Thursday, August 13, 2015

And there it answer.

It took me a while to write this post.

Back during the month of June, some amazing friends pledged to participate in the Tahoe Tough Mudder and raise funds to fight childhood cancer. It. Was. Amazing. Not that I like getting down and dirty (but I really do) but  a chance for a group of friends to come together for a cause more important than getting muddy, jumping into ice cold water and getting shocked...all for fun.

It was a chance to prove to ourselves that no matter how awful the pain is at that single moment, it's temporary.  It's not like the "cure" that children fighting cancer (or any other illness for that matter) have to endure. It's voluntary.  As our team mate said, "What's the worst that can happen?".  Pain is temporary.  It's something we can always overcome. not. We can win it and we can beat it but it never quite goes away. 

For the last couple of weeks, I've been trying to answer the question, "Why do people have to do such crazy things in order to make a point?  Why do we have to be extreme or partake in extraordinary activities to raise funds for kids fighting cancer?"  I'm no extreme athlete but since Gabriella's been off treatment, I've been brainstorming for ideas to fundraise....Running the Big Sur marathon for charity, riding 50 miles on a bike, dancing around like a crazy person on the street in a cupcake outfit I crazily put together, even trying to spearhead (with the help of my crazy fundraising partner in crime, Bill) a 24 hour ride-a-thon. Sit on a stationary bike and petal for 24 hours....hmmm.  I've even gone to the extent of applying for Survivor, tried to find a partner for Amazing Race (Adam, Alison, any other crazies out there...???), and debated applying for Naked and Afraid.  Anyone seen that show?  HA!  21 days of primal survivor with someone you've never met without food, water and clothes.  How crazy is that?  I'd promise to donate a portion of my winnings to the foundation for pediatric cancer research. That's how much I care.  Is it just me and my preposterous ideas?  Or does it really take that much for someone to raise funds for these kids that are fighting so hard for life. I don't get it.

The death of a child will always rock me to my core. Many times, I've watched these children bravely face their battle. You know when the end is near. You just don't want it to be true. Then there is that update.  "My child has earned their wings". Those words never cease to hit me like a ton of bricks. Like a punch to the gut. Sunday morning after our race, I read this same post about one of our warriors. 

I often wonder if I will ever be in a state of mind where my guns aren't ready to be drawn. Where I won't feel like I have to keep fighting.  I don't know. Is it just a moms sense of protection?  Or is it being a cancer mom?  The other night, I was putting the girls to sleep. The usual bedtime efforts and resistance pursues as I do my best to not get frustrated (and enjoy the moments....which I've proudly gotten better at...most nights). There's this moment of transition after all the tossing, turning, asking for snacks, and asking for water when they actually fall asleep. This same time my mind instantly recognized that they are finally asleep....and a peaceful surge rolls through my body.  I let it take me but only for a moment. Then, I pull back. Back on track. Back to fighting. 
This same things happen with the emotion of it all. An instant comes where I'd like to cry and I'd like to completely break down and feel what I'm feeling. But I push it away. During Gabriella's treatments, I got so tired of being scared, so tired of feeling weak and so very tired of crying. I have to be strong. I HAVE TO BE STRONG. 

I read a blog post from another cancer parent the other day. He talked about dealing with the horror of it all after the fact.  It's always treatment coming to an end when everyone thinks you are finished, done, "congratulations" are order...but it's not like that in the cancer world, especially when it comes to your child.  After things are quiet and treatment is over, it's almost scarier. You get a little lost and the focus of what was so simple (fight for your child's life) gradually gets mumbled and mustered again in the real world. Trying to get back to some type of reality...some type of normalcy. 

Now, someone that I've crossed paths in my life only once had this to say, "I run to raise awareness for different causes. When you feel like the pain is no longer bearable with each step taken, I think of the children and the suffering and pain they endure through abuse, hunger, homeless, etc. Which is what pushes me through. I run because I know that I can make a difference through awareness."
And there it answer. We do it because we can. We do it because we have a choice. Those that fight illness....they don't have a choice. 

Addition to this post: GABRIELLA'S SCANS ARE CLEAR!!!!!!  8/13/15

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