This Year I Run for Me

         "You can do this.  You can do this!" I reassured myself.  I mopped the cold sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and squinted against the blinding light from overhead.  My arms and legs ached; my heart was pounding, and my lungs burned with every breath.    "You can do this.  Just a few more minutes and you will be there.  You can do this!"  I urged myself on and forced my lungs to take in one more breath.  Just when I thought I could take no more, I heard that familiar beep and I knew I was almost there.

         "That's it for today, sweetie, and the last treatment in this course of chemo," the nurse said kindly, gently removing the IV needles.  "You did great!  Are you comfortable?"

         "C..c..c..could I g.get a warm b.b.blanket," I asked through chattering teeth.

         "Of course, dear, I'll be right back," she soothed, brushing my hair from my forehead with her fingertips.  Fine wisps of hair were all I had left, but they clung to my face in frail ringlets. 

         The nurse returned and spread the blanket over me.  She was closely followed by the doctor who was wearing a bright beaming smile as he flipped through my file of charts and papers.

         "Well, I have good news and bad news," he began.

         Anticipating his next question I blurted, "Give me the bad news first."

         He slowly put on his reading glasses as his heavy brows knit themselves together in a look of consternation.  "According to these test results, the bad news is we won't be seeing you quite as often so you'll have to find some other way of keeping in touch."  His bright smile slowly crept back across his face.  "We want to see you every 6 weeks, but it looks like the chemo has worked and there is no sign of the cancer anymore!"  He spread the test results on the bed in front of me pointing out the first films, those taken halfway through the chemotherapy, and the films we had just taken that day. 

         "Things are looking good," he said, pleased.  He gathered the paperwork and tucked it into the envelope.  Placing his hand under my chin he raised my head until I was looking at him.  "I expect you to institute those changes we talked about so that you can regain and then maintain a healthier lifestyle."

         I nodded in response.  I had a plan in mind but it would take a lot of will power and family support to make it work.  I breathed a sigh of relief as tears filled my eyes.  It had been a long and terrifying experience, but I could now call myself ‘a survivor'!  I had earneed it.  If I could survive that, I could make the needed changes and survive them as well.

         A month later I was downtown watching from the sidelines as thousands, including my family and friends, and even my 13-year old son, crossed the finish line in their pink tee-shirts as they ran and walked in the annual Komen Race for the Cure in support of raising funds for breast cancer research.

         "Next year will be different," I told myself firmly as I wiped away tears of joy and hope with my pink bandana.  Pink had never been my favorite color, but it was quickly rising on the charts.  "Next year WILL be different!"

         Here it is, next year already, and it truly IS different.  Since then, I've danced at my daughter's  wedding, welcomed a new nephew into the family, and, among other things, kept the promise I made to myself to uphold a healthier and more active lifestyle, not only for my own benefit but for my family as well. 

         When I had some strength back, I joined Weight Watchers and reached my 10% weight loss goal of 27.8 lbs in 13 weeks!  We walk more, eat healthier meals than ever before, and we joined a gym.  I've been working to increase my strength as well as my endurance by doing aerobic work outs on the machines and in the pool, following up with light weight-training to tone and strengthen.  The difference is easy to see both in the way I look and the way I feel.  In addition to the other benefits, I have gained a measure of self-confidence and it kicks in every time I start to feel down and wonder if I will reach my next goal.  "You can do this," I tell myself.  "You can do this."

         My pink tee-shirt is ready and waiting, a shade brighter than those belonging to the rest of the family since it hasn't been worn.  This year I will cross the finish line myself surrounded by family and friends.  I have a few more workouts to get ready for this race.  June 16 is a few short weeks away and this year I will be ready to run...or at least walk the distance.  This year, I have thousands of sisters, fellow-survivors in that sea of pink.  This year I know what it's all about and I understand how much it means.  This year I can offer encouragement as well as receive it.  This year I will be a participant as well as a beneficiary.  This year the cause is personal. 

         Yes, this year will be different. 

         This year I run for me.

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