Nothing Better than Copy and Paste

I had the amazing privilege of meeting a friend named Amy about 2 years ago.  I have often talked about her in sermons and on this blog and I know some of you have followed her story as well.  Her angel daughter Arden lost a fight with childhood cancer last year.  This year she is going to shave her head in a fundraising event to further the research so children in the future will not have to endure what her family did.  Another mother posted this blog entry as she fights her own battle with cancer.  Copy and Paste is much better than I can summarize.

Please read it and think about your own family relationships (I know I did).  Please read it and contribute to Amy's cause.  Grab a tissue, or just the box.  You'll need it. 

So…I’ve traded in my Cancer Card for a Chemo Card and as far as I can tell, it works nearly as well as the former did.  Problem is, I’m seriously done with being a part of this club.  I’ve entirely decided that the worst of chemotherapy is not the nasty nauseous hangover, the sharp bone pain, the extreme fatigue, the embarrassing constipation, or even the cruel joke of weight gain that has ballooned me to tip the scales with fat reserves greater than those I experienced at nine full months of pregnancy.  No.  The worst part of chemotherapy is that it goes on, and on, and on.  That as soon as you start feeling good again, you have to go back for more.  That I am all too anxious for the hours to pass so I can scoot my pencil across my calendar to cross off another day. 

I am trying to remain positive.  I am struggling to reclaim my waning sense of humor regarding this whole ordeal and attempting to convince myself that I am not a complainer.  I am striving to remember that in this ugly world of cancer, I have been let off rather easy.  After all, there are those who must endure many more months, years even, of treatments than do I.  There are those whose cancer does not respond as favorably to treatment as has mine.   Even so, remaining optimistic and considering how much worse it could be can be so damn hard at times.

I have decided therefore that before I find myself dressed in a moo-moo and suctioned to my couch, with a heaping serving of self-pity in one hand and a Big Mac in the other, I had better find something productive to do.  Something to make this whole thing seem even remotely worthwhile.  Something to force myself to be grateful for what I have.  Something for the greater good. 

In one of my entries I wrote about an angel I know.  Her name is Arden.  Arden was diagnosed with high-risk, stage 4 Neuroblastoma shortly after we moved here to Pennsylvania.  Through mutual friends, I learned of her battle and followed her story through her mother’s words on hercaringbridge site.  As if that weren’t enough to give me a renewed perspective on how to count my blessings, when Arden passed less than a year after her battle began it was a devastating, unfathomable kind of news.  I thought of Arden often that year, hoping for her recovery and wishing her parents and family the strength necessary to deal with such a situation.  Afterwards, I continued to be reminded of her constantly.  When my kids were screaming and fighting and causing me to seriously contemplate the idea that voluntary institutionalization would make for a nice sort of vacation – I thought of Arden.  When my kids, especially my own daughter, were hugging and kissing and saying “I love you mama” – I thought of Arden.  When life was crazy and hectic and I was desperately trying to get all those pressing, ‘important’ things done – I thought of Arden.  When the world was crashing down and I learned I had a cancer of my own to deal with – I thought of Arden. 

These days, I thank Arden for helping me to remember the really important things in life and for reminding me to be thankful for what I have.  I thank her for reminding me that there is always someone dealing with something more difficult than I and for reminding me to be strong, to laugh, and to smile. 

I also thank her for giving her mom the courage and strength to share her story with me.  The word ‘amazing’, by the way, doesn’t even come close to describing Arden’s mom, Amy.  Like Arden, she is a fighter.  And believe me, she is serious.  As I have been struggling with the idea of my hair falling out since chemo began, feeling the tingly tug on my follicles as they fight to hold on (yes, you can feel it), and feeling all too self-conscious about the look of my thinning hair and uneasy about the idea of losing it all, here was a woman who had not only lost her daughter, but was now voluntarily planning to shave her own head in the hopes that no other child or family should have to follow in her family’s footsteps.  I told you she was a serious fighter.  She is currently working to reach a hefty, personal goal of raising $20,000 for pediatric cancer research.  In September, she will shave her head with along with 45 other moms who have been touched by pediatric cancer.  In her own words,

“After bearing witness to what my daughter, Arden, suffered through during treatment for stage IV, high risk Neuroblastoma, only to lose her after 10 months of fighting, shaving my head should be a breeze. It's a sacrifice, sure, one of vanity and ego, but these are things that I can easily shed when it comes to raising money to secure better, less toxic treatments and increased cure rates for pediatric cancers. Hair comes back. Our precious, innocent children who are lost to Cancer (or to side effects from treatment, or to infections while immunocompromised during treatment) cannot. “

So here it is that I have, once again, been able to find solace on the wings of the tiniest of angels and strength from the ambition of her most courageous  momma.  A purpose of sorts.  Small to be sure in the whole scheme of things, but a tangible, meaningful objective none-the-less.  As you have followed my story, if any part of my fight has inspired you, scared you, given you pause to re-evaluate your priorities or to consider counting your blessings…please take a moment to thank Arden for helping me to cope and please consider helping in a monetary way by supporting Amy.  For all of you that have graciously offered “let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”…I am letting you know.  This is how you can help. 

Please visit  Amy’s St. Baldrick’s site at: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/361373 to make a donation.  Donations start at as little as $1 and every bit helps! 

I’m even running a contest on my website and giving away at least one $100 custom-made boutique outfit to help raise funds!  Go to www.betterwithabow.com for the contest details and make sure to spread the word and links with your family and friends!!

I am so grateful for all of the support I have received from all of you and would be thrilled if, even in the smallest of ways, my story could help children like Arden and moms like Amy! 

Next treatment is Tues Feb 9.  Wonder if we can make a dent in Amy’s goal by then?  Make me proud!  Kelly.  

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kellywalker