team.
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